Anne Malcom's Blog, page 5

Skeletons of Us

Hey lovelies. Since I’m a totally impatient person, I didn’t want to make you wait too long for the conclusion to Lexie & Killian’s story. Now we’ve got a release date! Skeletons of Us will be out on September 2nd. In just over a month, Killian & Lexie will get the HEA they deserve. It’s far from smooth sailing for them, it’s going to be a rocky and emotional journey, but they’ll get there.

For those of you who don’t know, the Unquiet Mind series is centred around Lexie’s band. So we get to see where fame and fortune has taken them and what it means for Lexie and Killian. We’ll also be getting to know the boys in the band much better, each of them will get their own book. I’m getting ahead of myself now, for now we’ll focus on Skeletons of Us. I’ve got the blurb and a teaser below, cover reveal is coming soon.

I just want to say a quick thanks to all of my amazing readers for being so understanding about how Echoes of Silence had to end. I know cliffhangers aren’t everyone’s cup of tea, but the positive response I’ve gotten has been overwhelming. I love you all and I’m so grateful to have such incredible readers.

Until next time

Anne

xxxx

 

Blurb:

Love can be a beautiful thing.

It can fill up your life with the warmth of its embrace and spread to every corner of your mind.

It can quiet your soul.

But when that love turns wrong, it warps into something bitter and unrecognizable.

The pain of it promises unyielding noise in place of that half-remembered silence.

Lexie has lived with this pain for four years, pouring it into music that transformed Unquiet Mind into the most famous rock band in the world.

But fame can also turn ugly, twist into that bitter version of love and endanger everything Lexie holds dear.

The moment Lexie’s life is threatened, he comes back to ensure she stays breathing.

Killian.

He’s not just back to save her life, he’s back to save her soul and to claim what’s his.

Problem is, someone else already considers Lexie his, and he’ll kill to make sure she stays that way.

Echoes of Silence is live

Eeeekk. Here it is. Release day. I have been counting down the days until I could finally share Killian and Lexie’s story with you all. I put my heart and soul into this book. Not that I don’t with every book, but Echoes was different. I didn’t plan on writing this, Killian and Lexie were only meant to get one book once they’d grown up a bit. YA was never something I planned on writing. But this wasn’t my choice. The muse gripped me and demanded I write this book. When I wasn’t writing about it, I was thinking about it. When I wasn’t thinking about it, I was dreaming about it. Quite simply, Lexie and Killian took over my life. And I loved it. I hope you all get swept away into their story like I did.

I’m so excited about the future of the Unquiet Mind series…but that’s for later. For now we get to see a love blossom between two teenagers that promises a heart warming and heart wrenching journey. News on the conclusion of Killian and Lexie’s story is coming soon, just know I won’t keep you waiting too long. Let’s get started on what promises to be an epic love story….

Buy Echoes of Silence here

People make love seem complicated. Intricate. Novels try to capture its intensity; music tries to rein in its soul.

I’ve read every novel I could. I’ve lived and breathed every song that I could listen to. The sounds fill my unquiet mind.

Then he came.

Killian.

He brought with him the beauty of silence that echoes through my soul and showed me love isn’t complicated. It’s simple. Beautiful.

Some say love at first sight doesn’t exist, that you can’t find your soul mate at sixteen years old. Those are people rooted in reality, chained to the confines of life that dictates how you are meant to think. Killian broke those chains. He broke everything, shattered it so I can see that reality is overrated, that daydreams can somehow come to life.

My life tumbled into darkness in the time after I met him, so dark I’m not sure I’ll ever see the light again. But he is always at my side. His life means he knows how to navigate the dark and he can lead me out.

I wade through the darkness with him at my side.

We’ll be together forever; I’m certain of that.

Until I’m not.

Echoes of Silence – First Chapter

 

Hello my lovelies. So it’s almost time unleash Killian and Lexie’s story to the world. It’s safe to say I’m excited to share this one with you. I’m also very aware that you’ll all be wanting the next one very soon since it doesn’t end with Echoes.  I’m furiously writing book two and taking a little break to give you a peek at the first chapter. Here you are….

Chapter 1

 

“Light reading?” a deep voice asked, making me jump out of the world that had replaced the garage around me.

Mom and I had stopped, or more accurately, been forced to stop on the way to the movies. Our car had decided to die right outside the aforementioned garage—luckily for us. I hated to think what would have happened had we been on a lonely stretch of road. Neither of us were exactly savvy with the workings of motor vehicles. Mom had ordered me to stay in the car, on account of who this particular establishment belonged to. The Sons of Templar. A motorcycle gang. Or club, as they called themselves. I had a feeling the distinction was important. I didn’t know much about them since we were new in town, but we knew Zane, our neighbor, was a member.

I regained my wits remarkably quick, especially since the boy leaning against my mom’s car could be considered as nothing less than smokin’ hot. His midnight black hair fell like inky silk around his shoulders, and he was tall. Even though he was currently leaning, I could tell from the length of his limbs he was tall. Those limbs were seriously impressive, and sinewy forearms rested against the open window I was curled up against. With him only inches away from me, I could see the veins pulsing in them if I looked hard enough. His eyes were the most vivid blue I’d ever seen. They almost stopped me from exploring the rest of his face. Almost. It was perfectly proportioned, with a defined jaw that looked like it belonged to a man, not a boy, who I guessed would be about my age. So yeah, he was smoking hot. Literally smoking—a cigarette.

I put my book in my lap and narrowed my eyes at the offending death stick. Some kids, a lot of kids my age, smoked those things for various reasons; image, weight loss, or the pursuit of the elusive ‘cool.’ With his male model good looks, leather jacket, and general ‘devil may care’ attitude, this boy did not need something as trivial as a cigarette to make him cool.

“Those will kill you, you know,” I pointed out, ignoring his question.

He smirked and shrugged. “So I’ve heard,” he replied in a voice that sent strange shivers down my spine.

“So, either you don’t think the nicotine, tar, and arsenic you are subjecting not only yourself, but me to, will affect you, or you just don’t care?” I asked with sarcasm that was automatic to me. I had my mom to blame for that.

His small smirk turned into a full-on grin. “Freckles, it’s just one cigarette. I won’t be dropping dead right here and now, don’t you worry”—his gaze turned blazing—“neither will you,” he promised.

Freckles?

I swallowed.

“So,” he moved the subject on, nodding his head to my lap, “War and Peace… English Lit?”

I glanced down at the book I had completely forgotten about—something I would have thought not five minutes ago was completely impossible. I didn’t forget about books the same way I didn’t forget about oxygen. They were necessary to my survival. That and music.

“No,” I said finally, “just… reading.” I didn’t add it was for the second time, not wanting to look like a complete nerd. I would never be ashamed of my utter love of the written word, but I didn’t think this hot boy would appreciate the extent of my addiction. Few did. Books were so much a part of my life, a part of me; I didn’t know which parts were real, and which were constructed from the pages of a book.

He nodded in what looked like approval, taking a long drag of his smoke. He purposefully turned his head to exhale away from me. “Yeah, read that in ninth grade. I’m onto Anna Karenina right now, digging it,” he said, shocking my proverbial socks right off. His eyes flickered back to mine. “You read it?”

I gaped at him then nodded slowly, not speaking or anything, just nodded like an idiot.

He grinned again, showing a beautiful array of white teeth. I stared at his mouth, transfixed with it. I idly wondered what his lips would taste like.

“What’s your name, Freckles?” he asked, his eyes turning lazy.

“Lexie.”

My mind was still on kissing him. I was lost in the thought, maybe because I’d never done that with a boy I’d just met. Scratch that, I’d never done that with a physical boy. Only in fantasies featuring long-dead musicians and action movie heroes.

“Lexie,” he repeated.

I concluded my name had never sounded more awesome than when the hot guy in front of me said it in his husky voice.

“Killian,” he continued.

“Of course,” I said without even thinking.

He raised a brow. “Of course?”

Shoot.

“Um, well, of course, a boy like you would have a name like Killian. I wouldn’t have been surprised if it was Heathcliff. No last name,” I babbled, like an idiot. “Scottish?” I guessed, my mind unwillingly picturing him astride a horse wearing the absolute crap out of a kilt and whisking me away to his castle.

I had to physically shake my head to get my mind back to the present and out of my daydream. I lived half my life in dream worlds. It was useful, most of the time, but I didn’t want to escape the real world right now.

Killian’s eyes turned slightly hard as he watched my head move, but his grin remained. “Irish,” he corrected. “I’m curious to know what you think a boy like me is. I’ll tell you now, I’m nothing like that asshole Heathcliff, not with pretty blondes,” he promised.

Something passed between us. In the silence that descended, something turned almost palpable. His ice blue eyes were locked on mine, and it was impossible to tear myself away from him. It was like falling into another one of my daydreams, but I wasn’t falling alone. It wasn’t me who chose to escape the world and venture into another offered by books or music. This was all him. Those ice blue eyes drew me in and had me tumbling away from everything. A promise lay behind them, a promise I didn’t understand, but I wanted to explore.

“Shouldn’t you be polishing hubcaps or sweeping out the garage, kid?” a deep voice shattered the moment, and I blinked rapidly as Killian lazily tore his eyes from mine.

He looked at someone across the car and lifted the cigarette in his hand. “Smoke break,” he replied nonchalantly, as if whatever had passed between us hadn’t actually happened, as if I’d dreamed it.

I stared at him as he gave me one last glance, which I clung to because the glance promised I wasn’t dreaming or hallucinating. It promised a shared secret. An impossible connection, one that would only make sense in books because people didn’t have that sort of connection from a five-minute conversation, not in real life.

I jumped when the driver’s door opened and my mother sat down in the car, her blue eyes accusing.

I swallowed, fighting to get my breath under control. “What?” I asked innocently.

I hoped my voice made it seem like I had nothing to hide. It didn’t work since I never hid anything from my mom. She was my best friend. I told her everything. Until now. Something, I wasn’t quite sure what, warned me to keep this to myself and not tell the woman whom I completely adored and respected, to keep it between Killian and me, the stranger who I knew nothing about.

Mom raised a disbelieving brow as if my forehead was transparent and she could see every thought it contained. “Don’t play dumb. That obscure Russian literature in your lap makes that act fall short.”

I sat up straighter. I had to do better if I were to hide the truth of my feelings from her. The best way to do that was distraction and to rely on my mother’s utter hatred for reading anything that wasn’t based on celebrities.

“Leo Tolstoy is hardly obscure. He is considered to be one of the best novelists of all time,” I informed her.

She rolled her eyes. “That book is fifteen hundred pages.”

I raised a brow. “So?”

“So that book could be used to sink a small boating vessel, or as a weapon to knock out even the most hardheaded attacker,” Mom said with complete seriousness.

I fought a smile. “I’m using it for its intended purpose.”

She didn’t miss a beat. “I doubt its intended purpose is to be sitting in the lap of a teenage girl while a teenage boy puffs smoke in her face.”

My elation at maneuvering the subject quickly dissipated, but luckily, I was saved when someone called from the vicinity of the trunk of the car.

Mom pointed at me. “This isn’t over,” she warned.

I sank back in my seat the moment she left.

I didn’t know what it was, this thing I had been so desperate to hide from Mom. I was almost ashamed at myself for being so adamant to hide it. My mom was not a person I hid anything from. But this was mine. This little feeling was mine to cradle, to treasure. I doubted it would go any further anyway; boys like Killian were not interested in girls like me. So I decided that I would just keep it to myself.

I sat in the car twiddling my thumbs for a couple of minutes, annoyed that the fact the hood of our car was up hindering my ability to peek at whatever was going on. Okay, hindering my ability to peek at Killian.

I thoughtlessly shoved my book into my bag—I usually treated my books with the deference they deserved—and yanked myself out of the car in order to insert myself in Killian’s intoxicating presence once more.

Once I rounded the car, it was not just Killian’s intoxicating presence I was faced with. Three other men in leather vests stood in a rough semi-circle around Mom. One seriously hot bald one was chatting to her with a smile on his face. It was not him I focused on, not even Killian, whose eyes cut to me when I rounded the hood. It was the biggest one in the group. The one who was scowling at my mom.

Zane.

We had met him a couple of days prior when he helped change our tire. He was our neighbor. He didn’t say much and would scare most people, I guessed. His hulking form, multiple tattoos, his stormy gray eyes, and the general air about him screamed ‘danger.’ I was pretty sure that was his intention since I hadn’t seen him smile in the small amount of time I’d been in his presence. He needed to smile. Some part of me instinctively knew this and felt comfortable with him. He deserved to smile. So I grinned wide at him.

“Zane,” I greeted him in a bright voice. Nerves tingled down my spine at not only his hard gaze turning to me but all of the men who had been focused on Mom. I swallowed. I didn’t need to look like a bumbling idiot in front of Killian, plus I was seriously excited to see Zane. I knew there was more to him than he appeared.

“I so thought you might be here. This is your club, right?” I asked, glancing around the garage to a large building to the side, noticing the flag flying above it. “I told Mom we should come in and say hello.” I gave her a look. “But she didn’t want to disturb you. Totally sucks about the car, but at least you’re here and we can thank you again for the other day.”

The gesture had resonated somewhere deep down. It had made me realize that would have been something my dad would’ve done if he had been around. At least the dad I imagined would. Maybe that was why I immediately liked Zane, despite appearances. He was a good guy. I sensed that, and I also sensed he needed someone to help just as we might need to be helped every now and again. Don’t ask me where that thought came from either; I had no idea. I just knew it to be true.

A light bulb pinged above my head.

“You should come to the movies with us and we can treat you, as a thank you. Don’t worry, we don’t see girly stuff. We love action movies—the more unbelievable, unrealistic explosions and car chases, the better,” I added quickly, needing to let him, and maybe the other men, Killian specifically, know that Mom and I were different. I didn’t understand why I needed them to know that. I never said things in order to alter what people thought of me. Until now. A weird, instinctive part of me had the feeling that this was a pivotal moment, for Mom and I both.

Zane regarded me, although he didn’t smile, but mine didn’t falter. I knew he probably had to retain his street cred, or whatever. I had no such problems.

“Movies aren’t really my scene, Lex,” he replied.

My smile wavered slightly. I guessed it was a long shot.

The man with the bald head and tattoos snaking up his neck gaped between Mom and me. “Mom?” he repeated in disbelief. “No fuckin’ way, that’s your daughter?”

I swallowed a giggle at his blatant cursing. Mom never cursed in front of me. It was funny really. Every kid in school did, as well as every character in most movies we watched, but it was something she didn’t do. So I followed suit; it was instinctual to mimic some of my mom’s beliefs and habits. I didn’t particularly like cussing either. Maybe it was a throwback from my favorite books; you didn’t see Jane Eyre cussing like girls my age did these days.

“That’s what they told me at the hospital,” Mom replied dryly, and I noticed she had to tear her gaze away from Zane to address the man who spoke.

Something niggled in my belly at that gaze.

“You’re shittin’ me! There’s no way you’re old enough to have a kid,” he argued.

This was not an unusual response when people found out Mom was my mom and not the sister she looked like. She had me young, like really young, and she barely looked old enough to have a kid, let alone a sixteen-year-old like me. We were basically imprints of each other. We both had white, curly blonde hair, though I wore mine longer and didn’t tame it near as much as Mom did. We were both pale and petite, but I had a dusting of freckles along my nose that my mom didn’t.

Freckles.

My stomach flipped at that thought and my gaze cut to Killian. His eyes bore into mine as if they had been on me the entire time.

“Tell that to the doctors who cut her out of me sixteen years ago. I’d like to think I didn’t undergo major surgery for nothing,” my mom responded in her—and my—trademark sarcastic manner.

I was surprised when all of the scary biker dudes around us started chuckling at Mom’s words. It wasn’t that Mom wasn’t funny, she was, but these men looked serious—hot, but serious. It was comforting to see they had a sense of humor; it made them less intimidating.

“To formally introduce you, this is the fruit of my loins, otherwise known as Lexie.” Mom held her arms out, pointing to me as if she was presenting a prize bull.

I smiled warmly at all of them and did a little wave. “Hey,” I greeted, feeling comfortable with them for some unknown reason. I was a friendly person, but I didn’t always click with people straight away. These men, believe it or not, made me feel at ease.

Well, almost all of them. I could feel Killian’s gaze on me. I definitely did not feel at ease with him.

“I’m Cade,” a dark-haired, tall, and slightly menacing man replied, looking between Mom and me. His eyes seemed to be hard and soft at the same time. He was built, not as much as Zane, but big. And, like the rest of them, with the exception of Killian, he had various tattoos covering his body.

A blond man who was slightly leaner, but still big and had an awesome man bun grinned warmly. “And I’m Brock. Pleased to meet you both.” He directed his grin to Zane, but it was more teasing. “You already seem to know Zane.” He emphasized his name; I guessed because he had first introduced himself as “Bull” when he changed our tire. I had refused to believe that was his actual name, and he explained, in clipped sentences, that it was his “road name.” Zane was his real name. I liked it much better and felt it suited him more.

“Yeah, Zane totally saved our skin the other day when Mom got a flat,” I explained since Mom seemed to have turned mute while staring at Zane. “Mom can’t change one,” I added, baiting her only a little.

My statement hit its intended mark and her gaze cut to me. “I can change one,” she all but hissed at me.

I grinned at her. “Uh no, Mom, hence your suggestion to call AAA when we saw it,” I teased.

She narrowed her eyes at me. “I had yet to consume an ounce of caffeine that morning, doll,” she gritted out with a forced smile. “I barely had control over my fine motor skills, let alone be able to change a tire. I’m sure if the occasion arose again and I was properly caffeinated, I could change a tire, no problem,” she informed not only me but the men in the group.

“I’m so sure.” My tone may have been teasing, but I felt a little barb at the thought. I realized I didn’t want my mom to have to do things like this alone. She deserved a partner, one who would help her with more than changing tires. I wanted happiness for my mom more than anything, especially since I’d be going to college in two years. I didn’t want to leave her alone.

“Mullet photo,” she hissed out of the corner of her mouth in warning. It was her way of urging me against things. It was a threat to post a photo of baby me in a mullet on the Internet for all to see. It was not pretty.

She moved her attention away from me and back to the men who had been watching our exchange. “So I’m just going to circle back to the good news portion of this announcement. You mentioned we could still make our movie, despite your dire diagnosis of Betty,” she said to the man in the coveralls.

I hadn’t been aware that our car was in dire straits. Then again, the sounds it was making weren’t entirely natural. I wasn’t exactly cut up over the turn of events. My eyes locked with Killian once more. Not cut up at all.

“Betty?” Brock repeated, jolting my eyes away from Killian’s.

“Betty’s our car,” I answered for Mom once more.

“You named your car?” he asked in disbelief, looking at Mom.

“I didn’t name her, Lexie did. She was ten and decided a car such as this required a name,” Mom said quickly, embarrassment in her tone. It was unfamiliar. Mom never got embarrassed, even that time at a parent-teacher conference when she spilled coffee all down her white shirt, rendering it see-through. She had laughed it off and exclaimed, “I paid enough for this bra, at least someone gets to see it.”

“I didn’t technically name her,” I corrected, leaning against the car. “I merely broached the concept of naming the car. You were the one who christened her Betty.”

I may have been being slightly evil to my dearly beloved mother, but it was kind of entertaining seeing her flustered and also educating. Yes, these men were rather attractive and slightly intimidating with their biker cuts, but Mom wasn’t easily intimidated. I had a weird feeling it was Zane doing this to her. I nurtured this tiny thought and the idea of Zane smiling at one of Mom’s jokes.

“Only because all of the names you came up with were utterly ridiculous and didn’t suit the car’s personality,” Mom shot at me, finding her tongue.

“A car has personality?” Brock asked, half choking on a laugh.

Mom thrust her hand out to the car in question. “This particular car does. Some obviously do not. Like a Toyota Corolla or Volvo, any make. A cherry red VW Beetle on the other hand….”

She didn’t say any more; she didn’t need to, I thought. Betty spoke for herself, though that was a sixteen-year-old girl’s opinion; hot bikers might have other ideas.

“Okay, we’re getting off-track again,” Mom said, giving me a pointed glare. “The previews are lost to us at this rate, so we need to get back on track.”

I was happy to forfeit our much-enjoyed previews to watch Mom like this and to sneak gazes at Killian every now and then, feel his eyes constantly on mine.

Cade shook his head. “I’m guessing there’s no such thing as staying on track in a conversation with you two,” he deduced, correctly. Mom and I had a tendency to go off on tangents when the mood took us. It was part of our charm.

Luckily, it seemed that the men thought this was an amusing quality and chatted warmly and even gave us a loaner car to take in the meantime. Since it wasn’t quite ready for us to use, we couldn’t use it to go to the movies. Lucky, the smiling bald one in the coveralls had not only offered to take us, but to come with us. It was obvious, even to someone as inexperienced with such things as me, he was interested in Mom.

It must have been obvious to someone with even more experience since Zane’s face had turned positively stormy at Lucky’s suggestion.

He had stepped forward and all but barked at Lucky, declaring he would take us. I didn’t quite understand the dynamics of this gesture, but it filled me with warmth.

Zane didn’t want Mom going to the movies with Lucky. That meant something, even if he spoke in grunts basically the entire ride to the theater and barely even smiled. He had insisted on paying for all the snacks and I caught moments of Zane glancing at Mom with something in his eyes. I’d even used my brilliant skills to make them sit together.

I had been completely and utterly pleased with myself when Zane dropped us back at the garage to pick up our loaner car after the movie. “See you later, Zane,” I said with a grin as I opened the door. “You totally like it, I can tell. So you’ll come next time as well?” I asked hopefully. Mom and I had a weekly tradition of going to the movies. It was nice having his silent presence with us.

He gave me a little eye smile, his hard eyes crinkling almost imperceptibly at the edges. He never smiled with his mouth, for whatever reason, but that was his way.

“Maybe, Lex.”

I beamed at him. “Saaweet, catch you later,” I called, jumping out of the truck.

My plan was to give him and my mom a moment together. Most of it, anyway. A little part of me hoped I’d see Killian once more. It had only been two hours. I barely knew him, but I was hungry for his gaze. My eyes searched the bays, which had a few people in coveralls milling about. I then moved my gaze to what I guessed was the clubhouse. There was a grassed area in the front, and a few men milled about, wearing the same leather cuts as Zane. I squinted to see better.

“Want me to go and ask them if they’d be willing to sit while you paint them?” a voice said at my side.

I jumped at my mom’s presence. I had been unaware she’d gotten out of the truck so quickly.

I pasted a grin on my face. “I’ve got what I need. I’ll do it from memory,” I shot back.

She rolled her eyes and slung her arm around my shoulder. “Let’s get you out of here before you decide to get yourself a motorcycle,” she said, directing us away from the clubhouse.

I resisted the urge to glance over my shoulder in one last ditch effort to see him. He would have forgotten about me already, I was sure.

Echoes of Silence – Lexie & Killian

So here’s the news I’ve been itching to share with you all for the past month. First, I need to start by saying I hadn’t planned on writing this book. I was going to wait and give Lexie and Killian time to grow up and live life a little. Killian had other ideas. He may be a teenager but he’s still one heck of an alpha male. So because of this, Lexie and Killian are going to get two stories. Yes, two.

Echoes of Silence is YA. Another thing I hadn’t planned on. It is going to run alongside Out of the Ashes in plot, but we’ll see Lexie and Killian’s relationship grow and blossom. For those of you who have read Out of the Ashes, I’m sure you know it’s not a happy ending for them at the finish of the novel, hence them getting two books. I know this may be frustrating to some of you as this means Echoes will technically be a cliffhanger. I know that’s considered a dirty word to some in the romance world, but I promise you, Killian and Lexie will get their HEA. I just couldn’t not share the beauty of their relationship.

Echoes of Silence will be out on July 19th, 2016. I don’t have a cover for you yet, but I do have a blurb…

People made love seem complicated. Intricate. Novels tried to capture its intensity, music tried to rein in its soul.

I read every novel I could. I lived and breathed every song that I could listen to. The sounds filled up my unquiet mind.

Then came him.

Killian.

He brought with him the beauty of silence that echoed through my soul and showed me love wasn’t complicated. It was simple. Beautiful.

Some say love at first sight didn’t exist. That you couldn’t find your soul mate at sixteen years old. Those were people rooted in reality, chained to the confines of life that dictated how you were meant to think. Killian broke those chains. He broke everything. Shattered it so I could see that reality was overrated. That daydreams could somehow come to life.

My life tumbled into darkness in the time after I met him. So dark I thought I’d never see the light again. But he was always at my side. His life meant he knew how to navigate the dark. Lead me out.

I waded through the darkness with him at my side.

We’d be together forever, I was certain of that.

Until I wasn’t.

Add to your TBR on Goodreads here.

Beyond the Horizon release day!

 

I am so freaking excited right now. I’m excited on every release day, but on this one I’m super excited. Lily and Asher’s story is heartbreaking, beautiful and will always hold a special place in my heart. I hope you all fall in love reading it just as much as I did writing it. Grab it here. I’ve got some other very exciting news coming very soon, so keep your eyes out. After you’ve read Beyond the Horizon that is…

 

 

Outside the Lines on all platforms

In other news, I’ve decided to send my little novella out into the world to share Macy and Hansen’s story with everyone. If you haven’t read it yet, check it out in your favourite store now.

Barnes & Noble

Kobo

Scribd

Amazon

Beyond the Horizon – Teaser Chapter

It’s ten days away from release and I’m so excited to share Beyond the Horizon with you all. I just couldn’t wait, so here’s the first chapter to wet your whistle.

Preorder here: Beyond the Horizon (The Sons of Templar MC Book 4)

Chapter One

 

I yanked the covers over my head the moment my alarm jolted me out of a troubled sleep.

“Ten,” I whispered.

Ten seconds was all I was giving myself. All the time I was allowed to shut out the outside world.

“Nine.”

I hated mornings. Loathed them. I wasn’t someone who hopped out of bed every day with vigor. I dragged my sorry and cranky ass out, every morning.

“Eight.”

For as long as I could remember, I’d never woken up without the ear-splitting ringing emitting from my phone.

“Seven.”

I wasn’t one of those people that got to lie in. That got lazy Sunday mornings. That got to decide not to get out of bed and spend the day binge watching their favorite television shows.

“Six.”

No. I had responsibilities. People depended on me. Well, a person depended on me. I depended on me. Without me, we didn’t eat. Without me dragging my sorry ass out of bed every damned morning, we wouldn’t survive. Bills would go unpaid. Electricity would get cut off.

“Five.”

But this morning was different. I wasn’t dragging myself to the coffee pot then off to school, the hospital or the bar. No.

“Four.”

I was going to a funeral.

“Three.”

My mom’s funeral.

“Two.”

The person that depended on me. The person I had taken care of for the past two years. For the past sixteen years. My person.

“One,” I choked out, not letting the tears strangle me. My body already did its best to rob me of breath, I didn’t need the sorrow of my soul doing it too.

I threw the covers back and stared at the ceiling for a split second, embracing the detachment, the feeling of nothingness. Numbness had spread over my body since I got the call. Since that detached, emotionless voice on the phone informed me of my mother’s passing. It had been expected I guess, but in that vague, it’ll never actually happen type way. She’d been sick. For just over three years, she’d battled cancer. I mean battled. Fought with every fiber of her being, not only the disease but the poison they put in her body to try and cure it. The poison that hadn’t cured a thing. She had put it in her body for me, even though she didn’t believe in it. She had tried every alternative medicine, every other solution until I pleaded with her to let medicine save her. I had been convinced it would. It might have given her more time, given me more time, but it had also sucked every inch of strength out of my strong mother before it let the disease win in the end.

And even though the doctors had continuously told me with a clinical detachment that she was living on borrowed time, I never believed it. I’d held back her hair through the sickness of chemo, taught her how to tie a jaunty headscarf when her long locks fell out, changed and bathed her when needed, but I never let myself consider the real reasons for these things. Never let myself think of the evil disease that was slowly taking my mother from me. And it did. A demon in the night, death came and stole her away before I could even say goodbye. She died alone. Without me.

I sat up and pushed myself out of bed, my body having that tingly feeling when numbness starts to subside and pricks of pins and needles threaten to bring feeling back. That first prick of pain shocked me, it was an omen of the agony that awaited me. That I’d been running from.

I froze, standing in the middle of my bedroom. It was decorated as well as one could with little to no funds. In one corner sat a cheap wooden desk with coffee rings serving as an unintended pattern on the surface. Forgotten textbooks were crammed into a bookshelf beside it. Brochures and printouts of alternative cancer treatments littered the surface. Mismatched frames crowded the walls, pictures of Mom and me throughout the years. I couldn’t look at those. By recognizing all that I had left of her was images in a frame, it would make it real. I wasn’t ready for real. I continued my sightless gaze of my room. My old ottoman in the corner was a find at one of Mom’s favorite vintage stores, the patchwork pattern almost invisible since it was buried underneath clothes. Fairy lights draped around my uncomfortable bed, in an effort to lighten up my space. Somehow trick me into thinking it was better than it was. A huge mural took up half the wall behind my bed. A beautiful vibrant sunset, every color you could think of dancing in the rays. My mom had painted it on one of her good days. It almost looked real, like you could step through it to some magical and better world beyond. That was until you looked, with cynical eyes like mine and saw the crumbling wall beneath it. It was just paint. There was nothing beyond it.

Amongst all that I stayed frozen, terrified that feeling would come back. That pain would blindside me. A few seconds brought back that blessed numbness that allowed my feet to shuffle into the living room.

I went to the pot, bleary vision only focusing on the one thing that made me half human, that woke me up enough to contemplate the dreary day—coffee.

“Morning, sweetie,” a voice from the sofa had me jumping out of my skin. Luckily, my unpoured coffee did not scald my arms, which I was surprised about. Fate usually loved to screw with me. Second-degree burns would be the cherry on top of my shit sundae.

“Aiden,” I croaked, my voice shaking off sleep.

He straightened off the sofa and stretched, the fabric of his tee lifting with the movement. My gaze flickered over the washboard stomach for a moment before I moved to his eyes.

“You didn’t have to stay,” I said, pouring coffee and then retrieving another mug.

Aiden skirted around our shitty sofa and padded into our equally shitty kitchen. He took the mug I offered and lightly rested his free hand on my hip.

“Yes, I did, Lil,” he murmured looking at my eyes.

“You didn’t,” I protested. “I’m fine, I don’t want you risking your back muscles and having a horrible night’s sleep for me.”

The hand on my hip tightened and his attractive brows furrowed. “Your mom died, sweetie,” he said softly, as if to remind me. “I care about you. Therefore, I stayed. And I’m not going anywhere. You’re not alone,” he told me firmly.

I looked into his clear blue eyes. We had been friends since my freshman year. A month ago it had turned into something else. In the midst of my nightmare, Aiden had somehow turned from friend to boyfriend. Not that the handful of dates and makeout sessions constituted an actual relationship, but my schedule didn’t exactly give me the luxury of time for a boyfriend. I spent every moment I could with Mom, until she demanded I go out and have some fun. As if fun was even a plausible prospect when my mom was dying in a hospital room. But I played along, let Aiden take me out, faked a smile while my insides were shredding. I’d never let anything go further, go deeper. My time and my heart were dedicated to Mom. Until now I guess. I had a huge gaping hole in my life, one I couldn’t even contemplate right now. One I knew Aiden wanted to fill. One that I knew he would never fill.

“Thanks,” I whispered, realizing arguing was pointless.

He was wrong, though. I was alone. Completely. My mom had been the one and only person on this earth who actually loved me. The me, the one that was plagued with anxiety, and felt like I had a dumbbell on my chest twenty-four hours a day. The me who barely spoke around new people, and got nervous in crowds. Everything that made me ordinary she found extraordinary, and subsequently she made me feel extraordinary. It was just me and her, against the world. Now it was just me. I had friends, good ones too, ones that I loved. But nothing like what I had with Mom. Even Bex, the best of them all, would never be what my mom was to me.

He nodded and kissed me lightly on the cheek before searching my eyes. He was waiting for me to break down, I knew. For days, he and Bex had been watching me like I was an unexploded grenade, ready to go off at any moment. He seemed to be satisfied I wasn’t in danger of exploding any time soon and moved to the breakfast bar, to perch on our rickety bar stalls.

I stared at him. Even after a no doubt terrible sleep on our lumpy sofa, he looked good. His sandy blond hair was mussed, but in a way that looked like he’d taken hours to do it. His face was classically handsome, and his body was lean. He looked like an all-American boy, Abercrombie and Fitch style. He was from a good family, was in law school and a genuinely nice guy. Too bad he didn’t make me burn. Didn’t consume my mind and soul. Like someone else had for the past three years. Someone that definitely wasn’t a genuinely nice guy. Someone who would never be mine.

Asher.

Time didn’t mute the memories I had of him. Of us. I indulged myself a moment of escape into that memory, one that offered a respite from the horror of the present.

 

Three Years Ago

 

I liked margaritas, I decided. No, I loved margaritas. The handicap that stopped me from unleashing my true self seemed to fall away with the help of this magic drink. I was uninhibited by the shyness that had plagued me my whole life. The weight on my chest.

I stumbled slightly but righted myself. I was at Gwen’s, my new boss’s place, dancing with people I barely knew. Beautiful women who had no qualms being themselves, and may have been slightly insane. I so wanted to be like them when I grew up. Well, firstly I wanted to be like my mom, with a sprinkling of these fab ladies. Mostly I wanted to be someone different than who I was. Someone better.

As I whirled to the music, my gaze landed on men rounding the corner of the house. Hot men. I narrowed my eyes. I couldn’t tear my eyes off them. I’d seen them around town and more recently at Gwen’s store. I knew who they were. Heck, everyone knew who they were. They were the Sons of Templar. The motorcycle club that had unofficially owned the town since before we moved here. Some around town hated them, and everything the club stood for. Most respected them. Like Mom.

“Those boys may be a bit rough around the edges, but they’ve got good hearts. People like to judge based on what they think a good person should look like. Good people come in all shapes and sizes, just like bad. Don’t you forget it,” she’d instructed me years ago. Her eyes had been faraway, no doubt thinking of the bad man that had been wrapped up in a suit and tie. Who’d seemed like a good man, a family man, until the doors to our home had closed and the monster inside had been unveiled. So she didn’t shrink away from men wearing leather. She didn’t shrink away from anyone, not anymore.

I had always been fascinated with the men. The life they lived. The freedom they seemed to have. I’d longed for that kind of freedom, to be who I was, to figure out who I was. I would never have that though, not with my emotional disability chaining me to my uninteresting self. I’d admired them from afar, entertained notions of going to one of their infamous parties. Those thoughts stayed rooted in fantasy, as did any possibility of interaction with the club. My social skills went from lacking to non-existent when faced with attractive men or intimidating people. The men in the club were the embodiment of both. Though not every single one was mouth-droppingly attractive, they all held an aura, a certain presence that seemed hypnotizing and dangerous at the same time. That was all admired from afar. I’d never seen them up close, definitely not in social situations. But now they were here. Getting closer to my uninteresting self with every moment.

“Lily,” I heard my named whispered urgently.

I reluctantly tore my gaze off the approaching men and moved it to settle on Amy, who was looking panicked sitting up awkwardly from her sun lounger. I was thankful to have a reason to escape my own head. I’d get trapped in there if I wasn’t careful.

“What?” I half yelled at her. I would never have yelled, half or otherwise at anyone, had I not had tequila in my system. I would’ve mumbled something, gone red and most likely embarrassed myself. Tequila equaled zero embarrassment. It ruled.

“Come here,” she hissed, her eyes darting to Brock, who was chatting to Lucy, his attractive eyes kept moving in Amy’s direction. She looked seriously freaked.

No wonder. I did crappy around people in general most of the time, hot guys like the ones I was presented with were in danger of turning me mute. I didn’t see why Amy was so panicked, though, the chick was drop dead gorgeous. She radiated confidence and didn’t have any trouble conversing with the sex god bikers. I had witnessed her exchanging witty banter with the men since I started working at her and Gwen’s clothing store.

“What?” I asked when I got to her side.

Her eyes went from Brock to me one more time. They were that kind of drunken alert that I had seen on my friends. You knew you had to get your shit together, but you were also struggling to stay upright.

“I need you to go and get the booze off Brock,” she ordered quickly.

My stomach dropped, the idea of approaching him, and the arguably hotter guy with him, had me wanting to break out in hives.

“I’ve never spoken to him—he kind of scares me. Why can’t you do it?” I half pleaded. Tequila may have burned away most of my crippling shyness, but it hadn’t taken away all of my self-preservation. At least not yet.

“It’s a long story,” she said, her eyes narrowing. “It involves a sex marathon and his stupid man bun. Will you do this for me? Please?” She didn’t wait for me to reply and gave me a gentle shove. One that wouldn’t normally have moved a sober Lily, but drunk Lily went tottering off in the direction of Brock.

I was in front of him and the dark-haired man before I even knew what was going on. I blinked a couple of times to get my eyes in focus. Brock was his name. I’d seen him around before. He was big, way taller than me in my bare feet, and muscled like some kind of Navy Seal. His sandy blond hair was fastened into a bun, and tattoos covered most visible parts of his muscled body. I quickly glanced at the Sergeant at Arms patch on his leather vest before moving my gaze elsewhere. It was the guy beside him that had me momentarily mute. His hair was dark and closely cropped to the skull on the sides, and slightly longer and mussed on top. I couldn’t see any visible tattoos on him, though he had a matching vest to Brock, with a crisp white tee underneath that hugged his impressive torso.

Cut. A little voice whispered the word to me. Cut, not vest. That’s what they called it, the leather they wore with the club’s patch embroidered on it.

I swallowed and moved my gaze up again. He had a strong, clean-shaven jaw and wasn’t as tall as Brock, nor as muscly. That didn’t mean he was short or lean. He just wasn’t Giganto. Which was good, I wouldn’t need a ladder to kiss him, just high heels.

Wait, why in the heck was I thinking about kissing him? You had to be able to talk to hot guys in order to kiss them.

“Hey, it’s Lily right?” Brock addressed me with a smirk, though his tone was kind.

I jerked, tearing my attention away from rich chocolate eyes. Oh shit. I’d been standing in front of them, silent and staring like I should be wearing a helmet to bed or something. Mortification commenced, but luckily I had tequila on my side.

“Yeah, Lily. That’s me, my name I mean. I’m not an actual Lily because that’s a flower and I’m a human named after a flower,” I babbled, realizing only just now the extent of my drunkenness. Or maybe my social awkwardness.

Brock grinned, the dark haired one stared at me, his eyes roving my bikini-clad body.

I ignored the feel of his eyes, the dip in my stomach at his gaze. I swallowed and focused my attention on Brock.

“Sooo, are you having a good night?” I asked, trying to remember why the heck I’d come over here. I struggled not to fidget with my hands, and my eyes darted around in search of an escape.

Brock’s grin got bigger. “I wasn’t, till now. Lucky you gals need your liquor, or I would’ve missed out on all this,” he said, waving his arm around the party.

A light bulb lit atop my head. “Liquor,” I exclaimed in relief. “Yes, liquor. That’s why I’m here… not here in this house, but here,” I pointed to the ground then gestured between us. “Like here in front of you. Amy wanted me to get the booze.” I pointed to her, hoping to get the attention off me and what a bumbling idiot I was.

Brock’s smile dimmed slightly as he followed my eyes. He shook his head.

“I got it, darlin’. Amy shouldn’t be sending you over here to do her dirty work. I’ll take care of her. You have a good night now.” He winked at me and then moved toward Amy, who tried to ungracefully scramble off her chair. I wanted to watch, but my brain was looking out for me when I realized I was standing alone with the hot biker. One that hadn’t stopped staring at me throughout the entire painful exchange. I attempted to move to make my escape, before I did something that would require me to die of embarrassment tomorrow morning.

A firm grip stopped me. I jolted at his touch. Not in a ”he’s manhandling me” type of jolt, but a ”my panties are on fire from his hand touching my arm” type of jolt.

God. I was such a virgin.

“Not so fast, flower,” his gravelly voice swept around me like a physical thing.

I tottered on my feet slightly as his grip tightened and he pulled me closer to him, his eyes on mine. Up closer he was even more beautiful. His eyes were almost as dark as his hair, and his skin was tanned and flawless. I wanted to run my hands over the stubble covering his sharp jaw.

“Are you new in town too, like Gwen and Amy?” he asked, his hand now trailing down my arm softly.

I swallowed, my mind on his casual touch and my not so causal reaction. Realizing he was staring at me waiting for some sort of answer, I shook my head slowly.

He grinned, showing a row of perfect white teeth. Movie star perfect. “You care to articulate on that?” he asked, teasing.

“You have nice teeth,” I blurted.

Holy shit. Did I just tell him he had nice teeth? No. I didn’t. Tequila did. I searched the backyard for a hole to crawl into, and not leave until I was eighty.

The hand tightened again as if he was sensing I’d bolt. “Easy, flower,” he murmured, pulling me even closer. “These teeth don’t bite,” his eyes turned hooded, “unless you want them to.”

His voice was full of such sensual promise I felt my knees shake. Like actually shake. What the heck did you say to that?

“Um,” I whispered. “I think I like my skin sans bite marks, you know, for now,” I added in a small voice.

For now? Did I just flirt?

He grinned again, but this time there was a serious heat to his eyes. “I’ll hold you to that, flower.” His chocolate eyes continued to hold me hostage while his huge hand trailed up my bare skin. I shivered in desire from the casual touch. He seemed to notice my response because his eyes flared. “So, since you’re not new around here, how is it I haven’t seen you before?” he continued. “And trust me, I would remember seeing you.” His eyes left fire in their wake as they swept across my scantily-clad body.

I wanted to cover myself with my hands. My bikini had seemed perfectly appropriate in a party full of women. Now, I understood I was practically naked in front of this beautiful man. The power of his gaze had me feeling uncomfortable. Another part of me wanted him to look, wanted to imagine the desire in his gaze wasn’t a figment of tequila muddled imagination.

“I don’t um, get out much,” I told him truthfully.

Understatement of the century. At high school, I wasn’t exactly what you’d call popular. I never got picked on or anything, in order to get picked on, you had to get noticed. I didn’t. I was forgettable and didn’t stand out. There was nothing special about me. So I had a handful of friends, studied a lot, read a lot, and hung out with my mom a lot. I also had to study my ass off in order to get the grades to qualify me for a full ride at college. My mom and I weren’t exactly rolling in it. She was a free spirit, an artist. And although she was talented, she didn’t make a huge amount off her art, enough to keep food on the table, only with me helping out with a part-time job at the supermarket. No way was I getting college tuition paid for. Not that I was bitter. My mom gave me a wonderful life, a beautiful life. She got us out of a nightmare to do that.

I got it, the full ride. It was at a college thirty minutes away in Tasman Springs. A lot of kids wanted to cross the country to start their foray into adulthood. Not me. I couldn’t leave my mom. Couldn’t stand being so far away, not when I knew neither of us would be able to afford the airfares to visit often enough. The idea of moving somewhere unfamiliar where I didn’t know anyone terrified me. Plus, since I was this close I could work for Gwen on weekends. So between college, working, Mom and my newer college friends, I didn’t have time for much else.

The man regarded me. I say man. Every other member of the opposite sex I encountered I thought of as ”boys.” The only ones I ever really encountered were ones from school, and they were mostly concerned with drinking, sports, and getting girls into bed. Boys. But, even though he couldn’t be that much older than me, he was definitely a man.

“That’s good,” he muttered, stroking my arm.

“What’s good?” I squeaked.

His eyes bore into mine. “That you don’t get out much. If you did, I expect I’d be fighting every one of my brothers for your attention.” His gaze flickered over to where Amy had stormed off, Brock following. “Well, almost all,” he added, eyes back on me.

My mouth dropped open. Then I closed it, realizing how unladylike this was.

“No one would be fighting for my attention, trust me,” I mumbled with certainty. The men I’d seen connected to the Sons of Templar were hot. Hot with a capital H. “Hot with a capital H” men did not bother themselves with plain, mousy college girls who were so shy they turned mute in their presence.

His brow furrowed. “Trust me, I’m counting my blessings right now that I’m the one who laid eyes on this beautiful flower before anyone else,” he promised, voice husky.

I swallowed and felt my face redden. I wasn’t used to compliments, didn’t know what to do with them. My mom told me I was beautiful, but she was my mom, and it didn’t count. Moms were biologically programmed to find their offspring beautiful. Ditto with my best friend Bex, who was definitely someone boys would fight over. She was my best friend, it was part of her duties to try and inflate my non-existent ego.

“I don’t know your name,” I blurted.

I couldn’t very well be calling him “The Panty Dropper” when I relayed this story to Bex at the dorms on Monday. I would also need it for the short novel I planned on penning in his honor.

“You definitely need to know my name, babe,” he grinned.

His other hand went to my waist. I was pretty sure I stopped breathing when he pulled me even closer. Close enough I could feel the heat from his torso. For once the absence of breath felt like a pleasant thing.

“Asher,” he whispered, his breath tickling my face.

I gazed up at him. “Asher,” I repeated, tasting the beautifulness of it on my tongue. “Cool name,” I added dreamily.

His gaze burned into mine and he regarded me intently. He then shook himself and his face relaxed slightly, there was a glint of heat in his eyes.

That moment, right then, was when I started to fall. Fall so hard that the pain of the crash to the ground still stung three years later.

 

 

Beyond the Horizon – Cover Reveal & Preorder

Hello my lovelies,

I’ve got some awesome news, Beyond the Horizon is available for preorder! And it’s less than a month away! I can’t believe how soon that is but I didn’t want you having to wait too long. Asher and Lily’s story is a deeply personal one for me and I’ll tell you now it’s an emotional roller coaster. As hard as it was to write, I love them both and I love their story. I hope you all love it just as much.

Life is counted in tiny breaths, ones that measure the length of your existence. Life stole the ability to make those breaths easy when Lily was nine years old. Turned her quiet. Made her curl into herself, and shut out a world that threatened to bury her under its weight.

The end of her world is what brings him back—her biker. His chocolate eyes pierce her soul while his club tempts her with a life that she didn’t know she could ever have. Especially not when she was clutching the tattered remains of her existence, and with a weight bearing down on her which makes her unfit for the role of Old Lady. Asher changes that. He wants to set about repairing it, repairing her and her broken world. The problem is, even his strong shoulders can’t carry the burden of her sorrow.

Asher doesn’t take no for an answer. She may have given him her heart three years ago, but never in her wildest dreams would she imagine she had possessed his for the same amount of time.

Just when it seems like she may be able to ride off into the horizon, the world isn’t quite finished trying to rob her of breath. Of life.

Preorder Link:

  Beyond the Horizon (The Sons of Templar MC Book 4)

Out of the Ashes

Hey guys,  I’m a little slow on the uptake with this post but if you haven’t noticed, Out of the Ashes is live! I’m already overwhelmed with all of the amazing feedback I’ve gotten from my readers and I’m so grateful I have such lovely people reaching out to me. Bull’s story is one I’ve wanted to tell since the beginning and I am so glad to share his HEA with you all. If you haven’t gotten Out of the Ashes yet, it’s available here. I just want to say a quick thanks to everyone that reads my books and everyone who takes the time to let me know you enjoyed them. I treasure every single message I get from my readers and it makes the fact I get to do what I love to do for a living that much sweeter. I’m hard at work on a lot of different and exciting projects so watch this space!

Anne

xxxx

 

Out of the Ashes – Preorder link & Teaser Chapter

Hello lovelies!

I’m so excited to announce that Out of the Ashes is available for preorder. Head over to Amazon here to secure your copy. Just over two weeks to go until it goes live! I can’t wait. Because I can’t wait I wanted to share a teaser. Here you go:

Prologue 
Bull

“You don’t let me out of here, I’m going to fucking kill you,” Bull uttered quietly. A calm had settled over him. A calm that starkly juxtaposed the unbridled fury he had been unable to control in the last twenty-four hours. The fury that was unleashed when they got word Laurie had been taken. In broad daylight. Twenty-four hours. How long they’d had her. How long the innocent, sweet, fuckin’ ray of sunshine had been poisoned by darkness.

He regarded his best friend with a cool stare. He was never out of control. Never betrayed emotion. Never had bitches apart from club girls, which didn’t count since there was nothing below the surface. Bull hadn’t realized how empty that shit was until he found Laurie. Till he found depth. Something else to live for, despite the club. Something else to die for.

“You’re in here for your own good. Good of the club. For Laurie.” Cade paused as Bull’s entire frame tightened at the mention of her name. “You’re no good to her walking round smashing shit and killing people out of control,” he said quietly.

Bull walked up to him, the steps reverberating in the room they had locked him in. “Look at me, brother,” he said quietly. “I look out of control to you?”

Cade stared at him.

“That’s my woman out there. You don’t get it, ‘cause you don’t got that shit. But you keep me in here one second longer I’ll never fuckin’ forgive that shit,” he promised.

Cade sighed, stepping aside. Before Bull could move his best friend slapped him on the shoulder. “With you, brother,” he uttered quietly.

Bull nodded slightly, the only response he gave. He was too busy walking out the door into the bright light of day. Too eager to get out of the fuckin’ room and get to finding her. Then, like serendipity, something happened to cast a shadow over that day and every single one after it. A van, screeching to a stop outside the gates. Bull’s heart stopped as he watched a small body be thrown out of it before it sped away, dust flying as it did so. He didn’t register the yelling, the flurry of activity. He sprinted toward that small form, everything in him turning to ice. He had a hope, a desperate hope that the cold forbidding feeling that settled in him at the sight of that prone form was wrong. But as he reached the gate, flung the prospect kneeling on the ground aside, that hope was extinguished. In fact, everything in him was extinguished, leaving a gaping hole in the middle of his fucking chest.

In front of him was his beautiful girl. The only way he could recognize her was the golden locks matted and corrupted with dried blood. Everything else was foreign. The face, beaten beyond recognition. The fresh tattoo covering half her cheek. The ripped clothes barely covering her battered body. The body that he had held in his arms not two days ago. The body that held every inch of him. Kneeling down, gentle as anything, he gathered her into his arms. He pressed her to his chest.

“No, baby,” he choked out, unable to swallow the horror that felt like it was killing him. He pressed his lips to her head. He wished, no, fucking prayed for whatever was out there to save her. To somehow repair the broken body. The broken mind that lay underneath it. Wipe away the horrors a gentle mind had endured. And if that wasn’t possible, if she was gone forever, to take him. Wherever it was that you went after. Take him as well so he could escape the pain and the weight of the guilt he felt. So she wouldn’t be alone. That he wouldn’t be alone.

But no mercy was granted to him. She faded away the next day, succumbing to the mindless brutality inflicted on a gentle soul.

She faded away; he endured. He didn’t follow her. He was engulfed, strangled, in darkness. Haunted by demons that embedded themselves into his mind and sentenced him to a life without light. Without sunshine.

 

Chapter One

 

Mia

Four Years Later

 

“Lexie! Have you seen my shoe?” I yelled as I straightened from inspecting under my bed.

“What shoe?” a voice yelled back.

“You know, the cute ones with the ankle strap and patent leather?” I called as I abandoned the shoe search in my room and decided to look downstairs. I needed those shoes today. They were not only the only piece of footwear that went with my current outfit, but they were also my most kick ass heels. Heels that would contribute to a kick ass look, which I needed to help me feel mentally prepared for the day. Because my thoughts were on my dearly departed shoe, they were not on me navigating the mess that was my hall, which meant I tripped over an ill-placed box.

“Great Caesars Ghost!” I exclaimed with irritation as I caught myself from a header.

I really needed to get around to unpacking those boxes. They were a health hazard. Someone – namely yours truly – could break a leg from tripping on those death traps, and crutches were not conducive with my fashion choices. I mentally added unpack house to my to do list.

I came face to face with Lexie, who was holding a shoe in one hand and a coffee in the other. I sighed in relief. “I knew there was a reason I keep you around,” I said, taking the coffee and the shoe.

“I thought it was because you gave birth to me,” she replied with a smirk, sipping her own cup. Caffeine addiction was genetically transferred.

I waved my hand while inhaling the liquid needed for me to be a functioning human. “Yeah, that factors in there somewhere, but the fact you are handy at finding things, namely my favorite pair of heels is the frontrunner today,” I told her, trying to hop and not spill my coffee while I put on my other shoe. “Plus you give me coffee,” I added, waving the cup.

I stared at my daughter, turning serious. “You nervous, Dollface?” I asked her quietly.

She shook her head, smile still in place and her blonde ringlets swung with the movement. “No, actually I’m not.”

I raised an eyebrow at her. “You’re seriously not anxious at the prospect of starting a new high school where you don’t know anyone?”

Lexie shrugged her shoulders. “I assume the school isn’t filled with Satan worshippers and necromancers. There’s gotta be at least some decent humans in there somewhere. I’m sure I’ll survive.” She linked her arm with mine, directing us toward the stairs. “Plus, I’m too busy being proud of my mom for being in charge of a freaking hotel to be thinking about something as trivial as high school and the possibility of a Mean Girls situation,” she declared as we descended the stairs.

I gave her a sideways glance. “Do not so casually joke about such a work of cinematic genius,” I told her with mock seriousness. “The fate of your high school survival depends on this one piece of advice.” I paused for dramatic effect. “On Wednesdays we wear pink.”

“Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll only wear sweats once a week,” she replied just as seriously.

My daughter and I had a lot of conversations spoken purely in movie quotes.

I laughed at the prospect of Lexie actually going to school in sweats. I didn’t think I’d ever seen my daughter leave the house in sweats, apart from when she left for exercise purposes. And even then she wore cute ones that looked better than half the people in regular clothes.

I stopped at the bottom of the stairs and turned to face Lexie, putting my hand on her cheek. “You sure you’re not harboring some secret resentment for me yanking you away from your school, your friends, and you’re not going to make it known one day by declaring you are into the black arts and demanding to be called Moon Shadow?” I asked.

My daughter gave me a look. “No, Mom. I promise I’ll make new friends. And thanks to the wonder that is the Internet and the creation of motorcars, I’m still going to see the old ones. I’ll get used to the new school, and if it does somehow scar me for life, it’ll just give me more material for my memoirs.” She waggled her eyebrows.

“That only means I get a cut of the royalties,” I countered.

She scowled at me. “You wish.”

I turned serious and shook my head with pride. “How’d I get such an awesome kid?”

Her face turned solemn. “I think someone seriously screwed up at the hospital.”

I laughed. But I seriously regarded my daughter. My kid was the freaking shit. I was lucky as hell my sixteen year old was who she was. I was so proud of her some days I thought I’d burst. She was beautiful, not in the “she’s my kid so I’m genetically programmed to think she’s stunning” kind of way. She was just growing into a spectacular young woman. It frightened me slightly. With such looks like the ones she was growing into came boys. I so wasn’t ready for that yet. Her blonde hair fell long in ringlets down her back, her skin was yet to realize it was a teenager and was blemish free and flawless apart from a light dusting of freckles. Her blue eyes mirrored mine, as did her heart-shaped face. She was also short like I was, but her muscles were lean thanks to the fact she actually exercised, the weirdo. Me, on the other hand, I was petite and was blessed with a fast metabolism so I was reasonably slim. I had no muscles to speak of. That was due to my fear of any form of torture disguised as exercise.

“Okay, by some miracle of the gods we aren’t actually running late, so how about we start the recon of the breakfast situation in this burg?” I suggested, scouring our half unpacked living room for my purse.

Lexie bent over the sofa and handed it to me. “Sounds great.”

Sometimes I thought she was the one taking care of me, not the other way around.

****

“Okay, I’m giving the coffee a hundred and twelve and the pancakes a solid nine and a half. I deducted half because I feel like they could be improved by adding chocolate chips to them,” I declared, leaning back in my seat.

Lexie nodded at me. “I’m seconding the coffee, and I’m hugely impressed a town this small has embraced acai bowls. I must say this one is hells good.”

I rolled my eyes. “I fail to believe that any acai bowl could be “hells good.” It’s a crime to breakfast foods everywhere that that can be considered appropriate as a meal. It’s a smoothie poured into a bowl. It’s like cold soup,” I said, my nose curled in distaste.

Lexie folded her arms. “Acai is a super food and it does wonders for your immune system. It’s full of antioxidants and is a much better way to start the day than with processed sugars and bleached flour,” she told me in a scolding tone.

“The only way, other than coffee, to start a day is with sugar. That’s the only thing that gets me out of bed in the morning,” I argued. “That and the possibility Jensen Ackles will finally realize he’s in love with me,” I added dreamily.

Lexie sighed. “I don’t know how you’ve stayed this skinny, Mom. You should need a crane to get you out of the house,” she said, scrunching her nose at me while she looked me up and down.

“I don’t know how my daughter learned about acai and freaking quinoa when such things are sacrilege in my mind,” I countered.

“A little thing called the Internet,” she replied.

I frowned at her. “Well, that’s got to stop. No more surfing the net for ridiculous health foods. Strictly porn and gambling from now on,” I ordered.

Somehow my daughter had become a health freak of epic proportions. It wasn’t my doing. For the first thirteen years of her life I didn’t even know if I had bought a broccoli, let alone freaking kale or whatever the fad vegetable was. But suddenly my budding teenager had come home declaring we buy things such as salad and hummus. I had complied, more out of shock than anything else. I had thought it would be a passing fad, like those weird jelly bracelets things I had been obsessed with as a teenager. But this healthy eating thing had stuck in a way tacky jewelry could not.

Lexie’s grin dimmed and her eyes went wide, her jaw slackened slightly as her attention went over my shoulder.

“I know you can’t be satisfied after that bowl of goo, but please do refrain from drooling on the table, Dollface. We’ll get you a muffin to go.” I patted her hand, assuming such a look was at someone else’s breakfast.

Blue eyes darted to me. “Don’t look now, Mom, but some seriously hot guys have just entered the building.”

“Scale rating?” I shot at her. This wasn’t our first rodeo.

She contemplated. “Off the charts.”

I stilled, my coffee to my mouth. “Off the charts? Hotter than that firefighter we saw saving that kitten one time?” I asked in disbelief. That wasn’t possible. You get a hot firefighter, combine that with an adorable furry animal, you get a perfect score on the Lexie and Mia hot guy chart.

“Blows him out of the water,” my daughter declared.

I slowly swiveled my head to get an eyeful of this record breaker. There had never been an “off the chart” before. Lexie and I were very particular with our rating system.

What my eyes fell on told me the record books had been broken. We may as well just set them on fire and be done with it now. No man would ever compare to what we were gazing upon. The three men standing at the counter were hotter than Hades. I didn’t think men like this existed in real life. They were all tall, like tall. And built. Not in a gross steroid freak way, but in an ”I’ll bench press a car then chop wood with my bare hands” type built. One was joking with the woman at the cash register, an easy smile on his face. He was rocking a freaking amazing man bun and he looked like some kind of badass surfer. Every part of his face was chiseled and perfect, apart from a slightly crooked nose, which made him look more rugged and twelve times hotter. Another one was talking into a cellphone, his inky black hair brushing his collar, a tender look on his handsome and rough face. I totally envied whoever was on the other end of that call who made such a badass look like that.

It was the last one who drew my attention. I didn’t know why but my eyes seemed to be locked on him. They were all big, but he was big. Not fat. That guy didn’t look like he had an ounce of body fat on him. Huge, in a way that every woman liked because he exuded power and strength. He also exuded something else. Menace, danger, and something I couldn’t put my finger on. His hair was cut close to his skull and his features were hard and masculine. My eyes rested on his goatee. Now, I would never consider myself a goatee fan, but I sent a little prayer up right then and there to thank the Creator for them. His face was blank and it looked like he never cracked a smile. Every inch of him looked rough, dangerous and forbidding. He was beautiful. I didn’t miss the fact that all of their impressive bodies were covered in ink. This wasn’t cheap scribbles; from what I could see it looked awesome. I also didn’t miss the leather cuts they were wearing, ones that had insignias on the back. Ones that usually communicated some type of gang.

I hadn’t had any contact with gangs or motorcycle club members in my life. My knowledge came from the news, TV shows and the odd romance novel I read with a biker in it. I obviously couldn’t rely on fictional depictions to form some kind of opinion; neither could I use what I saw in the news. I was not one to judge anyone without knowing them. My eyes flickered around the café. It was reasonably busy with a breakfast crowd, mostly locals from the way they interacted with the waitresses. A couple of them smiled at the bikers who did chin lifts back. No one was cowering in terror or giving them sideways looks. The surfer guy was joking with Shelly, AKA my new best friend, thanks to her superior coffee making skills. He looked to be friendly and not like he was going to shoot anyone.

On that thought, my body jerked as I made eye contact with him. The dangerous one. The beautiful one. I stilled as something inexplicable passed through me with the weight of his stare. I was locked in place as his dark eyes settled on mine, and for a split second everything else melted away. Intensity I had never felt jolted through me. As quickly as it came it was gone, and the man scowled at me then looked away.

I flinched slightly at such a harsh look from a stranger. A freaking hot stranger. No one liked it when people scowled at them. It double sucked when the person in question was like Adonis. I tried to inspect just what the heck that look was.

A snapping in front of my face made me jump.

“Earth to Mom.”

“What?” I snapped at Lexie’s amused gaze.

She smirked at me. “As much as I would like to watch the hot guy show this morning, I’ve got to go and get an education.”

I focused on her, tearing my gaze away from the scowling male.

“You don’t need an education. You’re pretty. Marry rich, you’ll be fine,” I said, peeking back in his direction. I inwardly flinched when I got a searing scowl as dark eyes locked with mine. I swallowed. “Plus, this is an education,” I nodded my head at the males at the counter. “You are seeing your first real bad boys. You can look, drool, take a mental picture, but do not touch,” I instructed, waggling my finger. “And under no circumstances do you get on the back of a motorcycle. If you do I’ll post that photo of you with a baby mullet on Facebook for the world to see,” I warned her in my mom voice, although I may have been talking more to myself than my daughter.

I may not judge, but no way in hell was my daughter going anywhere near a motorcycle.

She screwed up her nose. “I’m still mad at you for that. Who let’s their own flesh and blood, a defenseless baby, get a mullet?”

I shrugged my shoulders, peeking a glance at the hot guys over my coffee cup. “It wasn’t my fault. Blame the hairdresser,” I answered on a white lie. I had wanted to see if a baby would look cute with a mullet. I reasoned my baby could. I was wrong. I was also eighteen and slightly dumb. What can you do?

Lexie stared at me in what I was sure was disbelief and started to get up. “Come on, I like to eat, therefore I need you to get to work so you can bring home the bacon.”

“Don’t you mean tofu?”

Lexie shriveled up her nose. “You know I don’t eat tofu, Mom.”

I raised my eyebrow. “You’re one step away. Lettuce is a gateway food. Before you know it, you’ll be drinking kale smoothies and having tofu instead of steak. Then I’ll have to disown you.”

I left cash plus a generous tip on the table. This was going to be our new haunt, I couldn’t under tip the people that held my life/morning coffee in their hands. We gathered our things and I gave a warm smile and a wave to Shelly. She smiled back and the gesture made the men she was talking to glance over in our direction. I gulped as three pairs of male eyes settled on my daughter and I. It wasn’t menacing or leering, just curious.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to get you a muffin or some form of solid food to constitute a proper breakfast?” I asked her, deciding to try and ignore the hot guys, even though our current trajectory had us heading straight past them. There was nothing for it; they were right by the exit.

Lexie rolled her eyes at me. “I’m sure, Mother.” She seemed more cool and calm at the prospect of coming so close to such male specimens. I glared at her for not being more teenagey and awkward. It totally made me look weird.

We walked past the counter where there were various pastries and delicious goods displayed. I held out my hand. “Come on, last chance. Sugary, bleached flour perfection going once, going twice….”

Lexie just stared at me.

I shrugged my shoulders. “Your loss. Although how you are going to sit through classes like math and English Lit without a sugar high is beyond me,” I said seriously as we walked out the door, surviving the brush with the world’s hottest men. My ovaries didn’t explode or anything.

Lexie shook her water bottle, which had pieces of lemon and cucumber floating around in it. “Don’t worry, this is vodka,” she deadpanned.

I put my hand on chest in mock relief. “Thank goddess. You are my daughter.”

I thought I heard a bark of male laughter as we closed the door. I quickly glanced over my shoulder to see all of the hot guys staring at my daughter and me with smirks on their faces. Well, not all. The intense, hot one was staring at me with a stiff look on his chiseled face, his eyes glaring like I was responsible for the Beatles breaking up. I quickly glanced back around, slinging my arm around Lexie’s shoulder. I had other stuff to worry about, primarily my only child. Hot bikers did not factor into the equation. Well, not until I got my vibrator out later on that night.

“Right, let’s get you to your necromancer-infested high school,” I declared, shaking such thoughts away.

****

I glanced into the red brick building. “You sure you don’t want me to come in with you?” I asked.

“Mom, I’m sure. I’ll be fine,” Lexie told me firmly, shuffling things around in her backpack.

I chewed my lip, looking at the various students filtering in the doors. They looked innocent now, but I knew how nasty kids could be. Especially girls. Especially when a new, beautiful, funny, and confident girl like my daughter came into such a small school. I narrowed my eyes at a crowd of them, hating them on sight.

“I could come in and establish myself as a crazy mom who has connections to the mob, so if anyone messes with you they’ll be sleeping with the fishes,” I suggested in an Italian accent.

Lexie stared at me.

“Or I could let you go in on your own and stop with the crazy mom thing,” I conceded.

“Thank you. Much appreciated. I’m assuming the mob thing will still be on the table if I choose to accept it at a later date?” she deadpanned.

I nodded. “Of course. The mob thing will always be on the table,” I told her reassuringly.

She grinned. I didn’t even know why I was worried. My kid was independent, confident, and comfortable in her own skin. How she was like that at sixteen I didn’t know. She was an old soul. She was content with her own company, whether she was reading a book or playing a guitar. She didn’t have a heap of close friends back in DC, but she didn’t need them. She was unique, an original. She knew her own mind. She had her own style down pat already; she was always decked out somewhere between Stevie Nix and Carrie Bradshaw. Today she was wearing a floral dress, which hit her mid leg. It had huge bell sleeves and nipped in at the waist. She was wearing knee high, tan leather high heeled boots and had multiple necklaces slung around her neck. Her ringlets were piled on her head in a messy bun.

Another thought popped into my mind.

I glanced back at the kids filtering into the building. My eyes zeroed in on a boy apart from the rest, leaning against a motorcycle in the parking lot. He was smoking and had aviators on. He was also a mini hot guy. The teenage version of what those men in the café were to me. In other words, trouble.

“Remember what I said about motorcycles.” I turned my attention back to Lexie. “I’ll do it. I’ll post the photo,” I promised.

Lexie leaned in and kissed my cheek, shaking her head. “Okay, Mom,” she said with sarcasm.

She hadn’t sprouted a proper interest in boys yet, not that I knew of, and she told me everything. I knew it was coming though, the day she discovered the opposite sex. She pulled back slightly. “Good luck today. You’ll do great. I’m so proud of you.”

I swallowed. “You stole my line, kid,” I said, stroking her face lightly.

Lexie smiled. “See you later.”

She climbed out and I rolled down my window.

“Remember, Lexie, just say no,” I called to her.

“To drugs?” she asked with a slightly scrunched face.

“To boys with motorcycles, things like math club and anything consisting of frog dissection.” I said then paused. “Well, and drugs also.”

She blew me a kiss and joined the steady stream of kids walking through the doors. I narrowed my eyes at the smoking man-boy, whose sunglasses followed Lexie’s journey into the school. Crapballs.

 

Bull

“You think we should get the women some coffees before we break the news?” Brock asked Cade as they swung off their bikes.

Cade stared at him. “I think we need to give them vodka shots. But considering it’s eight in the morning and my woman is pregnant I’m settling for decaf and pastries.”

Brock shook his head. “I thought Gwen despised decaf. I’m pretty sure she once referred to it as ‘decaffeinated bullshit.’” He finger quoted as they entered the coffee shop.

Cade raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, well, this time around she’s craving coffee something wicked and decaf’s her only option. It’s under protest. I swear she fuckin’ flinches every time she takes a sip. Then glares at me for not lettin’ her have the normal shit.”

Brock laughed. The edges of Bull’s mouth turned up slightly. Gwen was the only bitch who could make him feel like happiness was possible. Not long term; it would never be long term. But he could have small moments of respite from the ash he tasted on his tongue, the poison swirling in his belly. Those moments were fleeting, brief as fuck. But his best friend’s Old Lady managed to make it seem like he could breathe slightly.

“I worry for my safety the moment I have to take cocktails and coffee away from Sparky,” Brock muttered as they approached the counter.

Cade chuckled and glanced down at his phone. “Hey, baby, you okay?” he answered softly.

Bull watched his friend. He swore every time he answered the phone he braced. His body relaxed as soon as his wife reassured him she was good. He didn’t blame him. Shit he went through with Gwen would make any man vigilant. Worried. That and the fact Gwen was a loose fucking unit. Add Amy and fuckin’ Rosie to the equation, and you had a recipe for disaster.

Brock started joking with Shelly while she got their coffees and Bull struggled to still his mind. Maybe struggled was too light a word. He fuckin’ battled, attacked and quietly combatted the demons which had taken up residence in the barren fuckin’ wasteland inside his head. Those demons were relentless. It was a constant war fighting the images, the memories that came with them. Every moment of every day he wasn’t on his bike was a moment he was engaged with those demons. It was constant. It was exhausting and it was the fight for his life, because he knew if he let those demons win, it was over.

So that’s what he was doing when he saw them. He was fighting those demons, and then all of a sudden he wasn’t. He was looking into eyes that stilled the battle. Silenced the screams. Those eyes gave him quiet. Gave him respite. Blue as the ocean. He struggled to move away from those eyes, to see the rest of her. She was beautiful. Fuckin’ stunning. His cock jerked in his pants at her heart shaped face. Her rosebud full lips, her long blonde hair curling around her face. Tits. Small but fuckin’ perfect. Then he caught himself. Then the demons came back and he scowled at her, the woman who had made him forget his fight.

“Coffee, brother?” Brock jerked him out of his head.

Bull tore his gaze away from those doe eyes. He jerked his head in answer.

Shelly smiled and waved in the direction of the table, which caused Brock to turn his eyes toward the woman. Those eyes. Bull tried. He fuckin’ battled not to follow Brock’s gaze, to meet those eyes again. But it seemed he was fuckin’ useless. He silently fumed at his inability to keep his eyes off her.

“Tourists?” Brock asked Shelly as the woman stood.

Bull’s cock hardened fully in his pants at the sight of her. Her tight little body was covered head to toe by a white blouse and tight black slacks, but there was no hiding it. Bull’s cock twitched again as she bent to retrieve a handbag, her ass perfectly hugged by the material encasing it. He visualized himself sinking into her from behind as his fingers bit into that ass.

“Nope,” Shelly answered as Bull struggled to get his cock under control. “They just moved here. Mia’s taking over management of The Cottage.”

Fuck. Fuckin’ living here? Bull would have to know this bitch was in his town, fuckin’ strutting that sweet ass around, trying to fuckin’ kill him? He clenched his fists.

“No shit?” Brock continued as he glanced at Bull. He felt like his teeth might shatter at the force with which he was clenching his jaw.

They silenced as she approached them. “Come on, last chance. Sugary, bleached flour perfection going once, going twice…” Her voice was soft and teasing as she smiled at the kid beside her. The kid was a fuckin’ imprint of the woman. Same golden hair, same doe eyes, ‘cept she had a small sprinkling of freckles where the woman had none. Her mother was wearing a fuckin’ sex kitten outfit; kid was clad in some hippie, rock star gear. They were the same, but different. Kid was going to be a fuckin’ knockout like her mom. He pulled his attention back to the exchange.

She stared at her mother in a way that made Bull think this had happened before. The teasing tone of the woman made him sure of it.

“Your loss. Although how you are going to sit through classes like math and English Lit without a sugar high is beyond me.” She shrugged her shoulders and he swore he heard a low chuckle from behind him. Bull struggled against the feeling he normally only felt with Gwen. That little feeling of warmth, of sunshine lighting up the darkness. They were almost out the door and the kid shook some fancy water bottle. “Don’t worry, this is vodka,” the kid said seriously.

Bull felt himself want to smile. Kid was funny.

He had started his day with the same grim determination that he had every day. To make it through. To fight the demons. Keep the club healthy. Rinse, repeat. He hadn’t expected this shit. He hadn’t expected to be blown off his fuckin’ feet by some bitch who threatened his entire existence. Some bitch he didn’t even know.

“Thank goddess. You are my daughter.” Her playful voice carried as the door shut behind them.

Yeah, he didn’t expect some bitch to make his cock twitch, make his demons quiet and make him laugh all at once.

 

 

 

Surprise release – Outside the Lines

Surprise everyone! I decided to release a novella just in time for Valentine’s Day. I’ve got four men to smuggle up with. Their names are, Cade, Brock, Bull & Hansen. So what if they’re not real flesh and blood people. They still count.

We met Macy and Hansen in Firestorm, and I just had to give them their HEA. Grab it here.

My life’s not easy. I’ll tell you that now. It’s not neat. I don’t fit into society the way most people expect me to and I don’t color studiously between the lines, outside the lines is where I reside. The fringes of society is where I found my place, with the Sons of Templar MC. The life they lived gave me everything I wanted, and everything I needed. Most importantly, it gave me something I’d been lacking for over a decade—family. A place to belong.

Club girl—that was my title. There were other words for what I was, but I preferred the less derogatory version. Sure, I’d love to be an Old Lady. It’s the dream. But, as someone who escaped into fantasy worlds when life got too much, I knew the difference between dreams and reality. I had resigned myself to the fact, I’d always belong to the club. It didn’t mean I didn’t crave one man in particular to claim me. To put me on the back of his bike and ride off into the sunset with the man who’d captured my heart the first day I saw him—Hansen. The dream where he’d finally see me and make me his, existed strictly in Macy’s world of wonder. Until now. Until somehow my fantasy world and reality world collided and he looks at me in the way I’d dreamt of for a year.

Fairy tales usually had neat and happy endings once the hero and heroine got together. This wasn’t a fairy tale. Hansen wasn’t your traditional hero and I was the furthest you could get from a heroine. I feared my past might dictate my future. That my world outside the lines would go from messy to complete disaster.