My Readers Rock The World!!

I have not one...not two...but THREE books on Bookstrand's top 30
ménage books best seller listing!!!

#5   Hungry for Her Mates

#18 The Wranglers' New Chef

#29 River's Biker Heroes

Now I'm truly blown away by this and can't thank you all enough for giving me this wonderful gift! I'm going to celebrate tomorrow and write while drinking a bottle of wine! Can't you just imagine the amazing scenes I'll write by the end of the day!

Here's a gift back to you. An unedited snippet from my new series Wounded Warriors

Book 1 Ellie's Wounded Heroes

Ellie.

Her name seemed to whisper relief through his aching soul. Looking into her slightly unsure eyes had been like seeing his future in a different light. One of his old buddies had once said that when he’d found the woman who would become his wife, he had seen their unborn children in her eyes. Maybe there was something to that after all. He would swear he’d seen her sitting with him on his front porch swing.

Shaking his head, Rex grabbed a bottle from the fridge and walked over to his favorite chair and sat down as he removed the cap on his beer. One long, ice cold swallow later, he set the nearly half empty bottle on the side table and toed off both boots. After pulling off his socks and stuffing them in the boots, he pulled the seam along the left leg of his jeans from the hem, and it split half way up his leg so that he could get to his leg.

Well, it was where part of his leg used to be. Now he stared at the new and improved part of him that continued to burn and ache despite its lack of nerves. Metal and silicone formed his lower leg instead of the bone, sinew, muscle, and skin he’d been born with. It didn’t take but a few seconds to remove the offending part, but it did take a while before he was able to touch the remaining stump to massage away some of the irritation that never seemed to totally disappear.

“Fuck. This is bullshit.” Rex grabbed the bottle off the table and upended it, gulping down the still cold brew, then slamming the empty bottle down on the coaster.

He leaned back in the chair and shoved with his hands until it reclined. He closed his eyes and ran both hands over his face several times to push past the stinging tears that burned just below the surface. Too often he found himself in this spot, alone and angry, struggling to find his next reason to wake up to another day of his life. Yesterday it was because he was riding with his gang to say goodbye to someone he'd never met before. The man deserved an escort and protection for his family from protesters who always seemed to find the time to show up. Today it had been because he had to show up at the VA to help the new guys navigate the gym with someone who’d already been there and done that.

Tomorrow? What would be his reason to wake up tomorrow? No funerals to attend, and it was a Sunday so no one needed his help with therapy. Maybe tomorrow would be the day he didn’t wake up.

He lay there with one arm thrown over his eyes letting his mind wander in case there was something that he had promised someone that he’d forgotten about. Images of Ellie appeared instead. He could still feel the mounds of her breasts as they pressed against his back while they’d been heading to her sister-in-law’s house. It had gotten him more than a little turned on. Hell, just looking at her bent over the car had made his dick hard.

Face it, Rex. I’m in lust, and she’s not the least bit interested in a roughneck biker, much less the damaged man I am. Jack off like normal, and let it go, man.

He blew out a breath, banishing thoughts of her to another room in the many compartments of his head. He would bring her out when he was alone in the shower or his bed. Right now Rex needed to remember what he was supposed to do the next day. As much as he hated to have to do it, he figured the only way he’d remember was if he got up and hobbled into the office to look on his calendar.

He could do it now or wait until he was ready to head to bed and stop on the way by to check. Waiting suited him much better. No reason to make an extra trip across the floor if he didn’t have to. He hated hopping, or worse, using the damn crutches. There was no ignoring the oppressive presence of them laying on the floor next to his chair, no matter how much he liked to pretend they weren’t there. They were a constant reminder that he lacked something and always would now.

Now he wished he’d brought the bottle of Jack with him when he sat down. At the very least he should have grabbed two beers instead of the one. He’d known he would finish that first one fast. Now he was stuck with nothing to drink unless he got desperate enough to hop or grab those damn crutches.

“Fucking idiot. You can’t remember crap anymore.”

Rex remembered every millisecond of that damn blast that had killed most of his platoon and left him footless with a head injury, but he couldn’t recall what he was supposed to do the next day without a fucking note to remind him.

“Hell!” He rubbed at his eyes again.

Might as well go look at the damn calendar and see what’s on the agenda. There would be something, because there always was.

Giving himself another few minutes to relax as much as he ever did, Rex played the game he always played and challenged himself to wait it out as long as possible before he gave in to the need to know. One, two, three minutes passed before he finally cursed and gave in to the skin itching need to know.

Rex pushed the chair down using his good leg and sat up. Without looking, he reached down to one side and grabbed the offensive crutches and pushed himself to his foot. Then he leaned over and grabbed the artificial part of himself and fixed it on the hook he’d set up to carry it when he was on the wooden contraptions.

The office was just off the living room, exactly ten swinging steps from his chair to the doorway. He used the rubber tip of the crutch to push the door all the way open and crossed the threshold of not knowing into everything he had ever known and ever would need to know.

Leaning the crutches against the wall next to the door so the prosthesis didn’t hit the floor, he hopped twice to get to his chair. As soon as he sat in it, things seemed to calm inside of him. Here, at least, he knew who he was and what his purpose was. Here he was in control, and there were always happy endings.

What had started out as a way to work through the pain and depression after the bomb had turned into a career that had taken him by surprise. Not only was he able to support himself and help others, but he could lose himself in the process for a little while, escaping the reality of life without his lower leg.

He looked at the calendar that always remained open on his desk. Saturday, June sixteenth, twenty-twelve. VA Therapy Class and, below that, Chapter Fifteen is where Luke realizes he is going to lose Sandy if he doesn’t make a decision one way or the other.

Sunday the seventeenth he had written in to finish the edits for Gabriel’s Redemption and send them to his editor. He relaxed. As long as there was something written on the calendar, he felt like he had a reason to get up. He remembered the strange scent of vanilla and mint in a warm kitchen, and Ellie’s face drifted through his thoughts. She’d smelled so damn good when she’d brushed her lips across his for that brief moment. He imagined she tasted even better, but she hadn’t given him a chance to find out.

He turned on the computer and pulled up Chapter Fifteen of his current book and wondered if a person could replace his need to have something on his calendar every day. To do that, she’d have to be in his life, and right now, she wasn’t. But maybe she could be if he was able to find her again. To do that, he’d have to remember her when he woke up in the morning. He could write her on his calendar, but that would be cheating.

Be sure to watch over the next few days for a list of my 2014 Schedule as it stands now. I'm going to be watching for you!

 

Marla Monroe

www.marlamonroe.com