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
