Welcome to my new page. I’ve lost touch with my blogging side and hope to do weekly post about writing, reading, and life.
Welcome to my new page. I’ve lost touch with my blogging side and hope to do weekly post about writing, reading, and life.
Source: Beauty and the Beast #Retold
This post is a little different from what I would normally blog about. It’s usually my books I am on about, but today I want to talk to you about Facebook/social media addiction. I never really thought I had a problem until I removed messenger and the Facebook application from my phone.
I never realized how much time I spent staring at my phone, instead of interacting with my family. I wasn’t obsessed, I was addicted. Constantly checking my pages, my inbox, groups, making sure I went through my hundreds of notifications. I feel as though I looked down at my phone and five years of my life passed me by.
Everything is so instant these days and don’t get me wrong, I love Facebook for how it connects us like never before, but I hate it too. Facebook encourages this always available behavior. Now on like pages you get a rating on how responsive you are to messages, based on how quickly you reply to someone. I used to stress over that little green check that said very responsive. I used to feel guilty when Facebook would tell me, reply to messages faster on my like page. I even downloaded a pages manager application for that too.
I can’t do it anymore. I won’t be wasting away online. My writing has suffered from my need to be constantly online, following trends, chasing likes, hoping to sell my books. It isn’t healthy and it isn’t fair to my family to be constantly looking at Facebook instead of them.
Don’t get me wrong, I do love Facebook and connecting with readers and friends. Only, I can’t be as active as I once was. I want my life back away from social media. I miss all the things I used to enjoy. I challenge you to remove the apps from your devices and see how many times you go to grab them to check Facebook in just one day. I think you might be surprised. Anyway, I am sure there was more I wanted to say about this topic, and I am sure it can apply to more than Facebook, but I hope it resonates with some of you.
It’s been a rough week for so many. I wanted to do a little something to bring smiles to some faces. Your faces. So, what have I done, I decided to bundle three of my standalone new adult books. For a limited time this set will be .99 cents. Yes, three books under a dollar. It’s a steal, I’m practically giving them away. Why? Because I like your smile and your support means a lot to me. Side note, I am working on the paperback version too!
Three couples on different journeys…
In life, we are faced with choices, chances, and consequences. Find out who must make a hard CHOICE when it comes to love, who must take a CHANCE on love, and uncover what the CONSEQUENCES for making a choice and taking a chance on love may cost them…
The Suffocation of Katie
I’m with You
Have you heard the news? Born Sinner is up for preorder! Release Date January 17, 2017. If you have read my short story Trigger in the Alphas of Sin Anthology, then you have already met Trigger and Opal. Born Sinner is the continuation of their ride. I’m really excited about this book and hope you are too.
When a born sinner gets a taste of the reverend’s daughter he becomes hell bent on making her his.
Trigger Jennings has only ever wanted one woman on the back of his motorcycle, Opal Willoughby. Now that she’s eighteen, nothing will stand in his way. Not even her daddy, the reverend who’s got a vendetta against his club, the Born Sinners.
This year has been one of the hardest of my life both personal and professional. Pressure. I feel so much of it. Pressure to be perfect or close to it online, because I’m told almost on a daily basis that I’m an author and shouldn’t post my opinions and personal life or I am going to alienate my readers and peers.
I’m tired of that, and I’m tired of feeling like I can’t express myself as a person, because yes, I am a person with feelings and opinions. While I do agree that some things are better left in private ( like my personal problems) some things deserve to be shouted about.
Anyway, back to that word again-pressure. I have some of the best readers there are. They support me and read anything I throw at them. I love you all for that I do. I’m so thankful that you are excited for the next book, I truly am. However, my personal life imploded this year and things have been hard. I’ve been burning the candle at both ends and I’m tired of trying to keep up appearances, because if I put myself out there I’ll lose those readers who love my words.
I shouldn’t feel this way, but it’s been beaten into my head from fellow authors. Keep everything professional and I agree to a point, but I feel like I’m losing myself in the strive to be perfect.
I can’t do it anymore. I am done trying to cater to what I think others expect of me, because I’m just a girl in love with words.
When’s the next book? I get asked this daily and yes I am grateful someone wants the next story. I am so grateful, but when I get asked that simple and innocent question, here comes that word again- pressure.
I want to give you the next book in my Black Rebel Riders’ MC Series, but here’s the thing, it’s not finished. Sometimes the words pour out of me and sometimes they dribble out slowly.
In 2014 I wrote and released 4 books in the BRRMC series. In 2015 I slowed down and released only 2, but to be fair I did write and release 3 other books. This year I have written and released 3 books, 1 short story, and have 3 stories in anthologies. I released 5 other books between 2013 and 2014 that have been unpublished and are being reworked.
What I haven’t told you, is that on top of writing my own books, I co-wrote 7 other books as a ghost writer, in 2014 and 2015. That’s a total of 28 stories in less than 3 years. That is a hell of a lot.
Anyway, I guess the point to this is I have to slow down, I can’t keep going at the pace I have been. If any of you feel the need to be perfect online, stop it, it isn’t worth it. Be you. Share your ups and your downs, just be you. People will like you more for it.
While I may not be pushing books out as fast as I was, I promise you that I will be me and keep it real. No more of this pressure that is drying up my creative well.
I love to write. I live it and breathe it. I am pretty sure I bleed ink and words. I have a paper heart that feels a bit crumpled up at the moment, but I’ll flatten out the edges and smooth those creases.
If you’ve made it this far, thank you for your support, it means the world to me.
Blood Of A Rebel Preview
Blood Of A Rebel
© 2016 All Rights Reserved
They say home is where the heart is and home is where you make it. What if you don’t know where home is but you can feel it in the shadows of your heart. All of his life Cole Johnson has felt something is missing. That there is a piece of himself he is desperate to find. He needs answers. Answers his parents refuse to give. Who says you can’t come home again. Who says you can’t return from a grave you never knew you were lying in
Miracle has always felt that someone is missing from her life. She has always chalked it up to her mother being dead and having a father who never wanted her. When a newcomer arrives in her life, she can’t help but feel drawn to him. Deep in her heart, she knows they have met before, but where and when?
College is where you find yourself…find who you want to be, what you want to do with your life. I don’t know any of these things yet. Although I suppose it’s too early to tell. I’m trying to fit in, trying to go to my classes and get the full college experience, but my heart is elsewhere.
My heart is in Drag Creek.
My mind, however, is on the new guy in my life.
My Outlaw, my Cole.
Cole blew into my life out of nowhere.
I wasn’t expecting him; he really took me by surprise.
I had just gotten out of my Art History class when I saw him standing outside the student center. I’ll admit his red hair is what first caught my attention. When the sun hit his unruly hair, those streaks of copper and gold called to me. I found myself wanting to run my fingers through the short strands and see if they were as soft as they appeared. I wanted to run my fingers over the bottom half of his head where he was shaved to the scalp.
As though he felt the heat of my stare, he spun around, his dark eyes landing on mine.
I gasped, shocked by the intensity of those dark eyes behind his glasses.
His mouth arched into a delicious smile, and I knew despite his innocent and nerdy appearance, he was anything but safe.
The wild child yearning to be set free inside me did a little dance.
She knew he was dangerous beneath the surface.
His eyes traveled the length of my body, stopping at my mouth.
I licked my bottom lip and rolled both my lips inward.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hi,” I answered with a smile, my heart thumping out of my chest.
From there I was a goner.
He had me and he knew it.
There was no denying the pull I felt to him and him to me.
I stood there smiling like a dope and he ate it up.
He held his phone out to me.
“Put in your digits, I’m gonna call you.”
I didn’t even play hard to get in the least. I did as I was told and put my number in under Morgan.
His fingers brushed over mine as I handed it back to him. His touch took my breath away, and damn those eyes piercing me, casting a spell over me.
“You follow orders well Morgan, I like that shit.” He winked shoving his phone into the back pocket of his dark jeans.
I shrugged as if he wasn’t making me putty in his hands. He made me feel comfortable as if we were old friends catching up.
“I’m gonna call, you’ll answer.”
“Yeah,” I said with red cheeks, rocking back on my heels attempting to play it cool.
Then he was gone.
I practically floated to my next class.
It was two days before I saw him again, and this time he was on his motorcycle.
He was parked outside my dorm, all sexy, mysterious…waiting for me.
He lit up a cigarette, something that normally would turn me off, but there was just something so sexual in the way he flicked his lighter. When he flicked the flame, it was if he ignited a fire inside me, and I was burning bright for him.
He took a hard drag as I approached him.
“Nice Indian, quite an antique.”
His cigarette dangled from his bottom lip, I was sure it was going to fall at any moment.
His brows perk up. “You know a lot about motorcycles?”
“A little,” I said with a roll of my shoulders. I grew up around the Black Rebel Riders’ motorcycle Club. I’d have to be blind and deaf not to know about bikes.
Cole took another drag of his cigarette, blowing the smoke out with ease, before flicking it to the ground.
I snuffed it with the toe of my boot. “You know there’s no smoking.”
“You gonna report me?” He eyed me with a smirk. A smirk that said he knew I wouldn’t dare.
“No,” I gushed flipping my dark hair over my shoulder.
“Get on,” he said coolly.
“Can’t, I have class.”
“Too bad.” He turned his key and revved up his engine.
“Thought you were gonna call me?”
He shrugged and it pissed me off. He was already under my skin. No guy had ever gotten to me before, until him. Until Cole.
He was already pulling away when I began to wonder how he knew where I lived. I guess he could have looked me up in the student directory. How many Morgan’s could there be on campus? I was afraid to know and wasn’t about to find out.
For some reason beyond my control, I called after him, “Hey, Outlaw. Wait up.” I ran after him and he stopped. He didn’t even look back as I climbed on behind him. My arms went around his waist as though they had been wrapped around him all my life.
I sigh, missing him already.
“Earth to Morgan!” Bridgette snaps her fingers in my face. “You about ready to go?”
Bridgette is my roommate and totally adorable. She has that whole good girl in the streets and freak in the sheets thing going for her. I’ve not even mastered flirting casually yet. I’m such a dork. Slipping my black boots on I shrug. “I guess so.”
We’re getting ready for the football game tonight. I’m meeting Cole afterwards and I’m nervous.
We’ve been texting or as Bridgette calls it, sexting the past few days. I’m so nervous. I like him a lot, like really like him. He’s not my first crush or anything. But he is the first guy I’ve let past the friend zone.
I don’t date, like ever. With my whole being adopted thing, the thought terrifies me. What if I like a guy and we end up related. Not cool. Cole though, he makes me want to forget and break my own rule. That guy is not a boy like I’m used to dealing with though. He’s a man, all man.
Waving my hand over my ensemble I smile anxiously. “Do I look okay?” I’m going for sexy, but not desperate. I don’t want him thinking I’m easy. I’ve only kissed a few boys. Most were too terrified of my family to try anything with me. Rebel, my adoptive father, is super protective of me and my virtue. He said just because I was raised up around the club, it didn’t give me an excuse to be easy.
There was one guy, one time, I thought about giving him a chance, but he was only interested in trying to prospect and thought bedding me would be his golden ticket.
My knee in his balls told him otherwise. The jerk. I almost thought he was special. I was sixteen and stupid, but not that stupid.
Bridgette scrunches her nose and crinkles her eyes. Her hands start fussing over my hair, smoothing the flyaway strands. “Lose the creepy smile and change your shirt.”
Glancing down, I pinch the hem of my shirt between my fingers. “What’s wrong with this one?” I love my purple shirt.
“It’s fine if you don’t want him to know you have boobs under there.” She points to my chest. I don’t have huge boobs. I wasn’t blessed in the chest like my older sister, Dawn.
“Whatever.” Shrugging my shirt over my head, I stand at my closet clad in my jeans and bra scanning the rack.
My bestie shoves past me. Her fingers comb through the hangers. She thrusts a white cami with a sheer overlay at me. “This. It looks great with your dark hair and tan. But most importantly…gives you fuckable cleavage.”
“I don’t know whether to thank you or be concerned that you know how fuckable my tits are,” I tease.
“Don’t say tits, it’s so crass.”
“You forget I grew up in a biker club, I have no class. I’m all sass.” I smirk pulling down my top.
Bridgette shakes her head, her long, dirty blonde hair swaying with the movement. Her brown eyes twinkle with laughter. “Now me. How do I look?”
Looking over her black leggings and form fitting grey Wildcat t-shirt I tell her, “Perfect. If you don’t land a football player soon, those boys might be dead or gay.”
“Right?” She grins putting her hoop earrings in.
Going to our small but fully functional bathroom, I check over my face. Have to make sure I don’t have a booger or something funky going on with my breath. Bridgette is dancing around to Def Leppard while she waits. She loves 80’s hairband music.
I can’t get my mind off Cole and what may or may not happen tonight.
He told me no panties. I’m not wearing any. Not that I’m expecting anything to happen, but I am definitely open to the idea of Cole laying some sugar on me. I’m sure he expects me to show up with them on, so I want to show him, I’m not as innocent as he thinks.
Football games aren’t my thing really, but I suffer through them for Bridgette. Besides those tight pants that show off the player’s butts aren’t so bad. My cheeks redden at the thought. Before we head out I straighten up the bathroom and check my phone to see if Cole has messaged me.
I’m stalling, but I’m so nervous. This is like my first date or something. The thought hits me like a freight train in the center of my chest. Holy shit! I have a real date with a hotter than hell guy. He screams everything my dad warned me about and everything my mom loves about him.
Waving my hands around I squeal and giggle while kicking out my feet.
“Morgan.” Bridgette grabs my shoulders, looking into my eyes. “Chill out bitch!”
I grin. “I have a date.”
“Fix it Jesus,” Bridgette groans as we go out the door.
“Yeah mom, I hear ya. I’m fine!” I snap, she won’t get off my ass.
I get that she’s still pissed I skipped out on UCLA, but I’m enrolled for the winter semester at UK. What more does she want from me? Fuck.
“Don’t take that tone with me. I still fund your good time you are so intent on having. Why Kentucky Cole?”
“I don’t know…they have a great basketball team.” I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose. I’ve not told her about the diary. The one I found in the attic. The one that cemented that my whole life has been a lie.
“You don’t play,” she says, softening some.
“So, I like to watch. Put the old man on.” Talking to my dad is much easier. He doesn’t give me grief. He gets that I needed a break from school…my mom, Harper. Especially Harper.
Harper is this chick I was seeing back home, in Laguna Beach. She was cool and all but she was clingy as hell. Always on about her five-year plan or some shit. I get that she was goal orientated, but I wasn’t looking to marry her.
I didn’t even tell her I was leaving. I didn’t tell anyone, except Sara, my little sister. I didn’t want her to freak out or think I had deserted her. We get along for shit, but she’s my sister. It’s only natural we drive each other up the walls. Still, I didn’t want her to worry.
“Hey hot rod, you liking them Kentucky women?”
“Not sure yet, but I’m about to find out. I have a date tonight,” I confess.
“Atta boy. Who’s the girl?”
“Her name’s Morgan.” I smile just saying her name.
I picture her soft, innocent eyes and my cock twitches, itching to get to know how she feels.
“Listen, I know your mom comes off as a hardass, but it’s only because she worries and wants the best for ya.”
Scratching the back of my neck, I say, “Yeah, yeah I get it. I’ll check in soon.”
I’m eager to find out if Morgan kept her word, listened to what I said, and isn’t wearing panties. I’m standing in front of the Commonwealth Stadium. The game is nearly over and Morgan agreed to meet me near the exit afterwards. I thought about slipping in and surprising her, but I hate large crowds. They’ve never been my scene. I prefer hanging back and doing my own thing.
Harper always said I was anti-social. I prefer to call it anti-bullshit.
My phone pings and I’m afraid it’s going to be my mother wanting to go another round with me, but it’s Rhyner, my new roomie. I answered his ad for a spare room. The rent’s cheap and it’s close to campus. He’s a pretty chill dude. He doesn’t ask a lot of questions and gives me my space.
“Speak,” I grit out, wondering what he wants.
“Hey man, just wanted to give you a heads up. I’m having some people over. Pizza and beers, you can join us if ya like.”
I look up and see Morgan practically skipping toward me with a pouty looking blonde on her heels. “Thanks, I may bring a few chicks with me.”
“Alright, see ya soon.”
Clicking end on the call I shove my phone in my pocket and pull Morgan in close.
“Hi,” she says with an anxious giggle.
“Who’s your friend? I didn’t know this was a three-way.”
Morgan frowns and her friend rolls her eyes.
“I was kidding. My roommate is having a small get together. You guys wanna check it out?”
Morgan looks to her friend. It’s sweet she wants to make sure her friend is cool with whatever we do. The girl nods with a slight shrug. “Why not?” She smiles weakly.
“I’m Cole,” I introduce myself.
“Oh, duh. Sorry,” Morgan says getting all giddy. “This is Bridgette. Bridgette, Cole.”
“Nice to meet you.” She shuffles awkwardly biting her thumb, chewing on the tip of her manicured nail.
“Likewise.” I hug Morgan closer to me getting a whiff of her hair; she smells of almonds and vanilla. She’s peering up at me with big eyes and a smile that is all mine. Her lips are tinted a pale red and I want to taste them. “So, my place is a few blocks over. If you don’t mind the walk.”
“Awesome,” her friend says not the least bit enthused.
“Come on Bridgette, it’ll be fun. You need to meet some new people. Not be hung up on that jerk Coy Patterson,” Morgan encourages her.
She wrinkles her nose. “I know,” She lets the words out on a sigh. “Okay. Let’s go.”
I’m sure there is a story there, but I don’t care enough to ask.
The three of us set off with Morgan’s hand tucked in mine and Bridgette walking next to us.
Leaning into Morgan, I run my free hand around the back of her jeans, dipping my fingers just inside the waist and skimming her bare skin. She squeals and I whisper in her ear before she can get away, “I told you to be ready, good to know you listened.”
Shaking her head, she pulls away facing me. Her skinny finger waggles at my face. “Not so fast Outlaw. You can look, but you can’t touch unless I say.”
Her backwards step falters as I step forward. “That a fact?”
“It’s a promise.” I catch her by the wrist before she spins back the right way. Bridgette keeps walking, ignoring our flirting.
Morgan smiles big and wide, and all I can think about is getting those lips wrapped around the head of my dick. With my attention on her mouth, she spins around whipping her hair across my face.
The rest of the walk I’m trying like hell to get one kiss. Morgan isn’t having any of my advances and is making me work for it.
It’s all good.
I like the chase.
I have nothing but time.
I came to Kentucky thinking I’d go to Drag Creek and seek out my grandpa, but something held me back. I ended up staying in Lexington. I’d gotten Grim’s address, I was ready to hunt him down and get the truth from him, the truth my parents had kept secret for so long. I know talking to him would be better than asking my parents. My mom clams up anytime family is mentioned. She ignores me and Sara or changes the subject and goes straight for a glass of wine, my old man says their families weren’t worth knowing. However, the diary I found begs me to differ. I will meet them someday, just not today. Meeting Morgan put those plans on hold…for now.
Cole keeps holding my hand and I am freaking out. I’m so afraid he will get grossed out by my sweaty palms.
This is new territory for me.
This…whatever it is with Cole, is all so new to me, but I’m loving every anxiety ridden second.
He stops short outside a brick building. Music is flowing softly from an upstairs window. “This is me.”
If he doesn’t give Bridgette and me a lift home later, my feet are going to hate me for a month. I’m not used to all this walking everywhere.
I’m from the country.
I’m no city slicker.
Cole’s apartment is far from fancy, but it’s no dump either. When we walk in,there are four guys on the couch and some chick sitting in a recliner. A pepperoni pizza is at the center of the coffee table along with a few beers. One of the guys gives Cole a chin lift and tells us to help ourselves to the pizza. There’s no way I can eat right now. My stomach is doing somersaults; I’ve never been to a guy’s place…like as his date.
Bridgette smiles with a polite thanks but no thanks.
Another guy introduces himself as Rhyner and gives his seat to Bridgette. I do believe he thinks she’s pretty; he can’t stop staring at her. She needs the ego boost after seeing Coy lip locked with some cheerleader. The dude isn’t too bad looking himself. Dark brown hair, shaved on one side, revealing a spider web tattoo on his scalp, not to mention his piercing green eyes and those tree trunks that make up his legs. His long legs fold up like an accordion as he sits on the floor next to Bridgette as she takes up his recent spot on the couch.
Cole grabs my hand, leading me to the small but quaint kitchen. The cabinets are dark oak and the counter is white tile. The appliances look new and unused but that’s what I’d expect to see with two bachelors. Well…that or a pigsty.
Strong hands grip my belt loops jerking me into the hard body they are attached to. Like I said, Cole is all man. His arms are thick and the span of his shoulders is huge. His pecs are hard like boulders as I steady my palms against his chest. He’s a real tall drink of water too. The top of my head hardly reaches his chin.
Those demanding fingers tilt my chin up as his dark eyes search my face. I’m not sure what he’s looking for, but whatever it is…he’s liking what he’s found.
I’m positive he’s going to kiss me with the way he’s gazing at me full of hunger. His adam’s apple bobs as he swallows before licking his perfectly kissable lips.
I suddenly feel hot and tingly all over. Did the temperature just rise?
With his head dipping down in the direction of my mouth, his lips nearly touching mine, I can feel the warmth of his smile. I can’t stand the anticipation. If he doesn’t go for it soon I may die right here.
What a tragedy that would be. I can just see the headlines now: Girl dies waiting to be kissed.
Closing my eyes, I pucker my lips, willing and ready. His minty breath tickles my nose as his facial scruff scratches my chin.
So freaking close.
Just kiss me already.
“Morgan,” he breathes out my name.
“Yeah…” I say, opening my eyes.
“Do you want a beer?”
“Wh-what?” the word gets caught in my throat. His question throws me for a loop. Wasn’t he about to kiss me?
“I said do you want a beer or something?”
“Sure,” I respond with a nod. As he opens the fridge, I cross the room and take up one of the stools at the breakfast bar wondering what went wrong.
Is it my breath?
Do I have a booger?
Cole slides the beer across the bar to me after opening it. I don’t really care much for the taste of beer. I’d rather have some of my dad’s moonshine. That shit will make a boy sprout hair on his chest. I can’t help but wonder if Cole’s chest is smooth or hairy, like a real man’s is.
Cole’s eyes are still on me and I feel all kinds of awkward.
Glancing over my shoulder Bridgette is chatting away, oblivious to my humiliation. If it didn’t appear as though she was having such a great time getting to know Cole’s friend, I’d fake an upset stomach and bail.
“Where’s your bathroom?” I have to get a peek in the mirror. If something is hanging out of my nose, I will die of humiliation.
“Down the hall, only door on the right,” he says.
In the privacy of the bathroom, I flip the light on and peer in the mirror checking my nose. Good, all clear. I slump against the wall. Why didn’t he kiss me? I blow my breath into my cupped hand. Nothing funky.
I count to sixty and wash my hands. I don’t want to stay in here too long.
Cole smiles when I emerge from the bathroom and is sitting on the stool I was previously occupying.
Returning his smile I feel a little better. Maybe he didn’t want to molest my mouth with his friends watching.
Going to the other side of the bar, I return to nursing my beer while thinking of something to say. He makes me so flustered I can’t even think straight.
“So…what are you majoring in?”
“I want to be an art therapist. My older sister is a speech therapist and she loves it. I love to paint, not that I’m all that good at it. But I want to help people. My sister’s husband, had this thing where he lost part of his tongue. So she went into learning speech therapy for him. You would hardly know he’s missing the tip with how far he’s come now.”
Oh my God, shut up Morgan. He’s going to think you’re some kind of weirdo.
He nods and I take a sip of my beer. When I get nervous I ramble. Shit. I find one guy that I like and I have to go and weird him out.
“You have a lot of sisters?”
“Just two, Harley and Dawn. Then there are my brother’s; Jamie, Axel, and Abel. Jamie’s in New York and Dawn lives in Virginia. Then Harley, Axel, and Abel are with my parents.”
“Big family. I just have my younger sister, Sara,” he tells me.
“That’s cool. I have two sets of siblings. My real mom died and my stepdad gave me up. It all worked out though. My adoptive parents are great. Oh gosh, I’m rambling, I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. I like listening to you talk. You get the cutest smile when you’re excited. Your bottom lip is so thick, juicy…damn…” He stops talking when he leans across the counter and claims my bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth, grazing me with his teeth.
Damn, that’s sexy.
“Yeah?” I say with a sigh.
“Stop talking.” He laughs as my eyes go wide.
“I said that out loud didn’t I?”
“Yeah, you did. I think that mouth of yours is sexy too.”
I know I’m blushing as I hide my face with my hands.
Cole’s large digits wrap around both my wrists trying to pry my hands from my face.
“Morgan, look at me.” he demands.
Spreading my fingers, I peek between the gaps. “What,” I mumble.
“Come with me.”
Dropping my hands I allow him to lead me down the hall to his bedroom.
Ahh! I squeal inside. I’ve never been in a dude’s bedroom before. Well, I’ve been in my little brothers’ rooms but they don’t count, obviously.
Cole’s bedroom is bare. There’s nothing personal on his walls. The only item hinting he even lives here is the bottle of cologne on the dresser.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, he says all husky and seductive, “C’mere.” His gritty voice travels from my head to my toes, warming me much more than the beer has.
Yep, it’s definitely getting hotter in here.
I step further into the room, his hand reaching for mine. The tips of his fingers are cool from the beer can, when he touches me it gives me a small but pleasurable chill.His knees part as he pulls me to stand between them.
In one swift motion, he pulls me into his lap. His lips find my neck, peppering kisses along my collarbone as he brushes my hair behind my shoulder.
Unsure of what to do with my own hands as his snake up my shirt, I wrap them around his neck.
“Much better,” he says as he skims the outline of my bra.
If he touches my boob is that second base? I wonder. I’m so fucking lame. One would think growing up in a motorcycle club I would have seen my fair share of the clubwhores pleasing the brothers,but my dad made damn sure I wasn’t allowed at the Roadhouse, unless it was a family gathering. I mean I’ve seen things in movies and seen my friends make out with their boyfriends. I’ve just never done any of it myself.
Do I kiss his neck, suck on his ear, rub my fingers over his shoulders or through his hair?
He guides my hand away from his neck, bringing my hand to his mouth. Those wicked lips of torture brush against my knuckles and my thighs squeeze together wishing he was kissing my lips instead.
Finally, his mouth finds mine and this kiss could set the world on fire, or at least my panties…if I were wearing any.
Morgan’s tongue flicks against mine, tasting of beer, as her velvety lips press against mine. I can tell she doesn’t know what to do. That’s okay though, I’ll guide her. I will show her how good being with a guy like me can be. I’ll show her what kind of man I really am. I can be the good guy, but in the bedroom I love control. Sometimes being a bad guy pays off.
I’m trying like hell to hold back and not move too fast. Morgan isn’t the sort of girl you take home for a quick fuck. She’s the girl you earn whatever she decides to give you.
Her breath hitches in her throat. A soft moan escapes her parted lips when I brush my thumb across her nipple over the lace of her bra.
I know I told her no panties, but I won’t push her into sex. I get the feeling this is the furthest she’s let a guy get, and I feel privileged.
I don’t know what it is about her, but something pulls me to her.
There’s something much deeper between us, as if I know her from a different life.
“Cole, I-…” she pauses.
“You what Morgan?”
“I don’t know what I’m doing. Should I be touching you or something?” She looks so lost, it’s sweet.
I’ve not been with a girl who didn’t love sex.
This is a first.
Fuck, I’ve never dated a virgin.
“What do you want to do Morgan, just follow your instincts. We’ll go at your pace. I’ll never pressure you to go further than you want to.”
“Sounds good, I just feel stupid. You’re all hot as balls and I’m Sister Mary when it comes to fooling around. I mean you’re not the first guy I’ve kissed or anything. It’s just….. this will sound so fucking dumb.” She shakes her head.
The thought of any other guy ever touching her, kissing her…has me wanting a list of their names so I can track them down and beat the shit out of them for ever touching what’s mine.
“Hey, whatever it is I’m sure I won’t think it’s dumb. Just tell me.” I give her a quick peck to the lips and she comes back for more. Her fingers fist my hair as she twists around so that she’s straddling me.
“Goddamn,” I growl as she grinds her hips, rolling her virgin cunt against my crotch. I have to pull back for some air and slow her down. “So, what’s this thing?”
Her eyes dart downward and she laces her fingers with mine. “Like I said, it’s dumb, weird, whatever. I’m adopted. I told you. Well, I don’t know who my dad was or is, whatever. I’ve never really dated and let anything go further than a kiss or two, because…what if I really fall for a guy and we get close.What if it got serious and we slept together or even had kids someday only to find out we’re related?”
I take a deep breath. I don’t know what I thought she’d say. That maybe she was a good girl and sex is against her religion or something?
“That’s twisted.” My mind drifts to the family I’ve never met and in a way I can understand her worry. I don’t know any of my relatives. Shit, Morgan could be my cousin for all I know.
I don’t want to follow that train of thought though. We sure as fuck don’t look alike or anything. But then again, just because we don’t look alike doesn’t mean anything. However, I’m, not entertaining the thought.
“I feel you, but that’s no way to live.”
“You make me want to try. You make me want to let my guard down. Is that crazy? We don’t even know each other. But there’s just something about you. You make me feel…safe…like you’re…familiar.” Her soft eyes are trained on mine and I wonder what all is running through that pretty head of hers.
“Not crazy at all. We’ll take our time and get to know each other. I want you to trust me and I like how open you are. Not many girls are honest and so forthcoming. You’re definitely unlike anyone I’ve ever met. I guarantee if we’d met before now you’d have made a lasting impression. You’re unforgettable.”
She grins. “That’s an awful lot of sweet coming from an outlaw,” she teases, leaning in for another kiss.
Falling back on the mattress I bring Morgan with me. I feel like I’m fifteen again and getting past second base for the first time.
We lay on my bed with our legs and arms tangled, doing nothing much other than kissing.
She starts getting braver, her nails rub over my chest under my shirt. She’s not as nervous as she was earlier. As much as I’d love to get her naked, to touch and taste that uncharted pussy, I’m cool with just this.
I’ll take what she wants to give me. I never felt this way with Harper. It makes me sound like an ass, but I’d go over to her house and let her suck me off, then I’d leave to go ride with my friends, leaving her behind unsatisfied.
I don’t want to be that prick with Morgan.
She deserves better.
Having that thought pop into my head is another first. I’m a greedy bastard who normally wouldn’t care about much more than getting off.
My phones rings and I know without looking at my screen who it is.
She always calls me when she gets in, and I never answer. Not since I moved here.
“You want to get that?” Morgan asks.
“Nope. Only person I want to talk to is already here.”
“We aren’t doing much talking.” She bites her lip and it’s so sexy. She doesn’t even realize she’s doing it either.
Fucking Harper read some book Fifty Shades or something and she was constantly biting her lip. Said the book told her it’s a real turn on. It never did shit all for me when she’d do it, but Morgan, fuck. Sexy as all get out.
“You complaining?” I smirk, running my fingers along the waistband of her jeans.
“Nope,” she pops the P, laying her head on my chest as I rub circles on her back.
We must fall asleep at some point.
I wake with Morgan still curled against me and a light knock at my bedroom door.
“Hey man, I’m gonna crash on the couch. Your girl’s friend is sleeping in my bed.”
“Solid,” I tell him and crawl back in bed with my girl.
Morgan doesn’t even flinch as I get back in bed and wrap my arms around her. The girl is out like a light.
Add to your TBR here: Blood Of A Rebel
Rocked By The Bad Boy is coming your way soon, a new adult rock star romance.
Are you ready to get rocked?
Peyton Mathews has always dreamed of making it big as a singer. When she lands an audition for Nashville Star, a reality show, hosted by notorious bad boy rocker Jameson Lewis, from the world famous band, Jameson’s Addiction, she has her shot.
Peyton would be crazy not to jump at the opportunity to make her dreams come true, but Jameson just happens to be the jerk who broke her heart five years ago. Letting go of the past came easy until it was staring at her from the judge’s chair.
Add to your TBR here https://www.goodreads.com/…/…/31915515-rocked-by-the-bad-boy
I haven’t done one of these in a while, but figured it was time, so here we are.
Frequently asked questions, Black Rebel Riders’ MC edition.
If you have a question that isn’t covered here, feel free to ask me.
A Rebel in the Roses
Black Rebel Riders’ MC Book 8
This is a work of fiction. Names characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual people, alive or dead, business, establishments, locals or events is entirely coincidental. Any reference to real events, business, organizations or locals is intended only to give the fiction a sense of realism and authenticity. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means – electronic, mechanical, photographic (photocopying), recording, or otherwise – without prior permission in writing from the author.
The author acknowledges the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademark owners of the word marks mentioned in this work of fiction.
The heat beats down on my back, my sweat soaking through my t-shirt. At least I blame the Florida sun. I’m sitting in the back of a dive bar waiting for my oldest child, my son—Striker. I guess that’s no longer his name though, goes by some bullshit name, Nash.
Taking a hard swig of my longneck bottle of Bud, I scan the room. Meeting him isn’t wise, but Grim promised me if I did this, he’d allow me to walk away from the club for good. Only problem is, I don’t know if I want to.
The MC is in my blood, it courses through my veins. That isn’t why I’m here though. Closing my eyes, I wipe the sweat beading across my forehead with a napkin. I’ve never been a fearing man, but I don’t know the man I’m about to meet. I knew the boy he once was, but not the man he is today. There’s a lot of bad blood between us, but he’s my blood, whether I wanted him or not. More than that, he’s alive and well, taking care of the woman I’ve always loved, Baby.
I think back on all the mistakes I made with her, with my life. If I knew then what I know now, I’d do so many things differently. I’d be a goddamned liar if I said knowing she’s alive doesn’t change the way I feel, but I’ll never act on my feelings.
No matter how deep they run.
I owe her and my boy more than that.
I’m a bastard and I know it, but I can’t change what’s come to pass.
I think Grim told me about her, brought me here just to fuck with me harder.
Somehow he knows just how fucking much I care about his daughter.
Right, wrong doesn’t matter.
I’m here today to bury that shit deep.
I’m here to forget that I know how it feels when I bury my tongue deep inside her, touching her in places a man could only ever dream of reaching.
Damn, if she wasn’t too good for a man like me.
I can see her now, her red hair fanning out on my pillow, her naked chest rising and falling next to me after we’ve touched and tasted every inch of one another skin to skin in carnal sin.
I swallow hard knowing I won’t think of Baby in this way again, until I’m dying, maybe not even then. A smile forms on my lips, I can hear her in my mind calling me a damned fucking liar. A bad one at that. Her cheeks would bloom matching the color of a pink rose, her favorite color.
It’s been years, and still I long to feel her, to touch her…God to be inside her.
I inhale deeply trying to remember the way she smelled and I wonder if she ever misses me like I miss her. Does she ever roll over at night and clutch her chest wishing I was next to her? Does she have any regrets like I do? It would be so much easier had I not known the goddamn truth. It was so much damn easier to let Sunshine in, to allow myself to feel for her, but how do you go on once you know the truth? Do you continue living the lie? I don’t have much of a choice.
I don’t deserve to remember her.
To want her.
To love her, and crave everything about her.
Sunshine has done damn fucking good to close the gaping hole in my heart where my love for Baby used to be. Fuck, Baby is still buried deep within me, I’ll never be rid of her. I’d be a damn fool to pretend otherwise, but to everyone else I’ll hide that shit away. Tuck it away and pretend she isn’t a part of me, so much so when I close my eyes all I see is her honey whiskey eyes burning with such desire.
When I open my eyes, the son I never wanted is sitting across from me, wearing a murderous expression on his face. I don’t know if he realizes it, but he favors me with the way he’s got his hair cut and the style of his beard.
Staring at him is like looking through a mirror and seeing the motherfucking past. He’s me inside and out. He can deny it all he wants, but I see it and I’m sure Baby does too. I smile at her name as it hangs on the edge of my mind. Does she ever think of me when she fucks him?
I’m so fucked in the head.
“What do you want?” he snarls curling his top lip.
“You look good son.”
“Don’t.” He shakes his head with a devious laugh. “Don’t come here doing that shit. I’ve never been your son. Never will be.”
“You sure about that. Christ! I think you hate me because when you look at me, when you think about me, you see yourself, and that shit scares you. I couldn’t tame Baby and hold onto her. And you wonder when the day will come when you will fuck up again, and she will leave for good. You’re scared that one day she will find her way back to me. But you can rest easy boy, that’s the past, this is the now. You won. Gloat, bask in her pussy and treat her like a goddamned queen.”
He rakes his fingers through his hair and slaps his hands down ready to walk out. “I’m not doing this.”
A pretty little thing comes over to take our order. Nash orders a beer and I order another with an appetizer, even though I won’t be able to eat a damn bite.
“Fuck, listen, that isn’t why I’m here. If you don’t want to accept me as your old man I understand. I never wanted you anymore than you do me. No love lost.” I say the words knowing I don’t mean them. Fucking Grim. I don’t know why I’m bothering with this shit.
He sits back as the server brings us chips and salsa and two new beers. Once she leaves, he takes a long drink. He looks good. Despite being here with me he appears happy. My eyes fall on his wedding band, and I don’t dare ask the question that is hanging from the tip of my tongue. Ever since Grim told me the truth she’s been on my mind. I just want her to be happy and hope my son is giving her the life she deserves, her and Colt. Just knowing she isn’t dead and that her smile still exists is the best fucking gift I could ever hope for. It’s also my worst fucking nightmare.
“Why are you here? I fucking knew I should have sent Liberty packing, she tip you off?” His nostrils flare as he scratches the back of his neck.
“Tread has some shit to shovel. We need you. Simple as that. Besides, I brought you a gift.”
“You ain’t got a motherfucking thing I’ll ever want.”
“I brought your Indian.”
His eyes widen. That’s what I thought. He loved that damn bike more than anything, well, almost anything.
“Thought maybe you’d want to give it to your boy–Colt someday.”
Nash peels at the edges of the label on his beer. I give him the minute he clearly needs.
“You really brought it?”
“Yeah, Rebel gave it to me. He’d been storing it.”
“Don’t say his name.” he clenches his fist. “He’s dead to me.”
“I hear ye.”
“He know anything?”
“Nah.” I shake my head.
We talk a spell about Foxie and he relaxes hearing that Grim has been good to her. As much as he hates his brother, he listens as I tell him about what decent man he is trying to be. He even smiles faintly when I tell him about Chelle and the kids. I don’t know if Christopher and Thomas can repair their relationship someday. I know it tears Foxie up having them at odds, lying to everyone about what really happened some years ago. Everything happens for a reason, even if we don’t like it or understand it.
After two more beers and an order of wings my son actually pulls his phone out to show me a picture of his family, of her—Baby.
Her hair is much darker, but I’d know her from miles away, if my eyes could see that far. She’s still the prettiest damn woman I’ve ever seen. My dick stirs, my body and my heart betraying my mind.
My son is watching me, being cautious, but I’m careful not to let my emotions shine through.
It’s time to bury this shit and be done.
It’s time I be the father I never have been.
I tell him what fine looking kids he has. Tell him that Sara has her momma’s sass and Colt has his smirk. I don’t mention that he has mine as well. I even comment that Baby looks real happy. A much as it shreds me on the inside, she does look happy and that’s enough for me. It damn well has to be.
“I got something to say to you and I’m just going to say it, because I need to. And you need to hear it whether you want to listen or not.”
He nods. “Get on with it then. I’ve got a family to get home to.”
“I’m just going to cut to it. I shouldn’t have fucked your wife. I should be sorry and in ways I am. But we can’t go back. After we do this shit with Tread you don’t need to worry about seeing my sorry mug ever again, unless you look in the damn mirror. You know and I know you look a hell of a lot like me boy. You can deny it but we both know it’s true. You don’t like me and I don’t fucking like you, but you are my blood and if ye ever need me, if ye kids ever need me, all you gotta do is say the word.” I don’t dare say if Baby needs me, but he knows I’d do any damn thing for her without my reminding him.
I toss a few twenties on the table. “Bike is across the street at the hotel.” I hand him the keys.
“Heard you built a beast. I’d like to see it.”
“We’ll see. How long you here for?”
“Too damn long.” I haven’t been here a few hours and I’m itching to get the hell away from here. The urge to see Baby is too damn strong. I need to get home, back to Sunshine.
I know he’s having a hard time digesting my words. It’s a lot to swallow. I’m not good at this but I’m trying.
I stand and wait for him to finish his beer.
I’m sitting across from my sperm donor, listening as he spews his word vomit at me, pretending he gives a shit about me. He’s never gave two fucks about me. Only reason he’s here is because he is hoping to catch a glimpse of what’s mine, what he’ll never have—my wife, my kids. He will never set foot in my house. He’s a dirty old bastard and I’ll kill him first. I’ve come too far to lose what I got. Not that I think Karly wants him. We’ve worked through that bullshit. I know she loves me and I trust her. It’s this motherfucker and his twisted thoughts that concern me. Now that he knows she’s alive will he make a play for her once again?
Romeo hands me the keys to my Indian, but there’s no way in hell I’m starting it up without checking it out first. He may be my father but I don’t trust him. If he talks about how much alike we are one more time I’m going to break his goddamn nose.
Shoving the keys in my pocket, I follow him across the street to the Pelican.
I should’ve been on the road hours ago. Karly told me to stay here and offered to drive up, but this shit tonight is exactly why she needed to keep her ass home.
Tomorrow is the reveal of the bike I built. The garage is doing a contest. Winner gets the bike. We’re hosting a burnout contest. It’s supposed to drum up business. Things are taking off though. Karly is still working at the women’s shelter and loving it. Her and the kids are home in Miami thank fuck. I don’t know why Grim wants to drag me into Tread’s shit. Him having contact with me is fucking dangerous. I don’t like it, but Grim helped get me and Karly our fresh start, he’s her dad, and I’ll do anything for her.
I pledged my loyalty to him when he put a bullet in my old man Slim’s head. He wasn’t the best father, but he was all I had. However, my fealty to Grim didn’t end the day my new life began. Drag Creek runs straight through my heart, coursing through my veins. My Black Rebel blood will never die.
If one of them call on me, I will always step up and ride free or die trying.
I chuckle as Stri-Nash tells me about my grandkids. Sounds like they give their mom a run for her money. My baby girl was a hellcat when she was a kid, I’m sure she still is even if she’s all grown up with a life that is all her own now.
No matter how far apart we are or where this crazy life takes us, she’ll always be my girl. I’d move heaven and earth to give her the stars if she said the word. She wouldn’t even have to ask.
I wish I could see them in person, but we don’t have time for that, and it isn’t safe. I shouldn’t be dragging Nash into this shit with Tread but we need him.
He looks over his former flame, his Indian, and the longing to ride her is apparent in his eyes. He caresses her handlebars, stroking the seat with love and care. If he treats my daughter and grandkids as good as his bike, then I can leave here content.
“Nice night for a ride,” I tell him needing to get this show on the road.
“It is,” he says with caution. The boy ain’t dumb. I’d be leery too in his shoes. His dark brows are furrowed as he stares past me at his father. He’s got plenty enough reasons not to trust Romeo or his word, but I wouldn’t burn him. I won’t let Romeo ruin what he’s got going on here.
“Not that it isn’t good to see your ugly faces, but what’s the deal. Why are you here?”
Tread speaks up. “Look man, you’re one of my oldest friends. We go way back. I know ye got a good thing going here and I wouldn’t call on ye if I didn’t need ye brother. I thank ye for stepping up and getting Libby and my boy home to me, where they belong. That piece of shit that touched what’s mine has been making threats. He thought being states away made him a badass. I’m here to show him you don’t fuck with BRR MC and not get dealt what’s coming. Ye feel me?”
“I feel ye man. I’ll ride or die trying with you any day. But that motherfucker…” he points to Romeo. “I’m not riding next to him.”
If he wasn’t so damn serious it’d be almost comical. His hard grimace matching that of the man he refuses to accept. Can’t rightly blame him though. I don’t exactly like riding next to him either, but he’s the best damn sorry excuse of a friend I’ve got.
Sounds like a bad start of a country ballad.
Four riders out to settle a score.
I’m so motherfuckin’ ready to go pop holes in the piece of shit motherfucker who put his hands on my boy and my woman. I can’t wait to end him, get back home to Libby, and fill her with my seed—planting more babies in her belly.
Truth and Amy found out they’re expecting a few days ago.
Honestly, their kid could be mine, but no one says shit about it. I sure as fuck don’t plan on it. I’d never take that away from him. It doesn’t matter, the baby growing inside of Amy will be Grady’s in name and in blood regardless.
He’s so damn proud already, swearing it’s gonna be a boy. I hope like hell it is. He’s gonna make one hell of a father.
I’m trying with Kyler, trying so damn hard to do right by him and make up for the time we’ve lost, but here I am on the road, missing out once more. After I put John to ground no fucking more. I’m gonna be the best damn dad around.
Libby didn’t want me to come but she wouldn’t ask me to stay. She wants the bastard to pay and knows I’ll see to it that he does. Can’t wait to get home and balls deep inside her.
My cock stretches against my zipper thinking about her curves. Her lips on my neck as I drive hard into her pussy as she squeezes me tight.
Before I got on the road she gave me one hell of a sendoff.
She had my cock in her mouth, between her titties, in that sweet pussy, and up that tight ass. Fucking heaven being in her and hell knowing I had to leave her. Her thick ass cheeks reddened from my hands. Libby’s nails scratching down my back. My skin still burns from her love marks. Just one simple touch from her can make my damn cock erupt.
She has me so damn high on her love, I’d swear I floated from Kentucky to Florida.
I’m here for her to avenge the wrongs done to her and Kyler.
“So this bike you built. Do you announce the winner?”
“Yeah. Why?” He looks from me to Grim ignoring Romeo. “Fuck, the dude right.”
Grim grunts. “It’s the cleanest way.”
“How do you know he’s going to win the burnout contest? Not something I can rig.”
“Because I’ll make damn sure he does.” Romeo speaks up. “Truth has been chatting him up online posing as a broad who says she wants to meet him at the contest.”
“We brought a girl with us to play his whore and demand he takes her for a ride. You only put enough gas in the tank to make sure he only rides as far as we want him too. We’ll stage a mugging gone wrong and have a witness to back it up.”
“Sounds almost too easy.” I watch my oldest friend pace the parking lot pinching the bridge of his nose. He agrees to the plan reluctantly.
I’ve tried calling my husband four times tonight with no response. He told me something had come up and he’d tell me details when he could. I trust him but it doesn’t stop old feelings from festering their way to the top. I don’t think he’s stepping out on me, but it isn’t like him not to send me a text or something. He hates it when he can’t reach me. What if something happened to him. What if someone recognized him and settled an old score.
I can’t take the silence. I can’t take the not knowing.
So here I am with my kids strapped in the car making the drive to Daytona to track his ass down. I’m going to find him, then I’m going to kiss him, fuck him, and kill him all at the same time. Asshole. I swear if he is with someone or doing something shady…so help me God!
We’ve been doing good for too long. Liberty showing up was the tip of the iceberg. Then Lucky…had to push his buttons. Nash knows I’d never go down that road again. We’ve come too far for me to turn back on all that we have now. That’s why I am more worried that something has happened to him. I really don’t think he’d step out on me, before hell yeah, but we’re different. We’ve grown together and I know there is nowhere he’d rather be than next to me. So for him to not come home tonight and to ignore my calls… something is wrong.
It’s only a four-hour drive. I told Nash he didn’t have to come home every night during the rally but he insisted. I even offered to take time off from work and drive up with the kids, but he said no. He doesn’t want me there, where people might know me—us.
I know he wants to be my protector and he does a damn good job at it, but who is going to watch out for him?
Who has his back?
He doesn’t ride with the Black Rebel Riders’ any longer.
He doesn’t have the security of his family at his back and by his side.
His going up to Daytona was dangerous and a mistake.
I don’t want the kids to know I’m scared. I told them we were going to surprise daddy and have us a little vacation. Because Bike Week is the perfect destination to take your kids, I snort to myself as Cole and Sara sing along to Sweet Home Alabama.
My head pounds as they compete to see who can sing the loudest.
As I enter the city limits my phone beeps with a call from my husband. Too bad he didn’t call me before I hit the road.
“Where are you?” I grit out attempting to sound calm and collected for the sake of our kids. We try not to argue in front of them if we can help it. Some days are harder than others.
“Got tied up with the guys, I’m sorry babe. I swear to you on everything that I’m just going to get that room the garage reserved for me at the Pelican and crash. I had one beer too many.”
“Okay. I love you. Talk to you soon.”
“Love you too. I’ll call you in the morning. Kiss the kids for me. I miss you.”
“Miss you too.”
“Momma, why didn’t you tell daddy we were coming?” Cole asks.
“It’s a surprise,” I remind him and he nods and goes back to singing.
Holy biker! I knew it would be crowded but there is an ocean of motorcycles.
“Whoa,” Cole says slowly with his nose pressed against the window.
“Yeah, whoa. Put your eyes back in your head.” I laugh knowing he is seeing all the scantily clad women. Just like his dad. Never can let a pretty woman pass unnoticed.
Sara has passed out in her carseat oblivious to the wild world around her.
Nothing could prepare me for who is in the parking lot at the Pelican.
My chest constricts and I can’t breathe as my tears flood my vision.
I nearly hit a motorcycle, and not just any one either.
One with Romeo sitting on it.
What the fuck are they doing here? Tread too.
This isn’t good. I don’t know whether to shit or get off the pot.
I stop the car, resting my head against the steering wheel overcome with so many emotions.
Cole is jumping out of the car and running to his dad. “Surprise! Mom said we were gonna spend a few days here with you. Have you seen all the babes!” I have to laugh even though my future is colliding with my past.
I have been thinking a lot lately about who I am as a writer. I want to write all the books, all the words, so many different genres. Some days I feel like I am drowning in ideas and no time to write them all. Some will eventually make it to paper, while others will die slowly and fade away. I’m sure my fellow creatives will understand this.
What does this have to do with finding your voice? Nothing and everything. Confusing, I know. Welcome to the world of being a creative person.
Okay, enough of my rambling. I’ll get to the point. Find your voice they say…what does that even mean. Your voice is everything, it’s you, the way you write, the way you tell a story.
Are you witty, charming, romantic, gritty…the list goes on. Most days I still don’t know the answer to this. After writing over 25 books, I feel clueless. (not all are published) I know I tend to steer toward dark and gritty. It’s my thing. You have to find your thing, your passion, that part of you that when it screams everyone listens.
Once you have that easy right?
Pump your brakes. Not so much. I know. I know but hear me out.
What’s more important than your voice- your character’s voice. If you tell me your hero is Scottish, I want to hear his accent in my head as I read your story. Ye ken me lassie and lads.
Sorry, maybe I have been watching too much Outlander. However, it’s important that your reader really connects with your character. I don’t mean give me a physical rundown, yes some of that is important, but sell me their soul. I want to feel them as if I am in the room with them when they speak.
A reader should recognize your character instantly without you having to tell them who is talking unless there are several people in the scene.
Get it. Learn it. Got it. Live it. Good.