A Boy Like You (Like Us Book 1)(70)

"What is it?" Kyle says, leaning over my shoulder to look.

He can't see the smile on my face, or the tears forming in the corners  of my eyes, but they are there. It's going to be hard to get them to go  away now.

"It's a message," I say quietly, my own words filling me with thought as I turn the photo over in my hands.

You can do anything. I'll be watching.

He wrote it in a permanent marker. He left it here for me to find. But  he's still hiding. Something has him afraid; there's something more to  Wesley Christopher Stokes' story, and I intend to find out.

"Can you take this week off from work? Before school starts?" I ask  Kyle, turning to him quickly. He spins his hat forward, then gives up  and just pulls it from his head completely, his other hand scratching  through his hair.

"Uh, I don't know. I … I guess I can ask? Why?" he asks, his face a  combination of expressions-those full of questions, and those that know  me enough to trust anything. "Where are we going?"

"To Tucson first. I want to see where they buried my mom, and I want to  meet my grandmother," I say, nodding toward his truck, taking his hand  again to step over the canal. He feels the photo in my hand and takes it  from me when we get to my passenger door. I wait while his eyes read  over the words on the back. They flit to me, and I can tell all I need  to do is say it out loud. My eyes hold his. I breathe once, and then I  tell him what's next.

"And then, we're going to find Wes, and convince him to come home."



THE END





Coming Summer 2017





Book 2



A Girl Like Me



P.S.



Don't kill me.

I swear it will be worth the short wait :)





Acknowledgments





Thank you for taking this leap with me. I know this book is different,  but I also believe it's special. And I know I left you there … in that  place, with questions … and hope. I can promise you this: I've got you. I  won't let you fall. Book two will be just as magical, and perhaps even  more special … because Joss Winters says so.

I don't think I have ever loved a heroine I've written more than this  feisty blonde tomboy. I'd like to think I wove a little of me into  Joss's fabric. Certainly, the drive to win, the touch of stubborn  feminism and, if I may be so bold, the ability to line-drive a ball at  someone's knees. Yeah, that part's all me. But as I read her again and  again in edits and proofs, I came to realize that a lot of the parts I  wove may instead be characteristics I wish I had. No, not the penchant  for danger and self-destruction. But the ability to face adversity with  such grit and to admit failures and weaknesses, even if only to herself.  While Wes may be the one who's physically strong, Joss is the one who's  unbreakable. I've learned from Joss.

I've learned from this story.

I have so much more I want to say, but I can't. I can't because there  are threads I still need to unravel for you. Book 2, A Girl Like Me,  will fill in the gaps. And the ride is going to be sweet. I don't want  to ruin it.

With that, however, there are several people I need to thank for getting  me to the point where I was ready for this story … for something still  very me, but also … different. I dedicated this to my dad. And no … not  because he has a lot in common with Eric Winters in this story. But the  good parts of Joss's father? Yeah … he's there. My dad taught me to throw a  ball. Even when he thought it might be hopeless, he'd stand in the back  yard with me for hours, begging me to just try not throwing underhand  once. I can remember vividly when it all finally clicked. It wasn't much  unlike that scene in Forrest Gump when he's running and the braces just  fly off of his legs. One minute, I was arching the ball into bushes,  and then the next … I zinged it so hard into his mitt that it bruised his  hand. Many more bruises would follow. Fence slats were broken when I  learned to hit. Balls were lost over the fence at the elementary school.  My dad's shins were nailed by my low liners, and I giggled as he packed  up to go home, mad but proud as hell. While the magical touches, angst  and love story are vital to this story, I think just as important is  that relationship between Joss and her dad. It shaped her.         

     



 

It shaped me.

So, thanks, Dad, for being my Ted Williams on the field and off.

I also need to give special thanks to fellow author BT Urruela. BT is a  combat wounded amputee and purple heart recipient, but he also happens  to swing a decent bat and … oh … have this killer smile that's graced the  cover of several romance novels. I met him when the idea for this book  was a kernel in my mind that was keeping me awake at night. I knew the  storyline, and I knew what would happen to Joss in this story. But what  terrified me was getting it right. I'm moved by fighters-seeing people  punch adversity in the face, bend it to their will and turn it into a  strength. I wanted Joss to embody this, but I knew it couldn't be a  switch she simply flipped. It had to be authentic, and pay homage to the  struggle that comes with the kind of climb she took and will continue  to make. BT, I called you … and I was perhaps a little nervous. You  answered, and you shared. You laid the ground for my research, pointed  me in the right direction for more, and made that fear that I couldn't  pull this off take a seat. Thank you for all you do, but selfishly,  thank you for chatting with me on the phone most.

I also have to give special thanks to Mike Booi, assistant athletic  trainer for the Arizona Coyotes, for his guidance on training techniques  and rehabilitation for competitive athletes. And enormous thanks to the  Advanced Prosthetics Center for your detailed research materials.

When it comes to the words, there's a group of women I could not get  through this book business without. As always, thank you Jen, Ashley,  Bianca and Shelley for taking my chapters as I fed them to you. I know  waiting through this one was a wee bit torturous. I hope I treated you  right. I could never thank you enough.

And BilliJoy Carson and Tina Scott-my editing queens. Let me just say that you are my heroes. Capes for you both.

None of this would be possible without the support of my boys. Tim and  Carter, you are my world. When I say "I can't," you turn me around and  just tell me to "go do." When I waver, you remind me you're proud. When I  chew my nails to nubs on release night, you tell me this story is your  favorite (I don't even care that you say it every time). I love you, my  boys. You're it for me. And every book is really for you.

And to my readers-to the bloggers, posters, Goodreaders, reviewers,  late-night Facebook message senders, emailers, teens, moms, grandmas,  dads, brothers, students, and oh-but-never-least Ninjas-thank you. Each  one of you cracked open a cover (swiped is probably more accurate for  e-readers). Thank you for taking that first chance, for thinking one of  my little stories was worth your time. I swear I'll never take it for  granted. In fact, I'm going to get to work right now, because you have  questions you need answered, and a cute missing boy you need to know  about, and a girl on a mission you need to follow.

And I made you all a promise.

I've got you.