The sound of her wild laugh, the one she let out when we rappelled down the cliff together that very first time, rang out in the courtyard. It was pure, unadultered joy. Goddamn, I loved her. Shoving the ring on her finger, I picked her up and twirled her around and around until we were both dizzy.
“Yes, I’ll marry you.” She placed a hand on either side of my face and we kissed, hungrily and lovingly and for a very long time but we didn’t leave right away. Too many people came over to look at the ring, congratulate Sam and I, and generally give us the business—in jest. But it felt great. I wanted everyone to know I’d fallen irrevocably in love with this woman whose courage in life blew me away.
<<<<<< The End >>>>>
Contact Me
Bo's story is told in Unspoken, the second in the Woodlands series. Read on for an excerpt. Even better, sign up for my newsletter and receive a weekly webseries episode featuring Bo's daughter Charlotte and Noah's son Nathan titled the Charlotte Chronicles. Sign up here.
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Acknowledgments
It's hard to know where to start because there are so many people who are so important to this book that it is hard to know where to start. First, though, special thanks must go to my beta readers. These are folks who read my work often more than once during the revision process. Without their help, Unraveled wouldn't be the book that it is today. Thank you to Brie, Elyssa Papa, Kati, and, last but certainly not least, CeCe. CeCe, your insights were amazing. Thank you for pushing me to dig deeper.
I'm blessed with an amazing circle of writerly friends including Daphne who listened to me talk about the plot and helped me discard some really bad ideas and for just being an amazing friend and Jessica Clare and Katy Evans who not only helped me over rough spots in the manuscript but whose hand holding during release week help to keep me sane.
To AW, I don't know how you do it but your editing pen is magical. I appreciate the numerous times you read through this manuscript because every suggestion made this a better book.
Meljean Brook, I don't know why you have all the skills in the world. It's unfair. You can create amazing covers and print designs but also write more magically than most of us mortals. Thanks for being a friend.
Lisa at The Rock Stars of Romance, you've been with me since the beginning. I can't believe the journey we've had together. Thank you for non stop support. And to Michelle at All Romance Reviews, our facebook chats are the highlight of many of my days.
Thank you to all of the bloggers who participated in the blog tour and/or reviewed Unraveled and to all the reviewers who've left reviews and readers who've read our book, your support is amazing.
Finally, to the MGL. I hope to be reading a book from every one of you soon.
Chapter One
BO
“TAMPONS SLOWING YOU DOWN THIS morning?” I taunted the young businessman who’d volunteered to spar with me this morning. We’d been dancing around each other for the last five minutes. I wasn’t here to carefully gauge the length of his reach or the power of his jab. I wanted him to hit me, and I wanted to hit him back.
My smear on his manhood worked better than a fist to his gut. He jerked out of whatever fantasy he was concocting of being the next king of the Octagon and rushed me. I waited, slid slightly to the side, and then kneed him in the ribs. As he was bending over from the impact, I brought up a left uppercut and then a right punch. He crumpled like a tin can at a recycling center.
As he lay face down at my feet, it occurred to me I’d made a big strategic error. My third of the morning. I was a slow learner. I looked up to see Noah Jackson shaking his head at me. Noah was my best friend, Marine battle buddy, and roommate. He knew me better than anyone else.
He knew the lightbulb had just gone off over my head. There would be no more hitting in the Spartan Gym today, which meant my hope for a good match was as sunk as the guy at my feet.
With a groan, yuppie number three rolled over. I pulled off a glove and offered him a hand up. He looked at it for a couple of heartbeats like I might punch him again. Christ, I wasn’t a jackass. I didn’t mind fighting dirty if the situation called for it, but I wasn’t going to hit someone who was weaker than I was, who couldn’t fight back. You got smacked around here at the Spartan Gym. That was the whole point.
At least that was why I was here. I woke up every morning with an itch under my skin. I could work out that irritation a couple of ways. My preferred method was fighting. But the downed businessman with the soft hands was my third opponent this morning and not one of them had laid a hand on me outside of a few glancing blows that slid off my protective headgear.