I nodded. “Yes.”
“Okay, good. So now you need to decide. Is this what you really want? I’m willing to invest a lot of time and effort into you, but I need to know that you are committed to this. I need a hundred and ten percent from you, Saxon. That might mean putting other things first so we can get you to the top. But I promise you, if you do this, I’ll get you there.”
I swallowed hard, my heart racing.
Was I ready for this? Was this what I wanted?
Micah’s words echoed in my head.
Sing because you love what your music does to people. Do this because you can’t imagine doing anything else. Do it because you know you can.
“I want this,” I said, placing my hand on the edge of his desk.
He nodded, satisfied. “Okay. Let’s get the ball rolling. I’ll have contracts drawn up and sent to you in the next few days. In the meantime, I’ll have the marketing department arrange a meeting with you.” He stood up and extended his arm. I took his hand and shook it.
“Welcome back, Saxon.”
I smiled, a thrill racing through me.
Watch out, world: Saxon Waite is back.
That Girl, by HJ Bellus
Releasing 12th August on all major online retailors. See www.hjbellus.com for more information.
Excerpt
Chapter One
"I'm pregnant."
"You’re what?" I shout in shock.
"I'm pregnant. I'm so sorry."
Pacing the tiny, musty room, I continue to shake my head, trying to believe my best friend, Jazzy, can’t be knocked up.
"Jazzy, we made a pact. Always together forever, and when we turned eighteen, we were both leaving this dump."
"I know," she chokes, falling onto the bare, dirty mattress lying on the floor.
"How? Who? Why? Ah shit, never mind." I trail off.
"Stay here with me, please."
Jazzy knows better than to put me in this situation. We made this promise the day I turned twelve. We vowed to each other to run. Run as fast as we could the moment we turned eighteen. Jazzy is already eighteen, today is my eighteenth birthday, and she nails me with this news.
How in the fuck did she allow herself to be sucked straight back into this vortex?
Jazzy begins to beg. "Don't leave me. Please, don't leave me."
We have been neighbors since we were eight and have lived through hell together. Jazzy only has Old Man, her dad, who is never around, between all of his biker drug runs and rallies, or whatever the hell he chooses to call them. I have my mom and her flavor of the month. Unfortunately, the past year she has stuck with Duane, who is my walking, living nightmare in the flesh, ready to haunt me around every corner. The one nice thing about Old Man is his being on the road with the motorcycle club gives us the house to ourselves.
We packed everything of mine last night and brought it in one grocery bag to Jazzy's. I could get away with staying at her house most nights because my mom sold my mattress to a neighbor for some extra cash. So when I was forced to stay at home, I had to sleep on the floor in my room or on the couch.
I hated those nights the most because Duane was always lurking. Jazzy gave me one of her dad's knives for when I had to go home. But, unfortunately, it took only one night of Duane, and me not having the knife in reach, to convince me that nothing – and I do mean absolutely nothing – would hold me prisoner in this lifestyle.
I will take an empty future any day over living one more minute in this filth. Years of going to school smelling of stale cigarette smoke and rotting food was lesson enough for me. Having flee. Jazzy was the only person beside me the whole time. She is my rock and my person my classmates gag when I walked near was another reminder of how badly I wanted to, but now I'm being ripped from that too.
As selfish as it may seem, sometimes there comes a point in your life when you need to live for yourself. I’ve survived in the shadows for the last eighteen years. Today, I vow to no longer live for others, but rather to make decisions based solely on me.
"I can't," I finally tell her.
"No," she wails, scrambling up from the mattress.
"Come with me, Jazzy.”
She looks away, unable to meet my gaze. "I can't go on the road expecting a baby. We only have three hundred and sixty-two dollars saved up for both of us."
"I can't stay, Jazzy. I'm tired of smelling like cigarette smoke, having my eyes practically swollen shut from it, and I'm tired of being beat. My scars thrive in this place. I’m done being reminded of the pain. I’m so done."
"Old Man said he would get you a gun for the next time. He said he can even have the club take care of him, just like he took care of Steve for you. He’ll keep us safe."
"He ripped me, tore me, and took every ounce of me, right in front of my mom. If my own mom will allow that, how can I ever trust anyone again? I have to leave. Please, let me go."
Dead silence fills the tiny room. The familiar sounds of dogs barking and the plastic cover that shields the window from the outside elements are the only sounds. Memories of miserable nights with only each other float around in my mind. Nights of painful hunger and beatings are the only memories I have of my mother and our so called home. Being sent home from school because of the bugs crawling around in my hair. My mom’s solution being to cut it all off. Those are the recollections I so desperately crave to leave behind.
I refuse to morph into a woman like her. I no longer choose to stay here and willingly accept my shitty future. I always thought Jazzy and I would be together forever. But like the tragic tale that is my life, this would be just another dream crushed. Jazzy is the only piece of hope left here in Wisconsin, and the horrible truth is she isn’t enough to keep me here in this nightmare. The one and only action with a grand enough gesture to convince me stay here is a single bullet to my skull.
Unable to look her in the eyes, I lay it all out. "I don’t have a choice, Jazzy. The world has dealt me a shitty hand, and I refuse to stay here and let it have its way with me. I love you, and I always will, but this has to be goodbye. Forever. I’ll leave your half of the money, but I have to go."
"Just stay one more night with me, please," she begs as the tears start to flow.
"My skin has been burned, cut, and torn in this town – hell, right in the house next door. I'm leaving, and it has to happen tonight."
"Keep in touch with me," Jazzy demands as I grab my bag and hold my hand out for my part of the money.
Half of the money will not get me very far. We were damn proud of the little we collected over the last few months from Old Man's pockets and the passed-out strangers in my house after a rager Duane had thrown, but now I only hope it can get me far enough.
I figure I can get at least one hundred thirty miles from here with the money I have. I’ll find somewhere to stay and make some cash, then keep moving down the road. There is no way my mom would go any further than fifty miles past home in search of me. Hell, she might miss a party or a filming opportunity. With no high hopes set, my bag of clothes containing two outfits plus the one I am wearing, my scars, and half the money are the only things I am laying claim to. I will never need anything else from this town, this house, or this freaking neighborhood.
“Take it all. Old Man will make sure I’m taken care of. Take it all, and run like hell,” Jazzy says as she turns her back on me. She never looks back while exiting her room.
And just like that, I lose my best friend in a matter of moments. This is not a type of relationship that can be rebuilt over time. No, the door was closed forever on it. Jazzy saved my life every day. Growing up, she was my everything wrapped in one. I will never forget her, but I no longer have room for her in my life.
I wrap up my thoughts and tuck them into a deep, dark crevice amongst my other memories and gather all the cash from Jazzy’s mattress. Then I make my way out of her house for the final time. Jazzy is nowhere to be found. I thought she might be in her favorite spot on her worn-out couch
watching some shit on television. She’s always nested there when she is pissed at me or Old Man. It’s her safe spot, but this time she’s gone.
“What the fuck is going on?” Old Man asks from the kitchen.
Jazzy and I have lied to Old Man so many times in the past about our whereabouts or his missing money, but this time it felt really wrong to lie, almost like committing a crime. Old Man may not be the picture perfect dad, but he always took care of us and loves his daughter more than anything. If he knew of our plan to run away, he would have cut our legs off without a second thought. I do hope the poor sap who knocked up Jazzy runs fast, because he will be catching one of Old Man’s bullets to the ass otherwise.
“Girl, come clean, now,” he says as he walks closer.
Unable to look him in the eye, I try to tell him half the truth, or at least the most important part of the truth.
“I’m leaving, and Jazzy is pissed at me. I can’t stay here any longer, Old Man. I’d rather die than stay here,” I whisper, avoiding all eye contact.
“Lift your head up, child.”
If I’ve learned one thing, it’s to always listen to Old Man when he talks.
“Now, I know life has sucked for you. I’ve tried my fucking best to protect you.”
Now with tears streaming, I respond, “I know. I love you and Jazzy, but I can’t stay here. You can’t protect me from all of them. Moving across town or in here with you guys just isn’t enough. I have to go. Please don’t try to stop me.”
“Why isn’t that stubborn-ass child of mine running with you?”
“That’s her story to tell.”
“You two little fucking shits have always covered each other’s asses, but I’m not liking the sounds of this.”
“She’s hurt I’m leaving and not waiting for her. Take it easy on her.”
“So, am I to assume this is why you two have been stealing money from my jeans when you think I’m passed out?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“You fucking call me Sir one more time, and I’ll beat your ass, child.”
I giggle at Old Man’s words, always so subtle.
“Thanks for everything. I wouldn’t be able to run if you hadn’t been protecting me all these years,” I say between a combination of tears and laughter from his threat.
“Here,” he says as he hands me a wad of hundred dollar bills. “Take it and don’t say shit about it. I’ll call a brother to come pick you up and drive you to the next town. I consider you my girl, and you’ll not be walking in the dark. No, you’ll be on the back of a bike, riding with one of my members to protect your ass.”
“Thank you,” is all I can manage to squeak out.
“And child, you best be checking yourself. If you think life here is rough, and I know you have your scars to prove it, you better keep your back to the motherfucking wall out in the real world. Don’t let anyone fuck with you, and if they do, you know my number and your way home.”
“Thank you, but I’m never coming back or calling you. This is the end for me.”
“Quit fucking thanking me. I’ll call Animal to come pick you up. You’ll be gone in fifteen minutes, lil’ sis. Just don’t fuck up your new life.”
“Never let Jazz forget how much I love her,” I whisper.
Out of Reach, by Missy Johnson
Out now at all major online retailors.
Synopsis
My best friend was dying and I was in love with his girl.
Andy and I had been best friends since we were eight-years old. Watching him slowly fade away, ever closer to his final breath, made me so incredibly angry. I knew there was nothing I could do to change it--I had given in to despair, but Andy had not. He had one last hand to play.
He wasn't going to simply sit back and wait for Death to claim him--not Andy. He was going to live life until he couldn't hold his eyes open any longer.
Andy didn't want to die in some sterile hospital and asked me to take him and Emily to the beach. It would be our last road trip together.
Emily. Emily was a problem for me.
I harbored a secret that would have torn our friendship apart. I was in love with Andy's girl, and had been since she'd walked into our sixth grade class, so many years ago.
So what kind of person am I? My best friend is dying, and it's awful--but my heart still aches for his girl. I hate myself for thinking beyond Andy's death and whether there could ever be a future for Emily and I, but I can't help it.
I'm in love with her.
Excerpt
Prologue
Death. It is the only certainty in life.
It’s such a small word that holds such a powerful message. We avoid talking about it and we fear it, because we’re taught to do so, because nobody really knows what happens when you die. It’s that uncertainty that is so terrifying.
It’s amazing how being told you’re going to die puts things into perspective.
How being told your body is going to slowly give up on you makes you reevaluate everything you thought you once knew. Things you take for granted suddenly seem so fragile. The worst part isn’t the thought of dying itself, it’s everything you’re going to be leaving behind.
My name’s Andy Grayson. I’m twenty-six, and I’m dying. God, saying that still freaks me out. I don’t know how long I have left. A month—maybe two, if I’m lucky. For a long time, I was angry: I’ve been fighting this fucking disease since I was seventeen and it’s finally going to win. I have nothing else to fight with because it has taken everything.
Then I realized that this is no longer about me. I can’t save myself, but I can make sure the people I love are taken care of. This became less about what I was losing, and more about what I could gain.
That’s when I decided I was going to do this on my terms.
Em is my girlfriend and I love her with everything I have in me. She isn’t just my girl, though; she’s my one of my best friends, my lover, my confidante, my partner in crime, and there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for her.
And then there’s Seth: we’ve been best friends for so long he’s like a brother to me, and I know he feels the same. As kids we got into more trouble than I care to mention, and before I die I intend on getting him into some more—for old times’ sake and all that shit.
Without them by my side, I wouldn’t have fought for this long. They sacrificed so much for me and now it’s time for me to return the favor.
I can’t leave them without knowing the two people closest to my heart will be okay. I need that assurance before I settle back and let this fucking disease take me—finish me off for all eternity…
Devil’s Prey (Dance With The Devil Trilogy), by SE Chardou
Synopsis
Magnolia "Mags" Reynolds is no shrinking violet. Her innocence is taken away from her at a very young age. Since she can remember, she's been a ruthless criminal but she's managed to survive to see her twenty-fifth birthday.
Maxwell "Max" Cartier, an expert in his craft, enters her life shortly after a sudden change of circumstances leaves her adrift yet again. He doesn't want to be her lover or friend. He only wants her for one last job that will mean a fortune and his retirement.
The best laid plans are always the first to go awry, and their situation is no different. Both will have to learn the hard way there is no such thing as easy money when they are both merely Devil's prey.
Excerpt
“What do you want from me?” he whispered, her lips drawing closer and closer to his.
“It’s not what I want, baby. What the fuck do you want? Do you wanna live or do you wanna die?”
He laughed; her gorgeous mouth a hair’s breadth from his own. “What a stupid fucking question. What the hell do you think?”
“I believe you want to live,” Mags began in a seductive whisper. “And Dimitri will keep you alive just to allow one person to complete the job. The one person you saved without knowing it. The one person who owes you everything in this world because
without a few tender words from you . . . her life, body, spirit and soul would be no more. He wouldn’t murder you because he knows what kind of person you saved and how she’s loyal to everyone who gives her self-preservation above everything else. It is human nature after all—for us to think otherwise is sheer stupidity.”
Max could feel the softness of her lips brush against his own and for one moment, she was the only person who existed, who even fucking mattered. She’d not only bore into his skin but she’d become a part of him without even realizing it. The fucked up part about this whole situation was he didn’t love her—he couldn’t because he didn’t know her well enough—but he would if he didn’t stop himself from falling . . . now.
“And this person who would be willing to risk everything to save a piece of shit like me if one ever walked the earth . . .” His vocabulary failed him as her lips pressed softly against his before pulling away.
“She would be me.” Before he could stop her, their lips pressed together in a hungry, enticing kiss that blurred the edges and scorched everything in its path into a blazing inferno, them included.
Max surrendered, not because he wanted to but because he couldn’t stop himself from not wanting to possess this beautiful creature that’d started a fire neither one of them would ever be able to extinguish.
Not without destroying themselves in the process.
Acknowledgements
Thank you to my family and my husband for putting up with me when I’m trying to write. Thanks to my amazing street team and fans for helping to spread the word about my books. Thanks to my beta readers for their help with Wicked Innocence. Thanks to my editors and proofreaders for all their help getting this book into shape. Thanks to my writing buddies for their ongoing advice and support.
Most of all, thanks to you, the reader, for your support.
A special mention to the three winners of my teaser competition, Caryn Watson, Hayley Picknell and Beth Hurley, who, as their prize received a small role in this book. A huge thank you to all the people who entered.
Wicked Innocence Page 18
