by Anna Brooks
Marianne, Kelly, Crystal, Piper, and KC, you guys are the best. I love you so much for always being there for me and listening to my voice messages when I’m confused about something or too worked up waste the time typing!
THANK YOU to Nikki Belaire, Crystal Singer, Heather Carver, Shannon Ferguson, Nicole Richard, Jennifer DiCenzo, Elizabeth Himsworth, and Kelly Lincoln for being the best beta readers in the world!
My reader group and release team. I’m so damn lucky to have you guys at my back. Thank you for taking time out of your day to support me. I appreciate you all so much.
Kari from Cover to Cover designs, Jenny from Editing4Indies, Bree from Vivid Words Editing, Stacey from Champagne Formats. Another one bites the dust, and I couldn’t be more proud to still have you guys on my team.
Erin from Southern Belle, Colleen from Itsy Bitsy Book Bits and Ena and Amanda from Enticing Journey Promotions, I’m so thankful for all of your hard work and dedication!
THANK YOU, thank you, thank you to the bloggers for the countless hours you put in, helping to spread the word about the books that you love. And of course to the readers, thank you for allowing me to share my stories with you.
About the Author
Anna began writing when she thought the world would want to hear her sick lyrics through song. Since then, she’s realized her childhood dream wasn’t so far-fetched, just misguided. Now she writes romance with real emotions and happy endings. If Anna isn’t writing or reading, she can be found by a space heater drinking a ridiculous amount of Diet Dr. Pepper. She also likes to hang out with her husband and two boys. If it weren’t for them, she wouldn’t ever leave the house. Anna was born in Wisconsin but now lives in the Evergreen State.
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Make Me Forget (It's Kind Of Personal Book 1)
Prologue
Six months ago.
Even though I’m blindfolded, I squeeze my eyes shut, willing my body to cooperate, while my mind screams at me in protest. Todd grunts as he picks up his pace, effectively slamming my head into the wall. I’m grateful for the pain, as it distracts me from what I’ve allowed myself to become.
“I’m coming!” He never talks when he fucks me, except to tell me that he’s coming.
I can’t say anything, can’t move, can’t see. I can do nothing but wait. He collapses on top of me for a few minutes before pulling out and sitting up. Then he unties my ankles and wrists. Next, he removes the blindfold, followed by the gag. I rub my wrists and take a deep breath.
“Be right back.”
He disappears out of my bedroom, returning a moment later with a wet cloth to clean between my legs. What I thought at one point was a sweet gesture turns into another moment I have to endure his touch.
“That was amazing.” He runs a hand through his curly blond hair and smiles at me.
Even with the gag removed, I still can’t speak to him right now. I fake a smile and crawl under the covers.
“I have to go to that conference in Boston this weekend. Be a good girl when I’m gone?”
I’m not sure if he’s asking or telling; either way, I nod and shut my eyes. If he thinks I’m tired, he’ll leave sooner. He’s never stayed the night, not once in three years. He always says he has to go back to work. He doesn’t know that I know the real reason.
“Good girl.” He kisses my forehead and shuts off the light.
I watch his tall, lean figure exit my bedroom and wait until his car pulls away before I hop out of bed. I run to the bathroom and barely make it to the toilet in time. Once I'm done losing the contents of my stomach, I quickly brush my teeth, but avoid looking in the mirror, because I know what will be looking back at me: sad blue eyes that used to be bright with excitement and hope, framed by blond hair that is dull and too long.
I grab the packed bags I have hidden in my closet and set them by the front door. I can’t be here anymore. Not in this house, not in this city, and definitely not in the same state as him. I know his routine, and he won’t know I’m gone until next week. I have time, but I’m still paranoid. Running back upstairs, I grab anything and everything that is of value to me. Not that there’s much; my mom’s jewelry, some photo albums, paperwork, things like that. I shut all the lights off upstairs, do the same in the kitchen, and make my way out the front door. I have to make a couple trips to my car, but once I have everything packed, I drive away without looking back.
Make Me Forget
A Preview of Easy Sacrifice
Despite dancing among the crowd of steamy bodies, my skin doesn’t feel too heated, but when I get outside and see him, it begins to burn. He’s leaning on his truck right outside the club, watching me. Waiting, maybe? The door closes behind me, and the bass from inside dissipates as the pounding of my heart begins to echo in my chest.
His eyes don’t move from mine. If I could walk, I’d run to him, but I’m paralyzed. I haven't seen him in six years; not since he told me from behind the glass partition that he never wanted to see me again . . . I was the one who pulled the trigger, but he took the blame.
Now, he looks . . . fucking hot. His arms are huge. His eyes are still beautiful, but they’re definitely harder. His hair’s a tad longer than it was before. And in the pants he’s wearing, I can see the outline of his cock.
“Ready?” he asks, pushing off the door.
I don’t think I heard him correctly. “What?”
“Ready?”
He certainly can’t be asking what I’ve dreamed of since the first minute I laid eyes on him. Since he kissed me that night, all I think about is how I want more. I’ve always wanted more. “Huh?”
“Jessa.” He sighs.
“What?”
“Are you ready?”
“For what?”
He walks right up in my personal space and crowds me against the closed club door without actually touching me. The warmth from his body ignites me even further, and I feel my face heating and my panties dampening. His index finger traces the outside of my mouth, and his eyes turn darker as he watches his finger.
“Me,” he whispers.
Easy Sacrifice
