The Road to Redemption: Finding Grace, Book 1

by DM Davis

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Playlist

  Additional Novels by D.M. DAVIS

  Dedication

  Note to The Reader

  Ripples

  Prologue: July

  Verse

  Part One: The Beginning ~ January

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Part Two: After Effects

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Part Three: Letting Go

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Part Four: The Road to Redemption

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Part Five: Hibernation

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Part Six: The Light Returns

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  End Title Page

  Did You Enjoy This Novel?

  About the Author

  Acknowledgements

  Additional Novels by D.M. DAVIS-1

  Stalk Me

  Copyright © 2019 D.M. Davis

  The Road to Redemption

  Finding Grace series by D.M. Davis

  ISBN13: 978-0-9997176-6-0

  ISBN10: 0-9997176-6-9

  Published by D.M. Davis

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, scanned, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  www.dmckdavis.com

  Cover Design by D.M. Davis

  Cover Photo by DepositPhotos

  Metallic Logo by Carrie Loves Design

  Editing by Tamara Mataya

  Proofreading by Mountains Wanted Publishing & Indie Author Services

  Formatting by D.M. Davis

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or establishments is solely coincidental.

  This story contains mature themes, strong language, and sexual situations that might be triggers for some readers. It is intended for adult readers.

  RESCUE BY LAUREN DAIGLE

  THINKING OUT LOUD BY ED SHEERAN

  STAY WITH ME BY SAM SMITH

  KISS ME BY ED SHEERAN

  BEAM ME UP BY PINK

  HOME BY PHILIP PHILIPS

  MAKE YOU FEEL MY LOVE BY ADELE

  YOUR BODY IS A WONDERLAND BY JOHN MAYER

  HALLELUJAH BY THE CANADIAN TENORS

  STAY BY RIHANNA

  WAKE ME UP BY ED SHEERAN

  YOU SAY BY LAUREN DAIGLE

  Until You Series

  Until You Set Me Free - Book 1

  Until You Are Mine - Book 2

  Until You Say I Do - Book 3

  Until You Believe - Book 4 - Coming 2020

  Finding Grace Series

  The Road to Redemption - Book 1

  The Price of Atonement - Book 2 - Coming late 2019

  A New Beginning - Book 3 - Coming 2020

  Finding Where I Belong - Book 4

  Standalones

  Warm Me Softly

  This book is for me and all the women who feel they aren’t quite good enough. Not pretty enough. Not skinny enough. Not smart enough. Not worthy—enough. This is not my story, but it is my struggle—my search to find grace within myself. To come to love the woman I am, not who I wish I was, who I would be if I ate less and moved more, if I was bolder, prettier, sexier, funnier, taller.

  It’s about learning to bloom where you are planted, finding the joy from within, but most of all know that I—and you—are worthy of all life has to offer. We just have to believe, have faith, and open our hands—palms up—ready to receive.

  This is Lauren’s story of finding the grace to love herself.

  THIS IS WHERE IT BEGINS…

  Don’t let the FINDING GRACE series name fool you.

  This is not a religious book. Though there are religious undertones, above all else, this is a steamy romance with hints of paranormal. The paranormal aspect grows as the series progresses, but at its heart this is a love story with all the wonderful gooey details of what happens between a man and a woman when they fall in love, and all the magical moments thereafter.

  BAD things happen every day, in LARGE and SMALL ways. SMALL things shouldn’t change who you are or the course of your life. But sometimes, those small ripples can change you greatly—the person you are or desire to be—or change your direction in life. That small ripple then becomes a large ripple because of the impact you allow it to have on your life.

  At other times, LARGE things can happen that should completely change you—the course of your life—and yet, they don’t. Instead of changing you, that large ripple makes you more of who you already are. Instead of changing the course of your life, it makes your course truer, allowing you to fiercely follow your intended path.

  BAD things happen every day, in LARGE and SMALL ways.

  It is how you RESPOND to these ripples THAT TRULY MATTERS.

  DM DAVIS

  I CAN SEE PIERCE ON CENTER stage from our shitty seats at the bar, barely, but well enough to know he’s staring daggers of lust at my best friend Holly. He’s playing his guitar like a rock god, reeling in the audience—the women—with every strum of his six string, yet after every verse his eyes return to her.

  He’s got it bad.

  She’s oblivious.

  We've been friends for years, all of us, since freshman year at Texas Tech when Holly and Pierce first began doing their I want you, but I'm not ready to have you dance, never moving beyond the friend zone.

  He flirts.

  She thinks he flirts with everyone.

  He doesn't. He only looks at her with eyes that burn straight to her soul.

  If she'd only see it. Believe it.

  Feeling the beat, I want to get lost in the lyrics I know by heart and dance with abandon to the music that does something to me. Something deep, sensual, and relaxing. If only I had my own soul-searing rock god to dance with.

  I grab Holly. “Come on.”

  Reluctantly, she lets me pull her to the dance floor. It doesn’t take long for her to relax and enjoy herself.

  She’s liked Pierce for…well, I can’t even remember a time she didn’t like him.

  Holly’s a good girl. I mean, a really good girl.

  Pierce is a good guy hiding behind a bad boy rocker persona.

  Maybe tonight one of them will get up the nerve to take it to the next level.

  I’m gonna try my darndest to help her out. Not that I’m an expert on men. Far from it, but it’s different when it’s not me. I’ve had a man. He may not have been a rock star, and he may not have rocked my world. I’m not sure rocking my world is even a real thing. I’m starting to believe it’s only a fairytale.

  A dre
am.

  A fantasy.

  A fantasy I’m all too good at dreaming up. A fantasy of a man who wants me like no other, who sees me like no one ever has, and loves me as I am. Deeply. Madly. Endlessly.

  Yeah, it’s a fantasy. That kind of love doesn’t exist. At least not for me.

  “I need a drink.” After working up a sweat to four songs, Holly motions to the bar, looking back to be sure I’m following.

  She may not be good with guys, but she’s a great friend. Protective. She’s only five months older than me, but you’d think she was my older sister, that she spent her whole life looking out for me instead of only the past eight years. We’re nearly inseparable. If she were a guy, I’d totally marry her. She’s my standing plus one.

  “A Silk Panty Martini and a Diet Coke,” she hollers to the bartender.

  With a nod and a wink, he gets to work.

  We dab the perspiration from our faces with cocktail napkins and sip our drinks.

  “No wonder we're such good friends; you’re as bad as I am with men.” It’s not breaking news, but it bears repeating. I give her a light shove on her shoulder. “Go talk to him. They're going on break. If you don't talk to him, what was the point of coming? To be groupies?” Actually, groupies would be hanging out with them, which we aren’t even doing. We’re less than groupies at the moment. A groupie would be an upgrade.

  “Lauren,” she pouts.

  “Nuh-uh. Don’t Lauren me. Go say hi.”

  With a little liquid courage, she makes her way over to Pierce, who’s hanging out with the band in a circular booth, ignoring the groupies trying to get their piece of him. I keep tabs on her from our spot at the bar. My heart soars when his face lights up at the sight of her walking toward him. He stands up and motions for her to slide in next to him.

  “Go get him, Holly. He’s all yours,” I whisper to myself.

  A nudge from behind has me turning to a familiar face with a broad smile and gray eyes.

  “Hey, Kyle.”

  “Hey, Lauren. You having a good time?”

  “Yeah. You?”

  “Yeah, I’m diggin’ the music. Pierce and the guys have come a long way from their garage band days.” Kyle and Pierce grew up together, neighbors, and are still friends after all this time.

  I nod, remembering the first time I heard them play in college, in Pierce’s parents’ garage. They were rough, barely even a band, but you could tell they had something. Pierce had something. You could see it in his eyes. You could hear it in his songs. You could feel it in the way he spoke about music. Now, here they are making a living at the thing they love. Very cool.

  Kyle motions across the room. “You know those guys?”

  “Who?” I try to follow his eyes.

  “Those two assholes holding up the wall, looking like they don’t belong.”

  I spot the guys he’s talking about. One blond guy and the other dark-haired. “No. Never seen ’em before.”

  “Huh. They’ve sure been watching you and Holly. Keep an eye out, and I’ll do the same.”

  His concern is appreciated, yet a little alarming. “I will.” I glance again at where they were a moment ago, but they're gone. I scan the room. “I don’t see them.”

  Kyle looks around. “I guess they left. Good.”

  I visit with him and his girlfriend, dance with them, by myself, and with Holly when the band is playing again. She’s beaming. So happy.

  We call it a night around eleven. We both have work in the morning, and unlike Pierce, we can’t sleep till noon.

  She’s giddy on the walk back to the parking garage only a few blocks from the club. They made plans to get together. “He’s gonna call. He swears.”

  “He will. He’s into you. Don’t doubt that.”

  She shrieks way too close to my ear and grabs my arm. “Do you really think so?”

  I laugh. “I know so.”

  “Thank you for coming. I never would have come, much less talked to him, if you weren’t here.”

  “You’re welcome. I’m glad I came. I had fun.” I suck at acting my age—going to bars, dancing, drinking—having a good time with friends. Though this old soul has never felt all that young, it’s nice to remember that I am.

  She shrieks again, shaking her hands and her head. “Okay, calm down. It’s not that big a deal.” She talks herself down from her jittery excitement.

  “Actually, I think it’s a pretty big deal. You’ve liked him for so long. It’s great to see you both taking the next step. You never know, he may be the one.”

  “Do you think?” She glances at me with tender, hopeful eyes.

  “I do.”

  I cover my ears, preparing for the shriek that never comes as we step off the elevator and onto the garage level where her car is parked.

  A shudder runs up my spine, causing the hairs on my neck to stand at attention. The feeling of being watched puts me on high alert. I turn, latching on to Holly’s arm, the need to get out of here pulsing in my veins. That’s when I see him, the dark-haired guy, coming around the corner.

  “Holly, run!” I push her away, flinging myself at him, but I’m jerked back, grabbed from behind.

  “No!” Rage screams through me as I claw at the arms banded around my waist, breaking ribs and squeezing the air out of my body.

  "Run, Holly! Run!" I gasp.

  Screams fill my ears as I watch in slow motion as the dark-haired guy lunges for Holly.

  No. No. No!

  Let us then approach the throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need.

  Hebrews 4:16 NIV

  LAUREN GRACE FRASIER

  ON MY WAY TO THE OFFICE, I stop to get Silvy a coffee. She’s always doing small things like that for me. I owe her more than just a few specialty drinks. Though, I'm not even sure you can call what she drinks coffee—in my uneducated opinion, it more closely resembles dessert. I don't drink the stuff. I'm more of a Diet Coke girl.

  The shop is booming with Monday morning patrons in the throes of caffeine withdrawal. There's a lot of grumbling and heads buried in their cell phones. There are no smiling, happy faces, except those working the counter, and with how fast they're talking and moving, I'd say they've already exceeded their caffeine quota for the day.

  I'm not in caffeine withdrawal, and I left my phone in the car, so I might be the only customer who's actually happy and looking around people-watching. We've got two lines going. I'm fourth from the front in mine. Glancing over to the other one, my eyes land on a smoldering, handsome man in a suit and overcoat. I say smoldering because he’s hot as hell and seems pissed off all at the same time.

  He’s facing forward, hands clasped—not on his phone. Bonus for him. His short brown hair is tousled with hints of curl that make him look playful, whimsical even. His strong profile etched with chiseled features, sharp nose, furrowed brow, and clean-shaven jaw erase my whimsical musings from a moment ago. Everything about him is hard and cool except for his lips—which are full and sensuous, a stark contrast to the don’t-fuck-with-me aura he’s giving off.

  Sadly, the young woman behind him is trying in vain to get his attention. She bumps into him and apologizes with a hopeful smile, but he simply nods and turns back around. She sways from foot to foot. I imagine she’s trying to think of another tactic.

  Bravely, she taps him on the shoulder, and when he turns, his scowling face doesn’t soften. I can’t hear what she says, but he simply shakes his head. I can feel her dismissal from here. He’s not open for business, and she’s blind to his “closed” sign.

  I feel sorry for the girl, but also find the whole situation amusing. She’s trying so hard to be seen, and he is trying so hard to be left the fuck alone.

  As he turns around, his eyes catch mine and stop—locking in like a missile heading for its doomed target. My breath hitches. The intensity of his stare sends tingles in places I’ve ignored for far too long. I hide my reaction behind a
smirk that grows into a full-fledged smile and a chuckle. His eyebrow rises, and the corners of his succulent mouth curl into a barely-there smile.

  Be still my heart. Seriously, get a grip.

  I bite my bottom lip and turn away, focusing on the menu above our heads, but really, I’m steadying my treacherous heart that’s trying to jump ship and climb aboard his.

  Is it hot in here?

  Our eyes only connected for seconds, but it was enough to see a flash of warmth in those chocolate, almond-shaped eyes. I thought he was hot in profile, but the full-on frontal is defcon delicious and dangerously panty-dropping-worthy.

  Actually, I think my panties might have incinerated.

  I make it to the front of the line and place my order. After paying, I move to the middle, waiting for Silvy’s coffee.

  A flush of heat radiates from my right, and I realize Mr. Dark and Dreamy is standing beside me, close enough for his arm to graze mine.

  Oh god, he smells good. Like fresh shower with a hint of spicy cologne and pure male. I want to rub all over him, breathe him in, and lick places I’m sure I shouldn’t.

  I close my eyes and take a moment to breathe his scent and feel his presence.

  “What was the smile about?” His deep timbre close to my ear sends a tremor down my body. Holy hell. He has a British accent.

  I look up, and I mean up. He has to be six-three, at least. My eyes connect with his, and the warmth from before is still there. “I’m sorry?” I manage, even though my heart is racing again.

  “Back there.” He motions behind him. “You were watching and smiling. Why?”

  “Oh, well…” Honest or lie? “You have quite a don’t-fuck-with-me look going on.” Honest it is, then.

  He seems stunned by my bluntness, but before he can respond, my name is called. I grab my coffee and plan my escape route before forcing myself to face his deadly, heart-wrenching beauty. No one should be this handsome. There’s no way this man isn’t hit on every day, all day. It has to take tremendous effort to remain so stoic and closed off. “Good luck with that.”