ASPEN

I step inside the doorway, immediately hit with the mixed aroma of mildew and lavender from all the flower arrangements. I narrow my eyes, trying to adjust to the dim lighting. It’s eerily quiet, the service not due to begin for another hour.

My mother was hysterical all night long, crying in her room. I heard her through the bedroom door, but I didn’t go to her. I couldn’t.

I know she blames me.

Mom hadn’t said a word to me all morning, so I asked my older brother, Aaron, to take me early. I want to see Ariel before everyone else starts arriving. See her one last time.

I walk down the short hallway and into the room her service is being held in. Chairs are all lined up perfectly, row by row. The room will probably fill up quickly of family and friends, all coming to give their condolences.

I swallow as I step closer, her casket already open. I notice faint music playing overhead through the speakers. It’s meant to sound soft and soothing, but I don’t know how anything can soothe away the ache burning in my chest.

I glance around and notice the walls look as if they were painted a hundred years ago. The faded beige carpet is almost nonexistent. Flowers surround her on one side and a table of vanilla scented candles on the other. Nothing in this whole room represents her except the collage board of pictures she had hanging in our room. She made it two summers ago and had been adding pictures of her friends and us ever since. It captures every part of her personality.

We lived on farmland with only fields surrounding us. No neighbors or friends to play with meant we’d learned to entertain ourselves. I remember the day she got a new camera for Christmas and immediately started taking pictures—of everything. We’d giggle and snap pictures of each other, torment Aaron and take his picture when his girlfriend was over, and take about a hundred pictures of our pets. I smile at the memories but at the same time feel like crying because now there won’t be anymore. The memories we’ve made the last fourteen years are all I have left of her.

When Pastor Jay asked us to bring in our favorite pictures of her, I knew immediately she’d want these. I step closer and examine them, even though I’ve looked at it every single day for the past two years. Somehow today, it looks different.

There’s the one of us standing in front of the middle school on our first day of seventh grade. We were assigned different homerooms and weren’t happy about being apart. Another one shows us with our dog, Fudge, the first day we brought him home from the shelter. We’ve only had him for six months now. He was a rescue and she said she knew he was the perfect fit for our family.

After tracing the lines of each picture, I slowly walk to her casket. I pleaded with my mom to let her wear her favorite purple dress, but she refused. She said it was an ‘occasion’ dress, AKA—a happy occasion. Instead, she picked out a dark, navy blue dress that she absolutely loathed wearing. My lip curls up on one side thinking how much she’d hate wearing this dress right now. She hated wearing dresses in general, but now, oh she’d be so pissed. Part of me wants to laugh at the irony and the other part wants to rip it off her and sneak the purple dress on.

I glance down at her, curling my fingers tightly around the edge of her casket. She looks flawless, almost like she’s just sleeping. Even looking at her right now, seeing that she isn’t breathing anymore, it hasn’t all sunk in.

For the first time in days, I let myself cry. I cry harder than I ever have, I’ve held the tears in, trying to remain strong for Mom, but I can’t do it anymore. I release all the pain I’ve kept inside and apologize to her over and over.

“I’m so sorry, Ari. God, I’m so, so sorry.” I blink, wiping my cheeks off. “You hated that nickname,” I say, letting out a short laugh. I exhale a deep sigh. “I’m going to miss you so much,” I whisper, reaching for her hand. “I’m going to miss you sneaking in my bed and sleeping with me every time a storm hit. I’m going to miss staying up late on weekends, gossiping about Brady Carmichael and all the guys on the basketball team. Or the girls who think purple lipstick is in.” I chuckle softly to myself. “I’m even going to miss arguing with you over who gets to use the shower first. It was like our little tradition, I guess.” My lips soften, curling up on both sides at the happy memories. “Truthfully, I’m going to miss everything about you.” I lean down and kiss the top of her forehead. “I love you.”

I hear footsteps in the hall and take that as my cue to start heading out. People will be arriving soon, and I’m not quite sure I’m strong enough to deal with everyone. Half feel sorry for me and the other half blame me.

I’m not sure which one is worse.

“Aspen…” I hear my dad’s deep voice. I turn and face him, his lips set in a firm line, his eyes as empty as I feel right now. “Your mother wants to talk to you.”

I swallow at his tense features, but nod and follow him out of the room. He’s barely speaks or looks at me now. I’m only a constant reminder of what happened—of who he’s lost—of how our lives are forever changed.

He leads me to a small room on the other side of the hall where she’s sitting with her nose buried in a handkerchief.

I stand in front of her and wait. I’m not sure what to say to my mom right now—or anyone for that matter. I’m not sure there’s anything I can say.

“I need to hear the story one more time,” she chokes out. “I need to hear why my baby girl is dead.”

Her head is low and she refuses to look at me. I’ve told her and the police the story several times already, but every day since the incident she’s demanded to hear it again.

“Mom…” I begin, my eyes filling up again. “I can’t. Not again.”

“Tell me!” She raises her voice, finally tilting her head to look up at me. Her face contorted in a mixture of grief and disgust.

I do as she says. I repeat the story the same exact way I did the first dozen times. No matter how much it hurts to talk about, I explain what happened.

“How could you let that happen?” she mumbles. “How could you be so careless? I just don’t understand!”

“Mom, it’s not Aspen’s fault…” Aaron interrupts, stepping next to me.

“Mama, I’m sorry,” I burst out through a new wave of tears. I’ve apologized to her and Daddy over and over. But I know they’ll never forgive me.

I’ll never forgive me.

Aaron wraps an arm around my shoulders and cradles me to his chest. I hear my mom huff in disapproval. I push against his chest, wiping the tears off my cheeks as I storm off.

I’ll never forget the way her eyes widened in fear as she fell to her death. The way her body lay on the ground, motionless. The way her voice begged for my help as she screamed on the way down.

I’ll never forget.

I don’t tell Mom and Dad those things though. The images already haunt me in my sleep. The sound of her screaming has woken me up the past two nights. Every time I attempt to fall asleep, her dead eyes appear in my mind. It’s no use, I tell myself. There’s barely a difference between existing and sleeping now.

Life without her is pointless.

People start arriving, so Mom, Dad, Aaron, and I all stand in the front near her casket. I swallow my emotions down and refuse to cry. I shut down. I shut everything down. I let them hug me and say how sorry they are for our loss. I let them cradle my head as they press me against their chests. I let them squeeze my hands as they tell me how much she will be missed. I let them do whatever they need to express their feelings. But I don’t cry. I quietly thank them and look down at my feet.

When the service is over, we gather at the cemetery to bury her. A large bouquet of white lilies rests on her closed casket. I step forward and pull one out for myself before they lower her in the ground. Mom and Dad do the same, but they don’t look at me. Dad wraps his arm around her shoulders, holding her close as she cries.

I grip the obituary program tightly in my hand and stare down at her picture displayed on the cover. Mom used her most recent school photo from this past year, although it hadn’t been her favorite. I don’t know why though, she looked stunning as usual—bright smile, sparkling green eyes, and flowing golden blonde hair.

Underneath it reads, Loving Daughter and Sister. Gone too soon, but never forgotten. 4-10-1995 to 4–10-2009.

She died on our birthday.

I swallow as I take it all in. April tenth was our favorite day. We’d wake up early to Mom making us our favorite breakfast—the only day of the year she’d make it—Belgian waffles with melted cream cheese frosting drizzled on top and then slathered in homemade maple syrup. She used fresh blueberries—instead of frozen—on top. She called it our special birthday breakfast and every year we looked forward to it.

After breakfast, we’d rip our presents open from our parents and later on exchange the ones we made for each other. For the last few years, we’d talk Mom into letting us skip school for the day. She wouldn’t even bother arguing with us, knowing she’d eventually cave anyway. So when we woke up on our birthday five days ago, we’d done everything the exact same.

We laughed all through breakfast. Mom was going on and on about how she couldn’t believe how grown up her baby girls were getting and how old that made her feel. Aaron was three years older than us, but apparently he was born out of wedlock and didn’t count in her aging process.

After we finished eating, Mom handed us each a card and watched as we ripped them open. We both squealed when we saw the hundred-dollar bill tucked inside.

As we wrapped our arms around her, she lectured us. “Don’t spend it all in one place, girls!” We then begged her to take us to the mall so we could of course spend it on clothes and makeup.

“You’ll have to wait until your father gets back,” she said, piling the dishes into the sink. We ran upstairs and got dressed, setting our money down on the dresser and running back outside. It was warm for April, just a slight breeze in the air.

It was perfect.

I smile at the memory of our birthday traditions. It was something we’ve always shared. Should have shared forever.

She’d always tease me about how she was older, granted it was only by three minutes, but now the day would be pointless.

A painful reminder of what happened.

Of what I lost.

Gauge

Speaking of Tank, he and the rest of the boys would be back within the hour, which meant there was probably going to be a reasonable amount of awkward around the clubhouse for a while. Sure, I’d gotten the man’s permission to go after his daughter, but approving the concept and seeing the result weren’t exactly the same thing.

“Hey, baby. What are you doing?”

Speak of the devil. Cami strode into the main area of the clubhouse in a pair of tiny cut-off shorts and the Disciples’ Supporter tank she’d been wearing when I got back from Sturgis. Damn, she looked fucking good. So good, I wanted to drag her back into my room, strip everything but that tank top off, and take her. She moved to sit next to me on the couch, but I reached out and grabbed her hips to settle her onto my lap.

“Love this shirt, babe. We’ll have to get you some more,” I told her.

She leaned in and pressed a kiss to my lips while I stroked her exposed thighs. “Glad you like it,” she said, but I muffled the end of it when I chased after her sweet lips.

“You two oughta knock that shit off before Tank gets back,” Daz warned as he sat on one of the nearby couches.

I flipped him my middle finger, trying to hold Cami still as she pulled away. “You aren’t going anywhere,” I growled. Then, I looked around her. “As for you, asshole, she’s my old lady. I can do as I fuckin’ want.”

“All you fuckers with your old ladies. Why shackle yourself when there’s so much sweet pussy out there?” Daz kicked back and grinned like he was imagining some of that pussy getting busy with him right there.

“I’ll ignore the inherent insult in that,” Cami sassed.

“No insult meant, Cam,” he shot back. “I’d gladly see how sweet you are, but I ain’t gonna keep sampling the same dish when there’s a whole buffet in front of me.”

I grabbed the nearest non-fragile item—a pillow from the end of the couch—and chucked it at him. “You talk about my woman’s pussy again, I’ll fuckin’ make you wish you were back in lockup.”

“And that,” Daz kept right on. “You spend too much time with the same pussy, you start to turn into one.”

I was about to shuffle Cami off my lap and show him just how much of a pussy I was when she spoke. “Hey, Daz?”

“What, babe?”

“When’s the last time you got laid?”

“Cami,” I interjected. I wasn’t liking where this conversation was headed. She shushed me.

“Last night,” he answered.

“Hmm,” she got a look on her face, like she was pondering. “Not bad. Gauge, baby, when’s the last time you got laid?”

I smirked. “You know the answer to that, darlin’.”

“You’re right.” She snapped her fingers like she just realized it, and I suppressed a chuckle. My woman was a goof ball, and it was fucking adorable. “It was this morning. Once when we woke up, and then again in the shower. Not to mention, everything last night. Wow. So, since the last time Daz got laid, we’ve probably had sex…what? Four, maybe five times?”

Daz laughed and shook his head. “Your woman’s a fucking smart ass.”

“Don’t I know it.”

Cami feigned being affronted. “I was simply trying to consider the validity of Daz’s argument,” she snapped.

“Were you on the debate team in high school?” I asked.

“No,” she stated emphatically, then backtracked, “not for long, anyway.”

“Oh?”

“I might have been asked to quit because of my ‘over-competitiveness’, ‘short temper’, and ‘inability to allow others to finish their arguments’. I mean, excuse me for not wanting to lose because Jerry Simmons’ talking points were always terrible and unsubstantiated. There was a reason he didn’t get into law school.”

Daz and I laughed before he said, “Don’t worry, you can start any spirited debate you want. I’ve got another we can tackle. Anal or vagin—”

“Alright, brother, you’re fuckin’ done,” I cut him off.

“Buzzkill,” he muttered, getting to his feet. “That’s alright. I’m going to find one of the girls and get her to make me a sandwich.”

“Seriously?” Cami called at his retreating back.

“Hey, I’m all about feminism. Especially a woman’s right to choose whatever lifestyle she wants. Particularly if that lifestyle involves her making me a fucking sandwich,” he shot back as he left.

“So you know,” Cami started, but I jumped in.

“You aren’t going to make me a sandwich on command?”

“Nope. I cook. I’ll make you pancakes, cupcakes—”

“Anything that’s not a cake?”

She gave me a glare. “I can cook most things relatively well. But if you want a sandwich, I think you’re solidly capable of that on your own.”

“Guess I’ll be cutting sandwiches out of my diet.”

She rolled her eyes. “Asshole.”

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Blurb

You can’t hide from love … or revenge.

Dodge Loving wants revenge … and he’s about to get it. On the cusp of closing a multi-billion-dollar luxury resort deal, Dodge can’t afford for anything go wrong. But then a fiery redhead shows up, the paparazzi hot on her trail, and throws his world into chaos. He has to get rid of her. Immediately.

Harper Conner just wants to be left alone, but after slapping her cheating senator ex-husband during a televised press conference, she’s a hot commodity. The ultra-exclusive resort in Wyoming seems like the ideal place to hide—and work—so there’s no way she’s letting the Type-A jerk who runs the place fire her.

Despite the animosity sparking between them, Dodge and Harper can’t keep their hands to themselves. This thing between them can’t happen. It won’t. But his mother has other ideas … and she’s willing to do whatever it takes to make sure Harper and Dodge fall in love.

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From USA Today, International and Amazon bestselling author comes the complete Jokers’ Wrath series – four novels for only 99c!

Fall in love with them the same way the world did.

PRECARIOUS

In darkness, we find danger. In danger, I find Beau. Ash is a prison guard, she’s tough, she’s strong and she never backs away from a fight. She takes her job seriously, she takes her training seriously, and everything in her life goes as planned. Until the day he is brought into the prison. She’ll never forget meeting Beau ‘Krypt’ Dawson for the first time. He’s a member of the Jokers’ Wrath MC and it is said he killed an innocent family in the middle of a cafe, in cold blood. Deranged. Crazy. Psychotic. All those words describe the infamous Krypt, but Ash suspects there’s far more to the quiet man than meets the eye. Secrets are being hidden by the club, information is being kept under wraps. Krypt is silent for a reason. Ash is desperate to know that reason. Continually fighting, Krypt is transferred to a high security prison. Ash is in charge. She’s always prepared, always alert. Not even her skills will stop the club from ambushing them and taking back Krypt. Only Ash ends up right in the middle of it. They take her, too. Now she’s stuck with a Motorcycle Club who are determined not to let her go. She’s too much of a risk. Until the situation can be sorted, they send her and Krypt into the mountains together….alone. The dark, sexy, handsome biker will crawl into her soul and embed himself there. Changing her life forever. An epic, dangerous love will be built on the foundations of darkness.

MELANCHOLY

“There’s never been a time I’ve cared about anything more than my club. Today that all changed. Today I got you.” Maddox is the President of the Jokers’ Wrath MC. He’s hard, he’s determined and he’s never had to give his heart over…until the day he found and saved Santana. Sassy and head-strong, she’s given him a run for his money for a solid five years. Their tension has built and both of them have danced around a passion that’s burning so deep in their souls, it’s all-consuming. They want each other – they’re just too stubborn to admit it. Heat, lust and sassy natures will have them fighting against what’s real. She’s feisty, he’s stubborn. But everything will change the moment she gets her first taste of the rugged, broody biker. There’s one problem with this story…Maddox has a secret. A secret he knows will crush Santana. It will take her life and spiral it out of control, sending them into a world of danger that will risk not only their lives, but everyone in the clubs, too. Will their love withstand the battle? Or will Maddox lose the only girl he’s loved, forever?

ANGUISH

There are a lot of things in this world that are easy to escape from. Having a son you didn’t ask for isn’t one of them. Mack is a nomad. He likes his own space and he struggles with emotion. His past is grey and his future looks about the same. That is until his ex-girlfriend dies and his son is handed over to him. A two month old baby he didn’t know existed. Until now. His world comes crashing down around him.

Desperate, he hires a nanny. Jaylah has gotten herself into some serious trouble, so when she sees the job opening for a nanny pop up, she jumps on it. Of course she’s not a nanny, but she figures she can pull it off. I mean, how hard can it be? She’s thrown into a world of diapers, hourly feedings and a whole lot of laundry. She’s also introduced to the most rugged, gorgeous man she’s ever had the pleasure of meeting. The best part, he’s the baby’s father. The worst part, he’s a biker. Their sexual tension is huge, but he’s a hard nut to crack. She’ll get in, though. She makes it her mission to break through the wall Mack has built so high around himself. Her world is about to spiral out of control, and she’s taking Mack along for the ride.

DESOLATION

Pippa.

The girl you all know as damaged. Quiet. Broken. She doesn’t fit in. Nothing in her world feels right. She’s trapped in a spiral of darkness that seems to be consuming her day by day, until she sees nothing but an empty, black hole. Her world is a broken place she can’t escape. She has people around her who matter. Who love her. But it’s not enough. Not enough to break her out of the bitter despair she lives in. Until Tyke.

He knows pain. He knows darkness. He’s sweet. He’s kind. But most of all…

He understands her. Combining their demons doesn’t seem like the best plan. Everyone is against them. He deserves better. She deserves better. They’ll never work. They’re too broken. Too damaged. It’s a destructive combination that will only end in heartbreak. He’s a biker. She’s a broken angel. But in their desolation, they will find peace. With each other.

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