My best friend—Stephanie Elaine—you’re my favorite person to people with. Not just in our professional lives but personal as well. Ups and downs, twists and turns, in between and around the corner, you’ve been there for me without question and without fail since I started this journey. For my whole life, I thought you were only allowed one best friend—one person—but like so many things, you’ve defied the rules and laws of life, proving me wrong … yet again. I can’t shoot as well as you. I can’t write as beautifully as you. I can’t even begin to step on your level, but every single damn day, you push me a little closer. In my heart, I know damn well that TT sent you to me. I’m not sure I could ever be half the writer and professional in this industry as I am without you there demanding my absolute best and calling me on my bullshit at every bend in the road. When I lost TT, I never thought I’d be able to have anyone else nearly as amazing as her to step in my corner and give me what she did for as long as I had her. Again, you defied those laws and rules, and without ever having met Teresa, you’re her twin. Metaphorically, that is. Only a little different, in the best possible way. You’ve completed a part of my soul I didn’t know I was missing until our first conversation when you more than demanded I do better, be better, write better. My career launched because you wanted to feel. And babe, I feel for you. Not always the good things, but it reminds me of something I read before … sisters fight hard and love harder, and you, my southern babe, are my sister in every sense of the word ... without that whole blood thing. And no, we’re not doing a blood oath … that’s how you get the Hep. More than words, Stephanie Elaine … more than fuckin’ words. Ohana. Code Blue in Barcelona.
Maddie. There’ve been times in the last four years that I’ve wondered where we truly stand … then one phone call puts it back in perspective. Friends fight. They disagree. They fall away. But the good ones—the ones who are meant to be in your life—they never go away, and thank you for never going away. I’m not always the easiest person to deal with, especially when you have two strong women set in their ways and mindset arguing their point because, well, since we’re both crazy intelligent, we’re each always right. But I will say this … if I had to pick one person to fight with all the time, I’d pick you hand over fist. I miss the time when we’re not talking, but I know one day, in the middle of the night, there’s gonna be a three-hour conversation that puts everything back into focus. We’re not perfect (okay, I am … you, on the other hand …) but we mesh perfectly together. I’m beyond lucky to be surrounded by such strong, talented women. I sometimes feel inferior, but I can say this … being around you, talking to you, reading your words, following your world, seeing things from all points of view … it’s what makes it impossible to be mad at you for more than five minutes. The best friendships are those that endure even when the house wants you to fold. Just know, with us, I’m always taking a hit, regardless of what the dealer thinks because every once in a while, twenty-one comes up … and that’s the sweet spot … just like us.
To my family … thank you for still understanding, four years later, that I possess multiple personalities and when it’s writing time, it’s writing time. My favorite football player, JT, thank you for learning how to cook generic meals so you can feed your baby brother when mom’s pushing herself past her breaking point and never making fun of me for crying while I write. My runt, Brady, who, even though you want—okay, demand—every ounce of my attention, somewhere deep inside, you know I’m creating something I truly believe in and can’t be able to be your cuddle buddy on some nights. My mother, who brings me sweet tea when I can’t make it out of the garage, leave my office, or lock everyone out of the back of the house ‘cause I’m in the zone. My husband for giving me everything I never knew I wanted. My siblings for not crawling up my ass when I couldn’t go out and hang because the voices in my head were finally talking.
To my friends … there are too many of you to mention in fear I may forget someone. You guys are my favorite part. Never pushing me to do “things” because you understand my special brand of crazy. For always making sure I’m my truest self and calling me on my shit when I act a fool and pretend I’m something I’m not. For putting up with the book stuff on the regular because my dreams are your dreams, and together, we can push each other further. For all of you … for loving me.
To my beta readers for DEMANDING chapters once they knew I’d been diligently working. Thank you for the honest feedback and the drive to give you more, which meant I had to write more. Thank you for being you. And thank God for giving me you.
To my readers … I hope you’re okay with this turn I took. I know you’re used to similar stories from me, stories you depend on. I hope that even though you might be upset with me, you understand I had to write what was in my heart. This story, although it’s not a traditional romance, was something I could only dream of writing, and it took me three years to build the courage to write it. Yes … THREE long, painful years of withholding these characters because I feared how you would take it. I knew Charlie and Rowan’s story before I knew Skylar and Mira’s. I knew these two before the others said a word on paper, but my fear held me back. I hope you love them, you mourn with them, and you’ll rise above … just like them.
And finally, to the greatest team a girl could ever ask for … Tiffany Fox, my brilliant editor, who never fails to amaze me. You took me on with the understanding I can never meet self-imposed deadlines My work isn’t always the best, but you made it shine … and for that … myself, along with these phenomenal characters, are in your debt. Melissa Gill with MGBookCovers who started out as a friend in a reader group, who did my first cover, and who came back to nail this cover like nobody’s business. Meli, you’re not only a gifted graphic designer, you’re also a fantastic mother and friend. I’m happy to have someone like you in my corner. My agents, Stephanie Phillips and Marisa Corvisiero … it took me forever to get this one out. Marisa, you knew this idea first and all but demanded I get it on paper before the momentum left … and Stephanie, you followed up, made sure I was working, and pushed me to actually finish. You’re both what dreams are made of.
Thank you.
About the Author
Ashley Suzanne has been writing as long as she can remember. As a youngster, she was always creating stories and talking to her imaginary friends. Thankfully, her parents also carried this love of fiction and helped her grow into the writer she is today.
Ashley is a bestselling author and spends equal amounts of time writing and reading. Being the true book whore she is, Ashley would rather dive into a good book before going out of her house. Giving up her career in Real Estate, Ashley has officially moved to hermit status.
When Ashley isn't coming up with her next story, you'll most likely find her on the couch with a kindle in her hand (probably watching some crappy reality show while annoying her husband by telling him all about her new book boyfriend or spending quality time with her two gremlins ... Sorry, I mean adorable children.)
OTHER WORKS BY ASHLEY SUZANNE
THE DESTINED SERIES
Mirage (book 1)
Inception (book 1.5)
Awakening (book 2)
Façade (book 3)
Epiphany (book 4)
Destined Series Box Set (All 5 Books in One)
Pinnacle (A Destined Novella)
FIGHT OR FLIGHT SERIES – All books can be read independently (Random House—Loveswept)
Raven (book 1)
Cutter (book 2)
CLAIM SERIALS (Also available in Korean Translation)
Claim: Volume 1
Claim: Volume 2
Claim: Volume 3
Claim: The Complete Collection (box set)
THE UP IN SMOKE SERIES
Rekindle (book 1)
STAND ALONE NOVELS
Calling Card (Also available in Portuguese Translation)
Breaking Noah (Random House—Loveswept) (Co-Authored with Missy Johnson)
Accidentally on
Purpose (Co-Authored with S.E. Hall)
Ashley’s Facebook
Ashley’s Website
Sign up for Ashley’s Mailing List
Ashley Suzanne is represented by Marisa Corvisiero with Corvisiero Literary Agency and Stephanie Phillips with SBR Media.
Sneak Peek of Embody by S.E. Hall
Chapter One
Bellamy
“Tell me you feel it starting to sprinkle,” I groan in foolish hope.
“No,” Brynn laughs. “Did you, um…”
“Piss on my foot? Yep, pretty sure I did. With the added bonus of backsplash as it hits the ground. Let’s not forget that party favor.”
“Spread your feet farther apart, and quit making me laugh,” she snorts, wobbling in her compromised position. “I’m no expert at this either and you're gonna make me pee on myself too.”
What the hell am I doing? I’m beyond positive that my parents did not scrimp, save, sell and pawn everything they could, plus work double shifts to send me to college so I could master “the art of squatting to pee in the woods.”
And Brynn Kendrick, crouched down in what very well may be a bed of poison ivy with me? Definitely outside her comfort zone as well.
But then again…is a patch of poison ivy anyone’s comfort zone?
The only reason we’re at this party, in a field, obviously lacking restrooms, is because Brynn’s softball teammates had berated her unmercifully into coming.
I’m not sure if they want her here for the right reason—because she’s a great girl—or because her mom’s the coach and if Brynn’s here, they might not get in as much trouble for having a party if caught. Either way, I wasn’t about to refuse to come with her.
When Brynn and I met on campus it was instant friendship. One somewhat socially introverted, goal-oriented girl in search of a top-notch education meeting another like soul. And we’ve been inseparable, best friends, ever since.
I am pretty comfortable saying what I think in a small crowd, especially made up of people I know, so I’m not quite as reserved as Brynn, but it’s close. So, being our best chance at a “spokesperson” against any really bad ideas that often “pop up” at these shindigs, no way could I let my girl navigate the shark-infested waters of a college party alone.
And our pre-party pact included the golden rule: Never leave your wingwoman. So, if one of us really has to pee, we both have to traipse through the maze of protruding limbs and scratchy bushes to pee.
“Are you done?” She asks, still squatting.
“Yeah, you?”
“Yes, but as a novice, I have a question.”
“Ask away. Although, considering I just pissed on myself, I doubt I have the right answer.”
“What do we, you know, wipe with? A leaf? Drip-dry? Geez.” She looks around, as though a roll of toilet paper will magically appear. “This sucks.”
“Excuse me, Brynn?” Ryder calls out from his watch post. “Not that I’m eavesdropping, but I have an idea on how to help.”
“Oh my God, he heard us. How embarrassing,” Brynn whispers her agony.
I muzzle my laughter—she would never see the humor in this situation. Not only is Brynn very conservative and as inexperienced with the world that is guys, dating…and dating guys as I am...but she’s absolutely nuts about Ryder Banks.
And he worships the ground she walks on; hasn’t taken his eyes off her since the time they spent together at Brynn’s oldest sister Skylar’s wedding.
But no one is allowed to acknowledge or speak aloud of “the thing” between them, because even they won’t give it all they’ve got...downplaying it and denying themselves true happiness because of Brynn’s family.
Overprotective doesn’t even touch upon the “ways” of my best friend’s very large, extended family of crazies. Wonderful, loving, cool AF crazies...but regardless, more than a little insanely “involved.”
I haven’t met them all, but the ones I have? They are fascinating in both the most admirable, and scary as hell, of ways.
“Brynn, answer him,” I urge her to “woman-up” and find out his plan. “My calves are starting to cramp. I’m not a star ballplayer like you, feeling the burn here.”
“I’d rather not. Just leave me here. I can’t face him now, or ever again.”
“Okay,” I pretend to agree, then yell, “Ryder, I’m coming out, but Brynn wants us to leave her here. Ya know, in the woods, at night, alone, at a party.”
“You did not just say that. Paybacks are an evil, sneaky bitch, Bellamy,” she hisses.
“Like hell that’s happening,” Ryder yells back, his voice sounding closer with each word. “My eyes are closed, I swear. One of you pioneer women come over here and grab my socks. I took ‘em off for ya to…uh…use.”
“You,” I designate Brynn before she can even try to send me. “He’s your escort, not mine. Go get those socks!”
Not that I mind the fact he came along, watching out for us party newbies, keeping us safe, but no way am I waddling, drawers around my ankles, over to him with pee trickling down my legs. Her admirer—her job.
“Have we met? You know I’m not doing that! No way.” She’s shaking her head, glaring at me. “I mean it. I think I’m almost dry now. Tell him never mind, please.”
“Ryder,” I turn on my phone’s flashlight and hold it up in the air. “Walk toward the light and throw us the socks.”
“Alright. And I’m not looking, I promise,” he answers and I hear twigs start snapping as he approaches. “Here comes one.”
The balled-up sock lands within reach, and I snag it, giving Brynn a sassy smile. Cleaned up, I toss the sock, fix my clothes and stand...now dry and dressed.
“Still want to be left here, or should I go get the other sock for you since I’m no longer squatting with my ass hanging out?” I tease her.
“Please,” she grates, low and annoyed. “Go get it. And thank you, friend.”
I jog over to Ryder, retrieving the sock in his hand, and gently pat his cheek. “You’re a decent guy, Ryder Banks. I’ll be sure to put in a good word for ya. Be right back.”
Brynn gets situated, still a bit prickly at her embarrassment and my goading, as we start toward Ryder...only for her to stop suddenly, causing me to slam into her back.
“What the…”
“Ssshh!” She cuts me off. “Do you hear that?”
Yes, indeed I do. Someone is screaming like a banshee.
“Brynn! Answer me God dammit! Where are you?”
“Oh, Ryder,” she blows out dejectedly. “You didn’t.”
“Now, let me explain,” he wears a sheepish frown, holding out both hands. “He texted me and asked where I was, and if I’d seen you. He was worried, Brynn. I couldn’t lie to him.”
“Brynn! Counting to five and I’m dialing him!” The mystery lunatic screams again.
“Dialing who? And who’s yelling? What am I missing?” I fire off my questions.
“It’s my brother. Ryder told him where we were. And that’d be my father he’s threatening to call,” Brynn mutters.
“Oh,” is all I can think to say. Haven’t met the brother, but I have met Mr. Kendrick, so I shiver for her at the thought of him being called. Brynn’s dad is the sexiest DILF I’ve ever seen, but every bit as frightening as he is handsome. I’m also next to certain he has mob ties...or is the “Godfather.” I’d believe either one.
“Yeah, oh,” Brynn deadpans. “You told him, you can answer him,” she clips at Ryder.
“Come on,” Ryder sighs, reaching for Brynn’s hand, which she denies him. When we emerge from the woods, Ryder hollers, “JT, over here, man!”
My Lord, Mary, Joseph and all the disciples...running toward us is an exact replica of Mr. Kendrick. The definition of a BILF. Seriously, they should put his picture beside the word in the Urban Dictionary. Not that I’ve ever acted on an ilf with anyone, but my vulgar opinions are my own, to be only slightly ashamed of privately.
“Brynny, what the fuck
?” the damn beautiful man growls when he reaches us. “Why didn’t you answer me, and what the hell are you doing at a field party full of drunks?”
“Calm down, I’m safe. Ryder’s here to protect us,” she answers him casually. “I’m not an idiot. I’d never come alone.”
“Oh, I’m well aware that Ryder knew where you were. In the damn woods! Swear to God man, I’ve been cool about you spending time with my baby sister, but if you were out there playing grab ass with her, I’m gonna beat the ever-lovin’ shit out of you!”
A huge vein pops out on his forehead and he moves to charge Ryder, but my calm, quiet friend Brynn turns rabid monkey, intercepting his attack by propelling herself onto his back, pulling his hair and kicking her legs.
“Jefferson Tate, you stop it right now!” she screams. “You know better than that.”
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