by RC Boldt
When I step closer, and she turns to peer up at me, the love shining in the depths of her gaze alleviates a fraction of my nervousness.
I gently skim my knuckles along her cheekbone and drag in a deep, fortifying breath.
“Emma Jane Haywood, I need you to do something for me.”
She searches my features curiously. “Okay.”
I hold out the daisy for her. Her eyes dart between me and the flower before she accepts it.
“Go ahead.”
Blue eyes regard me with a hint of confusion. Her finger and thumb pluck the first petal. “He loves me.” The next petal follows with, “He loves me not.” She continues, and when all but two petals remain, I drop to one knee.
There’s a reason I chose this particular flower. Because I know how it ends.
“He loves me.” Emma Jane’s voice comes out wispy, slightly breathless as she plucks the final petal and allows it to drift to the sand soundlessly.
I withdraw the ring from the box and swallow past the tight lump in my throat. “It’s the truth.” I press my lips thin, attempting to fight the nerves trying to get the best of me. “I love you, Emma Jane Haywood. I never stopped.” Holding out my other hand, palm upturned, I wait until she places hers in it to continue. “Marry me. Let’s have our own happily ever after.” I pause when my voice cracks with emotion. “God knows we deserve it.”
Her blue eyes fill with tears. “Yes.”
Relief surges through me. “Yes?” I can’t help but question her, needing to hear it again for affirmation.
She tugs on our joined hands. “Yes. Now get up here and kiss me.”
I slide the diamond engagement ring on her fourth finger, and I can’t help but repeat myself as I hold her gaze, my words chock-full of emotion. “I love you so damn much.”
As soon as I rise to a standing position, she hurls herself into my arms with such force that I nearly lose my balance. Quickly righting myself, I hold her tight as she presses a string of kisses along the cords of my neck. “I love you.” Her whispered words are punctuated with the wet tears dampening my skin. “So much.”
With her in my arms, I let my eyes drift closed, relishing this moment.
Because I’m getting a second chance with the woman who’s always held my heart.
46
Emma Jane
TWO YEARS LATER
Standing at the end of the pier overlooking Mobile Bay, I close my eyes and allow the breeze to wash over me. It’s good to be home, even if it’s only for a few more days before I’m due to head back to Jacksonville for meetings.
Exhaling a long, slow breath, I look down at the flower in my hand, slowly plucking off the delicate white petals of the daisy. A few get carried away by the slight gust of wind, and I watch as they float for a bit before gracefully drifting and soundlessly landing on the surface of the dark water below.
“He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me, he loves m—” Just as my fingers move to pluck the last remaining petal, strong arms slide around my waist, and one large palm covers the gentle swell of my belly.
“Woman, you’d better not be getting superstitious.”
My lips curve into an easy smile, and I relax against him, feeling the security his embrace offers. “Maybe a little,” I tease softly.
His lips graze against my temple when he speaks. “Emma Jane Montgomery.” My breath hitches at the way he murmurs my name—I still love the way it sounds coming from his lips. “Maybe I need to show you just how much I love you?” he taunts huskily, skimming one palm up along the thin fabric of my sundress to gently cup my breast. I can’t withhold a tiny gasp when the pad of his thumb grazes over my sensitive nipple, causing it to harden instantly beneath his touch.
This man is my everything, and I know without any doubt that I’m his. Our rocky past is firmly behind us, and each day, I fall more in love with him.
Turning within the circle of Knox’s arms, we lock eyes, and I can’t resist teasing him. With a mischievous smirk, my thumb and forefinger pinch the flower petal between them and tug. “He loves me n—”
His lips cover mine, the now petal-less flower slipping from my fingers as he deepens the kiss. My hands clutch at his broad shoulders, and as I kiss my husband on the pier of our second home in Mobile, I realize something.
Sometimes love just needs a second chance, when it wasn’t quite ready the first time around.
THE END
DITCHED
Want to know more about Becket Jones? Stay tuned for his story in DITCHED, due to release early 2018!
He Loves Me…KNOT Playlist
If you’re a music lover like I am, you might enjoy checking out the playlist for Emma Jane and Knox’s story!
https://open.spotify.com/user/rcboldtbooks/playlist/4IpzlZlkNnBguqGIy94CFR
Dear Reader
If you would be so kind as to leave a review on the site where you purchased the book, it would be appreciated beyond words.
If you send me an email at [email protected] with the link to your review, I’ll send you a personal ‘thank you’!
Please know I truly appreciate you taking time from your busy schedule to read this book! If you’d like to stay up to date on my future releases, you can sign up for my mailing list (I’m the most anti-SPAMMY person ever—promise!) via this link: http://eepurl.com/cgftw5.
If you enjoyed Emma Jane and Knox’s story in He Loves Me…KNOT, be sure to check out my other books:
Standalones
Out of Love
CLAM JAM
Out of the Ashes
BLUE BALLS
The Teach Me Series
Wildest Dream (Book 1)
Hard To Handle (Book 2)
Remember When (Book 3)
Laws of Attraction (Book 4)
Stay Connected To RC Boldt
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Out of the Ashes
Intrigued by Becket’s friends, Hendy and Presley? Keep reading for an excerpt from Out of the Ashes.
Out of the Ashes
PROLOGUE
Walter Reed National Military Medical Center
Bethesda, Maryland
Hendy
I could hear the voices at the doorway of my hospital room, and while I recognized both, one of them stood out.
One of them caught me off guard.
That same voice elicited anticipation from within me. I’d never gotten serious about any woman, but she was one I thought might have potential, the only one I could see myself getting serious with.
Katie was a nurse I’d met while visiting another SEAL in the hospital, and we had hooked up anytime I returned stateside. For whatever reason, she hadn’t been a hit-it-and-quit-it for me, and we’d kept in touch via email and sometimes Skype—whenever I was graced with a decent internet signal on my deployment.
“How is he?”
“He’s…doing better.” The hesitation was clear from Nurse Ratched’s tone. That woman earned her nickname. Her bedside manner was non-existent—not to mention, she could give the Navy medics a run for their money when it came to the “I start an IV by shoving a needle in your arm and then dig around to find a vein” thing.
“They’ve been working me nonstop, and I just now got a chance to come see him.” Katie sounds nervous.
I’d be lying through my teeth if I said I wasn’t nervous as shit for her to see me.
“He’s been awake for a short time, but he might still be a bit groggy,” Nurse Ratched warns. What she doesn’t realize—or doesn’t care to notice—is the fact I rarely press the button that automatically dispenses pain medication via my PCA pump. After hearing “Pain is just weakness leaving the body” over and over from the start of BUD/S training—Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL training—an
d throughout my career as a SEAL, it’s engrained in me.
Not to mention, feeling pain means I’m not dead, and I have to admit I’m still shocked I made it out alive.
The tentative footsteps entering the hospital room draw my attention from where a muted Jeopardy plays on the television. Katie comes into view; her blond hair pulled back in a clip, she’s clad in plain scrubs. Luckily for her, the door to the room is to my right, so she’s greeted by the unmarred side of my face.
Unlike the left side. Much unlike the left.
Drawing to a stop at the foot of my bed, she offers a gentle smile. “Hey, handsome.”
I attempt a slight smile—at least as much of one as I can offer. The scarring and muscle damage in my left cheek creates more of a lopsided grin now. When I turn toward her—allowing her a full view—I see it.
The revulsion.
The horror.
The disappointment.
It’s all written there on her face. It’s in those widened, hazel eyes.
“So, uh…” she falters, stammering as if we’re acquaintances and not two people who’ve gotten to know one another—intimately, if nothing else. “How are you feeling?” She winces as she realizes how lame her question is.
But I answer just the same. “I’ve had better days.”
Her laughter sounds stilted. “I can imagine.” Her eyes dart to the left side of my face before jerking away, as if she’s looked directly at the midday sun. Wincing. Painfully.
“It’s good to see you, Katie.” My tone is far too polite.
She needs to go. I know this, and so does she. Obviously, she was only into me for my looks, and I should’ve known better. After all, I was the manwhore who slept my way through quite a few single women before all this happened.
I never had any complaints—all of them knew the score. A SEAL. A guy who’d deploy to some random part of the world no sane person wants to visit. A guy who chose his country over himself. A guy who killed sometimes as much as he saved.
For those reasons, I was also a guy who didn’t do attachments—a fun guy. I’d never slept with a woman who turned into a “bunny boiler” or flipped out on me in some equally psychotic way. We always parted on good terms, amicably, thanks to the charm instilled in me long ago, courtesy of my mother.
But it isn’t until this moment that I realize how vain and callous I’d been. Shallow. Because at times like this, people need support—need to be appreciated and loved for more than their looks.
Life is totally giving me a big fat fuck you right now. That much is certain.
“Yeah, it’s…great to see you home.” She clasps her hands together; her expression so overly bright it’s painful. “And doing so well, too.” Her energetic tone grates on me.
“Well”—I blow out an exaggerated breath—“I’m actually pretty beat, so I think I’m going to rest.”
It’s an easy out. I know it, and she knows it. I’m giving her the reprieve she’s searching for, so she doesn’t have to look at the damage. More specifically, she doesn’t have to look at the left side of my face.
Relief washes over her features before she stifles it. She might have been quick but not quick enough.
“Oh, of course.” Her words come hastily, almost frantic. “I’ll let you rest.”
I close my eyes, partly to shut her out. “Take care, Katie.” Goodbye, Katie. Have a nice life.
“Bye, Hendy,” she says softly before her footsteps fade away.
Only then do I open my eyes. Training my gaze on the television, I press the button to increase the volume slightly.
“Who is Rembrandt?” I murmur.
And I continue doing so—rambling off answers and answer attempts—until exhaustion finally overtakes me. All the while, in the back of my mind, it’s confirmed; it’s a done deal. The damage to my face is far too extensive for anyone to see past it. I was right—I wasn’t completely off-base when I first caught sight of my reflection in the mirror.
My face is the sight of horrors, and no one will be able to see past it.
Not even me.
To keep reading Hendy’s story, click here.
Acknowledgments
This book was tremendously fun to write and none of it would have been possible without a team helping me each step of the way (and listed in no particular order):
My readers—The fact that I actually have readers is just…incredible!! Thank you for choosing to read these books. Without your support, your sweet emails and reviews, and you sharing my books with others, none of this would be possible. I am forever grateful.
My husband and my daughter—For being freaking awesome beyond words.
My parents—For their continued support. Also, FOR THE LOVE OF EVERYTHING THAT’S HOLY, just admit that I’m your favorite child, already. Geez.
Sarah, my Australian BFF—There’s no way I could have made it this far without you or our WhatsApp texting, voice messages or phone dates. Rome is going to be epic simply because I’ll finally get to hug the crap out of you!!! #LYLT
Amber G.—I adore you and your gracious generosity! I’m so incredibly grateful for all of your help!!
Heather R.—Thank you could never suffice. But I have a trillion and one of them for you, for taking me under your wing, being the best publicist I could ask for, and helping me navigate this crazy career of mine. I adore you!!
The ladies at Give Me Books—For putting up with every single time I ask for your help with a cover reveal or release. You ladies are the best!!!
Jill at Love Affair with Fiction—For being so sweet and gracious and helping me out with this release!!
Lana at Dirty Girl Romance—You always make the best teasers in the world. Thank you so much for making that process go smoothly and end up with such stellar results!!
Dani and Lauren at Barclay PR—You ladies helped me tremendously and I am so grateful for it!! Massive thanks!
Marisa—For knocking this cover out of the ballpark!! You took my vision for the book and absolutely made it come to life!
My readers group—You guys are the most stellar individuals! I am beyond grateful for your support, excitement, and feedback when I share my ideas with you. I’m clearly biased but I think I have the best readers group!! Love you all!!
All the book bloggers & reviewers—I could never manage to truly show my gratitude for all of your support. Please know that the time you take to read and review my books and/or do promo posts is appreciated beyond words.
My beta readers—For being so awesome and willing to read through my amalgamation of nonsense and help me make it better!!! I’m so grateful for your help!!
Hazel—Where would I be without you? You helped me transform this dumpster fire of a book into something I can be proud of. And you should take pride in knowing you played a HUGE role in this!! I love the hell out of you. <3
Mel—For supporting me throughout the crap that went along with this book and combing through it for me!! I freaking love you, mi playa.
Wine and coffee (don’t judge me, people)—For being there when I’m under duress because of deadlines. Without you both, this book wouldn’t be possible.
About the Author
RC Boldt currently lives on the southeastern coast of North Carolina, enjoys long walks on the beach, running, reading, people watching, and singing karaoke. If you're in the mood for some killer homemade mojitos, can't recall the lyrics to a particular 80's song, or just need to hang around a nonconformist who will do almost anything for a laugh, she's your girl.
RC loves hearing from her readers at [email protected]. You can also check out her website at http://www.rcboldtbooks.com or her Facebook page https://www.facebook.com/rcboldtauthor for the latest updates on upcoming book releases.
Find RC here:
www.rcboldtbooks.com
[email protected]
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