Authors: Angel L. Woodz
Bed of Thornes Trilogy Book 1
By Angel L. Woodz
This book is fiction. Name, characters, businesses, places, events and situations are all products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is purely coincidental. The author makes no claims to, but acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the word marks mentioned in this work of fiction.
Copyright © 2015 by Angel L. Woodz
Bed of Thornes, Book 1
Cover Art by J.N. Sheats:
All rights reserved
This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for use of brief quotations in book review.
First Printing, 2015
I am thankful for the encouragement of my close family and friends to take control of my dreams and turn them into a reality. Writing is a passion, sharing it with the world is truly my dream come true. I am grateful for my readers, knowing my work has made it into your hands for you to enjoy is all I have ever wanted.
To my husband, for being there for me through it all. You are my bed of roses.
Thank you, Andrew, for introducing me to a fellow Author and friend that has inspired me in many ways to simply just be me... Brooke Warra, thank you for bringing the Author community into my life. Most of all; thank you, my lovely, for being you.
My endless gratitude goes to J.N. Sheats for your beautiful talents, including your work on my book covers and promo materials. Thank you for your time, generosity, helping hand, and your friendship.
Raven, PA. Thank you for your patience, time, and energy poured into editing. Your services and support have helped make this possible in so many ways. I am honored to have you as a special part of my journey.
Countless thanks goes out to all of my Author friends, for your inspirations and guidance.
To my awesome Street Team – Angel Wingz, and to those of you that have stood by me since day one, your support is beyond appreciated.
Lots of love to all of my number one fans... you know who you are, as do I!
(Yes mom, this includes you.)
Dedicated to the struggles faced with any form of addiction;
shame, doubt, fear, secrets, lies.
You are more than your addiction, than what society makes you out to be.
You will not be defeated.
You are not alone.
You are loved.
he aware? Does he know about my obsession? These cravings within me are out of my reach, nothing seems to suppress them. Wanting something so badly and so often, that there is never complete satisfaction. Like an out of control addiction.
That's it! "I'm addicted." I whisper as if shocked. Considering my behavior has been out of character every time my mind wanders about him, I should not be shocked. Aware, maybe. Aware that at this very moment I have a problem. I don't like this feeling of something dark that I have to hide from society. Why haven't I noticed this before?
Wait. Is it wrong? Why would I automatically assume it to be corrupt? Sure, there are addictions that need to be treated, not all of them are bad though... right? I let out a big sigh of frustration, "I really need to get a grip." I say sternly to myself.
As I pull up into the driveway, I double check myself in the mirror to be sure my hair isn't a wreck from the drive to work this morning. I fix the tousled curls of my long dark brown hair, making sure the caramel brown and blonde highlights are lying just right. Presentation is important in my career. I pull out my nude lip-gloss to add a touch of shine to my lips.
My friends and family have always complimented my features. That I have pretty, full lips, and big emerald colored eyes that could melt the heart of anyone. I have even heard the term "bedroom eyes". Although that's not how I see myself. It's not that I have low self-esteem; I know that I'm not ugly. I just don't have the confidence that I probably should have. I am natural mostly, wearing just enough makeup to showcase my best qualities. I keep my nails manicured, and wear a small amount of jewelry that I cherish. I have my dad's dimples.
Growing up, my father owned a classic 1966 Ford Mustang Convertible, Tahoe Turquoise and Pearl in color. So many memories were made in that car. He traveled a lot with his job, mom and I would ride along and turn the commute into family road trips. We have seen many places that most aren't fortunate enough to see. Dad made a good living, he did estimates for architecture work all over the nation, they paid him well to do the dirty work the company didn't want to do themselves. I still remember seeing his short jet black hair blowing around in the wind. My dad was Italian, through and through. My mother, half Caucasian and half African American. Yes, I am quite the mix, but I love every morsel of my background.
Though I had everything that I could have ever needed as a child, I was never spoiled. I was taught how to earn money and appreciate everything in life, even the little things. After dad's passing from cancer when I was 25, mom had the car restored and gave it to me as a gift. I miss him often. Dad was my mentor, everything he taught me I have carried with me and it is what made me the successful woman I am today.
I own an art gallery, which features my personal collection of paintings that I have gained establishment from. I also alternate new pieces from close friends, whom are also well-known artists, into the gallery every few months to keep things fresh. I spend more time in my studio, office, and gallery, which are all in one huge fancy white building, than I do at home. I practically live at work. My house is of modern build and decor; two story, five bedrooms, four bathrooms, open kitchen, two full living rooms, den, rec room, fully furnished basement, four car garage, pool, deck. It's a shame that I can hardly spend time there.
I'm a workaholic; all of my friends will let that be known. Being taught to earn what I want in life stuck with me to say the least. With my mother moving to Paris after dad's passing, I haven't had anyone to make me slow down or break from my work. Mom was always the one trying to get dad to rest, she was the same with me when she was around. Now she tells me on the phone and over Skype, but it doesn't have the same effect. I'm just glad she is happy living out her dreams of being in France. I'm perfectly content here in Dallas utilizing my passion for art to make others happy while earning my way in life.
My best friend, Jenna, on the other hand believes in 'Work Hard, Play Hard', with emphasis on the play. I tease her with nicknames, 'Playmate' is my favorite. She is a replica of what I envision of the Playmates, living in those oversized mansions getting money handed to them on a silver platter just for being flawlessly beautiful. Plus, she likes to play. It's fitting. Regardless, her looks are what she uses to get what she wants, she even admits it.
"You're running late this morning, Ronni." Jenna points out the obvious with a smirk on her face, showing she is proud to beat the boss to work, one day out of... ever. Jenna is known for never being on time, for anything. Hey, that look takes time, I understand. I may look that gorgeous if I was able to invest as much effort, energy, and my every waking moment to perfecting it too. However, my time to my career is more valuable than my looks. On the other hand, it explains why I'm lonely at night while Jen can have any man she desires at the wink of her eye in her bed any night she feels like. Ronni is her nickname for me, she says it's too much work to say my full name, Veronica. Hah! It's too much work for Jenna to spell work.
"Good morning to you too, Playmate." I chuckle as I close the front door of the gallery behind me. "I see you have a head start on filing those... nails?" I roll my eyes playfully, Jenna and I have always been straight-forward and open with one another. We joke around a lot. She tends to be an easy target. We have been best friends since high school, we have the sort of relationship that is tight but distant at times. I'm always working, she's always begging me to come out. I couldn't imagine not having her though, she's there for me in ways none of my other friends are. We talk about everything, usually at work, but she's the one I can confide in and vice versa. I think if we could ask one another of anything, she would want me to party more and I would want her to work harder. It's a simple personality difference though, and we don't let it get in between our friendship.
"Jen, you're supposed to be filing the new clients' requests so I can catch up by this afternoon, not filing your nails. Do I need to make you another manicure appointment so you can have that done out of the office? I really need you focused while you're here, I've got a big month coming up." I tell her this with sincerity, but still playing it off as though I'm nudging a joke her way. It's not as fun as it sounds to have friends working for you. It can be at times, but when you really need the work done, you risk hurting feelings by being stern, and it becomes difficult.
She pushes her short blonde hair back from her face. "Ronni, are you okay?" Oh no. She can sense the fact that I'm not too satisfied with her work, or lack thereof. I hate feeling like I'm being too demanding, but I am the boss, and I need things done in a timely matter. Is that too much to ask?
"I mean, you're never late. Is everything alright?" She asks, and I quickly realize she is genuinely concerned for me, which makes me feel awful.
I shrug my shoulders, "I'm good. Just had a rough time getting to sleep last night, and I ended up sleeping past my alarm this morning. I've had a lot on my mind lately. With all the client meetings, and the triple R's hitting all at once, it's that time of year again." She squints a bit, like it pinched her to hear that.