Glass Ceilings (26 page)

To my three kings, you rule my world.

Always first and foremost I want to thank my family for putting up with me and all my OCD tendencies. Your support is unwavering. I love my three men more than anything on earth. I'm blessed to have them in my life, and in my corner. J~A~R, you are my lifelines.

Sue Grimshaw, editor at large, Penguin Random House: Thank you so much for your guidance during this journey. In such a short time I've learned so much from you, and look forward to continuing our journey with the rest of my True Heroes. Thank you, Madeline Hopkins, for finding those little things that most wouldn't notice, but in every case had me thinking, “Oh thank you, Madeline!” To say I'm thrilled to be part of the Loveswept and Penguin Random House family would be a huge understatement. I look forward to creating more True Heroes for hopeless romantics to discover.

My beta readers, my chicks, my hos, and my groupies have all become a huge presence in my life. Some I've met, others I haven't yet. I feel as if I've known these women for years and years. I love them all very much.

BFF Angel, we are #boundforlife. JoJo,
te amo
.

My cover model, Joe Connors. I am so glad I approached you on our beautiful beach. Thank you for bringing Nick Farley to life.

Matt Heasley—thank you for capturing Joe perfectly for my awesome cover.

Finally, my biggest thank-you goes out to my readers. My appreciation is immeasurable, and it often causes me to fumble with my words. “Thank you” is simply not enough. You all continue to rock. I hope I can continue to rock your worlds with my stories. Love you all so very much!

Thank you to all the bloggers who have supported me since my first book, and all the new bloggers who discover me with each release. You guys make it possible for all the wonderful, faithful, passionate readers to find us.

One last thing: After you've read a book, please take a few moments and post a review. It's the single best way to thank your authors.

xoxo

Stone Walls

Glass Ceilings

Dark Corners

Back-Up

Front & Center

Encore

Backstage

The Devil's Lair

The Shortstop

A
.
M
.
M
ADDEN
is a wife, a mother, an avid reader of romance novels, and now an author. A self-proclaimed hopeless romantic, she loves getting lost in a good romance book.

ammadden.com

Facebook.com/​AuthorAMMadden

@ammadden1

Swing into spring this May with Loveswept! We've got something for everyone, so take your pick from these fabulous romance books.

Tracy March brings you another enchanting novel set in Colorado, with book two in her Thistle Bend series,
Just Say Maybe.
Brenda Rothert releases her first Loveswept book,
Blown Away,
a sensual, emotionally charged novel of love and loss in which a tender affair gives two daring storm chasers the strength to overcome shattered dreams and the courage to build a future together. Then we go from extreme weather to the world of extreme sports with Zoe Dawson's pulse-pounding Mavrick Allstars series debut, the steamy
Ramping Up.
Bestselling author HelenKay Dimon makes her Loveswept debut with
Mr. and Mr. Smith
. Moving on from the suspenseful to the sensual is a novel of pleasure and persuasion revolving around a high-stakes business deal in which the rules of negotiation are defined by desire in Shawntelle Madison's
Bound to You
.
New York Times
bestselling author Noelle Adams introduces a notorious tech mogul who makes a mild-mannered woman an offer she can't refuse and gets in return a battle for control—and a million-dollar affair—in
Fooling Around
. The Hunt Club continues with Pamela Labud's
A Most Delicate Pursuit
.
New York Times
bestselling author Erin McCarthy follows Nashville's hottest country music duo as they fight for love in a city where dreams often cost a broken heart in
Heart Breaker
. And
New York Times
bestselling author Sawyer Bennett proves that vengeance is sweet—but seduction is to die for—in
Sugar Daddy
.

Wait—there's more! Gina Gordon's White Lace series continues in book two with lots of sizzle and heat in
Reason to Believe
. A. M. Madden continues the True Heroes series—
hot hero alert!—
with
Glass Ceilings
. Two tortured souls share an unbreakable bond even as they break taboos, as Laura Marie Altom does it again with a fabulous stepbrother romance in
Stepping Over the Line
. Back in the sporting world,
Stacked Up
continues the Worth the Fight series from
USA Today
bestselling author Sidney Halston. And
Interference
continues the Pilots Hockey series from Sophia Henry, where a young single mom falls for a damaged coach pulling double-duty as a cop.

It's a great month for relationships, so follow us on Facebook and Twitter and let the romance begin!

Until next month ~Happy Romance!

Gina Wachtel

Associate Publisher

By A. M. Madden

Available from Loveswept

“You drive.”

“Nope.”

“Come on. I drove the last run.”

“And I drove the two runs before that.” I didn't give him a choice, and walked over to the passenger side of the Humvee.

“Suck my dick, Cavello,” he said, still standing behind the hatch pathetically waiting for me to take the wheel.

“I prefer pussy, but thanks.” Gunner looked down at me from his perch, failing to hide his grin. I grinned back, got into the passenger seat, and settled in. Confident he'd be over it before we hit the first zone of action, I watched as he moved around toward the driver's side, still shooting me dirty looks as he did.

When I laughed at him, he said, “I fucking hate you, Cavello.”

“Aww, is that any way to talk to the love of your life, Randall?”

Private First Class Bartholomew F. Randall was my best friend in that hell we were in. If it weren't for me, he would've gone postal by then. I was his voice of reason, the logic that the desert heat baked right out of his skull. The little voice in his head that constantly said, “Don't fucking do it, dude,” as his finger itched on the trigger.

“If I have to drive then it's my music.”

With an arrogant smirk, he flipped on the radio to his god-awful rap music crap. Determined to not give him the satisfaction, I returned an arrogant smirk of my own.

We wordlessly waited for the rest of our caravan to position behind us. It was hot as fuck. The sweat poured down my body, making my fatigues so wet and my skin so damp that goosebumps riddled every exposed surface. You know the kind of heat that just ripped at your flesh, making it feel like you stepped into a blazing furnace? When the air was so thick, each breath you took felt like smog from a toxic fire?

Like being in hell?

As Randall closed the distance between base and the hot box we were heading to in Baiji, I gripped the helmet on my head in an attempt to control the migraine that instantly began to pound behind my eyes. It was always the same pounding pain that came on suddenly from the combination of the heat, the mission, the fact that it all could end at any moment.

The place was a shithole that we'd call home for the next four days. Our mission: secure the area for the officer convoy traveling through from Baghdad to Mosul, and stay alive while doing it.

“Gunner, all clear?” I asked into my mic, as the abandoned buildings came closer and closer to the convoy.

“Clear at twenty meters out.”

The whirl of the turret above our vehicle as Gunner, aka Williams, panned the terrain in his scope made it hard to hear the familiar chatter coming over the dashboard speaker—coordinates, convoy position instructions, all routine and necessary when approaching the hot box.

The tank in front gained ground, leaving an unacceptable gap between our Humvee and their tail. My eyes studied from left to right, watching, waiting for any movement from the dust-riddled façades that were barely standing. Everything was beige, the ground, the buildings, the air. Fucking blah…no color, no life.

I faintly heard the metal ping just as my eyes cut over to Randall.

“Randall, drive.”

Our Humvee continued to slow just as his head lolled back at an odd angle…and I knew. I knew why, yet I still barked, “Randall, stop fucking around.”

Maybe he was fucking around?

Maybe the prick thought it'd be funny to pretend he'd been hit?

Maybe the next bullet was coming for me?

In slow motion, a blood-red serpent traveled from under his helmet and slinked over the curve of his face, slowed over the terrain of his stubble, and then continued to roll until it disappeared into the collar of his fatigues.

“Randall!”

“David…David, wake up!”

A hand squeezed my arm in the most annoying manner. Cold fingers gripped my arm, shaking it over and over until rage quickly replaced the irritation I felt.

“Get the fuck off me!” I shoved at whoever was touching me, hearing a gasp and then sobs.

I blinked against the darkness as my eyes tried to focus, but all I could see was my best friend's lifeless body beside me. Whether my eyes were opened or closed, that was all I could see. Day or night, conscious or not, the image of his lifeless body as it sat three feet away from me consumed my thoughts like an old 35-mm movie stuck on one frame.

You know the kind that your grandparents made you watch of their happier times when you were a kid? Grainy images flashing on a projector screen, no sound except for the noise that the film made as it circled the reel.

Flick…flick…flick…flick…

It should have been me.

The sobs beside me increased in the most annoying manner.

Louder and louder, over and over.

Make it stop!

In a terrifyingly calm voice, I said, “You need to leave.”

She looked at me dumbstruck. “What?”

“You need to go, now.”

“But it's the middle of the night…” Her words halted the moment my eyes focused on hers. Her half-naked torso distorted each time I blinked. She modestly clutched the sheet to her frame and it molded over the outline of her tits, the same ones I'd sucked on a few hours ago. They shook beneath the fabric from those annoying sobs that continued to roll through her.

I could kill her, that would make her stop. Just reach over with my callused hand on the smooth pale skin of her neck…snap…silence.

I needed silence, no noise, just fucking quiet.

But she had no clue that's what I needed. They never did. No one knew that so many times as they droned on and on all I could think of as I stared at them were methods to silence them.

She gawked at me while panting and sobbing dramatically. Why the fuck wasn't she leaving?

“Now!” I prompted, to leave no doubt and to stop the noise.

Through the veil I created with my fingers over my face, I watched her scurry about the room, her long blond hair flying around her head while she grabbed her things off the floor. The crying was what drove me the most nuts. I couldn't take it.

Distance myself, or risk killing her.

Wordlessly, I stood and walked naked into the bathroom, slamming the door behind me. Turning the water to cold, I immediately stepped under its punishing stream, waiting for the icy pins of pain to wash away everything I knew, both past and present. While under that shower, I could cancel out the pain that took hold of my insides like a cancer and revel in the pain that pounded on my skin until I went numb.

Transferring pain was my drug of choice.

Fuck the therapists. Fuck the prescriptions they peddled.

I controlled my pain, no one else but me.

How?

Distancing myself.

I, David G. Cavello, Private First Class, U.S. Army, who successfully completed three deployments in four years in Baghdad, Iraq—the closest place to hell on Earth—was an American Hero, a model citizen.

What a joke.

If I was such a hero why was I hiding in the shower to avoid the tempting thoughts of strangling a hot blonde I just fucked because she wouldn't stop crying?

Not until I heard my apartment door slam shut did I finally turn off the punishing water.

I draped a towel around my waist and stepped out of the shower to stare at myself in the mirror. I barely recognized the man who stared back.

There had to be something out there to bring me back to normal. When I said normal, I meant a person fit to interact with others in society without constantly thinking one minute here, the next gone…with no warning, just gone. It happened that quick, that pointlessly…so what was the fucking point of it all?

That was what it all came down to.

One moment that changed everything.

Every soul on this planet had no idea they balanced on that one moment, like a circus flea on the head of a pin. Was it luck, coincidence that kept them from falling off? Yet, during that one brief moment someone else, somewhere else, just lost their battle and plummeted to their death.

Randall's moment could have easily been mine.

For some reason, I was spared that day, and every day I was in Iraq. I felt like I was playing with borrowed time. It made me take risks normal men didn't take.

It made me dangerous.