Like Arrows (Cedar Tree #6) (41 page)
Read Like Arrows (Cedar Tree #6) Online
Authors: Freya Barker
"Silly boys," she says teasingly.
"My beautiful babies," I tell her smiling eyes.
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THE END
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I
need to thank first and foremost, a woman I am lucky to call a friend and my editor, Vanessa Leret Bridges. It’s not just her professional attitude, exceptional understanding of the story or her brilliant suggestions—it’s the fact that she continuously challenges me to be better. At every opportunity, Vanessa teaches me more about writing and the English language. She never fails to insert positive comments with sections I miraculously nailed, right alongside her suggested changes. There isn’t a moment I doubt she has my, and my book’s, best interests at heart. I love you hard.
As always a HUGE thanks to my beta-readers; Kim, Chris, Sam, Deb, Debbie, Pam, Nancy, and Catherine, friends who take time out of their busy schedules and help me make sure I have my ‘I’s’ dotted and my ‘T’s’ crossed before it is sent off to the editor. You girls cannot be replaced. I love you!
I have to specially thank Karen Hrdlicka, who was the first to receive a raw first draft of the manuscript and with infectious enthusiasm helped me make it better. Woman, you have my heart and you know it!
Of course I thank my family because they are behind me with every step. Here at home my man makes sure all is running smoothly, even when I’m not. My children, siblings and parents never hesitate to tell me they are proud of me. I am amazingly blessed to be surrounded by so much love.
I want to thank some of my closest friends, who continue to inspire the strong friendships I try to illustrate in my novels: Linda Funk, Dana Hook, Aimee Shannon and Barb Poretti. Love you girls!!
The two women who are my eyes, ears and voice when I am swamped and who work tirelessly at promoting my work. My phenomenal personal assistants, Francessca Webster and Leanne Hawkes. I don’t know what I would do without them. I love you!
And finally, I would be nowhere without the support of the Indie community. The readers, the bloggers and reviewers and my fellow authors and friends. It may not always seem that way, but everyone who takes this book world seriously is professional, helpful, gracious and kind, and I feel it every day. Thank you so much for embracing me!
A
uthor of the popular Cedar Tree series, as well as the critically acclaimed standalone “From Dust,” Freya Barker is driven to make her stories about 'real' people; with characters who are perhaps less than perfect, but just as deserving of romance, thrills and chills, and some hot, sizzling sex in their lives.
Recipient of the RomCon “Reader’s Choice” Award for best first book, “Slim To None,” Freya has hit the ground running. She loves nothing more than to meet and mingle with her readers, whether it be online or in person at one of the signings she attends.
With her kids grown and out in the world, Freya has poured her creative energy into spinning story after story with an endless supply of bruised and dented characters, vying for attention!
Freya
http://www.amazon.com/author/freyabarker
https://www.goodreads.com/FreyaBarker
https://www.facebook.com/FreyaBarkerWrites
https://twitter.com/freya_barker
CEDAR TREE SERIES:
Book #1
SLIM TO NONE
Amazon:
myBook.to/SlimToNone
Kobo:
http://bit.ly/1hfICni
iBooks:
http://apple.co/1FMynCt
Book #2
HUNDRED TO ONE
Amazon:
myBook.to/HundredToOne
Kobo:
http://bit.ly/1RkbLuF
iBooks:
http://apple.co/1N8iIQA
Book #3
AGAINST ME
Amazon:
myBook.to/AgainstMe
Kobo:
http://bit.ly/1L8EX6Q
iBooks:
http://apple.co/1JJzyxA
Book #4
CLEAN LINES
Amazon:
myBook.to/CleanLines
Kobo:
http://bit.ly/1Vuxfpb
iBooks:
http://apple.co/1hfILqQ
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Book #5
UPPER HAND
Amazon:
myBook.to/UpperHand
iBooks:
http://apple.co/1M68KJY
AS WELL AS:
FROM DUST
(A dark emotional romance)
Amazon:
myBook.to/FromDust
iBooks:
http://apple.co/1ILipDC
CRUEL WATER
Coming January, 2016
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/28152968-cruel-water
Unedited excerpt
C
HAPTER ONE
Viv
The muffled sound of a phone ringing penetrates the remnants of sleep. I try to get up, but find myself pinned to the bed by a heavy body. Right. Slowly the memories of last night filter back: the tall quiet man at the end of the bar who’d spent my shift at The Skipper following my movements without a word. Startling grey eyes in a rugged face that I could feel on me by the tingle it spread over my skin. Dark brown long hair skimming the collar of his worn leather jacket and the strong, long legs cased in dark jeans had drawn my attention the moment he walked in. When he lifted his eyes to mine as he took a stool at the bar, the impact of his gaze jarred me. His order of beer was the only time I heard his dark raspy voice. The rest of the night he simply lifted his empty glass for a refill and my normally chatty self seemed unable to try for empty conversation. Tongue-tied. My brothers would have had a blast torturing me with that fact.
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T
he man left the bar about half an hour before closing and I’d felt a brief sense of loss before I scolded myself for even giving him a thought. I should know better. And I thought I did, before walking out to cross the parking lot to my apartment building after closing and finding him leaning against the single light post at the end of the alley. Why I wasn’t scared, I don’t know. I should’ve been. Instead I watched with butterflies in my stomach as he purposely stalked toward me, stopping no more than a breath away, forcing me to tilt my head back to look at him. That in itself was a turn on. I’m not exactly short and am used to meeting most people at eye level.
His eyes roamed over my face before coming to rest on my mouth. Part of me wanted to bolt, but another, stronger part of me wanted badly to give into a craving I’ve spent years suppressing. While I was waging this internal battle, his arms folded around me and pulled me hard into his chest. Strong, solid arms banded around me and one hand slipped into the short hair at my neck, fingers curling tight to the point of pain. Still, I didn’t move. The first touch of his lips on mine was brief, and quickly followed by a toe-curling exploration of the recesses of my mouth. A kiss that satisfied a hunger I hadn’t been aware of.
I did have the presence of mind not to take him back to my place. I simply climbed on when he pulled me by the hand to the black and chrome bike at the edge of the lot. Tucked in tight behind his broad back, I let him take me to the La Quinta Inn on Park Avenue.
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T
hat’s where I find myself now, carefully trying to untangle myself from his limbs as I grope around for my purse and the offensive familiar tune on my phone, indicating a call from my oldest brother, Owen. Ignoring the inarticulate grumbling in the bed behind me, I snatch up my clothes that his nimble hands divested me of last night and unearth my ringing purse. With my arms full, I beeline it for the bathroom and lock the door behind me.
“What’s up?” I whisper breathlessly.
“Viv, I...” The hesitation in his voice sends chills down my spine as if I can sense bad news looming. “Dad’s in the hospital. Mom found him this morning in the upstairs hallway. She just called me.”
Already tugging up my jeans, I snap, “What hospital?”
“Maine Medical Centre. I’ll come pick you up.”
“No. I’ll meet you there.”
“You sure? I can be there in a—“
“I’m sure. Go. I’ll see you there.”
It takes me two seconds to finish dressing, desperately trying to push down the dark thoughts that want to bubble up. I don’t even look at the bed as I tear through the room and out the door, the grey-eyed man I leave there all but forgotten.
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