Authors: Norma Jeanne Karlsson
Blackness Within (60 page)
Without my children, I wouldn’t have made it to the end of this book. When I needed a break from the blackness they provided me with blinding light. I see clearly when I look at them. I feel better when I experience life through their little worlds. Everything I do is with them in my heart. I love you, boys…endlessly.
Best friend isn’t the word I should use to describe you, Chris. Something along the lines of the mirror to my soul seems fitting. When my life was in utter despair and under threat of sweeping me away with it, you brought me back. Decades later, you’re still that person in my life. My lifeline. You make it easier to breathe. I can’t tell you how much I love you because there aren’t words to convey how I feel. But know, without you, I couldn’t do this and I wouldn’t want to.
Those who know me, will be aware that I don’t have female friends. I never really have. I have the best one in the world now. Amanda, you rock me to the core. You dragged my ass out of a funk countless times during this book. Without you, there is no
Blackness Within
. You scream my praises from the rooftops louder than any other voice in the world and it touches me. Sharing my life with you is a joy, filling a void I didn’t realize my heart had. Thank you for being my friend. I appreciate you more than you know and love you beyond that.
Ellie, you did it again. You took my vague mutterings and turned them into art. I write the words, but you give them a place to live. Friday chats and endless laughter, make being your friend an even more rewarding experience. Love you, lady.
My street team is the best. They champion me with loud trumpets at every turn. Super fans with passion for my writing. I love talking to you about my characters. They come to life with you. I can’t wait to see where we go from here!
Finally, to my readers. Thank you for taking the time read my books, spending your money on my work and a chance on me. I started this journey a year ago and never expected to be where I am. I’m here because of you and the risks you take with me. I hope to keep giving you stories and characters you love. Please keep writing me and chatting with me. I love hearing what you have to say. You all have made my dream come true. Thank you so much!
Escaping the Blackness
A Cooper Brothers Novel
Winter 2014
Mugs of Love
A fresh serving of Contemporary Romance
Winter 2014
This is my favorite part. Her face is a mask of pure bliss. It’s not fake or forced; it’s natural and genuine. I draw on the warmth every day, no matter if I’m sweating from hundred degree temperatures or freezing in the winter’s bitter cold. Because even if it’s sweltering or frigid, I’m numb inside. An unfeeling being, moving through the world interacting with few and feeling nothing.
Watching Emily Garner is my one enjoyment in life. I feel when I look at her. I’ve never spoken to her or entered her shop, but I watch her daily from mine. I own a custom furniture store. Everything sold in my store is built with my hands. It’s fulfilling, strenuous and satisfying. I wish it brought me joy, but it doesn’t. It does occupy my mind and that’s a necessity.
“You starin’ again?” Clyde’s overly southern deep drawl pulls me away from my moment of warmth.
“Fuck off,” I grunt and move back to sanding the simple country-style cabinets for a kitchen remodel I’m working on.
“Just go talk to the girl, Garrett.”
I shake my head and continue my work. I’m not much for conversation, but this one is definitely not one I’m having. Keeping my head down, I concentrate on the grain of the red oak, smoothing and gliding across it. The rhythm pulls me under and I forget Clyde.
He’s a good man. Always trying to help the kid with nothing, from a double wide in a trailer park in the urban hellhole of Independence. He knew my father, did a nickel with him when they were in their late twenties. Clyde got out of the life after that and my dad didn’t. Instead, he groomed me to take over Clyde’s spot.
I’m good. I can boost a car in thirty seconds, pocket your wallet with a insignificant bump, pick a lock with my eyes closed and handle a gun when necessary. I started working with my dad when I was twelve. By the time I was eighteen, I was the one my dad was working for. He wasn’t much of a leader, and I’m dominant by nature, so the roles fit us well. Until four years later when they didn’t.
One night gone wrong and my father’s doing life for murder and I found out there’s something more valuable than the loyalty of family. Plea deals. I served eight of my fifteen-year sentence. I was a model prisoner and overcrowding lessened my time.
Clyde was waiting outside the prison for me and brought me here to quaint, quiet Bluffside. I opened this shop a few weeks later and haven’t looked back. There’s nothing to look back at and not much to look forward to. I’m free, so there’s that.
I finish the last cabinet and swing my gaze out the small panes of glass at the end of my workshop. The store is connected to it, but I spend most of my time in here.
Emily’s closing up her shop, as I watch her. I always get to see her lock-up because the coffee shop closes at three o’clock. I don’t blame her for shutting down early since her day starts at the crack of dawn. She never looks tired though. Her sandy blonde hair is always up, but as the day goes on, pieces fall around her perfect face. I’ve never seen them up close, but her eyes are light. Green, I imagine. Never a stitch of make-up on her face, because she doesn’t fucking need it. Her nose slopes elegantly and her mouth is broad, full-lipped. Those damn cheeks kill me every time. They’re soft and creamy, the left one sporting a long dimple. Not the kind that pinches in, the kind that creases when she beams.
Then there’s her body. She’s the reason cavemen chiseled on walls. I was lucky enough to open my store in June and witness Emily’s form in a tank top and shorts for the entire summer. I spent a lot of time with a semi. Still do. Her skin is smooth and unblemished. I’m a man, so of course my gaze falls to her tits. They’re well beyond a handful, and I’ve got massive hands. Her waist nips in only to flare out to rounded hips, flowing down to long slender legs. I want them wrapped around me. I can almost feel her heels digging into my ass as I watch her sway away, waving at residents as she goes.
She’s too good for me. I’ve never heard her voice, but I’m sure it rivals an angel’s. I don’t get an angel in life. I don’t get anything. I don’t deserve anything as good as the woman that always stops to talk to elderly women and gives away free samples to any kid that comes her way. Emily’s pure and untainted. I’ll never have anything more than these few moments, so I cherish them every day.
After chatting with the guy that is constantly with her, Jordan Monroe, she wraps her arms around his waist in a tight hug before pulling her scarf closer to her chin. It’s cold for October. Then she turns toward me. She can’t see me through the dingy glass and the glare of the sun streaming in, but I swear she’s looking right at me. Then she begins to move toward me.
I watch every step she takes until she’s no longer in view because she’s walking into the store.
“Hello?” she calls out.
Her voice hits me in the gut like a sledgehammer. It’s hot and heavy, a bedroom voice. Fuck me. I’m no longer sporting a semi. Clyde had better get his ass in gear because I’m not going in there with my dick raging hard.
“Hello? Mister Sharp?” Emily calls again.
Shit. I’m stuck. I can’t move toward her. I’m barely drawing an even breath. I’m the calmest motherfucker I’ve ever met and in this moment, I’m in a frenzy. Maybe she’ll leave if I don’t respond. That’s it. I’ll just stay silent like a pussy.
The door into the workshop creaks as her stunning face peeks around the edge.
“There you are,” she says with a kind smile sweeping across her face.
She moves to walk through the door and I respond, “Don’t.”
My tone is harsh and cutting, deep thunder. She stops and her green eyes full of gold flecks pop open wide as she halts, her smile dropping. I’m a complete asshole.
“There are a lot of sharp tools,” I say devoid of any emotion as I walk toward her.
“Of course. I’m sorry. I can come back when you’re not busy,” she apologizes quickly as her eyes drink me in.
If she doesn’t stop looking at me like that, we’re going to have problems. Eight years inside and I still haven’t touched a woman since I’ve been out. Pussy causes problems. I learned that lesson that fateful night too.
“What do you want?” I growl as I stop in front of her.
There’s heat in her gaze as it rakes down my torso and settles on my crotch. Thank fuck my dick’s not still straining against the zipper. Her breath catches and her eyes flick to my face then swiftly away.
“I…I’m sorry. You’re obviously busy. I’ll come back and speak to Clyde,” she mumbles staring at the floor, chewing on her thumbnail.
“Emily.” There’s warning in my tone, causing those golden green eyes to spring to mine.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers again.
“Stop apologizing and tell me why you’re here.”
“I need you,” she mutters and then blushes brightly as her eyes go wide. “I’m sorry. Dang it. I’m sorry…I just did it again.”
I want to laugh at how cute she is. I haven’t laughed in so long, I don’t even know what it would feel like. But I want to right now as she shifts uncomfortably, searching for her words.
She takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, drops her assaulted nail, straightens her shoulders and says, “I need some more shelving for my shop. I was hoping you could come over and take a look at the space I need filled.”
Her eyes go wide and both of her small hands fly to her face as she groans. I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face. I’d love to fill her space, and look at it all fucking day long. I let her off the hook.
“When do you want me to stop by?”
“Whenever you have time. I’m there all day most days. Jordan could show you, if I’m not around,” she mutters into her palms.
I should deal with Jordan and not her. I know her schedule so I’ll go by when she’s out or on a Tuesday when she leaves early.
“I can—”
“Hello?” a man calls from the store.
You’ve got to be kidding me. We’re never busy and I don’t think two people come in here at once unless it’s the summer.
“Hide me!” Emily squeals and darts into the shop.
“What the fuck?” I ask, completely puzzled at her bizarre behavior.
“I’m sorry. Just please let me hide in here. I won’t chop off my fingers,” she says, shoving her hands in her coat pockets, flicking her eyes all around looking for a space to hide in.
“Don’t move,” I command and stride into the store, shutting the shop as I go.
The shop door is behind the counter that I built to keep people away from my work area. Not that it worked on Emily, but the guy waiting for assistance is leaning against the maple patiently.
“Can I help you?” I asks as professionally as I’m able.
“Yeah. I’m Adam Warren,” he says sticking his hand toward me.