Forgiving Patience

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A Secret Cravings
Publishing Book

Erotic Romance

Forgiving Patience

Copyright © 2013 Jennifer Simpkins

E-book ISBN: 978-1-61885-503-9

First E-book Publication: January 2013

Cover design by
Dawne
Dominique

Edited by Tara
Chevrestt

Proofread by E.L. Felder

All cover art and logo copyright © 2013 by Secret Cravings
Publishing

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED:
This literary work may not be reproduced or
transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic
reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

All characters and events in
this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is
strictly coincidental.

PUBLISHER

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www.secretcravingspublishing.com

Dedication

I can’t say enough good things about Secret Cravings. I want to thank
them for seeing the potential in Forgiving Patience, and giving it a home. Much
thanks to my fabulous editor Tara
Chevrestt
. You
truly made this book better the day you read it.
 
And I have to thank E.L. Felder. You are
amazing.

Throughout the process of writing this book I was supported by some
amazing people. To my husband, who never thought for a second I was crazy to
embark on this crazy journey. For my mom who was my first reader and always my
number one fan. Jennie—for being my sometimes late night writing partner and
always believing I could do this before I even did. And to my sweet daughter, I
hope you remember the dreams you have now as a child will still be reachable
even when you’re grown.

To the readers, I hope you enjoy reading Anna’s story, as much as I
loved writing it.

The author acknowledges the trademark status
and the following trademark owners mentioned in this work of fiction.

RC Cola

Louisville
Slugger

Keds

Coke

Oil of Olay

Roseanne – The
television show

White Diamonds by
Elizabeth Taylor

Baby
Phat
Fabulosity

Mack truck

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FORGIVING PATIENCE

Jennifer Simpkins

Copyright © 2012

Chapter One

“Jackass!” Anna Kelly screamed while
gripping the wheel of her small convertible, waiting for the pounding heart
residing in her throat to settle back down in her chest.

Bastard.
Reckless jerk. Lunatic.
Words started spewing from her once guarded lips—words her mother would have
scolded her for using if she were still alive. In a soothing but stern voice,
she would say “little girls don’t talk that way, Anna.”

Well, I’m not a little girl. Haven’t
been in a long time.

It felt liberating to vent. Letting
the built-up anger that had settled inside her for most of her life spew out
against a careless asshole felt even better.

She forced her shaky body, filled
with more rage than fear at the terrifying thought of being killed by what
looked like the Green Monster of Fenway Park, to continue driving down the
curvy stretch of road toward the home she’d sped away from eleven years before.
She should’ve taken her New York Yankees license plate and shoved it into that
Boston truck’s ass.

Not that she knew for a fact he was a
Boston fan. She just hated Fenway Green…and the truck rubbed her the wrong way.

With a broken heart and soul at the
age of eighteen, she couldn’t leave October Road fast enough. It was a lonesome
path she’d spent fifteen years of her youth on. Except for hers and Ms. Edna’s
property, hundreds of acres on the left side of the road were used for farming.
Most of the lush farmland was used for growing corn, the rest left to be cut
for hay.

Forcing herself to take in a calming
breath, she could smell the sweet scent only freshly cut hay could leave in the
air. She then exhaled slowly.

The breath was of no help. Her mind
was still racing after her near-death experience.

The Lawrence farm was off the main
highway, a mile before her own road and leaving no reason for either brother to
venture down her way. Unless her spitfire neighbor had a crazy-as-hell
grandson, the reckless driver had to be some jerk joyriding in his daddy’s
oversized truck.

How dare the creep ride her bumper
for the last mile, making her dart off into the vast brush that butted up to
both sides of the road. She enjoyed driving fast—music loud—just like the next
person, but she wasn’t about trying to kill somebody.