Fire In His Eyes (Secrets & Seduction #1)
M.J. Nightingale
First and foremost, this book could not have been written without my wonderful husband. He picked up the slack when I was consumed by writing. He is an amazing father, and my best friend. Thank you, Anthony, for encouraging me, and being there. I love you! Always Remember and Never Forget. And, even though I didn’t use your suggestions for certain scenes in the book, you know what I mean, I still like to hear your ideas. They gave me comic relief.
A big, big thanks goes out to my absolutely wonderful editors, Brenda Wright and Keriann McKenna. They selflessly volunteered to help me see this project through. Keriann got me started on this journey, and Brenda helped me to see it through putting all other work aside to do the final edits needed to make it what it now is. Through Facebook I connected with Keriann, and she is a blessing to me. When you get so close to a project and someone who has been in your same situation comes along to help you get through it with dignity and such class, it is a rare gift. She was able to guide me gently along the right path to make Fire In His Eyes a reality when it was in its roughest form. Thank-You Keriann, so much! Brenda, thank-you for coming along when I desperately needed someone to polish this book to perfection. You both mean a great deal to me.
I also need to thank my sister who encouraged me to do this. She was the inspiration behind the character of Ana, and will be the heroine of my next book.
I had fantastic beta readers who gave me awesome advice, encouragement and support; they saw holes in the story when I was too close to the project to see it. They pointed them out, they gave me their ideas and feedback. Invaluable to me are Tonya Mabe, Shannon White, Rachelle Creech, Dina Alexander, Ronda Brimeyer and Krystyn Katsibubas. Thank-you for helping me on this journey!
And thank you to Twinsie Talk Book Reviews and Brenda Wright for helping me format the book and helping me to promote it. I need to thank them, the groups and blogs, and all the people on Facebook who shared and liked my teasers and posts about Fire In His Eyes. None of this would have been possible without you.
My awesome cover designer was Kari Ayasha. I love her work and hope to have her design my covers for my next books in this series.
More than anyone though, I also need to say thank-you to Chelle Bliss, another new author, who encouraged me to get back to writing. Without her, I never would have started this whole project, and rediscovered my passion for writing. Her novel, Untangle Me, was an inspiration. She also served as my technical advisor in almost every way. Our nightly chats, brain picking sessions, and her advice have been invaluable in this new day and age of Indie authors and digital publishing. I am sure I drove her a little nuts with all my questions, but she patiently walked me through all of it. I can’t thank-you enough, Chelle. I hope we will be friends for a very long time, and maybe even write a book or two together.
I woke from the nightmare stifling the cry that wanted to tear itself from my throat by pressing both my hands over my mouth. I began to rock back and forth in my bed quickly trying to get the horrific images out of my head, but they wouldn’t leave me. I hadn’t had this nightmare, this dream, this remembrance of the past, in a very long time.
I stared in the dark at my vague reflection in the mirror. I was only able to make out the outline of my body sitting, rocking in my queen sized bed as my long brown hair cascaded over my face. I tried to control my breathing, but despite my best efforts, I was there again.
I was walking down the dark, narrow alley, a little drunk, on my way to my friend Marah’s apartment when I was pulled beyond her door by an unseen large figure. I stumbled, and nearly fell, but was jerked forward by a strong hand attached to a massive man in a grey hoodie.
“What?” I mumbled and croaked out, still too confused to panic. Everything was happening so fast.
“Shut-up, you slut!” The gruff voice hissed in the darkness as he dragged me to the very dark recesses of the alley and through me down onto the pavement behind a dumpster in the back.
“Ow,” I whimpered as my elbow and shoulder hit the pavement. I tried to get up, but grey hoodie pushed me back down. He began to unbuckle his belt and then unbuttoned and unzipped his faded blue jeans.
I was immediately terrified, but in my fear I couldn’t even scream. Why couldn’t I scream? My mouth opened and closed, and I tried to get my vocal chords to work, but nothing came out, and then a hand slammed across my face knocking me down again.
“You slut! Dancing like that. Teasing me, teasing us all, but no, Monica wouldn’t give us the time of day. You are too good for the likes of us, but you came in to our bar tonight. Miss Goody Two-Shoes, in your tight sweater, and jeans.”
I found my voice, as the blood from my split lip trickled into my mouth. “Please, no,” I cried. “I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry.”
“Sorry! Ha!” The voice snarled. “I’ll show you sorry.” The man in grey, pushed back his hoodie off his head. I recognized him immediately. His name was Burt. He and his brothers were trouble in this town. Always breaking the law, they had been arrested for drugs, car theft, vandalism, and an assortment of other crimes. They were all ruffians and troublemakers. His legs straddled mine, and one hand pinned both of mine over my head. I began to cry even more. I tried to move, but couldn’t. I was too drunk to fight, too far for anyone to hear, and he was too strong.
His alcohol laden breath overpowered my senses and I turned my face away from the foul odor. “You dance like a whore. You dress like a whore. So, you are a whore, and I am going to show you what happens to whores.” He slapped me again, hard. I saw stars and felt him fumbling with my pants then tugging them down.