Foreword
Once upon a time, there was a quiet eighteen-year-old college student who was a budding writer. It just so happens that she also loved metal music.
Yes, that eighteen-year-old was yours truly.
When I was eighteen, I wrote most of my first novel. I didn’t quite finish it, because I was writing it in the summer between the spring and fall semesters of my freshman and sophomore years in college, and school started before I reached the end of the story. But when I went back to school, one night in September, four of my girlfriends/ roommates wanted to read it. So we popped some popcorn and lay on my bed and the floor of my room while I read to them my almost-finished first (kind of) romance book called Bottom of My Heart. Yes, it had some clichés and some juvenile writing, and I didn’t finish writing the last two chapters until six years later, but I had my girlfriends giggling and tittering, oohing and ahhing, gasping with delight and wondering how it ended. The sex scenes were tame, and some of the dialogue was so bad, it was downright embarrassing. But I was a writer. Oh, yes, I was, and I had a small audience who were rooting for the heroine.
That heroine’s name was Valerie, and that book became the basis of what has become my hugest rock star book ever, the book you are getting to read right now, Bullet. My husband had teased me about all the “trunk novels” I had written—mostly finished books and some completed books that I’d never thought were good enough to share. Bottom of My Heart was definitely one of those books just not good enough, because I knew the plot. There was no way it would ever work today.
But then…
All it takes is a spark. I kept thinking about that old book, because it had a special place in my heart. I pulled it out of the trunk (yes, I really keep all my old writing in a trunk!) but I still didn’t read it. Not yet. But I kept thinking about it, and inspiration hit. I knew Bottom of My Heart was more a young girl’s fantasy, but I realized there was a great way I could make it a really good book with just a few plot changes.
And that’s when I started writing Bullet. I knew it was going to be one of my longer books, and when I first started writing it, I even said on Facebook that I thought it would wind up being between 90,000 and 100,000 words…definitely one of my longer books. Well, I bypassed that amount sometime in January, and it kept growing. I know what publishers say—more than 90 and you’ll lose your audience. But I’m calling bullshit. This story is epic, and it deserves to be told in a big way.
Out of all the books I’ve ever written, this is the one I’m most excited to share with my fans. Most of the characters in my books do some growing up, but we get to see Valerie begin life as a college freshman and end up…well, much further down the road. We see Valerie mature from naïve youngster to a woman who discovers her sexuality and finds love in the end. And, because this is an epic book, following her story for several years, it’s not a typical romance. We see Valerie in some serious relationships, and the question ultimately is whom does she end up with? Is he the right guy?
I hope you enjoy the journey as much as I have.
Jade, February 2013
Chapter One
Present
ETHAN STUMBLED IN through the front door, a three-fourths empty bottle of Jack Daniels in hand. I awoke from my light sleep on the couch. I didn’t even feel like cursing anymore. But the facts were hard to deny. Drunk again.
This had become our nightly ritual. I would doze on the couch waiting for Ethan to come home drunk. Only tonight was different. I had to break the news to him.
He clomped across the room and I said, “Ethan, would you sit down for a minute, please?”
Usually, I would just stare at him, my eyes full of hope, but he would just go to the bedroom and pass out on the bed with his clothes still on. Things had changed, though…and he had to know.
With a look of confusion (or irritation—I wasn’t sure which), he trod across the floor and fell into the chair next to the couch. His words were slurred. Big surprise. “Are you mad at me, Val?” He set the bottle on the coffee table with a little more force than he’d intended. It was loud, but he just blinked.
No, I wasn’t mad at him. I had grown used to Ethan coming home in this condition. For months now, he’d been coming home this way. Only occasionally would he come home early (and sober) as the Ethan I’d grown to love. Those few precious nights were the nights when he’d hold me in his arms all night long and remind me that he really did love me.
“No, Ethan, but I want you to listen to me carefully.” His glazed, bloodshot eyes narrowed as he leaned forward. He slowly lifted his shaky hand to run through his long, tousled reddish-brown hair. I’d spent hours earlier thinking of exactly what to say, but now it felt like a struggle to force the words out of my mouth. “I really don’t know how to say this, so I’m just gonna spit it out.” I inhaled a deep breath and forced myself to look him in the eyes. “I’m pregnant.”
He looked confused again and then sat back in the chair. His eyes had changed from the slits they’d been to wide open; they looked full of disbelief. “You’re what? But how?”
Hmm…well, how could I explain it to him? It wasn’t his fault, but I didn’t feel like it was mine either. No sense lying about it. I swallowed and found the courage to just say it. “Well, since we hardly…have sex anymore, I stopped taking the pill.” I really couldn’t call it making love, since love hardly seemed involved lately. Anymore, when we bothered, it was simply out of need. The love, the passion…it was gone, and I didn’t know if we could ever get it back.
He just stared forward for what seemed like hours. He didn’t look at me, just looked ahead. I could hear the clock in the hall tick-tocking and Ethan’s heavy, erratic breathing. I had feared he would react this way—angry—but I wouldn’t give up my child. I had always wanted to be a mother. But was he angry? I couldn’t tell. In all the years I’d known Ethan, I still had problems telling what he was thinking. In fact, it was that mystery that used to intrigue me, keep me excited, on my toes. Now it just made me nervous as hell.
The minutes ticked away. Was he taking so long because of his drunken stupor (and was he on the verge of falling asleep), or was he searching for how to put his thoughts into words? And would his words make me angry too?
How much simpler my life would be if I had never met Ethan Richards. I wouldn’t have to worry about my husband’s response to when I had to confess I was pregnant, if he would come home sober, if he had been faithful…but that was all wishful thinking. I couldn’t have married another man. I loved my Ethan way too much, even though he’d been f*cked up beyond recognition for quite some time. I loved his heart, his soul. I loved the way his full lips turned up in a smile when I caught his hard green eyes. I loved the way he’d grown out his hair, how it flowed past his neck, his rock hard arms—I loved it all. No matter what had happened between us, I knew I would always love him.
And now, I guessed, was the time I’d find out how much he loved me. I’d lost a lot of sleep the past few nights wondering when I should break the news. Even now I wondered if I’d chosen the right time. But it was too late to wonder. It was already done, and I just had to wait for him to respond.
Finally, he broke the silence. I was happy to see a twinkle penetrate his eye, his mouth crack open in a smile. “That’s f*cking fantastic, Val.” His response, much to my surprise, was positive. Of all reactions, this was the one I had hoped for the most but expected the least. After I recovered from my initial shock, he continued. “You know I’ve always wanted to be a father. I’ll be a great dad.” He sucked in a deep breath, but his smile hadn’t faded. I could tell he wanted to believe what he was saying. “I’ll quit drinking, smoking, partying. I’ll act like a real father should.” He stood up. “I can’t believe we’re having a baby.” With that, he fell back into the chair.
I hadn’t expected him to say anything that good. I had thought he’d be angry, frustrated, and upset at the thought of a baby. We had talked about children in the vaguest way, as a future far-off, someday dream, and we had agreed we wouldn’t have children until we’d both felt we were ready. So the fact that he not only accepted the idea but even liked it was hard for me to believe. Ethan had never wanted to be tied down…and here he was with a wife and soon-to-be-born baby. His happiness was incredible.
“Ethan…are you serious?”
He didn’t blink. “Valerie, I’ve never been more serious in my life.”
I guessed I would soon find out just how serious he was.
Chapter Two
Past
THE STORY OF Ethan and me is a long one. We met when we were both eighteen, much too young to make decisions about love or marriage. It was hard enough deciding about college.
As a teenager, I guess I was what you might consider cute. I had shoulder-length brown hair, sparkly blue-green eyes, slightly overweight (I’m talking ten pounds—just enough to give me cushion, you know?). I was also what my mother had called a social butterfly—I found it easy to make new friends, and I wasn’t shy.