Kristie and Samantha, sitting in the diner with you two is one of my favorite memories. And where Molly’s story was born. I love you both and am so eternally grateful for you two.
Next, thank you to my alpha readers, Amanda, May, and Tosh. I would trust all three of you with a trust fall, but even more, I can trust you guys with my book babies, and that’s some real shit. Thank you for never being my yes-men, but always my biggest supporters. And thank you for tearing my books apart and treating me like a commoner that can barely spell, kicking my ass when I don’t know the answers to questions about my own books, and figuring my shit out for me. My books definitely would not be what they are without you three.
To my betas, Autumn, Nicki, Ana, Janine, and Taylor, I appreciate all of you so damn much. Again, for not being my yes-men, but incredible supporters who kick my ass. Thank you, thank you, thank you for being by my side.
Thank you to my kick-ass editors, Angie and Rumi. Thank you for always making these books look shiny. I appreciate you both so much.
And last but certainly not least, thank you to my bestie, cover designer, and cheerleader, Cassie. You always make these covers so beautiful, but your soul is even prettier. I love you.
H. D. Carlton is a USA Today and International Bestselling Author. She lives in Ohio with her partner, two dogs, and cat. When she's not bathing in the tears of her readers, she's watching paranormal shows and wishing she was a mermaid. Her favorite characters are of the morally gray variety and believes that everyone should check their sanity at the door before diving into her stories.
Learn more about H. D. Carlton on . Join her newsletter to receive updates, teasers, giveaways, and special deals .
And if you’re brave, join the for extra early torturing—I mean teasing.
Goodreads
So, you decided to stick around, huh?
Here’s your reward…
Molly
Present
September 4th, 2023
“Jesus fuck, you’re tall,” I breathe, my eyes rounding.
The man strides into my barn like he owns the place, and if he demanded it of me, I just might concede. Not only is he tall, but he’s also fucking scary-looking.
The contrast between his dark brown eye and light blue eye is startling. And the scar cutting through the left one—starting from just above his eyebrow and straight down to the middle of his cheek—only heightens the savage look he possesses.
No wonder he’s the head of the most prominent organization in the world.
Behind him walks in a considerably shorter woman, her long cinnamon brown hair fashioned into a loose braid over her shoulder.
I recognize her immediately. Not only as a famous author—whose books I fucking love—but the woman who was kidnapped and found herself in the clutches of Francesca, just as I was. When I heard Z found her, I nearly cried in relief that someone else had made it out of there, too.
She’s beautiful and has some of the prettiest light brown eyes I’ve ever seen. And definitely is fucking the big boss, if the way Z—or rather, Zade—looks at her like he’ll murder Cage and I in a heartbeat if we even so much as sneeze on her is any indication.
She’s glancing around the barn, her mouth agape as she takes in my setup.
“Oh, Sibby would love this,” she mutters to herself.
In response to my comment about Zade’s height, Cage turns to me with a what the fuck? look on his face. “Baby, he’s only, like, two inches taller than me.” He points a thumb to his chest. “I’m tall, too.”
I glance at Zade. “He’s… scarier.”
Cage’s eyes droop with exasperation while Zade shoots me a charming grin, stretching the scar on his face.
“I only hurt people who deserve it. Scout’s honor,” he assures.
The woman rolls her eyes. “He was never in Boy Scouts. And he’s scary, but I can kick his ass, and I’m nice.” She rushes forward, holding out her hand for me to shake. “I’m Addie. His fiancée. Thank you so much for having us.”
I shake her hand, appreciating that she has a firm grip. I never trust anyone who can’t give a proper handshake.
She squeezes my palm tighter, her eyes sparkling with awe. “You will never understand the impact you’ve had on my life, and I’ve been wanting to meet you for so long.”
I blink, bewildered.
“I found your old journal in Francesca’s house,” she explains. “The one you wrote in during your time there. It… Your words saved me in a way I can’t even express. They helped me get through the days there. I started writing in it after you. I still journal even now, all because of you.”