Chapter 1

Updated and improved.

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Chapter One

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William Martin eased his tired body into his bed. As he lay in the darkness, the events of his most recent adventures flashed through his head. He turned towards the wall, trying to block the images. His secret life was taking its toll, and he knew something had to change.

The cold half of the bed didn’t bother him as much as it once did. It had been a year since Izzie’s betrayal. He rubbed a callus hand across his chest, following the line of his scar; all that remained of the wound that nearly took his life. His eyes drifted closed, and soon his mind was blissfully blank.

Suzy Raymond stared at the computer screen in front of her. She needed to wrap up this final scene; her editor expected a completed manuscript by morning. The latest installation of the William Martin series. The one she had started five years ago. This was to be the fourth book, if she could get the ending right. Unfortunately, her story kept trying to reach further than she intended. The other books hadn’t been nearly this hard to finish. It was done, or at least it should be.

And all she could think to write was “the last thing Will thought of as his eyes drifted closed was a pretty young woman, her long light brunette hair piled to the top of her head, sitting in at her computer. She looks up at him, her green eyes sparkling as she smiles in greeting.” Which would never work. For one, William wasn’t ready for another relationship. His last one had ended poorly, to put it mildly. Suzy doubted that he would be serious about another woman for quite some time. Secondly, the pretty young woman was her. And she never wrote herself into her stories. She didn’t even write romances. She wrote novels full of adventure, excitement, and depressingly little love. An occasional cheap roll in the hay, perhaps, but nothing that would inspire a ballad. Her own love life hadn’t blessed her with the confidence to give her books a happy ever after ending. No white knights, in her life or in her writing. Now, if she could only convince her wayward main character of that fact.

A clap of thunder shook her windows, and she looked up from the screen. The wind was blowing across the Indiana plains, laying the wheat fields flat. The winter wheat had just started to grow after several long winter months of dormancy, and the light green covering the fields surrounding her home was beautiful to see. Other than the storm, the night was silent. For a girl raised in San Diego, the lack of city traffic had been disconcerting at first. After a few months of it, however, she doubted she could go back to living in southern California again. The quiet was soothing, and allowed her to focus.

Which is what she needed if she was ever going to finish this book. She had been working on this title for the past six months, holed up in office for ten hours or more a day. This book was to be the longest, and most involved, yet. If she could finish up these last few paragraphs. Fighting back a yawn, Suzy stood, stretched, and made her way over to the coffee maker. Might as well make another pot–it was going to be a long night.

Just as she lifted the glass carafe, the ground beneath her shifted uncontrollably. Just as she lifted the glass carafe, the ground beneath her shifted uncontrollably. She reached for the counter with both hands, dropping the pot in the process. She was vaguely aware of it shattering at her feet. Earthquake? Not likely in Indiana, but that’s what it felt like. The kitchen began to spin around, and Suzy dropped to her knees and leaned forward, as her stomach twisted and heaved. She closed her eyes tight, and covered her head and neck, praying that her roof didn’t collapse on top of her before the world stopped shaking.

Gradually, she became aware that the room had quit moving and, slowly opening her eyes, noticed  then that the floor she had nearly gotten sick on was not the blue tile found in her kitchen, but wide planks of hardwood. Confused, she looked up. The room looked familiar. It was a bedroom, sparsely decorated with a bed, a dresser, and a bookshelf covered in dusty hardcovers. A night stand next to the bed held only a lamp. There was a wooden chest at the end of the bed, and a window covered in dark shades. She knew that, if she stepped outside of the bedroom door, she’d find a narrow hallway leading to a staircase. At the bottom of the stairs, the rest of the home stretched out, courtesy of the open floor plan. She knew where everything was; this was the home she had designed for her main character. Which didn’t explain what she was doing here. Had she fallen and hit her head?

A soft moan from the bed drew her attention. Suzy got to her feet, and slowly made her way across the room, the cool floors creaking beneath her feet. Curled into the covers, his back facing her, was a man with soft blond curls. She leaned forward to get a better look, careful to not disturb the bed, and found herself staring into the face of William Martin. She gasped, and took a quick step back, as he opened his eyes and grabbed for her.

**All material, characters, ideas and anything related belong to me. Please do not steal or borrow. Thanks.**

Ready for more? Continue on to Chapter Two of my novel.

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