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Well, ain’t this a monumental $%&! up?

Today I learned that the entire fucking epilogue somehow managed to be omitted from Shattered & Scarred’s final formatting and has been missing since I revamped the interior formatting and added the new cover.
 
How did I learn this?
 
A review…
 
They are so very important. This is one of the many reasons why.
 
I am not sure how this happened or how it went unnoticed by me and my team but I need to fix not only the ebook versions on Amazon, B&N, Kobo, iBooks, Smashwords, and Google Play but through my print supplier as well. It’s a pretty big, and in the case of the print supplier, expensive, undertaking but I will have this fixed ASAP!
 
I feel so bad that it’s missing!
 
My apologies. If you have a print copy of Shattered & Scarred with no epilogue in it, please contact me and I will put you on a list for as soon as I can get replacement copies.
 
Until then, I will post this as a blog post on my website and send out a newsletter with the missing epilogue until I can get it fixed.
***THE MISSING BIT***

Epilogue

 

Trig…

I couldn’t wait to see her face.

“Don’t move,” I said excitedly and she sat as still as a stone, her generous lips curving into a gentle Mona Lisa smile beneath the black bandanna tied tightly over her golden eyes. That part was a shame but a necessary evil to complete the surprise.

Her douchebag husband had met his fucking maker three months ago and though his life insurance policy had been null and void because he’d ‘committed suicide’, it didn’t matter. The dick had been loaded. Ashton had been so still and quiet at his lawyer’s office, silent with the weight of her feelings. She’d still been married to him when he’d died, and with no children and no parents or siblings on his side of things to fight over it, everything he’d had in his possession when he’d kicked it had been declared hers.

It was about time she’d gotten something good out of him and she’d sat there in stunned silence.  The house, the cars, the art, the yacht ‒ yeah, the fucker had a secret yacht, for Christ’s sake. All of it she’d told the lawyers to sell, which they’d accomplished in record time. Her ex had been a douche, but his lawyers and accountants were surprisingly good people. When all was said and done, she’d put her name to a check for twelve million dollars after all the taxes were paid, and looked at me.

“I want to find a house, a small house, just you and me,” she’d said gently, and I’d done just that.

I opened the door to the brand-new Jeep and helped her out, swinging her out and over the cracked sidewalk under the tree-dappled light of the brilliant summer sun. She squealed with joy and laughter and her arms slipped around my neck and shoulders and I laughed with her. I kissed her and she kissed me back and I suddenly couldn’t wait to get her out of her bright yellow sundress and underneath me to christen her new surprise.

I set her on her sandaled feet oh-so-gently and turned her to face the little three-bedroom, two-story cottage-like home. I stood behind her and placed my hands on her bare shoulders, smoothing my thumbs over her silky skin. My cock swelled in my jeans; I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t get enough of my Sunshine Girl, no matter how hard I tried.

“You ready?” I asked.

“Yes!” she cried, equal parts excited and exasperated. I whisked the blindfold off and she blinked while her eyes adjusted. When they did her reaction was fucking flawless. She gasped, her manicured nails going to cover her mouth and her golden eyes flying wide. The lawn was perfectly manicured, the fence low, white and freaking picket. The flowerbeds overflowed with blossoms and the drive leading back to the detached garage glowed just about as white as the fence.

The house, though, that was the main attraction. It was a soft dove-gray trimmed out in lavender; the front porch was white and meant for sitting. A porch swing, like the one at the lake cabin, which she’d expressed she’d loved, hung from the porch’s covered rafters. Two end tables for coffee in the morning, tea in the afternoon, and wine or beer in the evening, sat to either side of the swing, still and waiting.

The windows were white and set into all sides of the house to allow as much natural light as possible. The chimney to the side wasn’t brick but rather stacked round river stones in grays ranging from light to tans giving the place that natural woodland feel. A giant oak tree took up the majority of the front yard, dappling the light and casting the shade that we’d both be craving each summer. She took a hesitant step forward.

“Go on Babe, it’s your house. It’s not going to bite you,” I laughed.  She went up the driveway, trailing her fingertips along the fence, and opened the latched gate that opened onto the flagstone pathway that led to the porch steps. She looked up at me.

“It’s everything we talked about,” she whispered, and looked like she was about to cry.

“Nothing but the best for my girl,” I said softly. She wrapped her arms around my waist and a little sob broken by a laugh bubbled out of her. I laughed, “Hey now, come on now, none of this; I want you to see it all.”  Which was only true because I wanted her to see it all so I could get her nude and writhing underneath me. She nodded against me and reluctantly let go, taking a step back. She went down the little path and up the stairs. I pulled a key out of my pocket and pressed it into the palm of her hand. She slid it into the lock with shaking fingers and opened the door.

The place was empty. I’d thought of furnishing it but then decided that with her BFF, Hayden, being an interior designer and a total spitfire besides… Well, I decided I rather liked having my balls firmly attached and that the decorating could come later. Besides, it was Ashton’s money and I could honestly give two fucks about how she decorated as long as it was her that I was coming home to every night.

“I love it, Ethan,” she’d said after she’d toured every room. We were in the upstairs master bedroom. She’d cried in the kitchen. I’d made sure to have it redone to her every specification. She came to me and tipped her face up for a kiss, and, greedy bastard that I am, I lifted her, her lithe legs curving around my hips in the way that drove me wild.

I broke the kiss and said against her mouth, “You and me until the wheels fall off, Sunshine.”

She smiled against my mouth. “I like the sound of that,” she whispered.

I pinned her against our new bedroom wall and pressed into her, fingertips digging into the soft pale skin of her outer thighs. Holy god, she wasn’t wearing any panties. Now I knew why she’d insisted on taking the Jeep, rather than my bike. This woman drove me nuts.

“I’m going to make love to you against this bedroom wall,” I growled into her ear but her small hands were already working the fly of my jeans. God, what this woman did to me.

“Okay, but I want you in the kitchen next,” she murmured and I smiled as I pushed my way inside her.

Her. Me. Forever.

Still, I loved that she was in such a rush.

“I love you, Ashton Fletcher.”

“I love you, Ethan Howard.”

We christened every room in the house and the bedroom twice before the afternoon was over.

Her and me until the wheels fall off along the open road called life.

Fuck, yeah.

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