Reclaiming Forever

My first novella, Reclaiming Forever, was released recently.



Here's an excerpt.

“What the hell? Doug?” She gasped for air. Jelly replaced her muscles, causing her knees to buckle. In a vice-like grip, her fingers grabbed the doorjamb for support.

Doug and his guest, shocked at being interrupted, scrambled for their scattered clothing. Both hopping on one foot cautiously toward the door, they struggled into their jeans.

Doug stepped in front of her in an attempt to block Lara’s view, coming face to face with the woman he had vowed to love and honor. “Lara, we…need to talk about things.”

She shook her head slowly, her mouth still open from the shock. “We are done talking.” She managed to get out the words. Her voice was weak. She glanced at the bed. The sheets were rumpled, her throw pillows strewn about on the floor.

Her eyes darted back to the deer in the headlights expression plastered across her husband’s face. Heat inched its way from her inner core to the top of her head. Her blood began to boil. Although not a violent person, she’d had enough. She glanced toward the closet where her daddy’s shotgun rested.

“Lara, honey, I promise. I’ll come back later so we can talk about everything.” Doug held one hand up in a defensive gesture and eased the other on Lara’s arm, giving a light nudge to clear the doorway.

“Don’t touch me!” Lara spit out the words through clenched teeth and stood firm, but she didn’t want either of them in her house a minute longer. She stepped aside and made room for them to exit.

She stared into his eyes, her icy glare speaking to him. Doug had crossed a line he would never be able to go back over, and he better damn well know it. He slid past her tugging his friend close behind.

He hauled the chubby heifer, clutching her shirt to her chest with one hand, toward the front door, obviously trying to put distance between the two of them and his wife, but one cock-eyed smirk and a “humpf” from the tramp as she passed by was the final straw.

The last dry fragile twig of decorum in Lara’s being snapped. She grabbed the first thing within her reach, one of the brass geese displayed on the entertainment center, drew back, and clocked the pudgy home-wrecker smack in the middle of her back, sending her stumbling. The only semi-satisfying memory from the whole unpleasant experience was the sight of the half naked slut sprawled out facedown on the floor.

Doug had the misguided balls to try and protect her from the next deserving blow and got the matching goose upside his head for his gallant efforts. They righted themselves and scrambled for the door. She boo-hooed, and they both nursed their wounds as they hobbled barefoot and half-clothed to his truck.

“If y’all know what’s good for you, you better hope you’re gone before I get to the porch!” Lara screamed out her warning as she shoved the shells into the old shotgun, snapped the barrels back in place, and trudged for the front door.

The truck’s engine roared to life. Doug jerked the stick into reverse, backed onto the lawn, and high-tailed it down the driveway. Lara took aim, blasted the tailgate and rear end of his pride and joy, that brand new black Silverado pickup they were struggling to make payments on.

No need for those fake, stick-on bullet holes he thought were so damn funny when he put them on the tailgate, since he now had the real deal to sport about.

To Lara’s extreme satisfaction, the right rear tire exploded from the shotgun blast, causing the getaway to slow to a near crawl.

She took aim and followed the truck out of sight, barely able to control her urge to squeeze the trigger again.

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