From the moment I released Forever My Girl my life hasn’t slowed down. This is the little book that could and did, from hitting the USA Today Best Sellers List to selling my movie rights, each and every day this book makes me proud.
Fast forward to today. My Kind of Forever wasn’t supposed to happen. I never intended to go back to the beginning and bring it full force, but the love fans have for this series, it made sense.
I’d like to thank the following people because without them, The Beaumont Series would not have happen:
Yvette Rebello
Jillian Dodd
Sarah Hansen
Holly Donaldson
Fallon Clark
Cari Renee
Eric Heatherly
Jenn Sy
Stefne Miller
Carey Heywood
Traci Blackwood
LP Dover
Georgette Geras
Tammy Bertino
Emily Plice
Holly Malgieri
Amy Broom
Tammy Williams
Audrey Kay
Veronica LaRoche
Kelli Knechtly
The Beaumont Daily
Of course my inspiration:
Stephen Amell – Liam Page
David Beckham & Ryan Stevenson – Harrison James
Brandyn Farrell – Jimmy “JD” Davis
To every Blogger who has read, posted and talked about the series, I thank you!
A lot of have asked what happens next – well as I’ve said before, and I’ll say it again… the gang will be back when the kids have their own stories to tell.
Heidi is a New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author.
Originally from Portland, Oregon and raised in the Pacific Northwest, she now lives in picturesque Vermont, with her husband and two daughters. Also renting space in their home is an over-hyper Beagle/Jack Russell, Buttercup, and their newest addition of a Highland Westie/Mini Schnauzer, JiLL.
During the day Heidi is behind a desk talking about Land Use. At night, she’s writing one of the many stories planned for release or sitting courtside during either daughter’s basketball games.
Read on for a sneak peek at No Limit by L.P. Dover, a steamy romantic suspense standalone.
“You found me.”
If there was ever a moment when I needed to keep my wits about me, it was now. But how could I do that when I wanted nothing more than to snap the man’s neck in front of me; to make him bleed like he did the families he murdered.
“Did you think I wouldn’t?” I spat through clenched teeth. His file flashed through my mind, the pictures of the carnage he left behind . . . those children. My blood boiled.
He was poised, ready to fight to the death by the look in his eyes. “I guess it was only a matter of time.”
His name was Michael Bruxton, a computer analyst with skills matching my own. But he had a sick hobby that cost the lives of three families over the past two weeks. I spent day and night searching for him, and now I found the bastard.
We circled each other in the rundown, abandoned warehouse he’d holed up in while on the run. On the floor were tokens he stole from his victims. The baby doll with a bright pink dress caught my attention first. My whole body shook with rage. “How could you do it, you sick fuck?”
His eyes sparkled. “It’s like putting paint to canvas.” He looked down at the things he collected and smiled. “Their pleas for help were music to my ears.”
Flashes of the children laying in their own blood, their lives taken from them at such a young age plagued my mind. They were innocent, along with their parents who only wanted to protect them. A man like him deserved to die a slow, painful death . . . and I was going to make sure that happened.
Lunging for him, we went down to the dirty floor, his head slamming against the concrete. He tried to punch me and missed. I couldn’t hear anything other than the blood rushing through my veins. Pinning him with my weight, I punched him over and over, the feel of his bones crunching beneath my fist. I didn’t know the families who were killed, but I fought for them, bringing their murderer to justice.
The sick fuck spit to clear his throat, blood dribbling down his cheek, and laughed. “I love it when they fight back.” He pushed his arousal into me and groaned.
Jesus Christ. Grabbing his neck, I squeezed and snuffed his next words out. “You get off on pain you perverted son of a bitch?” I picked up a brick from nearby and raised it high. “Let’s see how you like this.” As hard as I could, I slammed it down on his face. “You said screams were music to your ears,” I yelled into the silence. “Where are the screams now, you bitch?” I slammed the brick back down on his mutilated face over and over again, trying to unsee the pictures of the flayed bodies he’d left behind.
Throwing the brick across the floor, I got up and surveyed the scene, breathing hard. “Now you can’t hurt anyone ever again.”
“Got anything new comin’ up?” Blake asked, leaning against the doorframe.
Strapping on my holster, I shook my head. After everything that happened with Bruxton, I needed a break. “I hope not. You?”
Jaw tight, he trudged into my office, gray eyes full of turmoil. “Actually, I’m headin’ out for good. I just wanted to say goodbye.”
“What the hell are you talking about? Are you skipping town or quitting the team?”
Blake Evans and the rest of the guys on our team were the best undercover agents in the country. We’d already lost a couple people, including my sister who decided to move away to California to settle down. We couldn’t afford to lose another skilled agent.
A small smile splayed across his face as he sat down. “I’m still going to be a part of the team. This is my life. I’ll just be living it somewhere else.”
“Where to?”
“Wyoming. My grandfather passed away and left me his ranch. I figured I’d go since nothing’s really keeping me here. I’m single, and we’re always traveling with the job. I’m never in Charlotte that much anyway.”
“No shit. I think this is the first week in months I’ve been able to sit back and relax.” I stared at him and chuckled. “Blake Evans turned cowboy. I never would’ve thought it.”
He got to his feet. “Me neither, but it’ll sure be interesting. How about we get one last drink together at Second Street before I go?”
“Sounds good, bro. I was just about to head out.” We got halfway to the door when my cell phone rang. I looked down at my phone and walked back to my desk. “It’s the Chief of Police from Vegas.” So much for the break I wanted. Leaning against my desk, I answered the call. “Ryan Griffin, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
“No pleasure in this call, son. Are you still at the station?”
“I was just getting ready to leave. What do you need?”