His expression remained serious. “Lately, whenever I’m alone, I think about how lucky I am. I can hardly believe I’m here with you right now, as your husband. It seems too good to be true, and I want to do everything I can to show you how much I adore you.”

Lauren’s heart was so full, it almost hurt. She never could have imagined loving someone like this. She approached his legs and stopped between his thighs. Lifting her hands, she slid the bowtie from his collar with one hand and ran the fingers of her other through his soft hair.

“So show me,” she said, kissing him softly. “And let me show you, in return.”

He swallowed hard, and he tugged at the white string of her scrub pants. They fell loose immediately, drifting down her hips. His hands pushed them the rest of the way, and they pooled at her feet. She lifted her arms and he pulled the top off over her head, his hands searing her skin along the way.

In a single fluid motion he flipped her onto her back on the bed, hovering above her. His forearms and knees surrounded her, but his mouth was the only part that touched her. He kissed her slow and deep, then scooted back and stood at the foot of the bed. His eyes seemed to swallow her as he shrugged out of his shirt and then unbuckled his belt.

Her breath caught in her throat, and it felt as if the room had caught fire.

A moment later he rejoined her on the bed, and soon there was nothing between them, and they merged together, skin to skin. Eye to eye, gazing at each other, afraid to miss something. Soul to soul, coming together in a perfect dance that transcended words.

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Acknowledgments

Acknowledgments

This is surreal, to be sitting down to honor those who helped with my first published novel. I’m terrified I’ll leave someone out, and if I do, I hope you’ll forgive me.

Thank you to my sister Amber (I’ll never forget the first time you said “I’m proud of you”) and my friend, Fransen. You were the first people to tell me to keep writing. Author Darlene Graham, my mentor, who spent hours with me at coffee shops and in her living room, and without whom I’d never have made it this far.

My critique partners—Heather Gearhart, my first ever CP, and CPFL whether you like it or not, and the person I know is always in my corner and who helps me believe in myself. Denise Williams, who spends hours with me on Twitter talking through plot holes and character arcs and who challenges me to be a better writer—you make me laugh and you make me think, and you’re a photoshop wizard. The world isn’t ready for us.