Contemporary
Romance
Date
Published: November
14 2016
One
of America’s most reclusive rockers, Ryder Vaughn, gets an unusual sentence
handed down to him. The judge, hoping to teach him the value of human life,
sentences him to ten months of community service at Reach Within Centre for
individuals with special needs. Ryder is convinced that, if he isn’t crazy
already, he will be by the time his sentence ends. However, his only other
option forfeits his band’s livelihood.
Five
minutes after stepping into the centre, his entire life changes when he meets a
gorgeous, little spitfire who will challenge everything he has ever believed
about himself and the world around him.
Francesca's
devotion has always been to her family, friends, and the job she is passionate
about. Her life hasn’t been easy. She sacrifices a lot for the ones she loves
and for her dream to visit Italy. Then Francesca finds herself in a desperate
situation, and the tattooed beast who is serving his debt to society must save
the headstrong woman from a secret that could destroy her. In turn, Francesca
teaches Ryder, if you love something enough, it’s worth fighting for.
Ryder
knows he isn’t worthy of love, but this incredible beauty makes him want it.
Ryder
can save Francesca from her secrets, but can she save him from his? Is Ryder
strong enough to endure the kids she loves and her crazy Italian family?
Ten
months can fly by or it can last an eternity.
Excerpt:
Chapter
1
“The bailiff asks everyone in the courtroom to stand.
The court of the Second Judicial Circuit Traffic/Criminal Division is now in
session. The Honourable Judge Linda Belmore will preside.”
The judge finished walking up to her podium and took
her seat. “Thank you, bailiff. I assume all parties are present and ready to
hear my sentence?”
“Yes, Your Honour,” replied the Crown, Matthew
Fairchild.
“Yes, Your Honour,” replied the criminal defence
lawyer, James Quinn.
“Then I will proceed. Let me start by saying I have
closed this court to the public for obvious reasons. The accused would usually
remain standing throughout sentencing, but I am going to ask all parties to
sit. I have a few things I would like to say to Mr. Vaughn.”
Ryder Vaughn looked at his lawyer in surprise as he
sat. He knew his fame wouldn’t help in sentencing. He had a feeling it might
work against him this time. What was the worst they could do to him? Throw him
in jail for a year or two? At this point in his life, he didn’t give a fuck if
they locked him up and threw away the key.
“Mr. Vaughn, you have been charged a second time
within a year with racing/stunt driving and dangerous driving. One is under the
traffic code section 168 racing/stunt driving, and the other is under the
criminal code offence 117 of dangerous driving.
“Sir, these are serious offences, and you obviously
have not learned your lesson after just acquiring your licence back three
months ago. Therefore, I had to think long and hard on what type of sentencing
would make an impact on you. Mr. Quinn has argued that, because of your fame,
it would be unadvisable to place you in the prison system, and regrettably, I
agree. However, if you don’t agree to my terms, you will in fact find yourself
incarcerated.”
She busied herself with looking over papers as she
continued, “Your financial situation is so immense that a substantial fine
under the laws I must abide will be no punishment. Taking away your licence has
no bearing—you just hire drivers. So, sir, I have a very unconventional
sentence to hand down to you.” To this statement, she finally looked up at him.
“I have researched the letter of the law on this
sentence, and consulted appellate court findings on the chance you could appeal
my sentence. I believe, without a shadow of a doubt, that it would be
impossible to overturn. If you choose to go the other route, that is a criminal
charge of ten years. Of course, you might get parole after serving one-third of
your sentence. But with a criminal conviction, you would be unable to enter the
United States ever again, which would not be good for your career or fans.
“Please keep in mind, if you choose that, I would have
to place you in protective confinement because of your fame. You would only
have access to the outdoors for thirty minutes a day, and no access to the gym.
A third of your sentence will feel like thirty years. Or, you will take the
sentence I have been working on and hopefully gain some insight.
“Mr. Vaughn, you have a blatant disregard for your
life, and lack of judgment which, in turn, makes you a danger to yourself and
possibly others. I came about my decision after reading the letters submitted
for your character reference. The one that impacted me the most was from Sick
Kids Hospital.” Now she flashed him a look that could only be described as
regret or disappointment with a flicker of hope.
“I was shocked and instantly moved by the fact that
you donated a million dollars a year for the last nine years of your career.
Although that wasn’t what touched me the most—anyone with any wealth can donate
to a hospital, if for no other reason than to get a tax break. It wasn’t until
I read further and discovered that you donate your time—two weeks in the winter
and summer—to teach sick children how to play the drums. I was also impressed
you had a soundproof music room built for the hospital and furnished it with
instruments.
“All of your donations of time, money, and equipment
to the hospital has been strictly anonymous. I came to realize you have a deep
connection with this hospital and its patients. I don’t know the reason, but I
do applaud it. You help children you have never met, but you still have no
respect for the life you were given.
“Therefore, my sentence is as follows. You are to
report to Reach Within Centre for individuals with special needs for a term of
ten months where you will volunteer and shadow a CYW—a child and youth worker.
“I understand you have a police check from the
volunteer work at the hospital. It will start in September and will continue
until June. You will not be teaching music; you will be in the classroom,
working under the direction of Frankie Moratti, assisting students with life
skills.
“I am very familiar with this facility and the work
they do with exceptional children and adults. It’s a wonderful organization,
and I believe they will teach you the value of life in every capacity.
“You will retain your anonymity since people don’t
know your real name. You will work eight-thirty to three-thirty, five days a
week. If you renege on this agreement, you will be incarcerated with the time
you have spent deducted from your sentence and a criminal record will be
instated. I will give you fifteen minutes to make your decision. Choose
wisely.”
As the judge stood, the bailiff asked everyone to
stand as the judge exited the courtroom.
Ryder was stunned into silence. When he regained his
senses, he responded, “Can she do this to me? Can she force me to work with
mental kids?”
His lawyer turned towards him. “This is very
unconventional, but she has done her homework. And really, it’s not as bad as I
expected. You’re the client, so the decision is yours, but I urge you to take
this deal. Otherwise, you will never play another concert in the US, and you will
never be able to volunteer again with a criminal charge.”
“Fuck!” Ryder couldn’t believe it. He wasn’t sure what
sentence was worse. He thought he was probably as retarded as the kids. What
could he possibly learn from them? Honestly, if he ever became like them, he
wished someone would just put him out of his misery. Not only that, but the
judge was putting him with some little, greasy Italian pussy boy. Frankie
Moratti. Fucking perfect.
“Watch what you say, or you’re going to blow it before
you have a chance to accept the deal,” his lawyer rebuked his outcry “Does this
mean you’re going to accept it?”
“Like I have a choice.” Ten months were going to feel
like a life sentence. Nevertheless, his band had a tour set for next year, and
he couldn’t screw the guys out of their livelihood. “Yeah, I’ll take the
sentence.”
***
Ryder left the courthouse and got his affairs in
order. He had moved into the condo he purchased in Toronto, and had two of his
cars and his favourite Harley transported to it. He might have to work in
suburbia, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to hang out there afterwards. He didn’t
sleep great at night and tended to hang out at strip clubs. He also didn’t
cook, so he needed access to lots of restaurants.
His condo had a gym, but he needed more than the
building provided, so he joined a huge gym by the centre. He could go in the
morning and probably after school hours. He would need some way to excise his
demons after working with mental kids all day.
He went for the touring bike, figuring he would spend
his weekend cruising. This was the last weekend he had left before reporting
for duty at the centre, and he was going to party hard and hopefully dull a few
brain cells. He sure as hell didn’t need them.
***
Ryder arrived at the centre an hour early, unsure how
long it would take to get to suburbia. He knew Mr. Fucking Frankie Moratti, the
greasy, little Italian pussy, would be writing his hours in his bi-weekly
reports for the judge until his sentence was completed. Dammit!
As he pulled up to the centre and parked in front of a
room that was already occupied, he saw a flash of burgundy whip past the
window. He slowly took off his helmet, leaving his sunglasses on, as he got off
his bike, all while staring into the room.
There stood the most stunning little chick with
gloriously long, thick burgundy hair and porcelain white skin. She was hot, and
his dick acknowledged what he was seeing with a twitch. Damn, he hoped he got
to see more of her around the centre. She must be the teacher in that room.
It was only seven-thirty. Christ, these nine to fivers
were dedicated. With the band, he never woke up before noon.
He walked into the building, heading towards the main
office. The door was locked and the lights were off, so he decided to sit on
the bench outside of it and wait.
There was a window behind the bench with the blinds
closed, but he knew it was part of the room that chick was in. He heard music
blaring from the room, and she was singing. Well, not singing, per se. She
sounded horrible. Thankfully, she was beautiful.
He could hear the female voice pounding out lyrics
about not fitting in. He knew she couldn’t really feel those lyrics, because
she would fit in anywhere.
Ryder was a lyrics man. He wrote a lot of lyrics for
the band’s songs, and words were important to him. He didn’t speak a lot.
Instead, he chose to let the lyrics do his talking. That was why he hated pop
music. They just slapped words together and people bought that shit.
Holy fuck, now she was playing Bryan Adams and Barbara
Streisand, singing “I Finally Found Someone.” He cringed then chuckled to
himself when the beauty tried to hit the high notes. Jesus Christ, she had
better keep her day job.
He was relieved when the song ended. His ears felt
like they were bleeding.
He heard the door open around the corner as the beauty
went barreling past him to the office door, completely oblivious to his presences,
still mumbling the words to the song she had just decimated. She looked like
she was on a mission as she tried to open the door, surprised when it didn’t
budge.
“Oh, David, you must be out of practice after the
summer. You usually open up the office before I get here,” she mumbled to
herself as she turned then squealed at the sight of Ryder sitting there. “Holy
moly, you scared me half to death!” She held her hand to her chest as she
walked towards Ryder. “Are you waiting to get into the office? They won’t be
here for half an hour or so, and the custodian obviously hasn’t opened the door
yet.”
Ryder moved his glasses down his nose as he looked her
up and down, blown away. This beauty had it all: whiskey coloured eyes with a
ring of black lashes; flawless, smooth skin; and a full bottom lip with a
delicate, thinner upper lip coated in sable coloured lipstick. He could
envision them wrapped around his cock. Twitch.
She was wearing a feminine off-white jersey shirt with
three quarter sleeves. Its scooped neck was tight on her bust with a satin
ribbon woven tightly under her breasts. The shirt continued down and flared out
to mid-thigh. Khaki green capris dressed her legs with dainty flat shoes on her
feet. She also wore a chunky stone necklace in the shape of a dragonfly. She
was captivating and delicate.
“Ah-hem.”
As Ryder pushed his glasses back up, in a deep voice
laced with undertones, he said, “Sorry. I was admiring your necklace.”
“Yeah … okay. Well, the office will be opened soon,”
the beauty replied rather peevishly as she quickly turned and stomped back
towards her classroom.
She switched the music to some man-bashing shit, and
Ryder smirked. He couldn’t think of the artist’s name, but she was the truest
form of ball buster ever born. She always wrote about her on-again, off-again
hubby.
Ryder respected the singer to the ninth degree. She
could write a song like no other pissed off broad. Plus, she was a tad psycho,
and he admired that quality equally as much. Despite that, he couldn’t help
thinking he must have made the beauty angry. Not a great start to the next ten
months.
“Hi, can I help you with something?” the administrator
of the centre walked in after twenty minutes and greeted Ryder.
“Are you Mrs. Ramara? I’m Ryder Vaughn. You should be
expecting me.”
“Oh, yes. Sorry. Welcome to Reach Within.” She stuck
her hand out to shake Ryder’s. “Please follow me into my office.”
He entered her tastefully decorated office, where
there was a big desk facing the door with two chairs in front of it. Off to the
side, she had a smaller table with four comfortable looking chairs around it.
“Please take a seat, Mr. Vaughn. I am the
administrator of the educational part of Reach Within. Today is the first day
after the summer break, meaning it will be busy. I’m glad you’re here early so
I can give you the rundown and our expectations of you during your stay.” She
said “stay” like Ryder was on vacation, instead of the living hell that would
be his existence for the next ten months.
“Mr. Vaughn, I don’t mince words, so let’s get right
down to it.” Mrs. Ramara put on her serious face. “I’ve had many conversations
with Judge Belmore about your situation, and I’m going out on a limb by
accepting you to work with the most vulnerable sector in society. She and I are
both putting a lot of trust in you, and I advise you to take it seriously.
“This centre is highly regarded, and we have an
impeccable reputation to uphold. The work we do here is important, and the
students have a lot to deal with. I expect your behaviour to be professional
always.
“I understand you will remain anonymous, and refuse
any press interviews. I’m the only one who knows your true identity and will
keep your secret. But in return, you will not discuss any students outside of
this facility. Confidentiality is a must, as I am sure you can understand.
“To be in this facility, the students all have to have
a minimum of three disabilities, one being developmentally delayed. Most of the
students are in this facility because they have severe behavioural issues, or
are medically fragile and need specialized equipment. Our staff is trained in
behaviour management and crisis intervention, and are very good at what they
do. In fact, the teaching staff is top notch and work their tails off with very
little recognition or rewards. I am telling you this because they deserve
respect. They work in an extreme environment and are unfathomably dedicated to
their students.
“Judge Belmore and I both decided to have you shadow
and support Frankie Moratti. Frankie is dedicated, kind, and compassionate. The
students love and trust her, and for good reason. I’ll let you discover that on
your own.
“I spoke to Frankie last week about your situation.
However, she is unaware of who you are. Frankie was more than willing to take
you on and made the preparations needed. I do not want you to have any physical
contact with any of the students—leave that to Frankie. You are not allowed to
intervene under any circumstances. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” he replied, knowing he wouldn’t intervene if he
could. He would leave that to Frankie boy.
“Good, then without further delay, I will call Frankie
and introduce you. Then I’ll touch base with you later. Do you have any
questions?”
“No.”
“Okay, then, Mr. Vaughn. I understand this will be
daunting and will be overwhelming to begin with, but I believe that, in one
month, you will have a totally different outlook on this centre than you have
this week.”
Mariana picked up the phone and dialed an extension.
“Good morning, Frankie, and welcome back … I was wondering if you could come to
my office and meet Mr. Vaughn … Great. Thank you.”
Not two minutes later, a knock came to the door.
“Frankie, I would like you to meet Mr. Vaughn.”
Ryder was still facing the desk and didn’t turn until
Mariana finished her introduction. Then he stood and turned, hoping his height
and size would intimidate the little pussy boy.
He nearly toppled over the chair when he came
face-to-face with the beauty he had just pissed off. He must have looked like a
moron with the shock on his face as he stuck out his hand.
“Ryder. Ryder Vaughn. Pleasure to meet you, Frankie …?”
She extended her hand with a chuckle, and his engulfed
hers.
She could read his face. He thought he would be
working with a man, one he hoped to intimidate with his bulk. He had met his
match, because she might be small, but she could kick ass with the best of
them. She had two brothers and could hold her own.
“It’s actually Francesca. One of my students overheard
my brother call me Frankie, and it kinda stuck. Pleasure to meet you. Follow
me, and I’ll get you settled.”
Ryder followed the beauty back to her classroom,
feeling like he was in deep shit. He couldn’t take his eyes off the sway of her
beautiful, curvy hips and ass. Twitch.
He had extreme control, but she had splintered his reserve. How was he ever going
to work with this beauty? Jail might have been a much better choice.
She could feel his glare on her back, thinking he wasn’t
happy having to follow a woman around.
“This will be yours,” she said as she stopped at a
locker. “You have a one-digit lock. The combination is thirteen. If you can’t
remember it, let me know, and I will remind you.” She raised an arched brow.
The way her eyebrows curved over her eyes made them
look like angel wings. Shit. Francesca was going to make him pay for
giving her the once over. Well, game on,
sweetheart. Give it your best.
He lifted a corner of his mouth into a semi-lopsided
grin, not a smile. He never smiled. “Got it.”
Wow, a man of many words. Not. Perfect, she could deal with that. Her focus was for
the kids, not this beast.
Francesca’s smile grew as the nickname she had just
branded him with settled into her bones.
He was a very imposing man, standing closer to heaven
than anyone she had ever met. He had to be six and half feet easily, and he was
freaking massive. Her mom would have said he was built like a brick shit house.
His arms were huge, probably the size of her thighs.
He had longish, brown, curly hair with natural gorgeous auburn highlights. His
thick eyebrows were arched in way that made him look malicious, the right one
having a scar through it. She was sure there was a story there.
His eyes were so dark brown they looked almost black,
and they were extremely intense. His skin tone was a dark olive tone, with
tattoos peeking under the sleeve of his shirt and one crawling up his neck. He
had a goatee that was light brown, and a shadow of whiskers from his goatee
along his jaw. Holy smokes, he was good-looking in a rough sort of way.
He reminded her of that actor, Jason Momoa, eyebrows
and all. Sweet, now that would screw with her mind.
She looked up, way up, to see him with that lopsided
semi-grin. He knew she was giving him the once over.
She blushed from her chest to the edge of her
hairline.
“Payback?”
“Just thinking it would probably take me a few more
seconds than I originally thought to take you out at the knees,” she answered
quickly and without much thought, knowing she was being equally as rude as he
had been.
The intense moment was broken by his cackle.
“Give it your best shot.”
Goddamn, she had balls bigger than most guys he knew,
and a sense of humour to boot.
“Follow me into our class so I can give you the
rundown on the teachers and students.” She buzzed them in then went to the
computer to turn down the man-bashing music. Then she grabbed some papers and
sat down at a round table before the door even closed. She moved around like a
bee on crack.
She got right down to business, looking at her papers.
“Okay, Mr. Vaughn, Mariana and I formulated a cover to explain your presence at
the centre. We decided to tell people you’re here from California because you’ve
been asked to create a similar facility in your city.”
“Ryder.”
She lifted her eyes to his, then quickly moved them
back to her papers. “Excuse me?”
“My name is Ryder, not Mr. Vaughn.”
“Okay, good. Because, unlike other places, we don’t
insist on the students calling us by our surnames. We are much more relaxed
than the school boards.
“Julianna Kerr is the teacher in this room,” she
continued. “She’s responsible for the curriculum, while we, the CYWs—a child and youth workers—and teaching assistants, adapt it to the students’
individual needs. She is fabulous; you’ll like her. We have five students.”
She then went on to tell him about the other two CYWs
and explained all about the students and their different diagnoses. She reiterated
that, regardless of what the kids did, he was not to step in. He started
getting uncomfortable with all the talk of this “hands-off policy.” Really, how
much damage could a head case do?
The three remaining staff members eventually entered
the room. Francesca greeted them all with hugs, and then introduced Ryder to
Julianna first. She was friendly, average height, a bubbly woman with
strawberry blonde hair. Layla was a tall, attractive black woman with a
beautiful big smile and welcoming personality. Amanda was Southern European
with olive skin. She made no bones about telling Ryder how delicious he looked.
He hated forward woman like her. She thought she was
all that and more—cocky and blatant. After all the lectures he had received in
the last hour, he was surprised by her unprofessionalism.
“Okay, people, the busses are here,” Julianna announced.
“Let’s get this party started. Francesca, you get Mason. And just to warn you,
his group home emailed and said he went off the rails on Saturday. They figure
it’s anxiety about a new year starting.”
“Understood. Anyone hurt?” Francesca asked.
“Nope, but about seven thousand in damages. Feel out
his demeanour and let me know.”
“ ’Kay, will do. Let’s roll.” Francesca gave Ryder a
wave to follow her. “Just follow my lead, and I’ll introduce you once I know
his anxiety level.” She buzzed to the busses just as quickly as before. Even
with his long legs, he had trouble keeping up, meandering around all the staff
and students.
He watched the seventeen-year-old kid who looked
normal to him step off a bus, looking totally pissed off at the world until he
spotted Francesca.
Mason was lanky, about five-nine; four-inches taller
than Francesca. He had long, straight black hair with long bangs that he had to
keep throwing his head back to move from his eyes..
“Hey, Mason. What’s shaken, my friend?” Francesca
greeted him like a long-lost friend, giving him a high-five.
“Lookin’ smokin’ hot, Frankie. Did you miss me?” He
smiled at her with worship in his eyes.
“Always miss you, buddy. But let’s not start with the
inappropriate comments already, okay?” She gave him a big smile so it would
seem like she wasn’t reprimanding him. Smart girl. However, her remark had
instantly pissed him off.
“Whatever,” he retorted.
She didn’t let him withdraw as she linked her arm with
his. “Did you have a good summer?”
“Yeah, same shit as always … like being in prison,”
the kid answered as they walked into the centre with many of the staff
welcoming him back, which he ignored.
The kid didn’t look like he had any issues, except a
bad attitude, which Francesca had warned Ryder about, saying his behaviour was
unpredictable. She had also told Ryder that he had been a crack baby and had
Shaken Baby Syndrome. Thus, he was developmentally delayed and had a seizure
disorder.
Francesca got Mason into the classroom where he
grunted his hello to the teacher, then took his handheld game console out of
his knapsack and started to play, ignoring everyone around him.
Francesca turned to Julianna and flashed eight
fingers. Julianna nodded and headed out to warn the rest of the team that he
could blow this morning.
“Frankie, who’s the wrestler? New staff or a bodyguard?
If you think he scares me, you’re fucked,” Mason said without lifting his head.
Ryder couldn’t control his reaction, growling at the
disrespect Mason was dishing out, “Her name is Francesca.”
Francesca’s eyes flew to Ryder’s with a scowl of her
own as she shook her head no then gave him a chin lift to indicate he should
move away.
“Mason, language, buddy. And yes, he is a staff
member, but he isn’t teaching. He wants to build a centre like this in
California, so he is here to learn from us.”
Mason still didn’t lift his head as he ground out,
“They don’t have any school for crazy freaks like us in California?”
She ignored his dig. “Mason, this is Ryder. Please put
your game down for minute and say hello.”
He ignored her, not acknowledging the comment about
his game. Then, after about three minutes, he said, “What kind of stupid name
is that, Ryder? Your mom must have
been a junkie like mine.”
Ryder’s spine stiffened. This kid was a punk who was
jealous of any male in Frankie’s vicinity.
“Come on, Mason; let’s turn this around. Don’t ruin
our first day back together. I missed you, and I want to hear all about your
summer. Now say hi to Ryder, and let’s start over, okay?” She moved over and
rubbed her hand up and down his back in comfort.
When he lifted his eyes to hers, that worshipping look
was back. He looked starved for her attention.
He turned to Ryder. “Hey.”
“Hey,” Ryder responded, figuring if Mason could move
on, then so could he.
Francesca had said at least a dozen times this morning
not to take anything personally. Therefore, he wouldn’t. Still, he didn’t like
this kid, not at all. Francesca had said she loved him. He wasn’t sure how she
could, or why.
Julianna looked at Francesca, and Francesca smiled.
Their silent language inferred that Mason had been defused.
The door opened, and four more students walked in with
the rest of the staff. They definitely looked challenged to Ryder.
A blond, curly-haired kid ran in the room and threw
his arms around Francesca. “Give me some tongue, Frankie.” He tried with all
his might to get his tongue near Francesca’s mouth.
Frankie laughed as she pulled him off. “Theo, let me
look at you. How are you? How was your summer?”
“Give me some tongue, and I’ll tell you.”
“No. Nice try. How many other people did you try to
tongue on your way in?”
Theo grinned from ear-to-ear. “Everyone. But I like
your mouth the best.” He licked his lips.
“I bet you say that to all the girls.” She turned towards
Ryder. “Theo, this is Ryder. Say hello and shake his hand.”
Ryder backed away, nervous the scrawny, little boy
would try to tongue him. Gross.
“Fornication with elation, Ry Herr!” Theo said as he
held out his fist for a bump.
Ryder was dumbstruck. The fucking kid knew his band’s
name was Fornication, and his stage name was Ry Herr? Fuck!
He fist-pumped the kid and waited for the backlash.
But Theo just turned away like he didn’t have a clue, on to better things, like
trying to tongue every chick in the room.
“Sorry, Ryder. He says random stuff like that all the
time,” Julianna told him.
Ryder just nodded, relief sweeping through him. They
didn’t know the kid had him pegged.
He was introduced to the other three kids. Veeta was
an Indian girl who walked with canes due to a severe limp, and she had a
slurred language he couldn’t understand, yet everyone else seemed to. Katrina
was a pretty, little redheaded thing, who didn’t even acknowledge his
existence. And lastly, Taz, who walked in holding his ears, humming loudly.
Fuck. If he wasn’t crazy now, he sure as hell would be
by the end of his sentence.
At the end of the day, Ryder was so mentally exhausted
he couldn’t even go to the gym. First thing he did when he got home was grab a
beer and turn on his music. “Bad to the Bone” by George Thorogood blared out of
his speakers.
Since the day he heard the song, he thought it best
described him. Great lyrics. But those kids gave it new meaning.
About the Author:
Anne
Marie Citro grew born and raised in the greater Toronto area of Ontario,
Canada. She grew up in a large, loving family. Anne Marie is married to a very
patient man. He is the love of her life. They have four very cool sons, and the
girls they brought into their family that have become daughters of her heart.
She has been blessed enough to finally have a beautiful granddaughter after
four sons. She has her own personal gaggle of girlfriends, who enrich her life
on a daily basis and make her laugh. Caesar Friday is her favourite day of the
week. Caesars with the girls and date night with her hubby. She works with
special-needs teenagers, that have taught her how to appreciate life and see it
through gentler eyes. Anne Marie was encouraged by her husband to follow her
life long dream to write. She loves the characters that take over imagination
and haunts her dreams. She loves the arts and she has tried her hand at
painting, wood sculpting, chainsaw carving, wood burning, metal and wire
sculptures. Yes, her husband is a very patient man! Anne Marie is an avid
reader and enjoys about three books per week. But nothing makes her happier
then riding on the back of her husband's Harley and throwing her arms out
and feeling the wind race by. Anne Marie and her husband take a few weeks every
year to travel to spectacular destination around the world. Anne Marie is
excited and can't wait to see what the next chapter holds for her life.and
enjoys about three books per week.
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