Synopsis
It’s time to move on.
You’ve grieved enough.
I’m worried about
you.
Estelle Noll has heard the same things repeatedly for the past two years. How can one put a timeline on recovery from total devastation? She lost the love of her life, child, and home in one day. Broken, depressed, and lost, she battles her way from the darkness and begins to piece together a new life. Xavier “Snake” Kolton is everything her husband wasn’t—tattooed, bold, dirty talking, and free-spirited. He makes her feel alive for the first time since the tragedy. Can the M.C. Vice President ever be more than a passing phase?
Xavier “Snake” Kolton knows what it feels like to lose. The Vice President of the Wild Ones MC has spent years dedicated to nothing but his brothers and their commitment to bettering the community. When the fragile, curly-haired blonde woman comes into his life, feelings long dormant to him awaken. Can this woman who’s lost more than anyone ever should handle his lifestyle. Should he even ask her to?
*** Broken but Breathing is Book Two in the Jinx Tattoos Series but is a STAND ALONE novel ***
Excerpt
Estelle Noll never minded storms. The sound of the rain dancing on the rooftop made her smile. The fresh scent and the coolness it always brought were a welcome break from the sweltering summer heat. She sat on the plush grey window seat, viewing the world through the pane of glass. They cracked the screen earlier in anticipation of what was to come. The distinct aroma that came from wet concrete was nature’s perfume. She couldn’t wait to breathe in the crisp, clean scent.
I’m an unrepentant pluviophile. A total lover of rain who
found joy and peace in the precipitation. The corners of her lips curled up as
her mind went to her mother, Jane Abbot, and her father, James. They gifted her
with her appreciation of books, rain, and whimsical things. The English-born
couple loved classic literature, and wove wondrous tales about their life in
Kent, England.
They’d returned to their hometown five years ago, and
Estelle missed them more every day. Soon they’ll be back to prepare for your
birth, little one. She rubbed her rounded belly.
A tiny foot kicked in response, and garnered a smile.
There’s a living, breathing being inside of me right now. Wonderment filled
her. For five years she and Everett tried to have a baby. Therefore, with his
low sperm count and her endometriosis this bun in her oven was a tiny miracle.
“I can’t wait to meet you, Emma,” she whispered. Content,
she glanced at the worn copy of her name inspiration, Great Expectations, in
her lap.
The wail of sirens brought her from Pip and Estelle’s
childhood. Tornado warning. The warnings were common this time of year. Closing
her book, she studied the sky rapidly changing color. The hairs on the back of
her neck and arms stood on end; a sense of unease flooded her system. She
closed the book and slid off the cushion, narrowing her eyes. Had the sky taken
on a green hue? The wind had picked up. The branches on the trees shook
violently in the wind.
“Stell.” Everett strode into the room. The terse tone and
clipped words made her hackles rise.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, standing to greet him.
“We need to go downstairs. The bathroom is the safest place.
They spotted a funnel nearby.” Goosebumps covered her flesh. A fine sheen of
sweat broke out on her forehead. She toyed with the hem of her maternity top,
worrying the material as she rubbed it between her forefinger and thumb. He
moved to the window and struggled to close it. “I’ll close this. You go
downstairs, now.”
The bass in his voice put her in motion. Fear slithered its
way through her body; worry sat in her stomach like a stone, cold and
unyielding. A lump formed in her throat. She gripped the bannister careful not
to trip as she waddled her way down the stairs. Balls of ice hit the windows,
walls, and roof with loud cracks.
She jogged toward the bathroom. Fear drove her into the tiny
room. She perched on the toilet seat, eager to have Everett in her line of
sight. Taking deep breaths, she attempted to keep the panic forming at bay. Her
stomach soured. She rocked back and forth to comfort herself and the squirming
bundle in her belly. The attempt failed. His footsteps pounded on the steps.
He appeared in the doorway a few moments later. His face was
pale as a sheet, and the crow’s feet in the corners of his eyes stood out. Lips
drawn in a straight line, and dark eyes full of sadness, he presented a grim
picture. He doesn’t think we’re going to make it. Tears blurred her vision, and
her shoulders shook as she tried to hold in her sobs.
He sat on the edge of the tub and gripped her chin. “Hey. I
need you to calm down for Emma, okay? I won’t let anything happen to you or the
baby. We’re going to get into the tub, stay down, and pray our asses off. We’ll
be interviewed on the news when all this is over. Okay?”
She swallowed the hysteria threatening to rise in her throat
like carbonated bubbles full of crazy and nodded. Their lips met in a kiss that
smacked of desperation. She poured every ounce of love she held for this man
into their mouth mating. Surfacing for air, breathing heavily, they stared into
each other’s eyes. She saw everything in his hazel orbs—the fear, the joy, and
the determination. Everett Noll had never let her down when it counted. He
wouldn’t start now if he could help it.
“I love you, Estelle.”
“I love you, too, Everett.” She had to yell to be heard over
the roar that sounded like a massive waterfall.
“Let’s get in. It's go time.” He stood, holding her hand as
she slipped into the porcelain basin and rested on her side. She held her
belly, wishing she could cradle the babe moving around inside of her in her
arms.
The house vibrated, shaking them violently. Her body
protested and her teeth rattled. Joints creaked and moaned. He covered her body
with his own. The heat from his body, the cold, smooth surface of the tub, and
the terror placed her in a crazed limbo. The noise grew loud. It really does
sound like a locomotive. Hail Mary, full of Grace, the Lord is with thee. The
rest of the prayer was lost to her screams as the roof ripped off, and all hell
broke loose.
About the Author
Shyla Colt is the sassy international bestseller of the popular series Kings of Chaos and Dueling Devils M.C. This genre-hoppers stories feature three of her favorite things: strong females, pop culture, and alternate routes to happy ever after. Listening to her Romani soul, she pens from the heart, allowing the dynamic characters, eccentric interests, and travels as a former flight attendant to take her down untraveled roads.
Born and raised in Cincinnati, Ohio, this mid-west girl is proud of her roots. She used her hometown and the surrounding areas as a backdrop for a number of books. So, if you're a Buckeye, keep an eye out for familiar places.
As a full-time writer, stay at home mother, and wife, there's never a dull moment in her household.
She weaves her tales in spare moments and the evenings with a cup of coffee or tea at her side and the characters in her head for company.
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