Shiloh is swaying gently back and forth in my hands, her head tilting first one way, and then the next. I think maybe she’s a little buzzed because she’s not kissing me like I’m a ninth grader. It’s making me a little light-headed. She’s so soft pressed up against me… she feels so good… and then the door opens behind us and the light pops on, blinding me.
We separate slowly, catcalls behind us. And then Shiloh glances down at my pants and a rosy blush stains her cheeks. I made her blush. Despite my embarrassment, pride swells up in me. I turn and raise my fisted hands in the air like a heavyweight boxer who has just won the championship. I’m a champion, I think. I’m a fucking king.
I glance behind me, but Shiloh is slipping out and down the hall to where the other upperclassmen wait. They are giving exaggerated slow claps and wolf whistles, and she dips into a cute little curtsy. I feel my heart lurch in my chest and know there is a fucking goober-worthy grin on my face, but I don’t even care.
I’m officially stupid for this girl.
Acknowledgments
There’s an old saying that it takes a village to raise a child, and the same can be said of producing a book. I have to first thank my husband and family, who exhibited unflinching patience, if not enthusiasm, during my obsessive attention to the computer. There was one little moment when my husband said, “um…don’t you think we should do some laundry?” that I knew I was severely shirking my responsibilities as a stay-at-home mom. But he never made me feel like my dream was less, and for that, I am grateful.
Thank you to my author alpha readers. The ones who read that first “final” draft and were able to identify what needed a bit more development or what was missing altogether. I adore you, Gina Manis, Melinda Smith, Jennifer Hartman, Tara Swan, and Ramie Kerschen, my beloved PA.
Thank you next to my amazing beta and ARC readers — too many to name, but you know who you are. The ones who catch the typos I missed, who tell me “that just doesn’t sound like” this character, and so forth. They are absolutely instrumental in shaping a novel’s completion.
And finally, I am thrilled to thank two individuals for their special collaborations.
Tyler Knott Gregson, who graciously allowed me to use his poetry as chapter openers. I stumbled upon his words by accident and the sheer romanticism coupled with realism gave me goosies. I am in awe of his talent and so grateful he permitted this fangirl to share him with all of my readers.
And Ciara St. James, a dear author friend who I was chatting with one day about our respective novels’ settings — Tennessee. She allowed me to place one of her sexy characters, Ghost, in Remember Me the gentleman who helps Hayes at the scene of Birdie’s accident. Be sure to check Ghost’s Beauty out and see this scene from a different perspective!
About the Author
E.R. Whyte and Elle Rae Whyte are one and the same, E.R. writing contemporary romance with a touch of heat, and Elle Rae writing “cleaner” romance and cozies that she doesn’t mind her parents reading. She lives in Virginia with her husband of twenty-five years and three kids, two of whom are fleeing the nest and the third of whom she homeschools and bickers with. A former high school English teacher, she loves the opportunity to at last stretch her own writing wings.
Copyright Permissions
Excerpts from Tyler Knott Gregson’s poetry reprinted with permission.
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