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Copyright © 2014 M.L. Steinbru
Interior Design by Jovana Shirley, Unforeseen Editing, www.unforeseenediting.com
Cover Design by Arijana Karcic, Cover it Designs
Editing by Hot Tree Editing
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Printed in the United States of America
First Printing, 2014
For my daughters, Ashly
With all my love,
Mom
About the Author
Acknowledgements
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Introducing Other Authors
Colorado native M.L. Steinbru
She works full-time as a middle school and high school educator and coach in rural Colorado where she and her husband are raising their four young children. Through education she has enjoyed guiding others on their paths and helping students build their stories.
In her free time M.L. enjoys travelling, Amazon one-clicking, watching movies, chauffeuring her children to their one and half million activities, and people watching.
She would like to add a big thank you to everyone that has been overwhelmingly supportive of this incredibly scary and exciting journey.
Where to follow her….
Goodreads
Amazon
There are so many people that have helped to make this book possible, I appreciate you all.
My Family: I think they thought that once book one was published, I would have the bug out of my system and I would pack away the laptop. When my husband realized, the bug wasn’t going to go away, he surprised me with a new, smaller computer to keep the series going. He and my children have been extremely understanding, and that has meant so much. Thank you, you guys. This book has a special place in my heart, as I was writing pages the night that my youngest son was born and just days later once we were released from the hospital.
My Hometown: My hometown community fully embraced my first book and has been patiently waiting for this book to release. Almost everyone I know, picked up a copy of Forgive Us Our Trespasses, even if they had no intention of reading it, just to show their support for me. Even knowing that these books are romance novels, my tiny, conservative community has supported this endeavor and has encouraged me every step of the way. I truly appreciate that support.
Indie Author/Blogger Community: I have found this online literary community to be one of the most inspiring and compassionate groups. There have been so many authors and blogs that stepped up to help me, talk me off the ledge, donate, and share a
Readers: Thank you all so much for taking a chance on me and this series. None of my efforts would have mattered if I didn’t have your support. Thank you so much for allowing me the opportunity to follow this dream.
Summer 2002
Jen
“Does Dad know?” I ask, staring blankly out the window reluctant to make eye contact with my mother in the driver’s seat. She takes a deep breath, maintaining her sights on the road ahead. Apparently, she can’t look at me either.
“He knows,” she whispers, before clearing her throat with the words, which seem to be strangling her. “I called him as soon as we knew, so he could start making arrangements. He is waiting for us to arrive home.”
I don’t respond. There is nothing to say. I can’t explain to them what happened to me and my father will be unforgiving no matter the situation. All that is left to do is to keep my head down and wait for the hammer of my father to fall. I continue to keep my eyes on the grid pattern of the city streets out my passenger window, letting it pull me into a daze as I attempt to escape my impending reality.
I become entirely engulfed in my daydream, one which includes starting and finishing my senior year of high school with the friends I thought I had, with a guy I thought cared about me. I was so wrong. I don’t even notice when my mother pulls into the driveway of our massive colonial home. It’s an impressive sight to behold. To me it’s just my home, but to my parents it has always been more important what this house said to the public. It certainly makes a statement. It screams money; the front pillars exhibit strength and power, just like the house’s inhabitants. My father, Andrew MacLauchlan, master politician, wouldn’t have it any other way.
It’s not until I hear the driver’s side door slam when I realize we’ve parked. My mother walks to the front of our car and waits for me to vacate the car and follow her into the house. I have no choice but to unbuckle my seatbelt, the only thing that is providing any security at the moment, and head toward my waiting parents.
I walk slowly behind my mother, the cement driveway clicking under her designer shoes, while my summer sandals squeak against my sweaty feet. She opens the front door, but I remain still in the entryway as she delicately places her keys and purse on the curio table. I feel frozen in place. My stomach is churning, my hands are clammy, and I feel like I could pass out from the fear of what awaits me on the other side of the door. I want to run up the stairs to my room and avoid the inevitable conversation, maybe run back to the car and leave for good. Before I can allow my feet to move me in either direction, my father’s voice breaks my train of thought.