I started writing a new series, intending to make it a six-book installment. The Selected Sinners MC Series took place in a rural Kansas town, and was based on the lives of the members of a motorcycle club. The men in the club would all share some of the same characteristics that made my character Mike Ripton popular.

They would seek vengeance when someone committed an act that either couldn’t or wouldn’t be punished by the judicial system.

The first book, Making the Cut, did extremely well, surpassing my previous books in sales. The series would go on to win two Amazon Kindle All-Star Awards and provide me with several paid bonuses from Amazon. Thrilled at the performance of the first installment of the new series, I was eager to begin writing the second book.

My work schedule was often a matter of contention between us. I worked seven days a week, from five or six am until ten o’clock at night. I often lost track of what month it was, and rarely knew what day of the week it was. I had always been somewhat of a workaholic and being self-employed made matters measurably worse.

The only time off that I took from writing was the morning after I published a book. Jess and I would go to a small diner across the street and have a celebratory breakfast. It soon became a tradition. Jessica had fun with it, often posting photos on Facebook of the food we’d chosen or a silly pose of both of us over our empty plates.

Eager to get the second book out, I went to work immediately following the traditional breakfast. Jessica complained, wanting me to spend time with her while the children were in preschool.

I explained that I couldn’t. The success of my new series was something that we, as a family, needed. If we intended to move into a place more suitable for a family, the additional income was instrumental to our being able to do so. In the wake of Sons of Anarchy’s television series ending, it seemed women had a void in their lives that only motorcycle clubs could fill. I intended to fill that void with my books. Capitalizing on the opportunity, I explained.

I wrote for the next month, barely taking time to sleep. Upon completing the second book, Taking the Heat, I sent it to Amazon for review before publication.

“When are you going to pack?” Jessica asked. “Tonight, or tomorrow morning?”

I looked up from my computer’s screen. “Huh?”

“We’re going to Vegas tomorrow. To get married.”

“Oh. I was going to pack in the morning.”

If she hadn’t reminded me, I wouldn’t have known the day arrived. I fell asleep that night, exhausted from the sixty days I’d worked without a break.

The next morning, we drove the children to St. Louis. I met her mother at the door with a big hug. At that point, I’d been in her company no less than three or four times, each of which began and ended with a hug.

As we ate with her family that night, her mother asked what I was writing. I nearly fainted. Apparently, forcing myself upon her had worked. She’d done just as I predicted. She found a way to accept me.

I responded with an abbreviated version of the truth, explaining that I was writing a series about men who rode motorcycles. I purposely left out the violence and the fact they were all well-endowed.

After giving Lisa a departing hug the next morning, Jessica and I flew to Las Vegas. I was excited for us both. It was Jessica’s first trip to Las Vegas, and I knew she’d enjoy the endless shopping the city of sin offered. I looked forward to the week-long vacation.

The new book was released while we unpacked our things at the hotel. We announced through social media that the book was available, and later enjoyed a nice dinner together.

Jess spent the next three days in awe of everything Las Vegas had to offer. We shopped. We ate. We shopped. We ate. We gambled. We ate. We shopped some more. We didn’t, however, take time to make love.

When Saturday arrived, we got dressed for the wedding. She wore an ivory wedding dress, and I wore a tuxedo, sans the dress shoes.

Chucks seemed much more appropriate.

In my mind, I’d married Jessica long before that day. At least that’s what I told myself. The ceremony did one thing, though. It solidified my relationship with her. We were now bound by vows, a contract on paper, and an agreement with God. I knew in my heart of hearts that she took the oath as seriously as I did.

Finally, Jessica was mine forever. I had a wedding ring to prove it.

We paraded through the casino, opting to eat wedding night sushi. I held my head high everywhere we went, proud that she was mine, and that I was hers. When the night ended, we returned to the comfort of our hotel room and did what we didn’t seem to have time to do over the previous two months.

We made love.

It was different that night. Be it that we hadn’t done so in months, or that it was our wedding night, I don’t know. I did know, however that it was special. A change had taken place. A significant one.

The next morning, Jessica agreed. Something was special about it.

It simply felt perfect.

With magic in our eyes and smiles on our faces, we ate and shopped our way through the next two days of our vacation.

Beaming with newlywed pride, we returned to St. Louis. We were greeted by her parents with balloons, streamers, and some fabulous homemade cooking. After a few days of visiting, we returned home.

Within hours of our return, I was pounding away at book number three of the series. Despite the changes we’d made in our lives during the previous week, some things, I decided, simply weren’t destined to change.