Knight: The Wordsmiths Book One Read online

  Knight

  The Wordsmiths Book One

  Christopher Harlan

  Coming Soon

  If you enjoyed Knight’s story and you’d like to pre-order “Colton” — the follow up to “Knight” and book 2 in the Wordsmith Chronicles, just click this link—> http://a.co/dy2Ojmq

  I had nothing until I had her.

  Harley. My Muse.

  I used to remind myself to never let my feelings get too intense or serious. Not over a woman. Never. That’s not the man I am. But she changed everything.

  It all started with a single stolen glance at my book signing. My gaze never left her that afternoon, and an innocent meeting ignited a spark inside of me that I still haven’t recovered from.

  The words that filled the pages of my novels, words that had ceased to exist, starting pouring from me when I met her.

  But the ghosts of my past have crept back into my life unexpectedly, jeopardizing my ability to be with her, and the future I know we can have together. I want to fight for her—for us—and to be the man I know I can be.

  I’m a Wordsmith.

  Let me tell you our story.

  Contents

  Dedications

  Foreword

  A Wordsmith.

  The Wordsmiths

  Prologue

  Part I

  1. Knight

  2. Knight

  3. Everleigh

  4. Knight

  5. Knight

  6. Everleigh

  7. Knight

  8. Everleigh

  9. Knight

  10. Everleigh

  11. Knight

  12. Everleigh

  13. Knight

  14. Knight

  15. Everleigh

  16. Knight

  17. Knight

  18. Everleigh

  Interlude

  Part II

  19. Knight

  20. Knight

  21. Knight

  22. Everleigh

  23. Knight

  24. Everleigh

  25. Knight

  26. Everleigh

  27. Knight

  28. Everleigh

  29. Knight

  30. Knight

  31. Knight

  32. Everleigh

  33. Knight

  34. Colton

  35. Knight

  36. Everleigh

  37. Knight

  38. Knight

  Epilogue

  Coming Soon

  Afterword

  Acknowledgments

  Connect with Christopher Harlan

  My Other Work

  Knight

  Book 1 in the Wordsmith Chronicles

  By Christopher Harlan

  Cover design and Formatting by Jessica Hildreth

  Beta-Reading by Lauren Lascola-Lesczynski & Stephanie Albon

  Proofreading by Jessica Kempker

  This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to anyone who did not purchase the book outright. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or any other means not listed specifically herein) without the express written permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is entirely coincidental. All people, places, and events contained herein are a product of the author’s imagination and are completely fictitious.

  Warning

  This book is intended for those 18 or older. It contains explicit sexual content and adult situations. Discretion is advised.

  Dedications

  To the indie writing and reading community—you never cease to amaze. These words are for you.

  To my wife and children, without whom none of this would be possible.

  #potato

  To the guys of the R&E Fraternity who I got to meet at the signing—BT Urruela, Golden Czermak, Seth King, Mickey Miller, Rob Somers, Derek Adam, Chris Genovese, and Jackson Kane—the conversations we had lasted way past that weekend.

  And a very special thank you to Scott ‘fucking’ Hildreth—thanks for helping me find True North

  Foreword

  My Dinner Date with Seth Gettysburg R&E Fraternity Signing, March 2018

  Okay, that title is clickbait 101. Fake news. Or, if not fake, intentionally misleading. I did have dinner with Seth King, but so did about three hundred people simultaneously. Some of you reading this were undoubtedly there, but for those who weren’t, allow me to contextualize a bit.

  I always like to include my thoughts at the beginning of a new series, or at the beginning of a particularly impactful work, as was the case with Away From Here. For my New York City’s Finest series I wrote my inspiration at the start of Calem. For this, I feel like explanation more than inspiration. As many of you reading this know (or, as those who are new to me will shortly find out) I wrote almost nine books in my first year and a half. I wrote a two book series (The Impressions Series), started the New York City’s Finest, and finally completed Away From Here—my first Young Adult novel. By the time I was getting ready to leave for my first signing in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, I was at a complete loss as to where to go next.

  Perhaps some authors have a cache of hundreds of plot ideas swimming around their heads at all times, but I’m certainly not one of them. I had just finished writing Riley, the 5th and final book in the NYC Finest, and I was done with Away From Here. It was at that moment (and, honestly, way before) that I had to ask myself that most loaded of questions: what am I going to do next?

  The answer came at the R&E Fraternity signing in Gettysburg. Saturday night there was a dinner hosted for all the participating authors. By happenstance I was seated next to Seth Nicholas King, author of Daddy Issues and many other great books. We discussed all manner of things, from sociological insights, our favorite books, to all things romance related. He thought of the basic idea for the story—that of a wounded male writer who’s saved by a woman he meets at a signing just like the one we were sitting at. From there, I came home and thought up the basic framework for this story. Like all stories, it took a million twists and turns that I hadn’t anticipated along the way. But, after all, that’s the fun of writing.

  Enjoy! More to come!

  Christopher—2018

  A Wordsmith.

  A Wordsmith.

  That’s what she called me. Why? Because I could make her feel things with my books that no one else ever could. My name is Michael, but everyone knows me as Knight.

  I write the books that you don’t want your family to know you’re reading. The ones whose spines you hold down so that passersby can’t see the cover, the ones you enjoy in the privacy of your bedroom, where no one can see the beads of sweat my words inspire forming on your forehead.

  My last book brought two women into my life—the one who broke my heart into a thousand pieces, and the one who may have the power to mend it.

  Everleigh.

  My lingering blank pages needed inspiration, and that’s exactly what she was.

  I know two things for certain—that my heart beats only for her, and that my best book is still inside me, if only she can help me pull the words from my wounded heart. I can be the writer that makes her heart pound in her chest. And soon, everyone will read my masterpiece.

  I’m a Wordsmith.

  Let me tell you my story.

  Michael Knight

  Author of Into Your Eyes, the Lost Lovers series, and an upcoming work, title TBA

  Co-author of the upcoming Wordsmith Chronicles Anthology

  Colton Chase

  Author of the MMA
themed Battle Tested series featuring alpha bad boy Aidan Paul. Book 1 is titled Fist. He’s currently working on book 2, The Gentle Art

  Co-author of the upcoming Wordsmith Chronicles Anthology

  Grayson Blackman

  Author of the Rom-Com series Benefits for Friends, and the Dark Romance Stolen series

  Co-author of the upcoming Wordsmith Chronicles Anthology

  The Brotherhood

  KL Steiner

  Roland Rays

  Johnathan Logan

  Authors

  True North

  Author of The Furious Pricks series, The Rotten Scoundrel series, along with 50 other novels, most of them bestsellers

  Greg Olden (‘G. Olden’)

  Author of the Flexed series/renowned photographer/fitness model

  Prologue

  There you are.

  Sitting at that table, shaming all of those other women who only think that they’re beautiful, the ones who probably worked on themselves for hours just to achieve the type of beauty that comes so effortlessly to you. This whole dining hall is a sea of women, but not a single one can hold a candle to you in any way.

  When we met you didn’t crowd me, or treat me like a rock star, or try to stroke my ego. You were just you—smart, sexy, and touched deeply by a book I’d convinced myself didn’t impact anyone except me. And more than anything, I could tell that you didn’t know how gorgeous you really are.

  Just like now.

  You sit back in your chair, never too concerned with anything going on around you, and never trying too hard to be anything but yourself. Others might see that as arrogance, but I know that it’s the epitome of confidence. And you have every reason to be confident in yourself. Right now your hair is down, and I’m mesmerized by those brown curls draped gently over one shoulder, falling at your breasts, and driving me absolutely insane. Even from this distance at the author’s table I can make out the emerald green in your eyes—the light reflecting off of them perfectly. When they look my direction you hold me in place, and all of the sounds around me become white noise, as if I’m in a dream that I never want to wake from.

  I didn’t know what I was doing here at first, in a place where everyone looks at me like I’m on display. Grayson and Colton asked me to be here. Better to be a good friend than a bad one, right? But I’d convinced myself that being here was a favor that I was doing them, even if they thought it was the other way around. How could I have known that coming here would bring you into my life? I guess the universe has its mysteries to keep.

  I’m the most reserved of us, even though I write steamy novels for a living. I’m a contradiction like that—a quiet, reserved, author who’s a romantic at heart, yet I write the kind of books that can make a tingle appear between your legs and get your heart racing in your chest. That’s me. I write the books you don’t want your family to know that you’re reading, the ones you’d hold down so that passers by couldn’t see the cover. I write the books that you enjoy in the privacy of your own room, where no one can see the beads of sweat my words make appear on your forehead.

  The other guys are the loud and boisterous ones—the ones who’ll keep the crowd of our fans and readers happy and laughing all weekend. I mostly smile. I mostly sit. I mostly use my energy to look at you and think the kind of thoughts that get me in trouble. There must be three hundred readers here, each dressed to the nines, each here for us, each busy taking selfies and drinking enough wine to give the entire hotel a hangover. The music is loud enough to drown out almost anything else, but it’s powerless to stop the thoughts running though my head.

  I’m used to having my thoughts dominate my life. I’m a writer, after all, and that comes with the territory. Only tonight I’m not worried about plot, or characters, or cover models, or blurbs that’ll catch a reader’s attention. No. Instead I’m wondering what your lips would feel like when they’re against mine, how much pressure I’d feel with your legs wrapped around my waist, squeezing me as I kiss you harder than you’ve ever been kissed before. I think about my body suspended over yours, promising to descend and bring you to unthinkable levels of ecstasy. Then I imagine the noises you’ll make as I slide inside of you, how your back would arch and your mouth would open to take in more air, because you’re going to need it.

  I see you stand up and start to walk out. You catch my glance, and we both understand each other without a single word needing to be spoken.

  I’m on my way, Everleigh, just like we arranged.

  I’m about to find out the answers to all of my questions, alone with you in the darkness of your room.

  Part I

  The Signing

  What do you do when your whole world crumbles around you?

  What happens when everything you've known is suddenly taken away, leaving you with an empty home and an unshaven face?

  There are only two choices that I can seem to think of.

  You can collapse on the floor, bent over your own body, and marinate in your sadness. Or. . .you can fight. You can go down swinging. You can look your problems in their cold, black eyes and tell them, "Not today."

  I've considered my options. I’ve weighed the pros and cons, and after careful consideration I’ve decided to go with option B.

  I'm going to fight.

  I'm going to go down swinging.

  I'm going to write my masterpiece.

  1

  Knight

  One Year Ago

  My name is Michael, but readers mostly call me by my pen name—Knight.

  I write smut for a living.

  When I meet someone casually, and they ask those getting-to-know-you, chit-chat type questions, inevitably my profession will come up. Most people are socialized to expect the same boring answers that everyone gives: I’m a dentist. I work in insurance. I’m in sales. I work with computers. Imagine their expressions when I tell them that I write some killer lady porn for a living. Sometimes I switch up the noun depending, on the situation. Smut, female porn, book porn, erotica, or whatever else I feel like saying, depending on who’s asking and how much I want to shock them. I love the reactions I get when the person I’m speaking to processes what I’ve told them.

  I don’t really think that about my work. It’s only when I’m feeling like a brat or when I’m really bored in a situation that I’ll go for pure shock value. But if I’m answering the ‘what do you do’ question honestly, I use descriptions that accurately reflect how I feel about my chosen profession.

  I'm an author—a storyteller.

  A wordsmith, by trade.

  I'm the guy who can move women to near orgasm with my words. Those words might be dismissed by the masses as trash—second rate writing at best—but they’re words that are crafted, honed to a fine edge, and poured over during countless hours of editing until every syllable serves a solitary goal: bringing my readers to the brink of climax. I don’t need Pulitzers, or National Book Awards to feel like a success. My measure of success is knowing that by the time a woman’s a few chapters deep into one of my books, her pussy is tingling as she reaches for her vibrator.

  My words will leave her wet, aching for the kind of experience that she just read about. And when she closes her eyes she'll see my characters—the alpha males whose bodies are the stuff of her deepest desires, and whose ability to fuck is the manifestation of her deepest, most hidden fantasies. When they put my paperback down on the nightstand before saying goodbye to consciousness, their last waking thought will be the following question—will anyone ever fuck me like that? If I can achieve all of that by the time you’ve reached the back cover, then I’m a success.

  So far, so good.

  Romance novels are leather bound bumps of cocaine—they take you to different planes of existence where all the things you fear to talk about in public are laid bare in so many filthy pages. Inhibitions cease to exist, fantasies come into technicolor clarity, and in your mind's eye you see him as he approaches your naked body on the bed, his massive
cock begging to be buried inside of you. Then, you close your eyes, and that's when the real fun begins.

  Before I started my full time gig as a romance novelist, I had a lot of odd jobs, and I almost ended up as a full time pastry chef, but the itch to write was too strong. I’ve been a writer all of my life in one form or another. When I was a little kid I used to annoy my parents by making up bad sci-fi and fantasy stories that were total Tolkien rip offs and force them to listen to me read them over dinner. In high school I wrote articles for my school’s newspaper, and when I finished college I had a bachelor’s degree in literature to call my own. Eventually I grew the balls to take the plunge into self-publishing my own books.