Rebecca's Forgotten Journals + Bonuses and Extras Collection Read online

  Rebecca’s Forgotten Journals

  Bonuses and Extras

  Collection

  Table of Contents

  Part One: Rebecca’s Forgotten Journals Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Part Two: The Inside Out Series Series Introduction

  Character Profiles

  Favorite Chris & Sara Excerpt

  Favorite Sara & Mark Excerpt

  Series Playlist

  Fan Favorite Quotes

  Book Club Questions for If I Were You

  Part Three: The Careless Whispers Series Series Introduction

  Sexy excerpt from Denial (book one)

  Part Four: The Secret Life of Amy Bensen Series Introduction

  Character Profiles

  The Places from Amy Bensen’s Life

  Fan Favorite Quotes

  David Garrett

  Series Playlist

  Part Five: The Tall, Dark & Deadly Series Series Introduction

  Sexy excerpt from Hot Secrets (book one)

  Part Six: The Walker Security Series Series Introduction

  Sexy excerpt from Deep Under (book one)

  Part Seven: The White Lies Duet Series Introduction

  Sexy excerpt from Provocative (book one)

  Part Eight: The Dirty Rich Series Series Introduction

  Sexy excerpt from Dirty Rich One Night Stand (book one)

  Part Nine: The Lilah Love Series Series Introduction

  Excerpt from Murder Notes (book one)

  Part Ten: Bonus Scenes Bonus Chris & Sara Scene

  Bonus Kayden & Ella Scene

  Bonus Liam & Amy Scene

  Bonus Chad & Gia Scene

  My series and books

  About the Author

  Dear Readers:

  Thank you so much for picking up your copy of Rebecca’s Forgotten Journals and bonus and extras book! So what is this book? Well, a few years ago, I wrote Rebecca’s Forgotten Journals for a site called Hypable. If you’re a fan of my Inside Out series, you are probably familiar with Rebecca’s Lost Journals. Well, Rebecca’s Forgotten Journals is a continuation of that. These are more journals that have never been formally released. What is also included are some tidbits from my Inside Out, Careless Whispers, Secret Life of Amy Bensen, Tall Dark & Deadly, Walker Security, White Lies, Dirty Rich and Lilah Love series. Mostly just excerpts that I love, character profiles, behind the scenes information, and finally, they very last part of this bonus book are the BONUS SCENES!

  If you’ve been a reader for a while, you’ve likely seen me talk about these bonus scenes, and readers have requested so many times that these be formally published, so since this is really an everything book, I knew they needed to be included in here.

  I know there’s a lot of content, and it could seemingly be random, but I have it separated out into different parts that will hopefully make sense.

  Happy Reading!

  Lisa Renee Jones

  PART ONE

  Rebecca’s Forgotten Journals

  Chapter One

  June 2011

  I am sitting in my apartment, in the living room on my couch, with twelve dozen roses surrounding me. I’ve written this before, you say. Why yes, I have, about five months ago, I think. And yes, he sent them again. This time they are white, not red, and this time rather than an apology, they feel like a promise. An invitation to be something other than what we have been in the past. Something more than master and submissive. Oh, I know that master and submissive is quite special to many, but to those many, it is right for them. It was never right for me. He was, though. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Maybe it’s the heady scent of the flowers he’s made me love. Maybe it’s the heady sense of hope these flowers, delivered after a month of silence between us, have now created. Or maybe it’s the fact that the card reads: Tonight. Eight o’clock. I’ll send a car.

  I admit that when I opened the card, my hand had been shaking. And I admit that when I read that card, my heart hurt. It hurt because that is the kind of note he sent me when I was his submissive.

  He ordered.

  I obeyed.

  Now don’t get me wrong. There is something about the power and sexuality of this man that makes an order hard to resist. And safe. I am not sure why I feel safe with him when the truth is that he’s made me feel emotionally betrayed. I am sure if I go back now and read my prior entries there would be many examples of why that is the case. But the reality here is that he always, always felt safe. He felt like my protector. He felt like the other half of my soul and I was his. And I think he needed–still needs–me to heal that soul. It’s crazy, I know, but I’m getting ahead of myself.

  It’s been weeks since I have written a word. Why did I go silent when this is my therapy and sanity? I visited my mother’s grave, and it opened that barely sealed wound all over again. And the nightmares. They were there every single time I went to sleep. Honestly, I didn’t want to remember what I was feeling during those weeks. I lost me for a while when I lost my mother, I think, and it was like it was happening again. It hurt. Imagine me laughing bitterly right now. I mean, does the word “hurt” even begin to define what losing a mother means? I think, even if you aren’t close to a parent, it’s like having part of your soul leave this earth. You are alone. Only I wasn’t alone because I found him. He went with me to the grave, but he wasn’t really there. It felt, like he wasn’t with me. Like he’d shut down and cut me out. I think the visit hit some nerve in him, cut him, where he was already cut as well. But he wouldn’t say that. He wouldn’t let us evolve and heal together. My reaction was to shut him out the way he had me, and even though it was my choice, the result was: I lost him, too.

  Him.

  Funny how I never write his name.

  I just call him Master.

  But you see, that’s where life has become complicated. When I revisited the loss of my mother, I was reminded that life is short. And I knew that I could no longer play this game of master and submissive with him. That isn’t who I am. I’m so far from submissive, it’s really comical that I ever decided to sign his contract and wear that rose-adorned ring he’d given me. I did things with him, for him, because of him, that I would never have done with, or for, anyone else. I often ask myself how I went down this path when I am not a natural submissive. I’ve actually thought a lot about this question.

  I think step one was what I felt when I looked into his eyes and when I was in his presence. Like he owned the world around him. Like if he said I would feel pleasure, I’d feel it. If he said I was safe, I would be. Like he would be the escape I didn’t dare myself in any other part of my life. I found that part of being his submissive addictive. There was no room for worry or fear because he was that consuming. And then there was what I saw in his eyes when he let down his guard and often, I’m not sure he even knew that he did. The pain. The need. The tenderness. The past that torments him and makes him protect himself even from me. But I’ve earned his trust. I deserve to have that wall fall. That’s when I said, no more. Not until he gave all of himself to me.

  And so, the flowers came. And the card that read like every other card. After fifteen minutes of debate, I called him. Oh God. I called him and hearing his voice again, when spoken just for me, not for anyone else, as silly as that sounds, slid through me like salve to a bleeding soul. />
  “Rebecca,” he’d said softly, but with that familiar command radiating through his tone.

  “Hello,” I said, because I could not say master, and I could not say his name. Nothing felt right.

  “The flowers-”

  “Are beautiful. Why are they white?”

  “Because we can color them, and us, any way we choose.”

  I sucked in air, and breathed out my reply. “What does this mean?”

  “It means I don’t know if I know how to be what you need me to be.”

  “I don’t want you to be what I want you to be. I want you to be you. The real you.”

  “You’ve seen more of me than anyone else ever has.”

  “I know.”

  “And yet it’s not enough.”

  “It is, as long as that isn’t all I ever get.”

  “I’m not ready for more, Rebecca, but it’s not about you.”

  My chest had tightened. “Then why even send me the flowers?”

  “Because I miss you.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes. I do. I haven’t touched another woman since you shut me out.”

  I am stunned. “Not even at the club?”

  “No other woman. I want you. Just you. I just need more time to figure out what that means, but not without you. With you.”

  “Because of something in your past.”

  He is silent for heavy seconds. “Yes.”

  “Will you ever tell me about it?”

  “I don’t talk about it.”

  I don’t push. This is more than he has ever given me. “I can’t be your submissive again.”

  “Go to dinner with me tonight. On a date.”

  “A real date?”

  “Yes. A real date, but I can’t promise what that means. Say yes, Rebecca.”

  It’s enough. It’s a start and so I’d said what he’d ordered me to say, but not because he’d ordered it. Because I’d wanted to. I’d said yes.

  And so, I’m going on a date with him tonight and I will be Rebecca. Just Rebecca. If he can’t handle that, it will be our real goodbye. If he can, perhaps it will be our first real hello.

  Chapter Two

  June 2011

  Friday, six am

  I woke from another nightmare this morning. My mother was there. I wish I could say that was a dream, rather than a nightmare, and that I’d relived some fond memory with her. And I thought that was the case. But I always do. Everything was perfect at first. She was alive and not sick anymore. We were on the trolley with coffee in our hands and nibbling on pastries. It was sunny and warm even in the wind. We were laughing and smiling. I was telling her about my date tonight. She wanted to know all about the man romancing her daughter and I actually told her. I told someone about him. Not the Master he was to be, but the man he is to me. Suddenly though the sunny day became stormy. It was cold and rain pummeled us. My mother and I huddled together, and then what always happens in these nightmares, happens. The trolley starts to speed, the car bumping and jolting. The people around me fade, even my mother. I call out to her. She reaches for me. Of course, the inevitable happens, the trolley jumps the tracks and dives into the icy water of the bay. I feel the cold to my bones, and it hurts. The pain is so intense. I manage to push out of the trolley, but then I’m sinking. I start swimming and swimming but I can’t reach the top. My mother appears, and I reach for her, but she doesn’t offer me a hand. She just stares at me. She lets me die.

  I woke up gasping for air and with tears streaming down my cheeks. My mother. I felt as if she’d betrayed me but that is kind of easy to understand. She kept on smoking and smoking, knowing it was killing her. She left me alone. I think it’s strange though that I have this nightmare when tonight is my date night with him. It’s almost as if my mind is telling me this isn’t going to go anywhere. I’m headed for heartache. I’m not sure why I’m interpreting it like this, but I am. He’s going to hurt me. I’m almost certain of this but I’m going into this experience with open eyes. He is a wounded man and the truth is, I am wounded in my own ways, too. I think we need each other and maybe its not forever. But I believe, in my heart, that people cross our path for a reason. They help us grow or survive. That’s it.

  I think we are both helping each other survive.

  ***

  Friday, seven pm

  Almost date time!

  Tonight is the night and while my nightmare this morning had me concerned it was a sign it would go poorly, I’ve changed my mind. I sold a ridiculously expensive Ricco Alvarez painting at the gallery today and when I called to tell him, he was elated, and agreed to show more of his work with us. Ricco Alvarez. He’s incredible and I am the reason he is showing with us. When I told my boss, he was pleased, too. It really set the tone for this night.

  Tonight.

  Tonight is the night.

  Date night with a man I’ve called Master who is no longer my Master. A real date, where he will not be my Master. I might need to write that like ten more times to believe it’s true. I’m not sure what to expect but my nerves are eased by the idea that he doesn’t know either. This is new territory for me. This is new territory for him, and he told me that, which is big for him. He doesn’t share pieces of himself and I don’t know if he realizes he did by telling me this but he did. He shuts himself off. He uses sex and master and submissive to keep anyone from seeing the real him. But I have seen the real him. In those intimate moments, where I was his submissive, where he had full control and we were alone, there were times, when he looked at me, and let the walls down. He let me see the heartache, the fear, the pain. He let me see the brutality of a secret, I may not know by detail, but I know through him. I also know, as much as it gutted me when he invited others into our play, that it always happened after I’d seen a piece of him. It was his way of shutting me out before I saw too much.

  I’m done with that. He’s done with that. We’re done with that.

  No more hiding.

  I get all of him or it’s time to say goodbye.

  I just hope this is a new hello.

  Maybe I won’t even have sex with him. That would truly be a fresh start.

  ***

  Saturday, seven am

  I haven’t slept. I’ve been with him. And I have to work today so I can’t write much now but I need to get at least some of my thoughts down. Remember when I said I wouldn’t have sex with him? I did. Of course, I did. I mean that’s how he hides his emotions so maybe I shouldn’t have, but how could I completely remove his shield? How could I completely strip him bare? It’s a decision I made almost the first moment our eyes locked last night.

  He came to the door. Normally, he commands me to a car with a driver who delivers me to him. But no. He came to me. He knocked and I stood at the door, adjusting my little black dress, wondering if the shade of pink lipstick I’d chosen said “do me” or “love me.” I think maybe it said both. I’d taken a deep breath and opened the door. He stood there, in a gray, custom suit, looking like every woman’s fantasy, his eyes steel heat when they met mine.

  “Rebecca,” he said softly, his voice a rasp of emotion, and in that moment, I flashed back to intimate moments where I’d been naked and in his arms. When I’d given myself to him as I have no one before him and I doubt anyone after. I could taste him on my lips. Feel his hands. And yet he hadn’t moved and neither had I.

  I knew then, that we would be intimate that night, but I knew, too, that it would be different. And it was. It was different. It was…so very different. I need to think about exactly what that means. I need to write out every moment and I will. Just not yet and not just because I have to go to work. I need to think. I need to process every touch, taste, and caress I experienced last night in my mind again before I put it on the page.

  More soon.

  Chapter Three

  June 2011

  Saturday, six pm

  I’m supposed to write a
bout my date last night but right now I’m riding this high that I can’t let go. Maybe I don’t want to write about that date. Maybe some part of me knows I handled the night wrong. Maybe I know I sealed the deal that means THE END. Or maybe I really am just excited about today. I sold a hundred thousand dollar painting today. I almost thought I saw Mark Compton smile, but Bossman, doesn’t do smiles. He does disapproval or approval. I pleased him today but more than anything I pleased me. I’m good at this job. I know art. I love art. This is my world. And that is the entire point in taking control of my personal life. Since I lost my mother, really since she got sick, I didn’t own my life. I think for a while I had a man at work and in my bed, that were such control freaks, I let myself lose touch with me. As I mentioned several entries ago, I’ve thought a lot about why such a strong independent person like myself dived into the role of submissive. What got me to a place with him that I had to say no more.

  It hit me when I was with him last night, why I said yes, and it comes back to how it all started. What he’d promised me, what he’d made me feel. It came back to safety. I still remember the moment when things between us had changed. I’d been sitting at a little bakery coffee shop a few blocks from work. Not the one next door. That one is owned by Ava. She’s in love with Mark Compton, Bossman himself, and from the moment I started working at the Gallery, she was snotty. I stay away for her. How I know she loves him is another story for another entry. Bottom line. I don’t like visiting her coffee shop.

  Anyway, this is about him and me. About the way things between us had changed from casual acquaintances to submissive and master. And actually maybe I have Ava to thank for that otherwise I might not have been avoiding her, thus being at the right place at the right to run into him. So…I’d been at the bakery, sitting at a back, corner table when he’d walked in. I remember knowing the very moment he entered, the way the energy in the room had shifted and changed. The way I’d looked up, my gaze lifting to land on him to find his attention on me. Almost as if he’d come for me.