Blurb
Every good girl needs a bad boy to set her free!
To
anyone on the outside, I had a picturesque life, like a scene on the inside of
a snow globe.
I didn’t realize how I longed to be set free, until a set of blue eyes looking in, shook things up and shattered the glass around me.
I didn’t realize how I longed to be set free, until a set of blue eyes looking in, shook things up and shattered the glass around me.
It’s
been five long years since I’ve seen Dylan Stark. The man who owns my heart. Five
years since we last spoke. Touched. Kissed. Because, Dylan confessed to a murder
he didn’t commit.
Everything
changed since he’s been gone. There are things I need to explain. Secrets I’ve been
keeping.
Now
Dylan is back, and he’s dangerous as ever, because he still owns my heart. He
shakes up my world and makes me want to confront the truth.
I
don’t know if he can forgive me, so I’m not sure if this is our story’s end, or
if we are at the start of a new beginning…
Stark
Me is a second chance romance between a bad boy gone good, and a good girl gone
bad.
Purchase links-
Stark Me will be on sale for 99 cents
through the weekend.
Amazon https://bitly.im/oYMwQ
iTunes https://bitly.im/tZV3I
Excerpt
“What the fuck happened?”
Sirens blare. My head hurts. No, it doesn’t hurt,
it feels like it’s bursting at the seams.
It’s about to blow into a million tiny pieces any second now.
I blink my eyes a few times to clear
my blurred vision. Two sets of worried blue eyes stare back at me.
“Thank the fucking Lord,” Shea
Sullivan says, gathering me into his arms. I want to push him away, because
this only makes the sharp pain in my head worse, but I can’t.
It’s the other pair of eyes I can’t
pull my stare from. The blue eyes with a storm, more savage than the tornado
that tore Dorothy from Kansas, brewing in them. The deep blue eyes that narrow
on me with anger and suspicion. The blue eyes that I long to see a hint of
compassion in, even if it’s only for a moment. The eyes of bad boy Dylan Stark.
“What the fuck happened?” Dylan
repeats, anger heavy in his voice.
His words hit me like a slap in the
face. I don’t know what he’s talking about. I look around, and that’s when I
see it. Blood. All over me. Smeared on my shirt. Covering my hands. A scarlet-streaked
knife beside me.
Panic settles into my brain, clawing
its way into my soul.
“Jimmy,” I whisper. “Where is Jimmy?”
No answers are given before the
police storm the front door, guns drawn,
arms extended ready to shoot.
“Hands where I can see them,” a voice booms.
We do as we’re told, and I notice
that I’m the only one with blood on me.
My eyes are glued to Dylan, because whatever went down here, it’s
going to affect him most of all.
“Where is Jimmy?” I demand.
Dylan doesn’t answer. He just stares
at me, jaw clenched, a cold, hard look in his eyes, as he’s read his rights and
a pair of handcuffs is slapped tight on his wrists. He’s angry, unresponsive,
as they shove him out the door.
“Are you hurt?” An unfamiliar voice
directs the question at me.
“Yes.” I touch my chest
instinctively, but all seems fine. No cuts. No stab wounds. “No.” I’m confused.
I look back down at my hands. If I’m not hurt, where did all this blood come
from? “I mean, I don’t really know. My head is a wreck.” A new set of eyes
evaluates me with scrutiny.
Shea’s taken outside, but unlike
Dylan, he goes of his own free will, without the aide of cuffs or anyone pushing him forward. The officer watching
me presses a button on the communication device attached to his shirt collar
and speaks. I don’t know what he’s saying; it’s all jumbled, and my mind is on
Dylan.
A team of two men come in. A penlight
is flashed in my eyes, and sharp pain sears through my head.
“Fuck!” I say, screwing my eyes up
tight and holding my head between my hands. “That hurts.”
After a brief examination of my body,
one of the men asks if I can walk.
“Sure,” I answer, getting to my feet.
As soon as I’m halfway up, a wave of
dizziness and nausea sweeps over me. I extend my hands to break my fall,
because I’m going down and the floor is coming at me at warp speed.
The men are talking. I don’t know if
it’s to me or to each other. Sound has left me. Sight, too. Darkness creeps in
from the corner of my eyes and spreads inward until I can’t see anything but
the comfort of nothingness it offers.
Stalk me sites
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