Title: Pieces of Me
Author: Shiloh Walker
Release Date: July 30th 2017
Genre:
Contemporary Romance
http://bit.ly/2uwkBAo
Obsession can be deadly…
Nobody knows that better than Shadow Harper. It seemed like a dream
come true when a rich, suave older man noticed her during her second year of
college. Stefan Stockman seemed to love her obsessively. He came into her life
and swept her off her feet, seduced her, married her…and then slowly,
eventually, that dream come true became a living nightmare.
Now, three years after she finally escaped him, she’s trying to put her
life back together. Haunted by memories, struggling with post-traumatic stress,
she spends most of her time locked away in her home on Pawley’s Island, a small
town on the South Carolina coast. Her rare moments of joy come from her trips
to the nearby beach.
She compulsively checks the locks on her doors, makes sure she has her
cell phones—five of them—and if she misses something on her schedule, it throws
her into a panic.
When she accidentally leaves a sketchbook on the beach, an anxiety
attack seems imminent. Her art has become her salvation, her sanity, and losing
even one sketch is like losing a piece of her soul. When she returns to hunt
for the sketchbook, already fearing it’s gone for good, she’s surprised to find
it still sitting there, saved by a sexy fellow beach lover—the mysterious
Dillian Jenkins.
He’s brash, bold, brutally handsome…and gentle. He’s the exact opposite
of the man who’d tormented her for years, and Shadow finds herself slowly,
almost reluctantly, falling for him. Even obsessing over him.
When her ex-husband once again intrudes on the happiness she’s finally
discovering, Shadow turns to Dillian. But will she find shelter there…or
another betrayal?
Amazon AU: http://amzn.to/2tamW30
Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/2u3OWs2
There was another reason
I loved coming to the beach.
Another reason I liked
sitting there.
I don’t know his name.
He’s at the beach almost as often as I am and if he’s ever noticed me staring
at him, he hasn’t given any sign. So I let myself stare and I let myself watch.
I let myself wish.
Sometimes, just looking
at him makes me hurt inside. It’s a pins-and-needles sort of feeling, as if
something in me is trying to come back to life—slow, painful life.
I watch him and I think
about what it would be like if I had the courage to go up to him and say hi.
If I had the courage.
But he was the kind of
man who was forever out of my reach.
It was safer that way,
too. He was larger than life, full of heat and energy and a raw kind of
masculine beauty that made the body go almost numb.
He was too intense. Too
big. Too there. And he had a way about him that made me think he could be
cruel. He had a wolf tattooed across his back and since I didn’t know his name,
I called him Lobo.
Big, dark and built, he
looked like he belonged to the beach. Or maybe the beach belonged to him. His
hair was so short, it looked like he buzzed it off with a razor every day when
he rolled out of bed. Thoughts of him and bed made my heart jump around inside
my chest and needs I’d forgotten I even had stirred inside me.
There was a tattoo over
his left pectoral—a vivid starburst—although I’d never been close enough to see
the details too clearly. On his back was that wolf. A massive, snarling wolf.
It started low on his spine, stretched up across the elegant, ridged muscles
and finished with the wolf’s muzzle around his left shoulder.
Maybe Lobo seemed an odd
name for him, but he stalked the beach like a predator and I needed to have
some name for him since I couldn’t just think him every time I
saw him, thought of him. Dreamed of him.
And I did dream about
Lobo.
The dreams about him were
the only respite I had from my nightmares. Hot and sweaty dreams, the kind I’d
never thought I’d have again. Torrid, dirty dreams that had me moaning and
clenching my thighs together, longing to touch…and be touched.
Dreams that had me waking
feeling empty, filled with longing.
Wishing I was anybody but
who I was.
Wishing I had the courage
to reach out and take what I wanted, what I needed.
And I so desperately
needed.
My skin prickled and I
looked up as his gaze casually brushed over me. Our gazes collided and my
breath caught in my throat before I looked back down, staring at the sketch in
front of me.
It was Lobo again.
He was naked…again.
Shiloh
Walker has been writing since she was a kid... she fell in love with vampires
with the book Bunnicula and has worked her way up to the more...ah... serious
vampire stories. She loves reading and writing anything paranormal, anything
fantasy, but most all anything romantic. Once upon a time, she worked as a
nurse, but now she writes full time and lives with her family in the Midwest.
She also writes under the pen name J.C. Daniels.
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