Two men want me and I want them. Simple, right? Except for one slight complication…
For over two years, I’ve been dealing with a pain in the butt MY way.
Separately. She has her life and I have mine. They don’t intermingle. It’s the only way to keep things sane. But now she’s done something monumentally stupid and the only way to untangle myself from her mess is to live life in her shoes. Me, on the run in five inch stilettos. Great.
My name is Trista Dividir. I have Dissociative Identity Disorder and Marvy is my other personality, my alter.
To get my life back, I lie, I cheat, and I fall for both of her lovers. Little do I know, I’m not the only liar.
Did I mention I have another alter? Yeah, I didn’t know about her either.
Book one in a three part contemporary romantic suspense series.
** Due to explicit language and scenes, this is recommended for a mature audience, 21+ **
He stares at me in the elevator, waiting
for me to say something. I nervously keep my eyes forward, trying not to catch
his reflection, but it’s pointless in the mirrored elevator. Struggling to
suppress the smile pulling the corners of my mouth, I pucker my lips when I
catch myself glimpsing his well landscaped body. My heart slams my ribs with
fear and admittedly, a little pleasure.
Frozen in place, I finally swallow the
deluge of saliva building in my mouth. “About my car, my friend drove me here
and she’s waiting for me outside.”
He hasn’t taken his eyes off me, but they
narrow as he tips his head to the side. “Yeah, I saw it last night when the
valet guys brought me the keys. It’s safe.”
Tilting my head down, I dart my eyes left
and right. “So…um…can I get them?”
“They’re in the office.”
I blanch and my head jerks up. “What the
heck? Then why are we going to the penthouse?” My voice squeaks like a
prepubescent boy; I can’t help it. For a moment, I stop breathing.
don’t let him want to get some.
A twisting pain guts me as the knots in my stomach clamp down.
The guy flashes a smile that should be
illegal in this universe. My mind begins to wander with Marvy-like thoughts.
“You look different in the daylight.”
My ears erupt in flames. Instinctively, I
move my ponytail forward trying to block my face. I wish I had a hat on.
Irritated at both myself and his comment,
my back stiffens. “I like this look,” I say flatly.
“I do too! But it so doesn’t look like
you.” Unabashed, he moves closer.
On impulse, I try to match his steps
moving farther away, but he closes the distance.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, brushing his
fingers against my arm.
The knots sail from my stomach to my chest
and then back down to my stomach. I know I should keep my distance, but my feet
aren’t moving this time.
“Nothing,” I whisper, my breath lost.
Leaning in, he traps me between his arms
and the mirrored wall. I have no choice but to spin and face him. His closeness
makes me back up, only to realize I’m against the same wall he was against last
night. He cocks his head to catch my gaze. The flare in them should be a
warning I heed, but I’m lost in a sea of hazel-green. Dipping his head, he
kisses the nape of my neck below my ear and I am drowning.
God! My eyes flutter back as I unsuccessfully
try not to enjoy it, but my mind is in a freefall.
The knots melt, turning warm and slick
below my hips. Between my thighs they explode with pulses. His soft lips
explore behind my ear, and with small soft teasing bites. When he moves to my
mouth, every resolve I walked in with disintegrates.
His kisses are rough at first but he must
notice my unease. Pulling back, he holds my face, and searches my eyes for a
few blinks. The next kiss is a baiting tender lip touch and small nibbles. I
respond to the sweetness and part my mouth to taste more of him. When his hands
go to my hips to pull me closer, my arms go around his neck as if they belong
there. I stand on my tippy toes to maximize every inch to reach him. He moves
his hand up to my breast, cupping it like he did with Marvy last night.
Reality slams into me and I snap my eyes
open, tears stinging my sight.
Panting, I shove him back. Fucking fuck–all! I was right! He is a
great kisser, but I can’t do this. This is her, not me. I look at the
lights indicating floors. I swear this
damn elevator was faster last night!
my breath I rattle, “I…I...I can’t do this right now. I just came to get my
car. I have shit to do today and my friend is waiting outside.”
Stunned, he blinks at me. “Oooh–kay.” He
narrows his eyes again. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
I shed my jacket as it’s suddenly piping
hot in the elevator. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“What the hell is this?” he asks, grabbing
my arm with the bruises. “Did he do this?”
My eyebrows shoot up. He? So it wasn’t this guy! I think happily with a small smile of
“Wipe that look off your face, Marvy. I
told you he’s dangerous!” He points a finger and the severe tone tells me more
than I want to know about Marvy’s outing. The guy growls and rakes his hands
through his hair. “Look, I’m sorry. It’s just I’ve seen how he treats women,”
he says with a softer tone, tracing the bruises on my arm.
I jump a few inches when Kitta’s ringtone,
Baby Got Back, pierces the silence. I
step out of the guy’s grasp and fumble with my phone to answer it.
SVC Ricketts is a Contemporary Romance author and professional smart alec (self-professed). Her work has been recognized by the Pacific Northwest Writers Association and was selected as a finalist for the 2013 PNWA Literary Competition in the Romance category.
Raised between Southern California and Oahu, she moved to the Pacific Northwest in 1993 and although she loves it here, her heart belongs to the Islands - it always will. When she’s not in, what she loving calls “book-mode,” she multitasks her life between her hilarious adult special needs daughter, super smexy husband of 11 years, two dogs, and sweating out her stress in a hot yoga studio. She’s also an avid Twitter (@SVC_Ricketts) and Facebook (SVC Ricketts) addict (again, self-professed). If you want to check out her other ramblings, you can visit her at www.SmexyIndieAuthor.com.
Amanda's a stereotypical bored housewife. Her life would be mundane if not for the wild predicament she's in: her husband's buddy has been blackmailing her for sexual favors. (To learn more of how that came about, check out the prior book in the series, Amanda's Descent. You don't absolutely need to read them in order but it will help and it also wasn't a bad read either.)
The book begins with a little of this background (again, if you want more, read the other book) and the author informs us that most of Craig's advances occur when the husband Mark is away on business. He works to bring new accounts into the company, and is out of town quite often. In the opening chapter, though, we learn that Mark is about to be promoted, and his "Rocket Man" days will be a thing of the past. This will put a serious damper on Craig's exploits with Amanda. Craig hatches a plan: seven people are in line to interview for Mark's old job, and he reasons that if these interviews don't occur, his friend can't be replaced and promoted. Amanda's mission... or, her "Assignment", will be to stop the interviews from happening. It's a slightly shaky premise... but just go with it. The story quickly moves along and gets us into the action.
All in all, six men (and one woman) are scheduled for interviews, and Amanda has to stop them from keeping the appointments by any means necessary. In two of the scenarios, she actually pretends to be the interviewer and "hijacks" the interview process. For others, she uses deceit and subterfuge, including fake car trouble, burglary and a strategic coffee spill. At one point, she even participates in a video game contest of "strip Xbox" to keep her mission alive.
The husband's friend, Craig, is the protagonist... but he also isn't. You will have to read the book to fully understand what I mean. But, like in Descent, Craig arranges depraved sexual encounters for Amanda and then recedes into the background. In fact, he's only in two and a half scenes in this story. In this reviewer's opinion, this actually serves to take the story to another level. Rather than having Craig grab Amanda by the arm and say "go seduce that guy" or "you had better have sex with that couple"--Amanda's character is given the latitude to explore on her own. In many of the scenes, she's assertive, taking charge and dominating her partner. In other scenes, the blackmail/forced scenario plays out (Amanda is handcuffed in two scenes and pinned by a jealous wife in another.)
All in all, a very enjoyable journey.
--Mandy Wolfe (Goodreads reviewer)
Smashwords-- Use coupon code ZP79T for 50% off the Amazon price!
He kissed her. Amanda kissed back heartily. She knew this would encourage Craig further, but the alternative was to piss him off.
His mouth moved to her neck and his hands were now cupping her breasts, gently fondling them. Warily, she kept an eye on the doorway and the stairway beyond.
His right hand broke away and glided down her belly. His mouth took its place on her left breast, sucking her nipple in between his teeth. Now his hand crossed the threshold of her waistband, slipping into her panties toward her clit. In a couple of seconds, he would find out how wet she was, and probably tease her about it.
Amanda shut her eyes.
"Craig, please, my husband is in the house..."
"But it would be ok if he wasn't?" He gave a low chuckle--this was his way of reminding her what a whore he'd turned her into.
"No... I meant..."
His finger began stroking her clit. The redhead exhaled sharply.
"Do you want me to stop, Amanda?"
The tormented housewife knew it was a no-win question. If I say yes, he teases me and humiliates me... and keeps using me anyway. If I say no... then I'm the whore he tells me I am.
He gave her nipple a bite. She winced, but remained still.
"Well? Amanda, should I stop?"
"Yes," she pleaded. "Just for now, because he's in the house," she added, trying to find middle ground.
He continued to rub her clit and to suck on her nipple. She gripped the bench top tightly, trying simultaneously to enjoy his attentions and to not enjoy them. Gradually, she resigned herself to the fact that the end result would be the same--Craig doing with her as he pleased--so she relaxed slightly. His fingers felt really good, and his mouth... as long as he wasn't biting, it was just fine by Amanda.
His hand wandered lower, and two of his fingers slid into her now.
"Damn, you're so wet, Amanda..."
She was sure that he'd taunt her about her arousal, but he didn't. Thankful, she gave a contented moan.
From upstairs, there were footsteps. Hastily, Amanda pulled Craig's hand out of her shorts while squirming away from his oral attention.
"What are you doing?" he demanded quietly.
"My husband... he's coming..."
Craig seemed unfazed. "Put your hands back where I told you." Before waiting for her to obey, he grabbed her wrists and led them back till she was again reluctantly gripping the bench top.
"Craig..." But he'd already slid his hand back into her panties, and turned his oral attentions to her right breast now. This time, though, he wasn't being gentle. His teeth found the base of her hard nipple and bit into it. Amanda responded with a strangled yelp. To her chagrin, she could also feel herself growing wetter.
He felt it too, but merely laughed and fingered her faster.
Footsteps continued from upstairs.
"Craig," she whispered urgently, "he's going to catch us..."
"Cum, Amanda," he replied, his teeth never loosing their grip on her tender flesh. He stabbed his fingers deep into her, and she realized his intention. He was going to keep fucking her with his fingers until he made her cum. And, unlike with her clit, when he finished her off this way, Amanda knew that she would squirt. Her panties and her shorts would be soaked--it was bad enough that she'd have to sneak upstairs to change her blouse, but Craig was bent on leaving her looking and smelling like sex, and at the risk of being caught by her husband.
"Rub my clit, please," she implored, her eyes dancing nervously on the ceiling as she listened for Mark. "Please, Craig, that'll make me cum..."
He fingered her faster. "This will make you cum, too."
"No? Then maybe you need more stimulation..." His mouth moved back to her left tit, and his teeth cruelly bit into the pink flesh of her already aching nipple.
"Ohhhhh!" Although it was against his orders, she brought her hand up and shoved her wrist into her mouth, stifling her cry of pain. This time, he didn't let up, and Amanda willed herself to keep still. Squirming would only increase the agony, she knew from prior Craig experience.
Her pussy, on the other hand, was another matter entirely. The violated redhead could feel herself dripping all over Craig's fingers, and indeed there was now very little in the way of friction down there...
The first book, Amanda's Descent, follows the beginning of Amanda's adventure, showing us how she's transformed from an ordinary housewife to a sex slave...
"Not for the faint of heart... what starts out as a simple dare turns into a full blown series of sexually charged scenes... until you are out of breath, and in some serious needs of your own..."
--Heidi Lis (Amazon reviewer)
"My husband called this book stroke material when I told him what I had just finished reading. This book is super HOT and down and dirty!"
--Tanya Rae Walling (Amazon and Goodreads reviewer)
"...although I did feel sorry for Amanda...I would have had a go at her myself..."
Smashwords (use coupon code ZU47R for $1 off the Amazon price)
Released as part of Crossroads, a collection of Dylan Cross stories...
"You want to feel sorry for what Craig is putting Amanda through, but it's just so damn hot. Hubby was one happy camper while I was reading this book! I threw myself into this story, I was Amanda enjoying all that hot and steamy sex..."
--Andrea Franklin (Amazon reviewer)
"Make sure you're ready for this, because honey -- you're about to submit to a style that is beyond anything else out there..."
Whenever Amanda's husband Mark goes out of town, it's playtime for his best friend. Ever since Craig caught Amanda in a compromising situation with the cable guy, he's had his way with her.
Mark has exciting news. He's being considered for a promotion, which will involve less travel time--and, thus, an end to Craig's play. All Mark has to do is interview and hire a replacement for his position.
Craig explains to Amanda that this just won't do. Her mission: to find each candidate and prevent them from keeping their appointments--if Mark can't be promoted, he can't be replaced. For this assignment, Amanda will need creativity, intuition--and, a generous helping of doing what she does best...
Julie and Matt led Amanda back to the desk. They bent the handcuffed redhead at the waist, pushing her over the desktop so that her breasts were about a foot from the edge.
"My boyfriend's going to have a little fun with the two of us now," Julie announced, and then walked around to the opposite end of the desk, bending herself over it in the same manner as Amanda, the two girls' faces about six inches apart now. The blonde secretary's eyes were lit up with excitement behind her glasses...
Matt stepped behind Julie first and began rubbing and massaging her ass. The girl moaned contentedly at the attention, although with slight anticipation. She didn't have to wait long--a few seconds later, the thundering crack of skin on skin echoed through the office as the palm of his hand met his girlfriend's asscheek. Julie's eyes widened and she gave a loud, exuberant moan. The spanking continued, and Amanda lost count after five or six strikes. Julie stared lustfully at her new playmate.
The spanking stopped, and Matt's hand reached between his girlfriend's legs. Julie's eyes slipped shut; her expression changed to one of increased relaxation and bliss, and Amanda knew that her counterpart was being fingered even before the rhythmic moaning began.
He's going to do that to me next. Amanda's own clit began to throb again at the thought. While his girlfriend watches... and I couldn't do anything about it even if I wanted to.
She didn't have to wait long. Matt pulled his attention away, causing Julie to sigh longingly. He walked around the desk and took his place behind Amanda.
She felt his hands on her ass, rubbing and caressing. Her first concern was that her counterpart might get jealous--Amanda certainly wanted to remain on Julie's good side. But Julie watched excitedly as Amanda's "turn" began.
SMACK! The sound reverberated off the walls again as she felt the sting of his palm. Amanda cried out, while across from her, Julie moaned with lust. Another spank, then another. Matt varied them in intensity and location, but it was enough to make the redhead feel some definite heat. She counted eight swats, and then he stopped.
As he'd done with Julie, Matt slipped his hand between Amanda's thighs. She moved her feet slightly further apart to provide access for him, briefly wondering if he or Julie would notice, and if this further earmarked her as a slut. She shut her eyes as he slipped two fingers inside her now and began fucking her, just as he'd done to his girlfriend a few minutes ago. Amanda tried to contain her pleasure, again lest Julie become jealous or upset. She also tried to will herself to not thrust back against his invading fingers, but found herself failing miserably in this regard.
"Mmmmmmmm..." A soft moan, from in front of her. Amanda opened her eyes to find Julie's tightly closed, an expression of bliss on her face. Looking further, the redhead noted the cause--the other woman's left hand was still on the desk, steadying herself, but the other hand had disappeared off of the desktop. Julie was touching herself...
Losing the love of your life is one of the hardest things anyone would ever have to face. Especially when your life with them was just beginning. When tragedy strikes on what should be the happiest time of your life, how are you supposed to pick up the pieces of your life and move on without them?
Two strangers who happen to share a life changing event, come to find solace in each other to help deal with their pain. One of them feels the guilt of being the reason that a life was lost. The other guilty for making a last second choice.
Both of them, guilty that they survived.
But what happens when a bond that surfaces from tragedy brings these two strangers together? Finding comfort in each other as they both deal with the same pain, was never the plan. Can they look beyond the guilt of the past in order stop
themselves dying along with their loved ones, but instead live and learn to love again?
What happens when losing your first love becomes the reason for meeting your one true love?
Cassy is a fitness goddess by day and romance author by night. When she isn't writing furiously on her next novel, she's making books look beautiful inside and out as a graphic designer or capturing beautiful images with her camera. She has an unhealthy obsession with peanut butter, pedicures, and all things Les Mills group fitness. She has on occasion been seen purchasing clothes that aren’t athletic apparel (although rare).
She released her debut novel, The Price of Love, in March of 2014. The Celtic Knot Novels are her first erotic romance series. Books 1 and 2, Ashley’s Bend and Figure Eight both reached #1 in Erotic Thrillers on Amazon. Book 3, Triquetra, released September 22, 2014 and book 4 the companion novel, Axel Hitch was released in December of 2014.
Her second standalone novel, Void was released in February of 2014. She is looking forward to bringing you more incredible stories in the future!
My name is Shula. Today is my wedding day. Today is the day I die.
What would you do if you were betrothed to a monster? Could you be tied to a man whose most terrible secrets are buried with the dead?
What if you were given a way out? Would you take it? Even if it meant you would never truly be free?
A Consummation pulls you into a patriarchal society of secessionist Texas. It's far too real to be merely dystopian or futuristic. It is hopeless from the first sentence, but even though the outcome is bleak, we want to be a witness to Shula Kelley's last day.
We find that it is not her last day, but a first of many. We follow her and the desperate lust she feels for her husband Jared, despite archaic gender roles.
Not To Be gives us first person narratives of the mother and father of the current Agnesson clan. It's a captivating exploration of unapologetic psychopathy as you see James through the lens of his young bride.
Devoutly takes us across Texas, the States, and Mexico. The lives that James Agnesson has touched wait quietly on the sidelines while he distracts himself with judging the sins of others and the wives of his youngest sons.
Shula and Jared still explore desires that contradict their conditioning, while Jude convinces himself that gender is irrelevant when he beds his new wife, Clara.
In To Be Wished, Jared battles his own demons with tragic results. Jude gives his father an ultimatum, and we meet a new brother who has traveled to the States to spread the Good News.
This introduction into the Sins of Lethe world is both seductive and distressing, and will leave you breathless.
I am not afraid of death. Because my mother taught me there are far worse things. But with Jared by my side, I'm ready to live.
She was newly eighteen, but she still felt so much like a child. Far too young for what was expected of her. Her naked body, covered in constellations of freckles, goose fleshed and covered in the dark remnants of her copious locks, memories of braids and pigtails and innocence. It felt wrong to curl and primp for a man older than her own father, no matter how many might have coveted the position. Though decorating herself for the day's final end did seem to amuse her, she wanted his disappointment of her to be profound, not just in their marriage bed, but as soon as he lifted her veil. So, she had brought out the scissors. She wasn't a girl any longer, and her hair had no purpose as it had served her beauty with ultimate betrayal.
She couldn't abide traitors.
She watched detached, as she brushed the thick dead clumps that covered her breasts and skimmed her belly, and clung to the hair on her pubis. She brushed it away absently at first, but she found her senses heightened by her nudity and the stimulation of her falling hair. She slid her fingers against her clitoris, smiling at the rush of arousal, and realized that she would miss this. Sexual thoughts were taboo, and unless you had the express consent of your husband, self-gratification was punishable by a life married to Christ, sequestered with the rest of the girls who would never be accused of keeping their hands to themselves.
Naturally, Shula was quite adept with masturbation once she'd discovered her clitoris, and once she'd heard about the sacrament of virginity, she'd tried out every vegetable from the garden. She'd tried candlesticks, her fingers, and even the hilt of a very large kitchen knife, though the horsewhip was her favorite.
She would miss it all. James Agnesson ruined everything.
Earlier in the week, when James had come calling, and he had sampled the food she had prepared for him, she would have poisoned him had she known. As it was, her hatred grew for him, rather than their situation, and her plans for their wedding and honeymoon became quite morbid. She found that her future groom's frustration wouldn't be nearly enough, nor her lack of hymen. He would not have the gift of her purity, nor the proof of it, nor would any man now, because even imagining his realization as he's rutting inside her didn't bring her pleasure as it had when she imagined it was his son, Jared. She didn't want to just ruin his day. She wanted to ruin him. For Jared, his confusion would have been satisfactory enough, but for his father…death was preferable than having him touch her.
The day had come, and a more wretched ending was born. She would not have the honor of seeing his face when he gazed upon her in their marriage bed, but like all charity, it's best not to be selfish in your giving. She would strive for humbleness, because martyrdom wasn't effective without a captive audience.
Her mother had probably taught her a great many things, the domesticities of their gender not withstanding, and she'd taken almost all of it for granted. The one thing that she'd always remember though, was the most profane: Sometimes suicide and the Seventh Circle of Hell were a far desired fate if the alternative was life and all the Circles combined.
Today was that day. Her wedding day. Tonight, she would excuse herself early, and he would surely allow it. Women, for she was a woman now, needed time to prepare for bed. To ready themselves for their husbands and their pleasure.
She would pull down the coverlet, open the cigarette case, and fashion a distorted crucifix with her mother's ashes and the water from the traditional roses she was sure to be beside the bed. She would lie down in the center of bed, pull the razor from the cigarette case and slit both wrists quickly and efficiently. She would spread her arms wide.
It was pure drama, but if one gets to choose their passing, make it memorable.
Make a fucking point.
Her only regret was that she was sure her father wouldn't see. James was sure to cover it up somehow, the drama of it, even though he'd have no scruples relaying the slit wrists.
Her father would probably never see her bled out on her mother's ashes and she hated that. She hated her father even more than James Agnesson. She knew it was wrong, but she was prepared for Hell, so all unspoken sins were at the forefront of her mind.
As it was, since she was choosing, she'd rather have the chance of spending an eternity in Hell with her mother than with the likes of James, no matter how horrible.
She wasn't sure she believed in Hell of the after death variety anyway, but her mother spared two years for her. Shula would never forget the fight, nor the sound of the gun. Worse yet, she would never forget the sound of her mother hitting the floor, nor of her father's silence.
And his continued silence.
She hated him.
He was going to give her away to that monster and her mother's death had been in vain. She would have certainly stayed had she imagined this outcome.
Shula had been betrothed to Jared Agnesson since the day she was born and they were to be wed the day after she turned sixteen. She wasn't much happy about it, but all the girls got married at that age, and Jared seemed nice enough. He was painfully shy, quiet, and probably handsome, if one considered a boy handsome. He'd not quite caught up with his brothers in stature and Shula wasn't afraid of him like she was of other newly-made men.
James had told her that Jared had disappeared into the woods after he took the death of Anna, James' late wife, quite hard, and he had shown no signs of returning and fulfilling his contract, so he had deigned to fulfill it himself.
She wanted to be angry at Jared, but found that she didn't care. He hadn't owed her a thing. She could not fault him for escaping when he could. At least he had that option.
Her mother had not wanted it. Shula didn't quite understand as it was normal for girls to marry, and she couldn't imagine Jared had offended her mother since he was so silent and awkwardly polite.
The morning of her mother's death, every muttered curse spoke of Jared's father, and she didn't know what that had to do with Jared himself. Shula belatedly realized that her mother hadn't wanted her involved with the Agnesson family at all, but she was never brave enough to ask her father why. They'd barely spoken these last two years, and she didn't know what her mother saw in him, unless she didn't have a choice.
Of course she didn't have a choice.
But, it must have been something terrible for her to take her own life to prevent a marriage to a harmless boy.
She took comfort that she wouldn't bleed out on her own bed, her grandmother's old bed, because she would be moving into James Agnesson's house, but thankfully she wouldn't be required to be mother to men who were older than her. Surely, he could see the wrongness of it.
A wrongness she wouldn't tolerate. Shula was pleased she could still feel relief.
Her betrothal to Jared had still been under contract, but the death of a mother, by Law, would postpone any such commitments until she reached majority. Her contract was amended, and signed by both her father and James one day before her eighteenth birthday, replacing the son with the father. If she would have known at dinner before, none would have left the table alive.
That was three days ago, and Shula can't imagine why it isn't a scandal. She was appalled when he had married Anna, as they had been close in age and grew up in church together. Shula would be his third. The mother of the five boys: Jacob, Jonah, Josiah, Jared, and Jude, had died during childbirth, and James Agnesson had married Anna, newly sixteen, and she died last year of an apparent suicide. Anna had been the same age as Jude.
The rumor was that Jude had found her in her bed, and that was all Shula had heard about it.
Shula could guess, but that made her feel smug, and she wondered if that even scratched the surface of what her mother might've known. Her mother knew something, and her father knew it too, but curious as she was, she'd rather die than know, unless she could find out today.
Two suicides in two years, especially after his last wife's sudden death, should bring about a much more intense scrutiny. There was a reason her mother hadn't wanted her in his house, and it had been worth her life. Shula had not forgotten that.
She was relieved in a way. She was lonely, but trusted no one, and it was a scary existence.
She watched herself in the mirror as she touched herself expertly. She always had philosophical thoughts on sin. She liked to list them in her head from ones she deemed not so bad to the worst ones, like cruelty and complacency. She didn't understand how this God-given pleasure was only a means to tempt and trap.
As a woman, she wasn't allowed to read The Bible. Only the men were allowed, and it was up to them to explain their sinful natures to them. Sometimes Shula would sneak a few paragraphs when she cleaned her father's room, if he had it out of the locked trunk. It was paragraphs and paragraphs of confusion, and she would turn the pages quickly, looking for the list of sins that would seem an obvious addition. She never found them.
So, she compiled them in her head. Sins, taxonomy of.
She would write them down, but she hoped that her corpse would display his deepest sins and eat at James Agnesson the way God's disappointment was supposed to.
After Shula brought herself off, she took a few deep breaths and grabbed the broom behind the door. She swept up the remnants of her youth and the death of it, and when she was finished, she looked toward the dress hanging on the hook on the door.
Her mother's beautiful, meaningless frock, yellowed with age, and smelling of decay and mothballs. The lace was matted with cobwebs and even blotting it with a washcloth thickened the strands.
She fished out her father's scissors and snipped the lace from the bodice, eyeing the netting of the veil briefly, knowing it would cover her thoroughly, until it was lifted.
The lace lifted easily and she dropped it carelessly into the trash. She pulled the dress over her head, slipping it onto her naked body, mindful of her mother's ashes. It was a little too snug, but she knew it would give just a little as the day went on.
She stepped up to the mirror and she still looked terribly young. Even with her neutered hair, and her darkened eyes, and low bodice, she still looked much too young.
It was a tragedy.
The only thing that kept her tears at bay was that this was what James Agnesson would see when he lifted her veil.
He would see who he'd chosen to be his wife.
Shula affixed the veil to her head and covered her face and chest. She grabbed her purse and suitcase, and walked it to the front door where her father was waiting. He opened the door without a word, and led them to the car. The veil was sheer enough for her to see images, and the haze of black from the ashes made the sky look like rain.
Arden Aoide lives in San Antonio, Texas, with her husband, two daughters, and three cats. Turn ons include men who cry during sex, long walks on the beach, and talking about herself in the third person. Turn offs include mean people and trying to figure out how to write an interesting author bio.
She doesn't write about the typical men you normally read about in erotic romance novels. She likes her men brainy and just this side of manic.
She's an introvert, she loves coffee, Internet, British television, and pot stickers. And pie. She loves pie.
All Kayla has ever wanted is to feel loved. She has lived her life with the Stantons, feeling scared and unwanted. She has always wondered about her birth parents. How could they have given her up? Should she search for them? If she found them, would she be able to forgive them?
Senator Seth Stanton’s image portrayed his love for his family. He has the perfect life—a loving wife, twin sons, and an adopted daughter. What more could he ask for? His life isn’t what it seems, and soon what should have stayed behind closed doors comes bursting through. His family is falling apart, and it’s all his fault.
With the help of Dr. Patrice Doyle, Kayla has managed to cope with her demons. Dr. Doyle knows she has her work cut out for her, and she can see there is something special about this young lady who was once so broken. Can Dr. Doyle help convince Kayla she is more than damaged goods?
With suicide, weddings, and new discoveries in the picture, will Kayla be able to heal? Or will she be forever damaged?
This book Is Not a standalone.. You must have read book one called Broken Love and Forever Bound
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"It started when I was a kid. I was physically, emotionally, and mentally abused. I was raped by both of them over and over throughout several years. And then they threatened to get rid of all of those I love. They even said they’d find my birth mother and kill her too. They took VI knowing I would do whatever they wanted to get her back safe and sound. Little did they expect I was ready to fight back for the first time in my life and not submit to their demands. "
"Millie, I am not even going to try and tell you that it was an accident because you'll believe what you want. Please know that I did what I had to do to in order to protect myself and Violet, but I will say he got what he deserved."
My name is Layla Stevens, I'm 35 years old and live in Pensacola Florida. I have a teenage daughter who is my biggest fan.. I did not give birth to her I adopted her. I have been writing for a year now, and I have learned so much about myself and books over the last year. I have a major love for the color pink. I'm on all social media and like to think I'm very approachable..
I hope you are ready for this exciting roller coaster, because my books will make you feel every emotion..
I look forward to messages from my fans and I always respond myself. So stop he and say hello anytime..