Genre: Romantic suspense
Word count: 89,000
The last thing I expect when I move to my mother’s hometown is to run into the guy I’ve been dreaming about for years.
Not only have I seen him in my dreams long before meeting him in the flesh, but I run smack into his muscular chest in a bar. Then I puke on him.
Not one of my finer moments.
But things are getting messier. He shows up where I work and has no clue it was me. In fact, there are a lot of things he’s in the dark about.
Like how I’ve dreamed of him yet again, and how I’m terrified for his safety now. A madman has made our small town his new stomping ground, and I’m witness to all the gory details as they unfold like a horror movie every time I close my eyes.
But Aidan’s sexy-as-hell intuitive gaze won’t quit haunting me. He has secrets too, and I’m determined to uncover every last one. Together, we might just heal each other.
If fate and a serial killer don’t get to us first.
WHAT READERS ARE SAYING
“Right away the prologue gives the reader a little bit of action, and worry! I was sucked in from that point, and didn’t want to put my kindle down! I read this whole book in one sitting, it was just that amazing.” — Paper Crushes
“Mackenzie and Aidan really had something special between them and with all the tragic events that happen, I rooted for them to stay together. This must be my new favorite author!” — Spiced Latte
“The storyline is completely wicked. Just when I think that I am going to recover, we the readers are hit with more drama and chaos.” — Crystal’s Random Thoughts
Something inside me cracked right along with Aidan’s composure. Everything he’d been hiding spilled from his eyes. I reached a hand up, aching to brush my fingers against his cheek, but he recoiled.
“I need a drink.” He strode away, leaving me glued to the spot where he’d trapped me. A crash resounded from the kitchen, followed by splintering glass. I willed my feet to move, ignoring the little voice of reason pointing out that maybe I should leave him be for now.
He was sweeping broken glass into a dustpan when I walked in. “Are you okay?” Instantly, I wished I could cast a net and pull back the stupid, inconsiderate question. Of course he wasn’t okay. “I’m sorry. I know you’re not…okay.”
“Don’t worry about it. I know what you meant.” He emptied the dustpan into the trashcan then opened a bottle of Jack, all the while refusing to meet my eyes.
“Mind sharing?” I asked. If there was ever a time for drinking, it was now.
“I thought you were beyond corruptible.”
I recalled how he’d said something similar on Halloween. “You remember more about that night than you let on, don’t you?”
He pulled two tumblers from a dark cherry wood cabinet. “I remember you.” He tipped the bottle and amber liquid sloshed into both glasses. A moment later he closed the distance between us.
“Straight up?” The question sounded like a challenge.
“Sure.” I gulped down the whiskey, ignoring the burn as it slid down my throat. Heat ignited low in my belly, though whether from the alcohol or Aidan’s scrutiny, I wasn’t sure.
He leaned against the kitchen sink and finished off his own drink before pouring another. “I’m sorry I blew up on you. I didn’t come here to make friends…to complicate things.”
“I’m a complication?”
His laughter was empty, cold as a morgue. “You’re about as complicated as they come.”
I stared at the bottom of my glass. “Why’s that?”
“You look at me as if you see right through me. It’s unsettling.”
“I don’t mean to unsettle you.”
“Consider me unsettled. Problem is, I think you’re using more than eyesight.” He finished the whiskey in one long gulp, his eyes never breaking contact with mine.
I gripped my glass. I’d rather have my teeth pulled than tell him how often I’d dreamed of him over the years. “Can I have another?”
He grabbed the bottle and moved toward me, and I saw him in my mind’s eye as he’d been in the drawing. Bare chest, subtle muscles, a thin line of hair dragging my gaze below his belly button, to a place I’d shamelessly dreamed of exploring with my mouth. I stumbled back as he poured a refill.
“Thanks.” The word nearly squeaked from my lips, giving away my nervousness. I upended the glass, and the smooth whiskey went down easier the second time.
“Did you dream about me too? Is that why you followed me on Halloween?”
I took another step back, but he advanced until the edge of the counter bit into my spine. “I didn’t.” The lie sounded weak, even to my own ears.
“I think you did. The way you looked at me, like you saw a ghost or something…” Brushing against me, he set his tumbler on the cool granite. “At first, I thought maybe you recognized me from somewhere, had seen the news reports—”
“No,” I interrupted, my head spinning from the combination of alcohol and his close proximity. “You were imagining things.”
“No, I wasn’t.” He gently pried the empty glass from my fingers and set it next to his. Nothing stood between us now, not even the last shred of my secret.
I held fast to it anyway, like a child unwilling to let go of a tattered teddy bear. “You can think whatever you want. Doesn’t make it true.”
“Doesn’t make it not true.”