Connecting
Strangers
Discovering
Emily SeriesBook 1
Rachel Carrington
Genre: Romantic Suspense
Date of Publication: July 21, 2014
ISBN:
ASIN:Word Count: ~67,000
Cover Artist: Elaina Lee of For the Muse Designs
Book Description:
Getting
close is dangerous…
He’s
too close, and I start to fidget, needing to keep my hands busy so
they won’t grab hold of his shirt. Because that’s what they want
to do. Draw him closer. So I can Inhale his scent. Taste his skin.
I
didn’t run because I was in an abusive relationship; I ran because
my soul was being crushed. I’d forgotten how to live, how to be
happy. Running out of gas in a small town, I catch the eye of the
local sheriff when the very last thing I want is to come under the
scrutiny of the police. I left my boyfriend with blood on my hands,
and I know as soon as the wound heals he’ll come looking for me.
Adam
Madison draws me to him so easily I can’t even pretend to fight.
And the closer we get, the more combustible we become. I’ve never
experienced such passion or power. My need is as great as his, but
I’m sure he’ll walk away from me once he knows my secret. No
other man would stay.
I’ve
had enough complications in my life. I’m not looking for more, and
that’s exactly what Adam is—a sexy, magnetic complication with
secrets of his own. And with my ex in the hunt, I can’t risk
bringing him down with me. But he won’t leave…even when vengeance
could kill us both.
Short
Excerpt:
I
close my eyes and slowly squeeze the trigger. The shot sounds so loud
I jump backwards. But the bullet hits its mark, tearing a hole
through Mark's shoulder. With a curse, he falls to the ground. I know
I haven't killed him because he's making so much noise and trying to
scramble to his feet. So I snag the keys from the hook by the back
door and run.
He'll
come after me which means I don’t have much time to get a head
start. The mud tries to suck my shoes off, but I clench my toes while
Mark’s promise bounces around inside my head.
You’ll
always be mine.
At
the time, I thought it was romantic, but I was only eighteen. What
the hell did I know? It didn’t take me long to learn it meant Mark
doesn't take no for an answer. In high school, his determination was
a compliment. Nowadays, it would get him arrested...if we didn't live
in a town that worshipped him.
Shaking
so hard, I have a hard time jabbing the key in the ignition. Relief
floods through me when I can finally start the 2000 Volvo my
grandmother got me when I graduated from high school seven years ago.
As
I gun the engine, I see Mark's reflection in my rearview mirror. He's
made it to his feet, and though blood is dripping down the front of
his shirt, he’s running after me.
The
Volvo kicks up plenty of dust and gravel when I stomp on the
accelerator, showering Mark with enough pebbles to bring him to a
halt. His loud curses follow me down the old, dirt road where our
clapboard home sits. It’s the one his daddy built us once he knew
Mark wouldn’t be leaving town anytime soon.
Staying
in rural Broomtown, Kentucky definitely hadn't been my choice. That
had been all Mark. After my parents died, I wanted to get as far away
as possible to start our lives fresh, but Mark, well, he figured
since he was going to be trapped in a dead end job once his dreams of
playing football were over, he might as well do it around family.
I
keep looking in my mirror to make sure he isn't following me, and I
don't dare relax until I make it to the highway. Even then, the
trembling continues.
Ten
miles down the road, I realize I left my purse on the kitchen
counter, and I have no money and less than a half a tank of gas. In a
car that chugs gas like this one, that isn’t going to get me very
far. But anywhere is better than Broomtown with Mark.
A
tear trickles down my cheek, and I swipe it away. No more tears. I
have cried enough for him. When I was still young and foolish, I
thought Mark and I would be together forever. I know now that forever
can be a hell of a long time when the love of your life morphs into a
raving lunatic.
My
heart aches when I think about what we had once. We were the love
story everyone dreams about. Me, the head cheerleader, and Mark, the
captain of the football team. I still remember the night the
Broomtown Broncs won the state championship. No one thought a team
from the sticks could win such an important title. Mark had carried
me on his shoulder through the cheers and the drums. Then he had to
go and do something stupid for a senior prank that changed
everything.
I
switch on the radio to drown out the memories, but they've always
been louder. The thump of the wheels hitting pavement releases some
of the pressure in my chest, and my shoulders begin to relax. I might
not be free of Mark forever, but tonight I wouldn't have to listen to
his drunken complaints.
The
Volvo's lone headlight illuminates the long, winding road ahead then
bounces off the side of a white car heading in the opposite
direction. I wish I could stop the person, warn them where there
going. That road dead-ends in Broomtown. Hopefully, the driver
doesn’t have plans to stay long. It’s the kind of place that
sucks you in and while you’re there, it drains your soul a little
piece at a time until you’re moving in slow motion. Just putting
one foot in front of the other.
My
hand smells like gun powder, and though I wipe them one at a time on
my jeans, the smell won’t go away. I still see the blood, too, even
though none of it got on me. There’d been a lot of it, though. If I
hadn’t seen Mark get up and walk with my own two eyes, I would be
worried I’d killed him.
As
much as I want to get away from Mark, I couldn’t kill him. It’s
certainly not that I love him anymore, but taking a human life just
isn’t in me. Hell, taking any life. Mark and his best friend always
made fun of me when I wanted to set the mice free from the traps
rather than kill them. Mark had better be glad that’s the type of
person I am.
Static replaces the
low, monotonous voice of the town’s only radio broadcaster. I
switch off the sound, and a flash of blue catches my eye in the
rearview. I lift my gaze, and my stomach sinks. A cop is behind me,
and the blue lights insist I pull over.
Damnit.
With one hand, I direct the car over to the side of the road while I
reach for my purse that isn't on the passenger seat where I always
drop it. Then I remember I left the house without anything but my
clothes and keys. Double damn.
I
hear the squawk of the cop's radio as he approaches the side of my
car. His long, black flashlight taps against the driver's window, and
I sigh, knowing the only way out of this is to tell the truth...well,
some of it anyway.
Blinking
rapidly against the glare of the light, I press the button to lower
my window. My gaze tilts upwards and connects with hazel eyes. A
sinfully handsome face causes my breath to stall in my chest. The man
standing outside the window of my Volvo is a cop, and I should give
him the proper respect, but finding my voice proves impossible.
The
darkness doesn't allow me much of a view, but it's enough to make my
nerves dance. I glance at his full lips and realize they're moving.
He's talking to me, and I blink several times in an attempt to
regroup. My hand fumbles on the seat next to me.
"I-I'm
sorry, Officer. I left my purse at home. I do have a driver's license
and insurance, but I was in a hurry. I didn't even think about it,
honestly." I babble on for a few more seconds until the cop
interrupts in deep, throaty bass.
"Have
you been drinking?" He shines the flashlight into the interior,
and the beam slides over my denim-clad legs before sliding up my thin
t-shirt. I hadn’t had the time to grab a coat, and as cold as it
is outside, it’s no wonder my outfit looks suspicious. His gaze
pierces mine again while he waits for my answer.
I
attempt to swallow, but the lump in my throat is the victor. "No,
I haven't." But I don't blame him for asking.
"Would
you step out of the car, please?" He opens the door and takes a
step back to give me room.
Trembling,
I follow his command, closing the door behind me so I can lean
against the coldness of the steel. A gust of frigid wind lifts the
hair off the nape of my neck, and the trembles segue to shivers.
The
officer drags his gaze back to the interior of my car before fixing
it on me again. He’s staring at me, and I don’t like it. I’ve
had just about enough of me treating me like I’m a piece of meat.
Of course, now isn’t the time to get defensive. Instead, I return
his stare, but I have to look up, way up, to face him. "Do you
mind telling me why you stopped me?" I silently congratulate
myself on the composed question.
He
juts his chin toward the front of the Volvo. "You have a
headlight out."
If
only he could see how relieved I am…Something as simple as a
headlight, I can deal with. "Oh, that. Yes, I know. I've been
meaning to fix it, but it just keeps slipping my mind. I'm sorry."
I lift my shoulders in an apologetic manner, but the stern look on
the cop's face remains.
"What's
your name?" The look on his face dares me to lie.
"Emily.
Emily Murdoch." I accept the challenge by using my mother’s
maiden name which is also my middle name.
"Where
do you live, Miss Murdoch?"
Shit.
The last thing I want is for him to know my real name. Living in
Broomtown has taught me that cops cannot be trusted. As gorgeous as
this one is, I still won’t let my guard down. I paste an easygoing
smile on my face and lie again. "Juniper Springs."
His
eyebrows lift, and my heart pounds. Did I say something wrong? Can he
tell I'm lying now? "Really?"
I
stick to my story, replying with only a stiff nod.
"You
mind if I take a look inside your car?"
“Not
at all.” I move away from the door and wave my hand as though
granting entrance to my minions. What else am I supposed to do? If I
said no, he’d have come up with a reason to arrest me. That’s
what all cops do.
His
concludes his search quickly and straightens to face me. "It's
too dangerous to be driving these dark roads with only one headlight,
Miss Murdoch. I suggest you get it fixed first thing tomorrow
morning." He switches off the flashlight. "Drive safely."
I
watch him walk away while my legs threaten to collapse. Once back
inside my car, I take in great gulps of air and lean my head back
against the rest. But something tells me I shouldn't be relieved. The
cop bought my story too easily. Which probably means he didn't just
find me by accident.
A
sick feeling settles in the pit of my stomach. Mark is already on the
hunt.
About the Author:
I
started writing years ago, and my first attempt was a contemporary
romance that will never see the light of day. I think I may even have
thrown it away by now. It was absolutely horrific as I knew nothing
about well…anything to do with writing.
After
that, I started writing fantasy romances about wizards and wizards,
and once those took off, I segued to paranormal romances (hello,
vampires and ghosts) and romantic suspense.
I
also write articles for various magazines, including The Writer’s
Journal, Writer’s Magazine, Writer’s Weekly, Writing for Dollars,
Absolute Write, Freelance Writing.com, and Funds for Writers.
I’m
fortunate to make my home in historical Charleston, South Carolina.
Beautiful city. Beautiful people. When I’m not writing, I love to
read, watch Bones, Castle, Blue Bloods, and Hawaii Five-O, create
videos, keep Target in business, play visitor in my city, and drink
lots of coffee.
My
website: http://www.rachelcarrington.com
Twitter:
http://www.twitter.com/rcarrington2004Facebook: www.facebook.com/authorrachelcarrington
Pinterest: www.pinterest.com/rcarrington2004
Goodreads: www.goodreads.com/rcarrington2004
Wattpad: http://wattpad.com/RachelCarrington
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