After her parents were murdered, Layna Blair spent three years on the run—until Marine Sergeant Blaze Johnson stepped in and saved her.
With him, Layna knew safety for the first time…but two weeks after shipping out for another tour in Afghanistan, Blaze comes home early.
When Layna sees the jagged wounds covering his body, every truth she thought she knew is destroyed.
Blaze is distant and angry and though her heart is shattered, Layna desperately tries to keep their relationship together in the face of another tragedy.
Blaze is distant and angry and though her heart is shattered, Layna desperately tries to keep their relationship together in the face of another tragedy.
When the tenuous bonds holding them together are ripped apart by a revenge-hungry maniac, Layna must trust her survival instinct and bury her past for good.
But the enemy is two steps ahead, and before she can take action, Layna’s hand is forced by his deadly demands—save herself or save the man who risked his life for her freedom. Blaze saved her once. This time it’s her turn to protect him.
Blaze turned his attention
back to me, dragging his gaze over my flushed cheeks, across my lips and
tracing a line from my neck to my shoulder. I felt every inch as if he were
touching me. Slowly, he ran his hand over my hair then in one swift movement,
he pulled my hair clip out. Dropping the clip on my lap, he ran his fingers
through my hair.
“You’re beautiful.”
Deep, rough, his voice penetrated to my soul and all I wanted to know in that
moment was how long I’d have him.
It was pointless to
ask, because nothing would be enough, but it didn’t stop me. “How much time do
we have?”
Blaze smiled. It
was a tired half smile but for him, I knew it was a happy smile. “Two weeks.”
My heart sank. I’d
been hoping for a month but more than that, I was outraged that two weeks was
supposed to be enough time for his wounds to heal. It didn’t seem nearly long
enough but I didn’t say anything, I couldn’t. So, I snuggled into him and my
hand brushed across his hard stomach and started to wrap around his side. But
when I felt the lump under his clothes, I froze. “Where else are you hurt?”
“I’m fine, Layna.”
Fine? He was fine? Fine would be coming home in one
piece. Fine was not looking like a
scarred road map of bloody welts. “You can tell me now so I can get over it or
you can wait till we get home and I will shred your clothing and inspect every
inch of you. And believe me, it will not
be pleasurable.”
He broke into a
huge grin. “Yeah, I really missed you.”
“Screw you.” He was
trying to change the subject.
He grabbed a
fistful of my hair and brought me just close enough so that our lips were
almost touching. “Can’t, we’re in an airport.”
His scent, his hand
holding me firm, the way he took charge, he knew every button to push to make
me melt. “Blaze,” I pleaded for him to close the distance between us,
completely forgetting I was angry.
“Marry me.”
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I grew up in Northern California with my head in a book and my feet in the sand. I dreamt of becoming a painter but the heady scent of libraries with their shelves full of books drew me into the world of storytelling. I love the New Adult genre, but any story about a love so desperately wrong and impossibly beautiful makes me swoon.
I now live in Southern Florida and while I don’t get to read as much as I like, I still bury my toes in the sand. If I’m not writing or fighting to contain the banana plantation in my backyard, you can find me spending time with my handsomely tattooed husband, my brilliantly practical son and a mischievous miniature boxer…
But Seriously?Here are ten things you probably really want to know about me.
I grew up a faculty brat. I can swear like a sailor. I love men in uniform. I hate being told what to do. I can do your taxes (but don’t ask). The Bird Market in Hong Kong freaks me out. My favorite word is desperate…or dirty, or both—I can’t decide. I have a thing for muscle cars. But never reply on me for driving directions, ever. And I have a new book boyfriend every week—don’t tell my husband.
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