For twenty-three years,
Cross Carlson was a playboy. You know the type. Tall, dark, and wealthy.
Blue-eyed. Charming. He seemed to have it all so easy. But Cross was harboring
a terrible secret - one that helped ruin the life of an innocent girl and
almost ended his own.
Finally out of the hospital, Cross is flailing, scarred in both body and mind and stifled by the weight of the secret he still keeps. The only way to absolution lies in a Mexican convent, and going there could cost him everything.
If there's anyone who knows what it's like to screw up big time, it's Meredith Kinsey. Just a few years ago, Merri was an ordinary girl with a job at her college newspaper and white picket fence kind of dreams. Now she's holed up in a Mexican convent, hiding from a drug lord who thinks he owns her.
What happens when the only way out of hell is with the son of the man who put you there? They say love conquers all, but does it really?
Finally out of the hospital, Cross is flailing, scarred in both body and mind and stifled by the weight of the secret he still keeps. The only way to absolution lies in a Mexican convent, and going there could cost him everything.
If there's anyone who knows what it's like to screw up big time, it's Meredith Kinsey. Just a few years ago, Merri was an ordinary girl with a job at her college newspaper and white picket fence kind of dreams. Now she's holed up in a Mexican convent, hiding from a drug lord who thinks he owns her.
What happens when the only way out of hell is with the son of the man who put you there? They say love conquers all, but does it really?
And now check out this awesome excerpt!
Sister
opens the door to a small reading room with green carpet and white bookshelves,
and we pause before going in. All at once she pulls me to her chest and kisses
my head.
“Be
brave, Merri, my love. You must do what you must do. We only want what's best
for you.”
And
then she...leaves. She leaves me here, before I even see who's in the room.
For
the longest second, I stay on the threshold, staring at the man who is facing
the bookshelf. My eyes run down the
length of him, expecting to find Jesus or one of his Sicarios, but that's not what I find.
I
don’t know who this man is. He’s tall, with dark hair and large bones. Long
legs, wide back, big shoulders. He looks lean, almost sick, because I can tell
he shouldn't be. He reminds me of a starved lion I saw once in a documentary.
He
turns toward me slowly, and as he moves I'm frozen, like in those nightmares
where you're being chased but you can't run.
At
first I'm not looking at his features—only the expression, which is somehow
both solemn and surprised. And I feel like I've been struck dead, because he
has an angel's face. It's not just the flawless blue of his eyes or his
celebrity-perfect bones. It's not his perfect, straight-line nose or that lush,
cherubic mouth. It's not his smooth skin. It's what I see inside his eyes.
Something so intense, so sad, so ecstatic, so relieved, that I know he must be
God's answer to my prayer.
For
the longest moment, he just looks at me. I feel like I'll unravel in the
brilliance of those ice blue eyes. I'm so thrown off I whisper exactly what I'm
thinking.
“Are
you here to take me?”
His
lips curl slowly, into something that's not at all a smile. My heart stops as
he steps slightly closer.
“Rescue you.”
About Ella James:
I'm a
Denver, Colorado author who writes teen and adult romance. I am happily married
to a man who knows how to wield a red pen, and together we are raising a feisty
two-year-old who will probably grow up believing everyone's parents go to war
over the placement of a comma. My books have been listed on numerous Amazon
bestseller lists, including the Amazon Top 100 and the Amazon Movers &
Shakers List; two were listed among Amazon's Top 100 Young Adult Ebooks of
2012. To find out more about my projects and win prizes and swag, find me on
Facebook at facebook.com/ellajamesauthorpage. Questions or comments? Tweet me
at author_ellaj or e-mail me at ella_f_james@ymail.com.
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