ABBY
Porter Reeves was a real biker. On the day we met, that was all that mattered. It was his ticket into my life. His entry fee. On that day, he took me on a journey. One that would change my life, open my eyes, and fill my heart.
I soon learned that Porter was on a collision course, and that he was unwilling to help himself. I felt that I could provide him with the help he desperately needed, if he would simply subject himself to change.
Coercing an outlaw biker to consider change isn't an easy task.
But.
It's one hell of a fun ride.
GHOST
Abby Northrop came into my life by mistake. A celebrity, philanthropist, and lover of all things life, she was exactly what I didn't need in my life. She was a do-gooder, and I'd never done anything good in my thirty-on years on earth.
Nonetheless, I let her in. Just for one night.
My plan was to screw her and walk away.
It had worked in the past.
Hell, it was all I knew.
After one night, I knew walking away from Abby wasn't going to be easy.
But, I never took the easy way out of anything.
This book, upon release, was ranked 188. It was rated Amazon's #1 Hot New Release, and #1 in "Movers and Shakers", and reached the top 10 in the Romantic Suspense category
In the grand scheme of things, the loss of human life goes unnoticed. Not surprising, as one hundred and five people die with each revolution of the clock’s second hand. Loss after regretful loss, the world, however, continues to turn.
Nonetheless, on that day the planet’s balance was askew.
The straps from the lowering device steadied the casket over the grave, giving it an appearance as if it were hovering over the darkened opening that lied beneath it. The beautiful Rosetan velvet interior was concealed from view, as was the body that had encapsulated the gracious soul for more than three decades’ time.
A mother and a father stood hand in hand beside the casket. The father’s jaw was clenched tight, a product of his inability to accept the untimely death of his child. I would have given my own life to spare this one, he thought.
The mother, wearing a black dress and matching coat, rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet. Beneath San Diego’s midday sun, she filled with regret for her choice in attire. She nonchalantly raised her left hand to her cheek and wiped a tear, hoping the action would go unnoticed. Burying her only child in a city other than the one she called home troubled her deeply.
It added to the profound pain that whittled away at her heart.
