MY HEART WANTS A KIND OF JUSTICE THE LAW CAN’T GIVE

On a dark, rainy night I drove my overstuffed junker car back to a town I never expected to see again.

And when I needed a rescue by the side of the road, a six-foot tall piece of hot, unfinished business named Mark was what the universe sent me.

Three years earlier I’d fled town (and Mark) to follow my wrongly-convicted father to his federal prison, working crappy jobs to stay afloat and visit him every second I could. But now Dad’s dead and I’m mysteriously offered the best job of my life at the college where his life blew up when he was accused of a crime he didn’t commit.

Someone wants me here. Desperately.

I’m hoping it’s Mark.

Because if it’s not, I’m in more danger than I ever imagined.

And if it is?

Mark may be the most dangerous choice of all

Revenge (Coming Home #2)
Publication: August 17th 2015.

Everything I know about my life is a lie. The more I dig into my father’s death the more I find myself in peril.

Mark turns out to be a liar, someone I thought I could trust. He’s not what he seems, and worst of all, a part of me can’t let go.

My boss might be an international drug lord disguised as a dean at one of the top five universities in the country.

Like anyone’s going to believe me if I try to out him?

But I can’t help myself. I should learn to keep my mouth shut.

Someone’s decided to do that for me.

Make me quiet once—

And for all.

Reunion (Coming Home #3)
Publication: August 31st 2015.

You can think you’ve had everything stolen from you. That there’s nothing left to lose.

You would be wrong.

My best friend’s been kidnapped. I was just captured. What I thought was a massive drug operation run by a man who killed my father turns out to be ten times more horrific.

I’m trapped. My best friend may be dead.

And Mark has no idea where to find me.

Some secrets should remain buried, my captors tell me.

And it looks like I will be, too.

Buried alive.

“Carrie? Carrie?” Mark’s voice sounds like it’s coming from the end of a very long hallway. He sits up and grabs me as I slide down, then gets me on my back, a pillow under my feet. I’m staring up at the ceiling fan. It’s spinning.
Wait. No, it’s not.
I am.
A cool washcloth appears and Mark gently lifts my head. The shock of cold against the back of my neck feels so good. My heart isn’t pounding in my chest, for once. I’m not panicked. I’m not anxious. In fact, my blood feels like it’s as thick as cake frosting. It’s just clumped here and there in my body and barely moving.
I catch a few words from Mark as he jumps around the room, moving with precision and speed. A warm blanket covers me. He shoves a straw in my face.
“Drink,” he insists. “I think you’re in shock.” His voice isn’t tender. It’s clipped and all business.
“In shock,” I murmur, then begin to giggle. This isn’t funny. Why am I laughing? I take a sip. It’s just water, but it feels good going down. I drink more, then close my eyes.
Still spinning.
I’ve been spinning for three years. Really. I think I’m only feeling it now because I can. Connecting with Mark, cleaving with him, gave me enough emotional space to see what my inner world is really like.
I’m hopelessly in love with him. Heart, mind, body and soul.
I’ve given him everything.
And my life is such a mess.
I’m a mess.