Chrissy Franco has every reason to take one hell of a victory lap around the courtroom. She’s just defended her client to the best of her ability and what’s more? Her client was actually innocent. Oh, she’d killed her husband, baseball legend Skip Maguire, alright; but he’d been about to hit a homerun with Miranda’s head.
His rabid fan base doesn’t agree with the verdict, and they’ve set their sights on Chrissy as the one to blame. One of them is about to set into motion a dangerous game when he publishes poor Chrissy’s address online…
Enter Tony McCormick, a detective with the right kind of attitude and Chrissy’s sort of ex-boyfriend. When he’s called to Chrissy’s apartment, he’s prepared for the worst. He’s a homicide detective after all. When he arrives, it seems that someone might have forgotten to check to see if Chrissy was still alive… now it’s everything he can do to find the man who did this and the other behind it all before it’s really too late.
I heard Tony’s jacket hit the back of the chair he usually hung it on, and those heavy footfalls come my way, his shadow looming over me at the sink. He started to move my hair aside and I turned, whirling on my sneaker and backed up against the counter.
His blue eyes penetrated mine and he nodded carefully, leaning in none the less to kiss me. My eyes fluttered shut as his mouth moved carefully over mine. I kissed him back, and it was just as magical and as beautiful as the kiss the day before. I blindly set my glass aside on the counter and went to reach for him, but dammit, I’d misjudged and it slipped off the counter’s edge and shattered on the floor.
The crash of breaking glass made me jump and cry out, and I stuffed my hand against my mouth and squeezed my eyes shut. Cringing from my memories.
“It’s okay; it’s totally okay…” he murmured soothingly and smoothed some of my hair out of the way of my face so he could see me. “It’s just water and just glass, I’ve got it… no big deal.” He gently moved me the opposite direction of the mess around the kitchen island and said, “Go grab a stool, sit down.”
I swallowed hard, on the verge of tears, my heart racing, pulse jumping painfully out of the side of my neck, chest crushed as I struggled to breathe normally, in through my nose hold for a few seconds, and out.
The first panic attack had happened in the hospital, Pasquale had recognized it instantly and had helped me through some exercises. I knew what they were now. I am in control. I told myself. Tony went about cleaning up, letting me have some space and by the time he was done, I felt better. Still rattled, but better.
“You alright?” he asked, and I nodded.
I knew in the front of my mind that it didn’t matter, that Tony was the last person who would judge, that any number of medical personnel had seen the scars, but for some irrational reason, Tony was different. He wasn’t someone I wanted to see the ugliness… He just… wasn’t.
He came around to me and I twisted in my seat to face him, looking up at him and biting my bottom lip. He looked like he was going to give me a pep talk but the words died on his lips. He searched my face and stepped in close, between my knees and lowered his face to mine. I closed my eyes, and let him kiss me, kissing him back and sighing out with relief. I wanted so badly to feel something good and Tony’s kiss was like heaven.
His hands smoothed over my hips and up to my ribs and he gathered the hem of my fitted workout tank with his fingers, slipping his hand underneath and putting it against my skin. My desire for him shot through the roof at the same time my anxiety rose. I broke the kiss and pulled back and said breathlessly, “I can’t… my scars.”
He growled low and intense and said, “Baby, you’re gonna be on your back; no way I’m even going to see your scars.”
Diary Of A Book Coming Together…
4/11/17: Hit this one hard and fast, and haven’t let up. I am over a quarter of the way through it and piling on five thousand words a day and more. This book has been heavily researched and takes on an issue that hit close to home so I’m working feverishly at making it the best that it can be. Current word count: 25,000 words.
4/13/17: At around 34,500 words and going strong. I’m having fun writing this one because it’s so different. Tony and Chrissy are fun characters to write. It’s time to start scraping live back together and for characters to start finding their inner strength. I’m going to hit it again come morning. I’ve set a fairly low word goal for this one at only 65,000 words as opposed to my usual 90,000, but it’s a new project and I’ll either go sailing past the 65k or it’ll end up in that neighborhood, but either way it goes, it’s going to be the best damn story that I can make it.
4/15/17: Yesterday I managed to kick some ass and wrote over 10,000 words on this project. I’m close to 50,000 words in so about two or three days from the 65,000 word initial goal. I’m betting dollars to doughnuts this is going to shoot up above 65,000 but I don’t think it will reach much higher than the 70-75k’s. Famous last words, of course. I’m going to try and get going on it. Usually I have some trouble the day after such a high word count. It’s like my brain needs the time to recharge. Gonna try, though.
4/16/17: Yesterday was kind of a bust for word count but sometimes that’s the way it goes after a big push. I’m going to be working on it today and am aiming for finishing the first draft by no later than the end of next week, which is about a week ahead of schedule. It’s doable and would be nice. That way I can get it through the betas and editing and have it on deck for release.
4/21/17: Okay, so I was really bad at keeping up with regular entries for this book, but I think that has more to do with I didn’t spend a whole lot of time with this book struggling for what to write. This one went really quick, and I just penned ‘The End’ on it. It’s less by way of wordcount for this book, clocking in at only 72k, but it’s a good story. At least I hope you’ll think so.
Text Copyright © 2017 A.J. Downey
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
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