Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 119476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 597(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 398(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 597(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 398(@300wpm)
For years, he kept me completely isolated, locked away and out of sight. If not for my diary, I'm not sure I would have survived his torment.
But when two pink lines turn my world upside down, I know it's now or never—I have to escape before the monster down the hall learns my secret and destroys my only reason for living.
Alone and on the run, help comes from the last place I’d ever expect—his son.
Atlas swears he's nothing like his father. He says he only wants to protect me and my unborn baby.
Slowly but surely, he earns my trust and begins stitching me back together again, and before I know it, I find myself falling for him.
But no matter how much he feels like home, I can't shake the fear of what will happen if his father finds me. Because no amount of paper and ink will shield me from the past... or him.
HIS TO SAVE is the first standalone in the all new Lake Fortune series. If you enjoy small-town suspense, an over the top protective hero who will do anything for his woman, a pregnant heroine running from her dangerous past, a slight age gap, a slow burn romance brimming with all of the feels, and a guaranteed HEA, pre-order your copy today!
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
PROLOGUE
GRACE
“He’s a charmer, that’s for sure. A silver-tongued devil with twinkling eyes,” I mutter to myself as I rummage through my filing cabinet, searching for his folder.
My receptionist has been on me for years to digitize, but I much prefer to write all my notes by hand. It’s more…personal.
I’ve been seeing Rand—I mean treating Mr. Wallace—for almost a year now, trying to help him navigate life as a single father after the tragic loss of his wife. It’s been nearly six years since she passed, and he’s still the textbook model of grief.
From denial to anger, bargaining to depression, and finally acceptance, I’ve helped him through it all. I’ve seen him at his worst, lost in the depths of his despair, and at his best, full of charm and easy smiles as he tries his best to get me to agree to a date.
I always turn him down, though, because as long as he’s my patient, I can’t ethically see him. But my goodness, as much as I don’t want to admit it, the temptation is there.
In a way, he reminds me of my Jim, of the love I’ve lost. Which is absurd; they couldn’t be more different.
Night and day, those two, truly.
Where Jim was a giver, kind and caring and always quick to smile, Rand is mercurial and compelling, with sharp wit and an even sharper tongue. We are the sun and the moon, and yet for reasons I don’t fully comprehend, I’m drawn to him.
My chest pinches tight, making it impossible to draw in a full breath as traitorous thoughts of my patient slip out of the padlocked box I keep them in.
I shouldn’t feel like this about him. About any man. My God, what kind of monster am I? My Jim’s only been gone four months.
Moisture gathers along my lashes, but I refuse to let the tears fall. I’m a professional, and my patients deserve nothing but the best, even if sometimes it feels as if Rand sees into the depths of my very soul, making it hard to tell who’s helping who.
“Get it together, Grace,” I admonish myself as I read over my notes from his last session. “Get. It. Together.”
It doesn’t matter how pretty his words are or how inviting his smile is—he’s off-limits. Giving into him would mean giving up the life I’ve worked so hard to build.
Becoming romantically involved with a patient is one of the worst offenses someone in my profession can commit. It’s career suicide, seeing as it would mean the loss of my license. No psychiatrist worth their salt would ever cross that line.
I’ve told Rand this before too, that it’s inappropriate—forbidden. The sly dog just smiles and says the best things in life always are.
“You are strong and capable.” I speak the words out loud as I take a seat behind my desk, shielding myself behind the wooden monstrosity. Usually, we both sit in my armchairs, knees nearly touching as we bow our heads together and share our pain. But something—mostly my weakening resolve—tells me distance is needed if I’m to keep my head on straight.
The intercom on my phone buzzes, and then my receptionist’s voice filters through. “Your eleven is here.”
I suck in a deep breath and hold it before slowly exhaling. “Great, send him back.”
My heart thunders in my chest as the seconds creep by. I swore to love Jim, and while our vows stated “till death,” I never in a million years thought I’d lose him so soon.
We were high school sweethearts, and it’s only been four months since he died. A mere blink compared to the eternity we promised one another.
Toward the end, Jim told me he wanted me to move on, to find happiness with another person again. It’s too soon.
My breaths come quicker now, sweat beading along my hairline.
But then, the door opens and Rand walks in, his lips turned up in a knowing grin—and just like that, my rising panic ebbs.
“It’s been too long, Gracie,” he murmurs, his dark stare boring into me as he crosses the room to claim his usual seat.
“It’s Dr. Morgan,” I correct him softly, my cheeks burning with equal parts desire and shame. I don’t know what it is about him, that he’s able to stir such conflicting emotions within me.
Every minute in his presence feels like a full-on war; I’m enchanted by his sweet words, enticed by his physique, horrified by my weak resolve, mortified by my ever-slipping professionalism, and ashamed for thinking of any man other than my Jim in such a way.
“Come on now, doll.” He leans back in the chair, a devilish smile twisting his lips as he spreads his legs wide. “We both know we’re past that.”
The deep drawl of his voice causes my nipples to pebble, making me extra thankful for the bulk of my sweater. “That’s…” I swallow roughly, counting down from five in my head before trying again. “That’s not appropriate, Mr. Wallace.”