~ From Elle Casey ~
"This is a Romantic Suspense novel. If you liked the Julia
Roberts movie "Sleeping With the Enemy", you will probably like this
novel."
Release date: August 31st 2013
Self-Published
Synopsis via Goodreads:
BLURB ~ A ROMANTIC SUSPENSE NOVEL. No one knew a woman lived there or that she even existed. A monster, living in darkness...
At twenty-six, Nicole doesn't even look human anymore.
The beast made sure of that. So she hides. A monster consigned to a life
of fear and solitude. This is all she deserves, she is quite sure of
that.
And then one day out of the blue, the autographed
baseball caught by Brian Jensen at the latest Marlins game enters her
prison and manages to turn her world completely upside down.
Temptation comes in the form of pity at first, and then perhaps something more.
Does she dare to believe the things she's told, that
this is not the life she was meant to live? That being a monster is not
her forever-fate? And will she be willing to risk everything, to reach
out and accept the helping hands around her? She knows only too well
that hands can hurt. Finding out whether they can also heal is a risky
proposition, especially when the beast is still out there. Looking for
her.
**This story was inspired by true events. If you liked
the movie "Sleeping With the Enemy", then you might like this story too.
CONTENT WARNING: Violence, foul language, and adult situations. Not
meant for younger readers.**
About the Author
New York Times Best-Selling author Elle Casey is an
American girl living in southern France with her husband, three
children, and several furry creatures. She writes in a variety of genre
including YA Fantasy, YA Action/Adventure, New Adult Romance, and Adult
Contemporary Romance. She's a little on the wild side, usually busy
making people laugh, and always in the mood for adventure. There's not
much in this world that she loves more than reader interaction, so feel
free to drop her a line.
Buy Links
EXCERPT
Liam’s mother reverses out of the driveway, their young son
strapped into the back seat and waving like a maniac out his window.
“Bye, Dad! See ya later!”
“Bye, Li-Li! See ya Wednesday!”
“I’ll bring him back before school,” his ex-wife says. “I have early meetings.”
“Sounds good,” says Brian, still waving to his son. He
waits until he’s out of Liam’s sight before he puts his hand down. It’s
nice to be alone for a few days, but he already feels the pangs of
missing his child creeping in.
Standing in the driveway, Brian considers his next move.
There’s an antique armoire in his workshop that needs a final coat of
stain and then some clear-coat to protect it. It took a week to repair
and refinish, but he scheduled two. He could do something else if he
wanted to…
It can wait. The issue of the monster lady is
weighing too heavily on his mind to let it go. Ignoring the warning
bells going off in his head, he walks to the bottom of the driveway and
turns left to go down the street.
“What am I doing?” he mumbles under his breath. “The guy
obviously doesn’t like visitors.” The fact that the guy also looks like
a Bantam rooster spoiling for a fight is not making Brian’s misgivings
any fewer.
“Hey there, Brian. Going for a walk on this fine morning?”
Ethel, his next-door neighbor is out trimming her bushes again. They
don’t need trimming; they’re just a prop to give her a reason to be
standing outside, waiting for passersby.
Brian waves. “Yep. Just getting some fresh air, I guess. Seemed like a good idea.”
“Little Liam gone for the week?”
She must have seen him drive by. She sees everything that happens on this street. “Just for a few days. He’ll be back on Wednesday.”
Brian keeps walking, although slower. If he stops, he’ll be stuck
there for an hour and probably end up in her kitchen having an iced tea.
She’s the nicest, most talkative neighbor he’s ever had. He doesn’t
usually mind it; in fact, he’s happy to indulge in a neighborly chat now
and again - it’s why he moved to this area - but today, he’s on a
mission and he doesn’t have time for gossip or an hour-long discussion
about the upcoming weather and whether Mrs. Grandston down the street
will ever start recycling.
“Tell him to stop by and see me when he gets home,” she
says, poking her clippers vaguely in Brian’s direction. “I bought some
new cookies at the store and I think he’s going to like them. He’s my
official cookie taster.”
“I’ll tell him. He’ll be really happy to hear that.”
She waves with a gloved hand as he reaches the far side of her property line, and he waves back.
Maybe I should ask Ethel about the guy around the corner. Brian’s
not sure that Ethel knows anything beyond the business of those living
on Lodi Street. She stays pretty close to home, taking care of her
husband who’s slowly going downhill with dementia. Brian’s not looking
forward to the day she’ll have to put him in a nursing home. He has a
feeling it will take the spark from her, and she’s fun just the way she
is, even if she is a little nosy.
The house comes into view. As he gets closer, he sees that
the window is still broken, but now there’s a piece of cardboard taped
over it. The house is still, with no sign that anyone’s home. The
large black truck that was in the driveway last night isn’t there. Maybe it’s in the garage.
Brian walks up to the porch, taking the steps slowly as he
looks around. He’s not sure what he’s looking for, but everything seems
to be in order.
“What the hell am I doing here?” he whispers to himself. What
am I going to say if that guy comes to the door again? I’ll ask him
for the bill, that’s it. Tell him I want to pay right away. Be a good
neighbor. Brian shakes his head at his ridiculous thoughts. He
already told the guy to leave the bill in his box. Showing up again and
ringing the bell when the sign on it says not to feels almost like
harassment. He looks at the sign again, reading the heavy scrawl.
DO NOT RING BELL. DO NOT KNOCK. WE DON’T TAKE VISITORS.
Brian frowns. He can’t get past the feeling that it’s just
a weird thing to do, to put a sign up like that warning people away.
It’s like something he would have done as a kid on a clubhouse to keep
other kids from discovering his secret hiding place. It’s so ridiculous
it almost begs people to discover whatever it is he’s keeping inside.
Brian laughs nervously at himself. Don’t be stupid. You’re a grown man and so is he. This is his house. If you trespass he can shoot your stupid ass.
Brian steps back away from the door, prepared to leave and
never come back. But then the sound of his son’s voice and the vision
of him standing on their own front porch the night before comes back to
him. “She’s not sick, Dad. She’s just really ugly.”
Brian doesn’t want to see a really ugly woman. That’s not
what’s motivating him to stand her on this porch and risk pissing off
this neighbor. It’s just that … he’s a math guy. Brian has always been
strong in math, from the time he was Liam’s age. He uses it every day
with his work at restoring furniture, both in the actual hands-on stuff
and the figuring he has to do later when he does his billing.
Everything always has to add up in his world, and this situation with
the monster lady? It wasn’t adding up.
Brian glances over at the cardboard covering the hole. Maybe
I’ll just take a look at the damage and make a call to a glass company
myself. Then I can go get some cash out of the bank and be ready to pay
the guy when he gives me the bill.
Brian takes a few tentative steps down the porch towards
the front window. A car comes down the street and he freezes, waiting
until it’s a few doors down before continuing. Once in front of the
window, he looks around the neighborhood. No one is outside, and he
sees no faces in any other windows. These people need an Ethel.
Turning to look at the cardboard, he notices it’s stuck to
the still intact frame with duct tape. “That’s going to be a problem
when the sun melts that adhesive onto the PVC,” he says out loud. He
runs his finger along the edge, hoping he can find a loose spot so he
can pry up the cardboard a little to see the actual damage. It’s stuck
on too tight, though.
His eyes roam up. A set of white, gauzy curtains are right
in front of him, obscuring his view of the house’s interior. This
house has the same basic layout as his, so he knows there’s a large
living room of sorts on the other side of the glass. He wonders what
the woman was doing when the ball came through her window. Was she
sitting in the living room reading a book? Was she in the kitchen
making cookies?
He blinks his eyes a few times as they adjust to looking
through the white curtain. There’s a couch in the center of the wall
facing him with side chairs on its left and right, its dark, burry
contours getting clearer the longer he stares. A small coffee table
rests in the middle of the conversation area. His eyes roam the walls,
wondering what the pictures in frames look like. It’s too difficult to
see. He steps back and stands straighter, embarrassed when he realizes
he’s being worse than Ethel, staring into people’s houses like this.
It’s then that something inside the house catches his eye.
Brian stops moving for a moment as he focuses his attention on the dark
shape on the floor. He steps closer to the window, going so far as to
press his face up against the glass and cup his hands around his eyes,
trying to see better. What is that? A carpet on the floor? No. It’s not a carpet. It’s too bulky. It looks like…
He bends down, a sense of urgency overtaking his good
sense. He scratches desperately at the edge of the duct tape, finally
getting a corner of it to peel away from the window frame. He draws it
down, careful not to let it tear. Once it’s free on one side, he grabs
the cardboard and pushes it sideways, like opening the cover of the
book.
What the hell am I doing? This is nuts… He ignores
his own concerns, needing more than anything else right now to just
confirm that what he thinks he’s seeing on that floor is not what he’s
seeing.
The hole in the window is finally revealed, and it’s big enough for his hand to fit through. Thank you, Liam. Never in his wildest dreams did he ever think he’d thank his son for breaking someone’s window.
Brian reaches through and grabs the curtains on the other
side, using both hands to pull the bottom of them out through the hole.
As soon as he has the entire bottom seam through the broken window, he
lifts it up and looks into the small space that’s remaining. Now there
are no curtains in the way and he can see into the living room as clear
as if he were standing inside the house.
“Holy Mary mother of Jesus,” he whispers. He raises his voice. “Ma’am … ! Miss … ! Are you okay?”
There’s what he assumes to be a woman lying on the floor in
the middle of the room. All he can see is the back of her head and
blood on her one exposed hand. “Ma’am! Are you okay?!”
No response.
“Fuck!” he yells, hurriedly shoving the curtain back
through the hole and pushing the cardboard into place. He cuts the back
of his hand on the glass, but he ignores the blood, the pain, and
everything else as he struggles to get his cell phone out of his front
pocket.
“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?”
“Hello, this is Brian Jensen and I’m standing on the front
porch of …” He leans out and looks at the number on the front of the
house near the door, “…thirty-two Fresno Street, and there’s a woman
inside her house who’s passed out and there’s blood. She needs an
ambulance.”
“Are you the homeowner, sir?”
“No, I’m a neighbor. Can you please send someone quick? I’m afraid she might be … dead. I’m not sure. She’s not moving.”
“Can you check for a pulse?”
“No, I’m outside. But just wait a minute. I’m going in.”
“Sir, is there anyone else at the home?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Hold the line while I call the house,” the operator says.
Brian’s at the front door when the woman comes back on the
line. “They don’t appear to have a home phone on record. Have you
tried the doorbell?”
“No.” Brian realizes how ridiculous it is that he hasn’t
bothered to do that first. Surely the guy who lives here needs to know
his wife is passed out on the floor. She’s obviously sick. Maybe she
hit her head or something when she fell.
Brian rings the doorbell several times and bangs on the door with his fist. “Is anyone home?!” he yells.
No one answers.
“I don’t think anyone’s home but her,” Brian says to the
operator. He tries the handle, but the door is locked. “I’m going to
see if they have another open door somewhere.”
“Sir, I don’t recommend you break into the home.”
“I hear ya, but I’m doing it anyway.”
Brian runs around to the back and tries the door he finds
there. It’s locked up tight as well. “The back door’s locked too. I’m
going back to the front.”
“The ambulance is on its way along with a police officer. Can you stay on scene until they arrive?”
“Of course.”
“Do you want me to stay on the line with you?”
“No. Thanks for your help.” Brian hangs up without waiting for a response.
Going back to the front, he scrambles to pull the cardboard
off and the curtain through the hole again. He leaves blood on the
curtains in his attempts to see inside.
“Ma’am, an ambulance is on its way, okay? Ma’am, can you hear me?”
He’s about to look away when he sees her first finger move.
It’s just the slightest twitch, but he’s sure he saw it. “I see you
moving! I know you’re alive! They’re coming, okay! They’re coming!”
A low moan comes from inside the house, from the woman.
Brian’s breath catches in his throat as her hand moves again, this time
to slide out across the carpet. It leaves a smear of blood behind.
She moans again, this time an agonizing sound that makes Brian’s skin crawl. “You’re going to be okay. I called nine-one-one.”
Her moaning turns to a strange keening, like a growl and a
sob blended together into something almost animalistic. The sounds of a
siren in the distance reach Brian’s ears. He’s frozen in place,
holding up the curtains and peering inside, as her head slowly turns.
The ambulance turns into the driveway as her face comes
into view. Brian needs only one second to take in the sight of the
horror before him before the blood in his veins goes cold and the words
fall out of his mouth unbidden.
“Oh my god … what happened to your face?”
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