got away with murder. He’s on the run from it, trying to start a new life in
a new town.
But his past won’t let won’t him escape, and it’s determined
that his future will not long.
paid in full.
sad, haunted eyes, of Jace Camden. Something about his wounded soul
called to her—like a like a whisper of a melody in a mysterious
abyss she should have the sense to ignore.
realistic and dark manner*
Kitt head tilted as she narrowed her eyes, and asked, “Want to talk about her?”
Jace turned his gaze to look out over the water and shook his head as his lips pressed into a thin line. She nodded, began walking more and he followed in relief— so grateful in the fact she didn’t push and had the intuition to know he didn’t want her to. His thumb rubbed over her knuckles as they walked in silence, with the sand still warm from the day under their toes. She stopped again and he turned to face her, mentally braced for her to inquire for more—dreaded what it would entail or how he could divert answering.
Jace sighed and closed his eyes before he answered, “Five years.”
She nodded in silence and squeezed his hand as they began moving again. He once more found himself smiling at Kitt’s unobtrusive questions and gentle manner with which she handled the situation. This time he paused their motion and Kitt turned to face him as he asked quietly, “You? Married? Boyfriend?”
She laughed softly and smiled as she shook her head. “No. Well. I’ve had boyfriends, but never married. None stayed around long enough to ask me to do the deed.”
Kitt did a cute “oh” expression at his raised eyebrow partnered with a smirk and clarified herself, “Oh I’ve done that deed. I mean. Oh hell, that was way too much information.” She blushed and he found it absolutely delicious. “Way to go, Kitt. Way. To. Go.” She mumbled and looked down at the sand.
He chuckled as he tugged her back into motion and she closed the distance between them, scuffing her feet in the sand. Now their hands and their arms made contact; the sensation from her touch set Jace at a low burn. Her flesh so warm, soft yet firm and he found himself wondering once again what she tasted like. It sent his mind once again on a path he had not traveled in years and he blocked it off—the draw to her like a flickering flame to his in the dark soul. One he must keep in check and his soul would have to stay where the nightmare of his existence had placed it.
They continued in silence with Jace catching Kitt cutting side glances his way. He hoped he seemed relaxed, and prayed she didn’t try to look deeper. She would see an underlying tension of him preparing for something bad to happen—as it always did. Well, she knew he had lost someone he loved which was bound to make anyone edgy—perhaps she would notch his nerves to that. When they reached a small fishing pier, she pulled on his hand to bring him to a stop once again. He readied himself to answer another one of her gentle questions. But instead, she stepped forward, reached out with a feather light touch and brushed his cheek with her fingertips. Jace frowned in puzzlement as he fought the urge to step away from the gesture. But he relished her warmth as he closed his eyes when she pressed her palm against his cheek and ran her thumb along his temple.
“Why do I feel like you need to be touched?” She said in a hushed whisper. “Why do you seem so sad? What is going on under your surface and why am I so drawn to it?”
Jace swallowed and thought. Please don’t be. He knew that he was like the darkest of riptides and Kitt seemed like such a wonderful person—he would hate for her to be sucked under the surface of his sorrow and drown with him. The guilt would be too great and he could not carry more. “This was a mistake.”
He went to pull away to correct that misstep in judgement but then she cupped his face. Jace’s eyes slid open to find her looking perplexed and realized she must have thought him strange. He let out a pained sound, continued to move away but she grabbed his arms and stopped him gently. She suddenly needed to learn and try to understand the enigma of Jace Camden—not sure as to why…
childhood, domestic violence survivor, homeless person, single mother
and a suicide survivor. But in every single one of those realities,
one thing remained true – my imagination.
to give that to her readers. Known for action, drama, laughter,
darkness and twists you don’t see coming in the same book, Ward is
known for writing books that are diverse, different and
spends her days and nights writing as therapy to handle surviving
domestic violence and loss of love. She is the proud parent of three
very independent grown children and grandmother to three delightful
herself late into the night as she writes out colorful and diverse if
not twisted characters and tales.