For fans of Christina Lauren and Jodi Ellen Malpas comes the next novel in M. O’Keefe’s breathtakingly sexy series about a woman called into a journey of the heart, body, and soul.
We played our roles, told each other lies.
But now Dylan is no longer just a mysterious deep voice on the other end of the line. We’re face-to-face and our relationship is very, very real.
We still have secrets—but so much is crystal clear:
The thrilling danger.
The raw, naked desire.
The need to keep feeling the way he makes me feel. Forever.
Dylan is putting up walls, trying to keep me safe, but he can’t shut me out. He has seen my darkness and rescued me. Now it’s my turn, if only he will let me.
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PURCHASE LINKS:
Amazon: http://amzn.to/1P7I3JW
iBooks: http://apple.co/1JGO1dK
Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/1FKW4v6
LINKS FOR EVERYTHING I LEFT UNSAID (Everything I Left Unsaid, #1)
Amazon: http://amzn.to/1P7I3JW
iBooks: http://apple.co/1JGO1dK
Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/1FKW4v6
Kobo: http://bit.ly/1N5ajxk
AUTHOR INFORMATION:
BIO:
Molly O'Keefe has always known she wanted to be a writer (except when she wanted to be a florist or a chef and the brief period of time when she considered being a cowgirl). And once she got her hands on some romances, she knew exactly what she wanted to write.
She published her first Harlequin romance at age 25 and hasn't looked back. She loves exploring every character's road towards happily ever after.
Originally from a small town outside of Chicago, she went to university in St. Louis where she met and fell in love with the editor of her school newspaper. They followed each other around the world for several years and finally got married and settled down in Toronto, Ontario. They welcomed their son into their family in 2006, and their daughter in 2008. When she's not at the park or cleaning up the toy room, Molly is working hard on her next novel, trying to exercise, stalking Tina Fey on the internet and dreaming of the day she can finish a cup of coffee without interruption.
AUTHOR LINKS:
Site - http://www.molly-okeefe.com/
Twitter - https://twitter.com/
Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/
Molly O'Keefe has always known she wanted to be a writer (except when she wanted to be a florist or a chef and the brief period of time when she considered being a cowgirl). And once she got her hands on some romances, she knew exactly what she wanted to write.
She published her first Harlequin romance at age 25 and hasn't looked back. She loves exploring every character's road towards happily ever after.
Originally from a small town outside of Chicago, she went to university in St. Louis where she met and fell in love with the editor of her school newspaper. They followed each other around the world for several years and finally got married and settled down in Toronto, Ontario. They welcomed their son into their family in 2006, and their daughter in 2008. When she's not at the park or cleaning up the toy room, Molly is working hard on her next novel, trying to exercise, stalking Tina Fey on the internet and dreaming of the day she can finish a cup of coffee without interruption.
AUTHOR LINKS:
Site - http://www.molly-okeefe.com/
Twitter - https://twitter.com/
Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/
EXCERPT:
“I don’t want to
be alone,” she breathed against my chest. Her hands, cool and shaking, slipped
around my waist.
I didn’t want to be alone either. For the first time in longer than
I could remember, my solitude chafed.
She stared back at me with haunted eyes. “Don’t make me be alone,”
she whispered.
Oh. Jesus. I could not
refuse.
“Come on.” I led her into the bedroom. Which was so damn tiny. There
was the double bed in faded and worn flowery sheets and there was us. She took
a deep breath and her chest nearly touched mine. “Let’s . . . let’s try and get
some sleep.”
She crawled up onto my bed, and I looked out the window instead of at
her ass in those little shorts. Her petite body curled up into almost nothing
on one side of the bed.
“You cold?” I
asked, and she shook her head. Her blue eyes piercing in the darkness.
“Do . . .” Annie sat up, her
eyes on her hands. “Do you want me to leave?”
“No.” Fuck me, but that was the truth. I didn’t want her to leave.
I crawled into bed beside her, making sure we weren’t touching. Half
my leg was hanging off the bed and my arms were behind my head. The bed was
barely big enough for me and while she might be tiny, this thing between us was
huge.
Tell
her, I thought. Tell her why you’re here. Tell her
what being here might cost her.
But I couldn’t. I didn’t want to scare her. I didn’t want to add to
her worry; she had enough.
Bullshit, that
voice said.
You don’t want her to leave. You don’t want her to leave
you alone in this fucking trailer park with Pops and your brother and your past. Be man enough to admit that.
Suddenly, she crawled toward the end of the bed.
“What are you doing?”
“This is worse than being alone,” she said. “I’m lying here thinking
about everything you asked me to do, everything we did together, and you’re
right here and I’m right here and we might as well be miles apart. It hurts,
Dylan.” Her eyes, her beautiful eyes, revealed it all, the width and breadth of
her agony. “It hurts to be near you like this.”
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