But some lies protect…and heal. At least that’s what Gray Donovan had hoped for. She’s a compulsive liar using it as a defense mechanism to survive life and her shattered past.
When she starts seeing therapist Daniel Harrison, she can no longer deny the truths that have haunted her for so many years. She must now stand and face them.
Opening up to Daniel leaves her exposed and vulnerable. When her soul is bared to him, she can’t contain the attraction or the feelings he elicits.
Daniel feels drawn to his new patient, but knows he will have to fight it in order to resurrect Gray from her demons. His will and his judgment are tested when he must overcome his own doubts and face his own secrets.
Advance Praise for Compulsive
“Fairchild spins an emotional story that is saturated in sex appeal.”
“What a beautiful, beautiful story!”
“OMG! I honestly loved this just like every book I've read by this talented Indie author!”
“I was flipping pages like a maniac trying to figure out what in the heck was going on and what Gray was hiding.”
“This is my third book by this author and it won't be my last!”
The ridges on the stark white ceiling blurred from my intense stare as I listened to the steady even breaths coming from the body next to me. He wasn’t a bad guy. Just an idiot. Maybe even married for all
I knew. The clock read four twenty-three. That wouldn’t work for me. I waited for a nice round
even number. Something that felt right. I held my phone with the message typed out: I need you.
I keyed in the address, and when the clock hit four thirty, I hit Send.
At ten before five AM, I eased my body out of the bed the way a mother slips from her sleeping child, hoping not to rouse her angel. He stirred a moment and turned on his side, his arm involuntarily reaching for me.
“Sky,” he murmured with his eyes closed. His dark buzz cut hair was sprinkled with gray flecks, and a small rectangular scar bordered the hairline on the right side of his face. I hadn’t noticed that the night before, or I would have asked him. Now my curiosity had me pausing, conjuring up various scenarios for its origin. Whatever the cause would forever remain a mystery. With a gentle hold around his wrist, I lifted his hand and rested it on the comforter. His eyes flitted open and closed. Frozen, I waited to see if he’d wake. I didn’t worry about coming up with a story. It always came.
Still sitting on the edge of the bed, I reached over to an adjacent chair to snag my black silk shirt. When I pulled it over my head and then glanced down, two light blue eyes met mine.
“Hey, you,” he whispered. His soft, sweet smile almost made a dent, but I pulled my hand away.
“I’ve got to run.”
Surprise and confusion colored his face. “What time is it?”
“Around five. I’ve got early rounds.”
He seemed satisfied with my excuse and looked thoughtful. “Ah, yes, Dr. Phillips. Time to save lives.”
I gave him a nod and a tight smile just before a knock at the door sounded. I rose from the bed to pull on my skirt and slip my feet into my heels.
He sat up watching me closely like a cat that’d dart out of an open door. “Who could that be at this time?” he said.
“My ride,” I threw over my shoulder. I scooped up my purse from the dresser on the way out
his face in the mirror. They always had that same look the next day. Or perhaps I was the one who saw things differently.
I heard him jump out of bed and scramble for his pants as I made my way to the living room, picking up my pace. “Sky, wait.”
When I reached the door, he came in and leaned against the couch, folding his arms. “I could have driven you home.”
“It’s okay,” I said, pulling the door open.
Nathan stood in the doorway, hands stretched out to the jams on each side, his brown hair ragged from being dragged from the comfort of his bed. He shot me that look that said, you owe me and then let one hand fall and sweep to the side as if making a path for royalty.
“Wait,” a voice came from behind me. “Who’s this guy?”
Nathan took a step into the doorway. “Oh, hey, man.”
“John, this is my cousin, Nathan,” I said.
Unfortunately, Nathan had spoken at the same time I did and said, “I’m her neighbor.”
John walked over to the two of us, eyes darting between me and my partner in crime. “Well, which is it?”
Nathan and I exchanged looks, and I opened my mouth to speak.
John held up his hand. “No. Let me guess,” he said in a sarcastic tone. “He’s your cousin who lives next door.”
I half-shrugged while looking him dead in the eye. “I really should get going.” A split second later, I plastered on a smile. “I’ll call you.”
“You haven’t given me much choice,” he said to my back as I sidled past Nathan. “I don’t even have your number.”
Bestselling author, Lia Fairchild, is both a traditionally published and independent author who writes women's fiction, romance, and chick lit. Fans of her books praise her endearing, real characters who come to life in stories that will touch your heart. Fairchild is addicted to the warmth of Southern California and holds a bachelor's degree in journalism and a multiple-subject teaching credential. She is a wife and mother of two teenagers.