Genre: Adult, Contemporary Romance
Release Date: December 29, 2014
Chelsea Arnold is not a Chadwell, as her mother incessantly reminds her.
And if she doesn’t learn to play the game, she’ll never see a dime of her new step-daddy’s money. So Chelsea puts on the act and dutifully follows the Chadwell family rules: everyone has to work in the family bar to learn life lessons. Little do they know, she already knows the biggest lesson of all: the best thing to be is underestimated. Then they’ll never see you coming. And in a few more weeks when she’s tucked enough cash away, she’ll be out of here, leaving her new family and her washed-up mother behind, because all Chelsea wants is freedom. Inheritance be damned.
But when her step-father learns he has a son he never knew about, it throws her plan off the tracks. While another son and an ex-wife sharing her husband’s affections are too much for Chelsea’s mother to handle and she heads for the hills, the rough around the edges Warren “Ware” Chadwell is enough to tempt Chelsea to stay. Despite the fact that all he has to offer is everything she’s determined to shy away from, the boy from the wrong side of the tracks knows how to push her buttons in all the right ways, no matter how wrong it is.
Ware’s voice is low and quiet, like he’s
trying not to wake me if I’ve already fall asleep. “Chelsea? Can I come in?”
I hold my breath, trying to contain the sobs
wracking my shoulders, hoping he’ll think I’m sleeping.
“I can hear you crying, so I know you’re not
asleep.”
Fuck.
Footsteps tap softly toward the bed.
“I didn’t say you could come in.” I sniffle
miserably.
The edge of the bed dips beneath Ware’s
weight and his hand cups my shoulder. “You spend so much time taking care of
everyone else, but who holds you when it’s your turn to fall down?”
“I’m more than capable of picking myself up.”
My voice wobbles, undermining my words.
“I know you can, but that doesn’t mean that
sometimes you don’t just want someone to take care of you, yeah?”
“Yeah,” I say so quietly it can hardly even
be called a whisper. Before I even realize I’ve spoken out loud, Ware has
scooped me up and he’s sliding beneath me, crushing me against his chest. I
want to resist, because to say I’m conflicted about where he fits into
everything would be a ginormous understatement. I’m still not sure if he’s the
enemy, or a potential ally, but his warmth burns away my barriers, and the
tears flow more freely. I go from steady tears and soft sobs to ugly crying
without any preamble. My dam has broken and the raw emotion surges through.
I’m vaguely aware of Ware stroking my hair
while his other arm around my waist keeps me glued to him. He hums softly,
something soothing and serene, that sounds vaguely familiar. As he hums, he
keeps stroking my hair and my body begins melting into him. Before I can ask
him what he’s humming, he begins to softly sing and my heart stops. His voice
is hauntingly beautiful, and I’m afraid to even breathe, afraid he’ll stop. It
takes me a moment to place the song, but I think it’s Lullabye by Shaun
Mullins. It’s haunting and sad and soulful all at once, sending a shiver up my
spine from the chilling beauty of it.
His hand freezes and he pauses mid song.
“Sorry, are you cold?” He tugs at the blanket, trying to pull it from
underneath us.
“No. Not cold,” I say, lifting my head to
peer up at him.
“Appalled by my singing then?” I know he
knows differently by the way the corner of his lip quirks up as he teases me.
“That’s probably it.” More like amazed, or
enraptured. I hear live artists singing at the bar downstairs almost every
weekend, but it is never like hearing Ware sing. He wasn’t performing, or putting
on a show. It was more like he was just letting his emotions come out through
his voice, saying more than his words ever could. I feel safe, and cherished,
and content. It makes no sense, but I’ve got no desire to question it tonight.
He gives me a knowing smile and I drop my
head back against his chest. “Thanks,” I mumble against him.
“Don’t mention it. Sometimes we just need the
connection of touching another human being. I think it’s ingrained in us from
birth, yeah?”
“Yeah,” I say softly.
“I should probably head out to the couch
though.” His voice is heavy with regret, and I wonder what’s going through his
head. Does he regret comforting me, or does he regret not doing more?
My hand wraps around his arm, not wanting to
let him go, but feeling silly at the thought of saying it. He seems to
understand, and I don’t need to. We settle under the covers, curled tightly
against each other and I fall asleep to the sound of Ware humming beside my
ear.
In The Series
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Kelly Walker is a YA and NA author of several romantic titles, including the Souls of the Stones Fantasy Romance series. She has an unhealthy appreciation for chocolate, and a soft spot for rescued animals. Her best lessons on writing came from a lifetime of reading. She loves the fantastical, and the magical, and believes a captivating romance can be the most realistic magic of all. Kelly, her husband and her two children share their Virginia home with three dogs who walk her, and two cats who permit her to occasionally share their couch.
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