love you, too. You don’t know how anxiously I’ve been waiting to hear those words. You could not have said them more perfectly.”
He stood to his feet and she followed his lead. His hand gently cradled her cheek, he gazed into her eyes—into her soul. He wove his fingers through her hair and tugged her face toward his. Passion vibrated between them as they stared into each other’s eyes.
“I couldn’t leave tomorrow without telling you how I felt. I promise you, Emily, I’ll move heaven and earth to come back to you.”
Her hands embraced the strength of his back as he enveloped her completely. His kiss was so tender, so deep, she thought she would faint from the deluge of emotions flooding her body. He scooped a muscular arm beneath her knees and literally swept her off her bare feet.
Emily fixed her watery eyes on him as he carried her in his arms. She searched for the words to tell him she would wait for him, but her mind was swirling so deliriously that it made her dizzy. No words would come. All she could do was drape her arms around his neck and kiss him again.
“My heart is yours,” he declared. “Please don’t break it.”
– THE END –
Thank you so much for reading my book, The Heart of Lies.
I hope you enjoyed it very much. The highest compliment an author can get is to receive a great review, especially if the review is posted on Amazon.com.
Please, read on…
Here’s an exciting sneak peek
THE SCENT OF LIES
A Paradise Valley
Mystery: Book 1
“Oh, what a tangled web we weave
when first we practice to deceive.”
~ Sir Walter Scott
PROLOGUE
Life has a way of not turning out the way you had planned, of taking you down roads you had no intention of ever going. Moving in unexpected twists and turns, some bends in the road make you stronger, while others can destroy you.
* * *
The housekeeper gasped and split the air with a horrifying, ear-piercing scream as she burst in on the mister and misses. She discovered the wife, clothed in a creamy satin robe, with her dark wavy hair floating around her shoulders, kneeling beside her husband’s almost lifeless body, which lay on the plush living room floor.
The wife stared wide-eyed at the bloody kitchen knife in her hand.
“Help me,” the man whispered almost imperceptibly, terror shimmering in his eyes, trying to grab hold of her wrist.
“Ricardo,” she cried, shaking her head violently. “No! This can’t be happening.”
“Delia...” he gasped.
“Call nine-one-one, Marcela!” the misses ordered.
“Marcela,” the man hissed with his last breath.
“Oh, my God, Miss Delia!” Marcela stood paralyzed.
“For heaven’s sake, Marcela, go call the police!” the wife screeched. “I think my husband is dead!”
CHAPTER 1
“Babe, it’s time to get up,” Emily Parker muttered sweetly.
She had awakened to the brilliant morning light streaming in through her bedroom window and sleepily stretched her arm out to her husband’s side of the bed, searching for his warmth. At the sensation of the crisply cold sheets, her hand recoiled. Flipping back the covers, she sat up and shook her head. After all this time, she still caught herself reaching out for him.
It was late on a lazy Saturday morning. Sleeping in was so unlike her, but after tossing restlessly in the night, with imaginings of her late husband floating in and out of her mind, she hadn’t drifted off to sleep until the wee hours of the morning.
Now, after a quick shower, she stood in the middle of her overflowing walk-in closet, looking for the perfect outfit to wear for her celebratory lunch with her best friends. She surveyed the racks of clothes, unable to make up her mind. She glanced at his side of the closet. Everything was exactly as Evan had left it that final morning six months ago. Still, she had not yet been able to bring herself to get rid of his things—she had her reasons.
From time to time she would drape herself in one of his shirts or sweaters just to smell his scent and to feel him near. Today would be one of those times. Compelled as she was by her dreams, her need to feel close to him won out over her need to hurry, and she buried her nose in a navy blue hooded sweatshirt hanging on the rack. Breathing in the lingering trace of his rugged masculinity brought him vividly to her mind. She could not help herself—she still missed his crooked smile, the warmth of his strong arms