it. These two will heat the pages up and suck you into their story. –– Goodreads reviewer 5 stars
Giana Darling is a USA Today, Wall Street Journal, Top 40 Best Selling Canadian romance writer who specializes in the taboo and angsty side of love and romance. She currently lives in beautiful British Columbia where she spends time riding on the back of her man’s bike, baking pies, and reading snuggled up with her cat, Persephone.
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This is War, Baby
Copyright © 2016 K Webster
Copyright © 2020 K Webster
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information and retrieval system without express written permission from the Author/Publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
To my hubby.
War is worth the peace.
“They’re in love. Fuck the war.”
― Thomas Pynchon, Gravity’s Rainbow
Note to Reader
This is War, Baby is the first book in a complete seven book series. For this anthology, I’ve included a bonus chapter after chapter three for this book. It is newly written material. The first three books of this series can be found in a set called War & Peace Series. If you’re looking for this book by itself, it can be found on most retailers, as well as, on my website. Happy reading if you’re new to this dark series! Buckle up because it’s quite a ride!
Baylee
My head throbs.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Where am I?What day is it?
I’m aching and disoriented and cold. But that isn’t what has me terrified. It isn’t that I haven’t eaten. Nor is it that I also haven’t slept. No. What’s terrifying is that I haven’t seen anything but complete black in what must be days.
Anger bubbles in my chest at having been stolen by my neighbor. I can’t prove it but I know his voice. He took me right from my bedroom. Dad never came. Brandon was badly hurt. And I haven’t a clue as to where I am.
I think I hear a thud above me and I try to still my racing heart. Why would Gabe take me to lock me away in some dungeon and let me die? It makes absolutely no sense.
Another thud. Several of them. My heart flares to life and I hope maybe the cops have come for me. That my dad is leading a pack of angry policemen dead set on rescuing me. I’m too young to die. I had plans—plans that involved going to med school. Plans that I’d hoped involved marrying Brandon and having a bunch of babies. We’re in love. God, I hope he’s okay.
A sharp pain seizes my stomach and I whimper. I want to scream at him to feed me something—anything—but I’ve already tried that. The screams have fallen on deaf ears. Screaming doesn’t get me food—screaming gets me a hoarse, dry throat. My cracked lips are the most apparent signs of my dehydration. The throat though, is awful. No matter how many times I attempt to conjure up spit to wet my throat, the most I can come up with is a small, thick ball of phlegm which only serves to nauseate me when I swallow it.
“Help.” The croak belongs to me but it’s nothing more than a whisper.
I’ve been all over this space, feeling my way through the dark, but have found nothing to be down here. Not one single damn thing. I’ve deemed one corner my bathroom. My bodily excretions are what decorate that corner now, not that there’s much, since I’m slowly dying from a lack of nutrients.
“Please.” This time, my voice is louder but it will never penetrate these concrete walls. Reaching out, I once again finger the walls searching for a way out. How does a room not have windows or doors? How did he get me inside of this tomb?
Something skitters over my hand and I shriek. Must have been a spider. The normal girly-girl I was not long ago would have