Book & Author Details:
Ropes and Revenge by Jessie Evans
(Lonesome Point, Texas #6)
Publication date: April 14th 2015
Genres: Adult, Suspense
Eight
months ago, John Lawson lost his wife and best friend in a tragic accident on
his family’s ranch. In the time since, he’s devoted himself to two
things—taking care of his two newly motherless sons and proving that Lily’s
accident was no accident. Now, he finally has hard evidence that his wife was
murdered and he won’t rest until he has the killer’s blood on his hands. He
doesn’t have time for anything but vengeance, especially not a crazy ghost
hunter wanting to poke around the old spring on his family’s ranch.
Persephone
Styles—Percy to her friends—learned about ghosts the hard way, when she was
orphaned by a violent crime at the age of seven. Ever since, she’s seen spirits
and been obsessed with studying souls beyond the grave. She’s in Lonesome Point
to document the town’s spectral activity, but finds herself powerfully drawn to
widower John Lawson and empathizing with his grieving children. For the first
time in years, Percy is as riveted by the living as she’s always been by the
dead and longs to be a part of John’s life.
But
when one night of passion becomes something more, Percy realizes John is as
haunted as she is and that the man she’s coming to love is walking a dangerous
road that may end with him becoming a murderer’s next victim.
Excerpt
“I’m not
good with people,” Persephone said, holding his gaze for a long beat before she
continued. “I don’t know what to say to help them feel better when they’re
hurting, but sometimes I can help them by helping the people they loved. I know
you don’t believe in ghosts, but I do and I care about them and I want to help
them find peace. That’s all. I believe everyone deserves peace, don’t you?”
“I
believe people don’t get what they deserve,” John said, his voice rough. “Now
leave. Please.”
She had
to leave before the earnest look on her beautiful face or the empathy shining
in her eyes broke him and he started spilling his guts to a total stranger.
This woman didn’t deserve to know that his wife was dead or that he still
mourned her like it had happened yesterday, not seven months ago. She didn’t
deserve to know that a weak, pathetic part of him almost wanted to believe in
ghosts, just so he might have some hope of communicating with Lily, of being
able to tell her how much he loved her one more time.
But
that’s what people like this woman counted on.
“John,
please,” Persephone whispered in her feather soft voice. “Let me help if I
can.”
His
stomach went sour. Persephone probably already knew that Lily had died last
spring. She would have done her research before coming here to prey on his
grief the way charlatans like her had preyed on the suffering for centuries. If
he gave her another ten minutes, he had little doubt she would be offering to
help him contact Lily on the other side.
For a
fee, of course. A fee he was sure dozens of sad fools had paid her through the
years, but he wasn’t going to be one of them.
“Get off
my land,” he repeated in a firmer voice. “I have nothing to say to you and I
don’t want, or need, your kind of help.”
Her thin
shoulders slumped and a defeated expression tightened her delicate features.
“All right. Well, I… I guess I should know better by now,” she mumbled as she
turned to walk toward the four-wheeler.
“Know
better than to try to scam people?”
She slid
one leg over the four-wheeler before turning to face him, giving him a moment
to register how out of place this elegant person looked on the dusty red
machine before she spoke. “I should know better than to reach out to people
like you, but I can’t help myself. I keep hoping…” She shook her head
wistfully. “But I suppose I’ll grow out of that, sooner or later.”
She
reached for the ignition. “Good luck, John. I hope things get better for you
soon.”
John
crossed his arms and watched her go,
determined to keep his expression impassive. He didn’t want her to know how
shitty the seemingly genuine concern in her voice made him feel. He didn’t want
to think about being part of the reason someone stopped hoping to forge connections
with people different than themselves.
Lily had
been totally different than the girls he’d dated before her. Until he’d met his freckle-faced, sass-talking,
no-bullshit wife, he’d dated women who took far better care of their outsides
than their insides. He’d been a sucker
for a pretty face and a nice rack and hadn’t looked too far beneath the
surface.
And then
he’d met Lily and learned what a
difference a heart made. She had taught him how to love, pushed him out of his
emotional comfort zone, and refused to settle for less than everything he had
to give. He’d fought her at first—determined to hold her at the same distance
he’d held other girls—but with a mixture of stubbornness, humor, and kisses
that took his breath away, she’d worn him down until he was putty in her hands.
On the
day they were married, he’d been certain
he would never love anyone more than he loved her that afternoon. But their
love had grown deeper and stronger with every passing year. By the time they
celebrated their ninth wedding anniversary, John had felt like she was a part
of him, so deeply ingrained in his heart and dear to his soul nothing could
tear them apart.
But death had ripped her away and taken the best
parts of him along with her.
“Jesus,
Lily.” John bowed his head, his breath rushing out with a defeated sound. “See
what an asshole I am without you?”
He
waited, a pathetic part of him hoping he might hear her voice in his head
again, the way he had Halloween night. But there was nothing but the sound of
some critter digging in the ground on the far side of the stream, the gentle
burble of water over stones from farther up the mountain, and Darcy snuffling
as she sniffed the ground where Persephone Styles had stood a few moments
before.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
New York Times and USA Today
bestselling author, Jessie Evans, gave up a career as an international
woman of mystery to write the sexy, contemporary romances she loves to
read.
She's married to the man of her
dreams, and together they're raising a few adorable, mischievous children
in a cottage in the jungle. She grew up in rural Arkansas, spending
summers running wild, being chewed by chiggers, and now appreciates her
home in a chigger-free part of the world even more.
When she's not writing, Jessie
enjoys playing her dulcimer (badly), sewing the worlds ugliest quilts to
give to her friends, going for bike rides with her house full of
boys, and drifting in and out on the waves, feeling thankful for sun,
surf, and lovely people to share them with.
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