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About the author:
Find all of Violet’s books everywhere!
What inspired you to write your book?
I wanted to write something that was a little…on the darker side of romance; Simone and Isaac came to me at the perfect time, and I love their story of light & redemption!
Here is a short sample from the book:
“You came back.”
“I said I would, didn’t I?” He lifts a brow with his response, staying right where he’s at, and I breathe a little easier knowing he’s not trying to intimidate me. Instead, he studies me, his eyes dropping to my feet before sliding up my body in the same slow, deliberate manner he used last week, and he smiles as he meets my gaze. “Much better.”
“Thanks. I um…I’m glad you came back. I wanted to thank you. It was very kind and you didn’t have to—”
“Simone.” Hearing him cut me off by saying my name, something I forgot he knew from my name-tag, I suck in a breath, and he smiles. “Yes, I remember your name. And our world could do with a bit more kindness, don’t you agree?”
Opening my mouth to agree, I’m stopped short by the sudden gust of cold wind, which has me shivering and realizing I’m standing on the sidewalk freezing my ass off.
“I’ve gotta go,” I say, nodding in the direction I’m facing. “It’s too cold to stand here to talk and I have to get home to my—” Stopping short of admitting I have a child, I give him a smile, and say, “Thanks again.”
His lips compress as he realizes I’m not going to finish my previous sentence, then proffers his arm as he steps closer. “Let me walk with you. You should not be walking home in the dark all alone.” When I hesitate in taking it, he lets out a soft laugh. “You could tell me no, but then I will just follow you anyway to make sure you get there safely. So, stop overthinking it, take my arm, and we can get you out of this cold.”
In my head I’m thinking only an idiot would take his arm. Only an idiot would trust a man she doesn’t know, even if he gave her a huge tip for simply being kind. Even if he seems so nice and I don’t get the feeling like he wants to hurt me. But who am I kidding? I know I’m an idiot, and like he said, he would follow me anyway. I don’t have any other way to get home and my babysitter is a nice middle-aged woman who watches my son for free, but relies on me getting home by a certain time. And something tells me he’s an intelligent man; if he really wants to find out where I live, he would without having to walk me home to get it.
“You are smart,” he says with a chuckle, dropping his arm. “I can see your mind working. Suppose I should introduce myself if I expect you to let me walk you home. Isaac Toft.”