Two bullets — one just under her right breast and the other in the middle of her left leg. That’s all it had taken to destroy Elle Reid, to leave her weak and useless. Just two little bullets.
Elle gave into her desires and allowed herself to love. The road to redemption hasn’t been easy for her, or her lovers, but together, she, Sadie, Callum, and Derek strive for a life of peace and harmony. But will they get their happily ever after, or will a madwoman’s quest for revenge shattered their dreams?
“She cut you.”
Samuel nodded. “We’d gone out for breakfast, and when we got back, the front door was open. I told Lydia to stay outside and call the police while I went inside.”
“You stupid fool,” Lydia cried.
“What were you thinking?” Elle exclaimed. “Were you trying to get yourself killed?”
“No, of course not!” he insisted. “But I couldn’t just stay on the porch. I found Trixie inside our bedroom. She was . . . she was on the bed, touching herself.”
“Ew,” Callum groused as he, Derek, and Sadie sat on the other sofa.
“Tell me about it,” Samuel scoffed, shifting so that he was facing Elle. “Sweetheart, she, um, she’s dyed her hair dark, like . . . like yours.”
“Like mine?” Elle whispered.
“Yeah, and, uh, I think she was wearing your clothes.”
“W . . . What?” she stammered, her chest heaving as
she struggled to keep her breathing calm and even. “What do you mean my clothes?”
“I don’t know how she got them, but you remember the outfit you wore the day you presented your plans for Alvarez Park?” he asked.
Elle bit her lip, thinking back to the day she and Sadie had met Samuel Davis. It’d been a year — a long year, that hadn’t been the easiest on them. “Um, vaguely. I remember wearing one of my black skirts, but I can’t remember what blouse I wore.”
“It was your blue silk blouse,” Sadie said, her cheeks warming. “You looked hot in it. Hugged your —”
“Sadie,” Elle hissed, shifting her eyes to the detectives before looking back at Samuel. “She was wearing my clothes?”
“Or clothes that looked like yours,” he said. “When I found her on the bed, she smiled and said she’d been waiting for me. I told her to leave, called her by her name, and she . . .
Well, Trixie went nuts and started screaming at me, saying she was you.”
Obsessive, compulsive, slightly crazed, but enough about her personality. First and foremost, Lisa Bilbrey is a mom to three and a wife to one. She loves to write, and spends the majority of everyday writing. It’s who she is, and what she’s meant to be doing. Words are her life, the air she breathes, and the nutrients of her soul.
Finding a love in the written word, Lisa Bilbrey started writing as a way to express herself and let her voice be heard. From the first word she wrote, she’d found her heart and soul. Always willing to learn, she’s spends much of her time trying to improve as a storyteller.