A Flawed Heart

A FLAWED HEART

April Emerson

Erotic Romance

Secret Cravings Publishing

www.secretcravingspublishing.com

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A
Secret Cravings Publishing Book

Erotic Romance

A Flawed Heart

Copyright ©
2014
 
April
Emerson

E-book ISBN: 9781-63105-253-8

First E-book Publication: July 2014
   

Cover design by Jada
D’Lee

Edited by Leslie Fish

Proofread by Courtney
Karmiller

All cover art and logo copyright ©
2014 by Secret Cravings Publishing

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literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means,
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All characters and events in this
book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is
strictly coincidental.

PUBLISHER

Secret Cravings Publishing

www.secretcravingspublishing.com

Dedication

For my flawless husband.

The Cravings
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The Cravings Paranormal
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Trouble
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Blood
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*
Trouble With a Cowboy
, a western, erotic romance:

18 wheels
had her heart until one hard-up cowboy found her
kickin
'
up her heels and propositions her to take his bull to Vegas.

Jacie
Hawkins drives big wheelers for a
livin
'.
Something not a lot of women do. Littleton Oklahoma is just a dry stopover for
a few hours of rest and relaxation at the nearest bar.
Jacie
needs to find a hot cowboy to release some of her pent up frustrations on for
the night, but wannabe's aren't her style.

Tucker
Marshall needs a big-rig driver to haul his prize bull to National Finals Rodeo
and he needs one fast. Who would have thought he'd find one
shootin
'
pool at the local bar dressed to kill and
takin
'
numbers?

Can some
slashed tires and an ornery bull bring two hard-headed people together for some
fun in the sun and a little more?

**
Blood Kisses (Nightwalkers 1)
,
paranormal erotic romance:

Ashleigh Brown, the author of
the popular Nightwalkers series, lives a quiet life free of the limelight.
 
She keeps her real identity secret by
writing under the pen name, Victoria Allure.
 
She soon finds herself in a bind when
she's kidnapped by a group of handsome vampires seeking Victoria.
 
She then agrees to meet their Master,
who's a huge fan of her books.
 
But
instead of meeting him, she accidentally crosses paths with her rock star
crush.
 
He is the sexy muse behind
Nightwalkers and the man she based the hero in the series upon. She would do
anything to meet him but little does she know her crush has a secret...

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Beth Walker

A FLAWED HEART

April Emerson

Copyright ©
2014

Chapter One

It’s hotter than the hinges of hell. Moss-covered branches
older than some cities bend low over the dirt driveway, offering much needed
shade. The damp fabric of my tank top sticks to me, and the balmy breeze does
nothing to cool my skin. The ice has completely melted in my sweet tea, and it’s
turned into a lukewarm, flavorless liquid. I’m sitting on the porch of the home
I grew up in, and this is the last day I will spend here. My bags are packed
and my room is empty.

I can hear her in the kitchen—my mama—slamming cabinets
harder than she needs to. She’s unhappy that I’m leaving, but it’s time for me
to go. It’s been only me and her since my daddy lost his life. She loves me
with a ferocity most wouldn’t understand. Her sister Louise—our only other
relative—came to live with us after my father passed. I can’t feel guilty about
this. I’m ready for something new. Tomorrow I trade this Georgia heat for the
grit of New York City.

It’s not easy, me leaving. I’ve not seen much of the world
outside of Savannah, but I know in my soul that this isn’t my home. Like snow
in the summertime, I don’t belong here.

* * * *

I wander through LaGuardia with my luggage. I’m on the edge
of having one of my attacks, so I pull my out my prescription and wash the
Xanax down with the last drips in my bottle of water. It stinks here, and
bodies rush around me. In my attempt to get out of this hellish place, I’ve
been stepped on twice and elbowed once. Finally, I find what I’m looking for—the
exit.

I step through the sliding door and pull out my cigarettes—a
filthy habit that I picked up in college. My mama hates it, but she’s not here
to scold me. I don’t have a light, so I ask the guy at the taxi stand. He looks
me up and down, and I catch him staring at my cleavage. No southern gentleman
would ogle me the way this man just has. Choosing to move here wasn’t easy, and
a small part of me knows I’m not as brave as I pretend to be. I take the light
he offers with a shaking hand.

I dart my eyes around as I smoke, searching for my ride—my
ride and my new roommate, Lydia Taylor. From our email exchanges I know she’s
an artist—a sculptor. From our phone conversations I know she’s energetic, and
from Skype I know that she’s beautiful—big eyes and a gloriously white smile.
When I see her in person I realize just how pretty and enthusiastic she really
is. I put my hand out for her to shake it but she hugs me instead, as if we’ve
been friends since the day the lord made us.

“If you’re crazy enough to find a roommate on Craigslist,
then I think we should skip formalities,” she says.

I follow her toward a black Dodge Charger. Every good ole
boy I grew up with wanted one of these so they could zoom around like the Dukes
of Hazard. “Nice car,” I say.

“Oh, thanks, but it’s my brother’s.”

She helps me put my luggage in the trunk, starts the car,
and tears out of the parking lot, honking at a cab driver and giving him the
finger as he tries to cut her off. I quickly buckle my seatbelt and my mouth
goes dry.

Lydia gives me a smile. “Welcome to New York.”

She currently lives with her daddy on the upper west side of
Manhattan, right near the Museum of Natural History. The building is huge and
beautiful. The doorman takes my bags and helps us into the elevator. We stop on
the eighteenth floor. Lydia’s childhood home is a penthouse. The elevator door
opens right into the living room, and I’m stunned by the view. Large windows
look right out into Central Park. It’s breathtaking. The apartment is decorated
in a clean and modern fashion. Expensive looking paintings cover the walls, and
a baby grand piano is set in the center of the room.

“Hello, Claire. Welcome to our home. I’m Daniel.”

Lydia’s daddy has ice blue eyes, and he’s as charming as
cherry pie. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, and thank you for having me,” I say,
shaking his hand.

“Lydia, why don’t you show Claire around, and then we can
get some dinner?”

She walks me down a long hallway and into a bedroom. The
room is stark white, but the bed has a black comforter and a dozen pillows. One
wall is completely covered in books. On the opposite wall are shelves lined
with hundreds of records, cassettes, and CDs. The wall that the bed is against
has huge floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the park.