Camden's Redemption (Gloves Off #4)(66)
L.P. Dover is represented by Marisa Corvisiero of Corvisiero Literary Agency.
Other Titles by LP Dover:
FOREVER FAE SERIES
Forever Fae
Betrayals of Spring
Summer of Frost
Reign of Ice
SECOND CHANCES SERIES
Love’s Second Chance
Trusting You
Meant for Me
Fighting for Love
Intercepting Love
GLOVES OFF SERIES
A Fighter’s Desire: Part One
A Fighter’s Desire: Part Two
Tyler’s Undoing
Ryley’s Revenge
Winter Kiss: Ryley & Ashley [A Gloves Off Novella]
Paxton’s Promise
STANDALONE TITLE
Love, Lies, and Deception
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EXTRAORDINARY AUTHORS & BOOKS:
Alivia Anders ~ Illumine
Cambria Hebert ~ Recalled
Angela Orlowski Peart ~ Forged by Greed
Julia Crane ~ Freak of Nature
J.A. Huss ~ Tragic
Cameo Renae ~ Hidden Wings
A.J. Bennett ~ Now or Never
Tabatha Vargo ~ Playing Patience
Beth Balmanno ~ Set in Stone
Ella James ~ Selling Scarlett
Tara West ~ Visions of the Witch
Heidi McLaughlin ~ Forever Your Girl
Melissa Andrea ~ The Edge of Darkness
Komal Kant ~ Falling for Hadie
Melissa Pearl ~ Golden Blood
Alexia Purdy ~ Breathe Me
Sarah M. Ross ~ Inhale, Exhale
Brina Courtney ~ Reveal
Amber Garza ~ Falling to Pieces
Anna Cruise ~ Maverick
Also, keep reading to get a sneak peek at Here With Me by Heidi McLaughlin
EACH STEP I TAKE IS PAINFUL. Not in the sense that I’ve been physically injured—unless you can count my heart being torn out and ripped to shreds, twice, as being physically hurt—but in the sense that my body aches with any type of movement. I’m sore all over from too much crying and a lack of eating. Withering away to nothing, as my best friend, Lois has been saying for the past two weeks.
The fact that it’s been two weeks since my life has been turned upside down flipped inside out and run through the ringer stops me mid-step. Lois smashes into my back, no doubt looking at her phone, texting someone she shouldn’t be and meddling in my affairs. Even though I love her, I want her to stop. I want to wake up from this nightmare and have my life go back to the way it was six years ago.
Lois places her hand on my back, urging me silently to take the next step, and the next one and the next one after that. She’s been my rock for as long as I can remember, and surprisingly there was a time when I didn’t need her as much, but that’s all changed.
At the top of the staircase sits a table with a small bouquet of freshly picked flowers, a nice touch to the drab location. When Lois pulled in front of the building, I recoiled in my seat. The brick building, old and worn with age, shows no sign of being welcoming. The sidewalk is cracked and weeds grow in between the slabs. The only saving grace is the park across the street, and while it’s empty, it looks inviting, if not a place to escape.
Lois opens the door before I can raise my hand to knock. She’s impatient with me and I understand why. I know deep down she’s afraid I’m going to turn and run. Believe me the thought has crossed my mind a time or two. I know it’s not the answer, but it makes the most sense. If I can’t be found, I can’t be hurt, and I’ve had far too much hurt in my life to last me until my last breath. With her hand on my back, she gives me a gentle nudge to step into the office. The woman behind the glass wall looks up briefly and gives us a half smile. She probably feels the same way I do about the building. It’s lacking in life, much like I am right now.
After giving her my name, I sit down next to Lois. Her face is now stuffed in a magazine, and she’s ignoring me. This is her idea of tough love. I’ve been down this path with her before so I know what to expect. You’d think by now I’d be a pro and can deal with whatever is thrown my way, but I’m not. It seems that every few years my idea of happiness turns into a weak excuse for life.
My name is called, and I’m directed through an open door. The room I step into is lackluster and cold. I cross my arms to ward off an impending shiver and chastise Lois for making me wear a dress today. My cardigan is resting in the backseat of her car when it should be on my shoulders.
“Good morning. What’s your name?”
It’s in the chart on your desk, I want to yell out, but refrain. Lois would likely hear me and scold me like a child. I’d take it though because she’d be right. The lady behind the desk doesn’t ask me to sit down or guide me to the chair or couch in her office. She doesn’t even look at me. This meeting is feeling a bit too impersonal for my taste, and as I reach for the door, I hear her clear her throat.
“Ryley, I like to ask my patients to say their names so that their identities aren’t forgotten when we start discussing why you’re here.”
It makes sense, I think. I opt to sit on the couch, but only on the edge. I don’t want to be comfortable or complacent.