“He did more than break your heart, didn’t he?”
Emma Marshall is haunted by memories of a horrific attack she can’t bury deep enough. Most of all, Emma is haunted by fear — fear that she will never be free of her abusive ex’s control, fear she will never be able to trust another man again.
No one knows the unspeakable truth of what happened between Emma and her ex-fiancé Beaux. It’s a secret Emma plans to carry to the grave, until Julian Cole, a music executive with a dark past of his own, moves in next door and opens Emma’s mind and heart to the possibility of love after a violent betrayal. As the reporter and music executive grow closer in the historic French Quarter of New Orleans, Emma realizes she must face her past in order to heal and move forward with Julian. But Emma soon learns Beaux will do anything to keep his sins a secret.
Emma must risk everything to protect her newfound happiness and Julian from Beaux’s threats. Putting her investigative skills to good use, Emma embarks on a dangerous journey to gather evidence and bring Beaux to justice. But the deeper Emma gets into Beaux’s wicked world, the more complicated things become. How far will Beaux go to keep his secrets? How far will Emma go to protect the ones she loves? Find out in this women’s empowerment thriller about life and love after abuse.
"Yeah, you’re no friends to her," Julian says. "Now, I suggest you head back the way you came. We don’t want any trouble, do we?" he asks, letting his arms drop from his chest to his sides.
His fists ball and clench, putting the muscles of his forearms and biceps on full display. The simple movement reveals his tattoos in a way I didn’t notice before. There are more of them—a lot of them. The flickering flame of the gas lantern above him illuminates the images on his arms in a way that’s mysterious and...intimidating. The question is, will they take the warning or are they too wasted to care?
I hear mumbles that I can’t make out and finally, the shadows turn and disappear. I realize then I’ve been holding the little breath I have and give in to the exhaustion of my muscles.
I exhale and drop to the aged concrete beneath me, resting my head against the cool brick of the building behind me. If I had the energy, I’d hate myself for leaving the house, for putting myself, and Julian, in this position. But as it is, I don’t have energy for anything other than regulating my lung’s exertion and ignoring the smell of dirty seawater and sewer that invades my being.
Three winners will each receive a print copy of The Truth About Unspeakable Things (US only)
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