Capturing Fate
Abbie Roads
(Fatal Truth #2)
Publication date: January 28th 2021
Genres: Adult, Paranormal, Romance, Suspense, Thriller
Can love untangle a web of lies and expose the truth?
A loner with a mysterious childhood…
FBI agent Dolan Watts is no stranger to pain. From his childhood spent in foster care to his daily grind of hunting down hardened criminals, pain has been the one constant through the years. Confronted by a malicious new enemy who revels in mind games, Dolan begins to doubt his own perceptions.
A woman haunted by a secret…
Psychologist Daughter Dawson sabotages her own safety the moment she accepts Dolan as a client. Still, she feels compelled to help him. Dolan’s past mirrors many of the questions about her own. When she makes the mistake of confiding in him, both their lives are thrust into unimaginable danger.
Find out why people are up all night reading bestselling author Abbie Roads’ chilling, emotional novels. You might want to read with the lights on and box of tissues.
Only 99¢ for all of May!
The shrink’s waiting room was a total clichΓ©. The overly cheerful yellow walls shouted BE HAPPY. Inspirational posters hung everywhere. A TV played a rerun of The Golden Girls, complete with laugh track. It all highlighted that he wasn’t happy, wasn’t inspired, and wasn’t fond of The Golden Girlseither.
A large guy with an all-natural orange afro lay sprawled across a bank of waiting room chairs, munching on a drumstick and watching the show like he lived there.
Exactly what Dolan had expected from a shrink’s office. Crazy people.
He strode up to the open receptionist’s window. “Dolan. Watts.” He over-enunciated his name, speaking low and slow so he wouldn’t have to repeat it.
The receptionist smiled at him despite his less than friendly attitude. She motioned for him to lean forward and then spoke in a soft whisper. “You don’t need to worry about Bo.” Her gaze cut to the guy watching TV. “He’s homeless and harmless. He comes in, watches The Golden Girls, then leaves. If your appointments are always scheduled during this time slot, you’ll get to know him. He’s friendly, especially during commercial breaks.” Her smile was a trust-me smile that made him wary. “Have a seat. Dot will be right with you.”
Dot? His shrink’s name was Dot? An image of a burly, chain-smoking mama in a muumuu came to mind. Hadn’t one of his foster moms been named Dot? Or had it been Dottie? He’d had so many growing up, he’d stopped bothering to remember their names.
He turned away from the window and took a seat across from Bo. The guy wore a dirty winter parka despite being indoors and the day being mild outside.
Dolan’s foot bounced like a hooker hopped up on meth, and his tie was tighter than a hangman’s noose. He tugged at his collar. A bead of sweat slid down his spine. Great. Jittery and sweaty was a terrible first impression. He wanted to seem calm. He wanted the shrink to say he didn’t need to be here.
He stood and walked around the space, feigning interest in an inspirational photo on the wall while he loosened his tie, undid his top button, and shot covert glances at Bo.
Bo’s gaze shifted away from the TV. Dolan dipped his chin in acknowledgment. Bo raised his drumstick in salute, then turned his attention back to The Golden Girls.
“Dolan?” The female voice that called his name had an inappropriate, husky-sexy quality. He turned from the picture he’d been blindly staring at.
He expected the psychologist to be a gray-haired grandmother wearing a kitty-cat sweater and hippie skirt, but the woman standing there was—
She was on the tall side, slender yet full in all the best places. Hair the color of hot caramel draped over one of her shoulders—hot caramel sundaes were his favorite.
“Dolan?” she asked again, her forehead wrinkling.
Dolan moved toward her, tripped over his own damned foot, and skipped a step to keep from face-planting in front of her. Heat sizzled up from under his collar to his neck.
“Have a nice trip,” Bo guffawed.
Out of pure male ego, bravado, and stupidity, Dolan sent the woman his I-can-make-you-wet smile, realizing too late that wasn’t the best idea when meeting his shrink.
His gaze sought hers at the same time he dispatched a plea skyward that she hadn’t seen his trip or his smile. Nope. She stared right at him.
A smile as lovely as spring’s first bloom spread across her lips. “I do that all the time. Last week, I tripped. I mean, the arms flailing,”—she windmilled her arms— “big-running-steps-to-keep-myself-upright kind of trip. And of course, I did that in front of the city bus.”
Okay.
He liked her.
A lot.
He followed her down a hallway to her office, inhaling the sweet, spicy scent that flowed in her wake. She was an aphrodisiac, seductive and sexy without even trying.
Her office looked like a stylish living room. Soft, low lights gave off an intimate feel. She gestured at the couch while she gathered a few items from her desk.
Covertly, he watched the way her black skinny jeans gripped her ass and the white shirt hugged her breasts, but it was her electric-blue fuck-me pumps that made him wipe a hand over his mouth to make sure he wasn’t drooling.
Fuck-me pumps. His shrink wore fuck-me pumps. If he didn’t know better, he’d think he was starring in a porno flick, because damn… She was every kind of sexy. But this was real life and there had to be some rule about not banging your shrink.
Jeez. Get a grip on your dick. He shifted, lifting his right leg to set his ankle on his other knee to hide his boner.
She sat across from him, holding a notepad, a pen, and a smile. But it was more than a smile. It was like the winking light of a lone star on a moonless night. Mesmerizing. His heart suddenly seemed to swell. Either that or he was about to have a heart attack.
He pressed his hand over his chest to calm himself, but all he could feel was an overwhelming reaction to her.
She raised her hand and placed it on her chest too. One thing he knew for certain; there was a nuclear weapon’s worth of chemistry flowing between them, and he wasn’t the only one who felt it.
Feeling the need to say something, he opened his mouth, but couldn’t find any words. All he could do was stare at her.
After a few beats too long, she dropped her hand from her chest, cleared her throat, and pulled her cloak of professionalism around her. “I’m Daughter Dawson. I’m a—”
“Daughter?” Shit. Shouldn’t have interrupted her. Her name had just burst out.
“Not very original, yet… original. I’ve met no one else with the name. My parents adopted me as a baby, and the only nonnegotiable condition was that I retain the name Daughter.”
Adopted. She represented everything he used to yearn for—a family that would adopt him and love him. Such childish dreams he’d had until he’d gotten old enough to realize that dreams were just wishes, and wishes never came true.
“People call me Daught for short.”
He tried the name out. “Daught.” Not Dot.
As Daught explained how confidentiality worked, he got lost watching her lips move. There was only one way to describe her mouth. Kissable. Those plump lips were made for him. He pulled his attention to her eyes. She stuttered over what she’d been saying, before finding her balance again. Yeah. She felt the connection too.
Author Bio:
Seven Things about Abbie Roads:
1. She loves Snicker Parfaits. Gotta start with what's most important, right?
2. She writes dark emotional books featuring damaged characters, but always gives her hero and heroine a happy ending... after torturing them for three hundred pages.
3. By day she's a mental health counselor known for her blunt, honest style of therapy. At night she burns up the keyboard. Well... Burn might be too strong a word. She at least sits with her hands poised over the keyboard, waiting for inspiration to strike. And when it does--the keyboard might get a little warm.
4. She can't stand it when people drive slowly in the passing lane. Just saying. That's major annoying. Right?
5. She loves taking pictures of things she thinks are pretty.
6. She lives in Marion, Ohio with her favorite fellow and two fur babies.
7. Being a published author is a dream come true for her.Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Dangerously Dark Darlings Facebook Group / Twitter / Instagram / Bookbub / Amazon
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