Are you a dark romance fan? If so, we got one for you! PITCH DARK by A.M. WILSON & ALEX GRAYSON is hauntingly disturbing. After reading the excerpt we pre-ordered our copy! Now is your chance to do the same! Pitch Dark is NOW LIVE & Free on KU.
" She was dead, gone from this world my light forever extinguished and leaving me in pitch dark."
EXCERPT
I hold my breath and stand perfectly still when she takes a step toward me. I have no idea what she’s doing, but I don’t want to frighten her by moving. My fingers dig into my thighs through my jeans pockets when she stops only inches away from me. I keep my eyes steady on hers as she looks up at me. When I feel her tiny hand land on my forearm, I have to force myself not to jerk in surprise. It’s warm and soft.
She makes a move to turn away when the light from the porch glints off something on her wrist. Before I realize what I’m doing, my hand darts out and grabs her upper arm, to stop her. My grip isn’t tight, but she still flinches. Pain stabs me in the gut because I never want her to fear me, but locking my eyes on the bracelet on her wrist has the pain changing from her fearing me to the pain I’ve felt for the past fifteen years. It grabs my heart and squeezes tight, nearly suffocating me.
Anger pushes its way in beside the pain. My veins start to throb and sweat breaks out on my forehead. I try to loosen my grip on her, but my hands won’t let go. Seeing that bracelet on someone else’s wrist, a bracelet I thought was lost, has my mind going crazy.
“Where did you get that?” I ask, unable to hold back the anger in my voice. I know I’m being an asshole, and there must be a reasonable explanation as to why she has it, but at the moment, my only thought is Doe’s wearing something that belongs to Aislin. It’s cheap plastic, but that bracelet is more precious than the finest of diamonds. No one deserves to wear it but Aislin.
Doe whimpers, and just that small sound snaps some of my control back into place. I yank my hand away and close my eyes. I drop my head and pull in several deep breaths. When I look back at Doe, the fear I haven’t seen in her eyes when she looks at me is back, and I fucking hate it.
I keep my tone calm when I ask again, “Where did you get that?” I tip my chin toward the bracelet.
She looks down at her wrists, licks her lips, swallows, and then lifts her head back to me.
“It was in the room,” she whispers fearfully.
I clench my jaw and force back the anger that’s building again.
“I told you not to go in there,” I grit out.
“I know.”
“Why did you?”
She huddles her back against the door frame before she answers quietly, her voice trembling like she’s afraid of my reaction. “Because I like it in there. I feel safe in there.”
A growl forms in my throat, and I barely catch it before it leaves my lips. Instead, I spin on my heel and rake my fingers through my hair, gripping some strands in the back and giving them a yank. The slight pain does nothing to calm the raging pain and anger I feel. Doe doesn’t understand. There’s no way she could understand the magnitude of her going in that room. No one does, not even my family or Tavers. That room is sacred and the only thing I have left of Aislin except for the few trinkets I have of hers in a small box. I’ve been fooling myself into thinking I could one day go in there and go through her things. Get rid of the nonimportant items and maybe keep a few of the significant ones. That room will stay as it is for as long as I live. Knowing someone went in there, rifling through her things...
She makes a move to turn away when the light from the porch glints off something on her wrist. Before I realize what I’m doing, my hand darts out and grabs her upper arm, to stop her. My grip isn’t tight, but she still flinches. Pain stabs me in the gut because I never want her to fear me, but locking my eyes on the bracelet on her wrist has the pain changing from her fearing me to the pain I’ve felt for the past fifteen years. It grabs my heart and squeezes tight, nearly suffocating me.
Anger pushes its way in beside the pain. My veins start to throb and sweat breaks out on my forehead. I try to loosen my grip on her, but my hands won’t let go. Seeing that bracelet on someone else’s wrist, a bracelet I thought was lost, has my mind going crazy.
“Where did you get that?” I ask, unable to hold back the anger in my voice. I know I’m being an asshole, and there must be a reasonable explanation as to why she has it, but at the moment, my only thought is Doe’s wearing something that belongs to Aislin. It’s cheap plastic, but that bracelet is more precious than the finest of diamonds. No one deserves to wear it but Aislin.
Doe whimpers, and just that small sound snaps some of my control back into place. I yank my hand away and close my eyes. I drop my head and pull in several deep breaths. When I look back at Doe, the fear I haven’t seen in her eyes when she looks at me is back, and I fucking hate it.
I keep my tone calm when I ask again, “Where did you get that?” I tip my chin toward the bracelet.
She looks down at her wrists, licks her lips, swallows, and then lifts her head back to me.
“It was in the room,” she whispers fearfully.
I clench my jaw and force back the anger that’s building again.
“I told you not to go in there,” I grit out.
“I know.”
“Why did you?”
She huddles her back against the door frame before she answers quietly, her voice trembling like she’s afraid of my reaction. “Because I like it in there. I feel safe in there.”
A growl forms in my throat, and I barely catch it before it leaves my lips. Instead, I spin on my heel and rake my fingers through my hair, gripping some strands in the back and giving them a yank. The slight pain does nothing to calm the raging pain and anger I feel. Doe doesn’t understand. There’s no way she could understand the magnitude of her going in that room. No one does, not even my family or Tavers. That room is sacred and the only thing I have left of Aislin except for the few trinkets I have of hers in a small box. I’ve been fooling myself into thinking I could one day go in there and go through her things. Get rid of the nonimportant items and maybe keep a few of the significant ones. That room will stay as it is for as long as I live. Knowing someone went in there, rifling through her things...
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MORE ABOUT PITCH DARK
One girl disappeared. After fifteen years, her cold lifeless body was found on the damp forest floor.
Not an inch of her was unmarked by the horrors she endured.
Alone, malnourished, abused in horrific ways; this was how she died.
One girl was found walking the streets, covered in dirt and scars.
She had no memory of who she was, where she came from, or what happened to her.
Even though the marks on her body attested to years of heinous abuse, her strength shone through at every turn.
Revenge and justice were sworn.
Years of searching brought up nothing but dead ends.
Detective Niko James was too late to save his childhood friend, but he vows not to let down another.
The clock is ticking and the trail is pitch dark.
One girl disappeared. After fifteen years, her cold lifeless body was found on the damp forest floor.
Not an inch of her was unmarked by the horrors she endured.
Alone, malnourished, abused in horrific ways; this was how she died.
One girl was found walking the streets, covered in dirt and scars.
She had no memory of who she was, where she came from, or what happened to her.
Even though the marks on her body attested to years of heinous abuse, her strength shone through at every turn.
Revenge and justice were sworn.
Years of searching brought up nothing but dead ends.
Detective Niko James was too late to save his childhood friend, but he vows not to let down another.
The clock is ticking and the trail is pitch dark.
ONE CLICK YOUR COPY TODAY!
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Alex Grayson is the bestselling author of heart pounding, emotionally gripping contemporary romance including the Jaded Series, the Consumed Series, and two standalone novels. Her passion for books was reignited by a gift from her sister-in-law. After spending several years as a devoted reader and blogger, Alex decided to write and independently publish her first novel in 2014 (an endeavor that took a little longer than expected). The rest, as they say, is history.
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A. M. Wilson loves infusing her stories with real life—the good, the bad, and the steamy parts. She thinks there’s something special about romance; that pivotal moment when two characters realize their love for each other, but she likes wading through a little angst to get there. When she isn’t furiously typing on her computer, she can be found searching for her next all-consuming read. A. M. lives in Minnesota with her husband, two children, and black lab.
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