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#NEW from Stephie Walls:  Unexpected Arrivals

11/20/2017

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A wife's nightmare becomes her salvation in
​Unexpected Arrivals by Stephie Walls. 

Find out how in this #NEW coming of age romance.
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☆☆☆☆


SNEAK PEEK

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The two of us giggled about nothing while making our way through the cars. And had I not been coming off the best high of my entire life—even better than state championship wins and college basketball games—I probably would have noticed the cop sitting at the end of the street. And had I noticed him, I likely wouldn’t have gotten behind the wheel of a car, and I definitely wouldn’t have rolled through the stop sign next to his vehicle. 

“You care to tell me how you got arrested for driving while intoxicated?” I couldn’t tell if Neil was truly pissed, or if he thought the situation was absurd.
“Does it matter, jackass? Just come get me.”
“Yeah, see I’m not sure how you think I’m going to do that in the middle of a workday when my partner didn’t show up this morning.”
“Neil, this shit isn’t funny. I used my call to get in touch with your stupid ass because I was afraid Cora wouldn’t hear her phone. I don’t care if you have to close the place down, come bail me out.”
“Where am I going to get bail money, Carp?”
“Try the fucking bank. There’s plenty in the business account. I’ll replace whatever you have to use tomorrow.”
“They haven’t told you what they set bail at?”
“Dude, no one’s told me shit other than I was under arrest. Don’t make me call a fucking lawyer.”
“Calm down. I’ll send Hannah after you. She should be out of class at this point. We’ll figure it out.”
“Thanks, man.”
“Hey, Carp?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t be surprised when Hannah tries to get you into rehab. She flipped out on Cora last night. Funniest shit I’ve seen in a long time. Nothing like a sober chick talking to a girl who’s still blitzed about falling off a wagon she’d never been on.”
“I hate you.” I didn’t hate him, but he and Hannah would have a field day with this shit. Neither Cora nor I had ever been in any kind of trouble—figured we’d go for the gusto.
Thankfully, the cop had been lenient with Cora, probably because she was cute as fuck and flirted just a little. There’d been no point in trying to deny I was messed up when the guy had me get out of the car. All he had to do was look at my pupils and notice there was no color surrounding them because they were enormous. And taking into account where I’d just pulled out from, the picture was easy to paint. I’d asked him to take me and let Cora call Hannah to come pick her up. He’d agreed yet didn’t wait around for her ride to show. We’d left with me in the back of the cruiser before she got there. Luckily, I’d seen Hannah and Neil pulling up just as we left, so she hadn’t spent any time alone. She also wasn’t now facing criminal charges. 
I didn’t have a clue what time it was—they’d taken my phone and watch when they checked me into this luxury resort equipped with three walls, twenty-seven bars, and my very own semi-private bathroom. The crowd in this place was restless, and if I closed my eyes and hummed, I could pretend it was a party, and the temporary tattoos on my fingertips were my stamp to get back in the door.
“Carpenter,” a deep voice bellowed from down the corridor of cells. 
I stood and walked to the door, holding the bars like every cliché action flick I’d ever seen. I almost stuck my head in to get a better look, and then thought better of it. Instead, I waited for the guy to find me. “Yeah.”
He flicked his head at me and stood in front of the door. “C74.” The latch clicked, and he pulled the door to the side. “You’re out.”
I didn’t ask any questions, and it wasn’t like I needed to gather my things from my suite. My feet moved as fast as the cop let me go without running the guy over in an unnecessary jailbreak or an attempted assault on an officer.
The guy never introduced himself or spoke to me after informing me I was being set free, so when we got to a desk and he just pointed, I took that as instruction and sat my happy ass down. An hour or so later—I’d counted to sixty, sixty times using the Mississippi method—the latest member of the clan of mutes handed me a plastic bag with my crap in it and let me out the door. They’d released me on my own recognizance; however, I had a court date in thirty days—assuming Hannah didn’t have me in rehab before then. 
I’d expected to find Neil’s girlfriend waiting on me outside, but to my relief, Neil was there in slacks and a dress shirt. 
With his hands in his pockets and a shit-eating grin on his face, he said, “It’s amazing what you can find out about someone in jail under the Freedom of Information Act, yet you can’t even get so much as a confirmation someone is in a hospital who’s protected by HIPAA.” He shook his head as if this was fascinating information I should look into further. 
“I’m not the least bit surprised criminals have no rights while the ill are sheltered. So what’d it cost you?”
“Nothing. They said they were letting you out on your signature and told me you’d be ready in about an hour. That part was a lie—it was more like an hour and a half. And I figured since I busted you out for free, I could spare thirty minutes.”
I clapped him on the shoulder, grateful he was here in place of his girl—I loved her, but no one needed to be lectured about their time in the pokey while hung over. “Thanks. How’s Cora?”
“She was a little rattled last night, so I sent her a message on my way here to tell her you’d be home, and she seemed okay.”
“Thank God she didn’t get caught up in this shit. You taking me home?”
“Nope. I’ve got work to do, and now I’m almost two hours behind. So you’re coming in. Close your door and no one will see just how bad you look…or smell. Jesus. Better yet, take a whore bath in the sink before you step foot in the office. You reek of sex, sweat, and stale alcohol. Please tell me the first was not acquired during your stay at Casa de Custody.”

☆☆☆☆

MORE ABOUT UNEXPECTED ARRIVALS 

It had to be a joke.

Any minute now, a van would drive up and Ashton Kutcher would slide the door open, laughing hysterically at my melodramatic performance on the front porch.

But nothing happened.

The words on the page jumbled into a toxic mess my brain refused to comprehend, much less accept.

Please consider this letter as a formal request to arrange a paternity test (DNA).

I barely remembered Chelsea Airy. 

That wasn’t true—we’d gone out once, and we’d been friends for a while after. But I hadn’t heard so much as a peep from her since I’d gotten married. I’d reached out a handful of times, but she’d quit responding and fell off the face of the earth. There hadn’t been a text, an email, a phone call, not even a Facebook message, much less a stork in the last five years. 

My wife could forgive a lot, but she’d never wanted children—much less another woman’s.

NOW LIVE & FREE ON KINDLE UNLIMITED!!

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☆☆☆☆

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Stephie Walls is a literary whore - she loves words in all forms and will read anything put in front of her. She has an affinity for British Literature and Romance novels and an overall love of writing. She currently has six novels out, four short stories, and two collections; all provocatively written to elicit your imagination and spice up your world. 

​               Website I Facebook I Twitter I Instagram I ​

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NEW $0.99 HUMOROUS ROMANCE:  Girl Crush by Stephie Walls

9/20/2017

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A lighter, humorous romance can be found in Girl Crush by Stephie Walls.  NOW LIVE!  
You are going to love this $0.99 satire romance!  Find out for yourself in a sneak peek of this NEW RELEASE!  
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I’d been manhandled by the last pig that would ever bring his sausage near me.
After one of the nastiest divorces in history, followed by some of the crudest and raunchiest dates,
I’d decided to bat for the other team. …At least I tried. 

Find out what happens in Girl Crush!

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My mind raced a mile a minute trying to think of things I could shove into the drain to jam the disposal so far beyond my ability to fix it that he’d have to come to my rescue. Food wouldn’t work. I tried paper, and it shredded the sheets as easily as it would vegetables. But fabric wasn’t quite as forgiving or destructible as perishables.
I raced up the stairs to my room in search of anything I was willing to part with in order to get Collier here. T-shirts were too thick, and there was no logical explanation for how they’d end up in my sink. Same with jeans and shorts. But panties…panties needed to be hand washed, and the sink was the perfect place to do it. Riffling through my underwear drawer, I found several pairs I didn’t mind losing to the cause, and with a smile on my face, I trotted back down to the kitchen.
My fingers clutched the satin and lace while I hovered in front of the sink. I took a deep breath in, and then one by one, I stuffed each of the five pairs deep into the hole. I turned on the water to ensure they wouldn’t just swirl around, and then I flipped the switch. The motor came to life, but instead of the garbage disposal whirring and grinding, it hummed with a high-pitched squeal and stopped.
Pleased with myself, I raised up on my toes and bounced before grabbing my phone off the counter.
Me: My garbage disposal is clogged. Can you come by and look at it?
I hit send and held the phone in my hand, waiting for it to light up with his agreement to save me. Several long minutes had passed before the beep sounded.
Collier: Plumbers typically deal with those types of things.
Me: It’s after hours. That will cost me a fortune.
The waiting was killing me. I wanted to be upset with him. He’d always been very responsive, and it felt like he was intentionally playing games.
Collier: Gibson Plumbing is sending someone out. The guy should be there in the next thirty minutes.
Me: I can’t afford that.
Collier: I gave them my credit card number. It’s taken care of.
So he cared enough to buy my way out of trouble but not come on his own. It hurt, but maybe it was progress.
Me: I’m not comfortable with a strange man in my house at night. It’s not safe.
Collier: Giselle, I don’t have time for this. He’ll be there shortly. Let him in to fix the sink.
Ugh. I hated this side of Sybil. If we ever got back on speaking terms, I had to figure out a way to put that personality to rest—no one needed to experience it, especially not me. The bubbles appeared on the screen and went on forever. I stood there waiting for his next message, but they stopped, and another message never came. It dawned on me, a plumber would be standing in my kitchen in roughly twenty minutes, and I had a garbage disposal bogged down in Victoria’s Secret’s finest thongs. With my luck, the man who showed up to bail me out would either be hot as sin who would imagine me in the shredded garment or some gnarly old man who would keep them to sniff later. Both creeped me out.
I desperately started clawing at the sink, shoving my hand in to try to pull the wet material back out the same way I’d stuffed it in. But by the time the doorbell rang, I had roughly half of one pair of twelve dollar panties in my fist, and the other four and a half pairs were still tightly wound around the blade of the garbage disposal. With one hand still trying to rip at the lace, and the other on the counter for leverage, I finally dropped my head on the counter harder than I intended when the chime came again.
My hands were wet, and the right was covered in some substance I was afraid to try to identify. I needed to disinfect the drain, the brown gunk under my nails was disgusting. My nails. Oh God, my poor nails. Not only had I ruined the polish, but I’d also broken three of them on my right hand and two on my left. They snagged on the kitchen towel I used on my way to let the plumber in.
Mortified. Embarrassed. Flustered. The list of words to describe what I was feeling ran a mile long. There was no way in hell I could explain how five pairs of panties had met their demise. But I swung the door open just the same. There on my porch stood a man who could have doubled for Luke Bryan, right down to the Southern twang.
“Hey, darlin’. I’m Chance. What seems to be the trouble tonight?”
Kill me now.
He bent over to put white booties on over his shoes to protect my floors, and his ass was every bit as delectable as the country star. In any other circumstance, I’d send up a word of thanks to the big man upstairs for this eye candy…but tonight, I just groaned.
Karma hated me.
“Garbage disposal.” I turned, leaving the front door open, and assumed he’d follow me to the kitchen.
“I’m not sure I’ve ever had an after-hours call for a garbage disposal.”
I wasn’t interested in idle chitchat. If I could have found a rock, I would have crawled under it.
“Is it clogged or did it just stop working?” he asked as he set his tools down and stepped up to the sink.
“Clogged.”
“Vegetable peels?” he guessed.
“No.”
Chance turned to face me. “Egg shells?”
“Uh-uh.”
“You just going to let me keep guessin’?” He winked a brown eye in my direction and displayed a grin that I was sure had panties dropping on the regular. But all it did was cause my cheeks to flush with embarrassment, and not from his flirting.
“Fabric.” I acted like I only knew ten words and was afraid to use them all at once. Before long, I’d just resort to grunting instead of forming syllables.
“Fabric…” He drew out those six letters like he hadn’t understood them.
“Yes.”
“Like a dishtowel?”
“No. Panties.” I cringed. “I’d prefer not to offer an explanation. Can you just fix it?”
“Sure thing, sweetheart.”
I died a thousand deaths sitting at the kitchen table waiting for him to undo the damage I’d caused.

☆☆☆☆☆☆

MORE ABOUT GIRL CRUSH

I was done.

Done with men.

Women say it all the time; they get fed up, throw their hands in the air, and vow a life of celibacy—until the next chiseled chest comes into view and then they’re foaming at the mouth and wiping the drool from their chins. But this was different, I really meant it. 

I’d been manhandled by the last pig that would ever bring his sausage near me. After one of the nastiest divorces in history, followed by some of the crudest and raunchiest dates, I’d decided to bat for the other team. 

…At least I tried. 

But creating the next Brat Pack hadn’t been on the agenda. Neither had Collier West. And I wasn’t prepared for finding true love at the end of my gal-pal tryst.

ONLY $0.99 & FREE ON KINDLE UNLIMITED!  ​

Amazon US I Amazon UK I Amazon CA ​

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☆☆☆☆☆☆

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Stephie Walls is a literary whore - she loves words in all forms and will read anything put in front of her. She has an affinity for British Literature and Romance novels and an overall love of writing. She currently has nine novels out, four short stories, and has collaborated in several anthologies/collections with other authors; all provocatively written to elicit your imagination and spice up your world.

Find Stephie here: www.stephiewalls.com

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NEW from Stephie Walls:  Redemption Sneak Peek (Now LIVE)

6/21/2017

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Redemption by Stephie Walls is a highly emotional, kindle-throw-worthy story and is NOW LIVE!  If you love twisty, angsty and intense reads, this new release is a #MustRead.  Read an excerpt & fall in love with Daniel & Melissa.

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I pulled into my spot in the driveway, taking several deep breaths before exiting the car to go in the house. We’d lived here for a handful of years, but suddenly, I didn’t feel welcome in my home. Part of me wondered if the key would even work in the lock. When I stepped inside, I didn’t expect Matt to be standing in the foyer. His arms were crossed over his chest, his feet wide in an aggressive stance. The way his stare penetrated me was haunting. I’d never seen that look on his face. He never had so much as given me a sideways glance. Matt had a gentle spirit when it came to people he loved but was pure alpha outside of those relationships. It was one of the things I’d fallen in love with—the bad-boy exterior with a heart of gold.
The gold had been replaced with ice, and I’d been the one who’d frozen his heart.
“I didn’t expect you to come back.” There wasn’t a hint of emotion behind his statement. Years in the military had given him the ability to remain stoic regardless of the war that raged inside. I saw the anger in his eyes, the hatred in the way he stared at me.
My shoulders slumped in defeat. I hadn’t expected anything different except possibly indifference, avoidance, isolation. I never anticipated Matt’s confronting me the moment I walked through the door. It was like he’d been staring out the window waiting for me to pull up. Or maybe he’d been on guard in the entrance since I’d been released yesterday.
“Matt…” His name was merely a whisper of uncertainty.
“Don’t Matt me.”
I didn’t know what to do. I owned the house, too. I had every right to be here even if he didn’t want me to be. I agreed no one owed me anything, but even if he wanted me to leave, there was still the matter of my name on the mortgage, my things in the closets and rooms. If he wanted me to leave, I would, but I had to collect enough to survive which was all I’d be doing—surviving.
“Lissa, I’ve loved you since we were five, but I can’t stand the sight of you right now.” The way he gritted the words out expressed his fury in a way that frightened me.
“Do you want me to leave?” I’d do whatever he needed me to do. There was no fight in me, not for this.
He let out a long sigh, his anger turned to hurt. He was in agony, just like I was. Losing Joshua was more than life-altering, it was life-ending.  “I don’t know what I want. I want to lash out at you. Scream, rage. But none of that will bring him back.”
“I know.” It was the truth—the bitter truth of my actions.
“You don’t know! One minute I want to squeeze the life out of you—prevent you from ever taking another breath. But the next, I want to reach out to you and hold you, mourn with you. Love you the only way I know how. I can’t stand the sight of you but can’t sleep without you. I want to hate you but don’t know how to do anything other than love you.” His hands dropped to his side, fists clenched. Releasing, closing, the knuckles going white each time he retracted his fingers. Matt was a trained killer, one of the governments’ prized weapons. He could end me in the blink of an eye or torture me for days.
My head bobbed in a slow nod. I knew exactly how he felt. The same emotions assaulted my own psyche every second of the day.
“For fuck’s sake, Lissa. Say something!”
“I don’t have anything I can say to take away your pain, Matt. Joshua’s life is on me. I took that. I didn’t mean to. God, I didn’t mean to. But that doesn’t matter. None of it matters because none of it changes anything. My remorse doesn’t bring him back, and it doesn’t atone for my sins. It’s just that—regret.
______________
 
The latch on the door clicked when the knob was turned. I glanced at the clock to see it glow 3:04 am. I only had three hours left to pretend I was asleep before I could get up and do this all over again. I didn’t turn over to see what Matt wanted. I assumed it was him but almost prayed it was a home invader who’d end this nightmare once and for all. When the covers receded, and a warm body filled the spot behind me, I knew it was my fiancé and not the grim reaper.
My body tensed, unsure of why he was here. I waited with bated breath not knowing how to respond. When he finally draped his arm over my hip and pulled me to him, I relaxed into the comfort I didn’t deserve.
“I can’t sleep without you, Lissa.” The thought lingered in the air without my response. “I want to hate you, but my soul needs you.” His words broke—the crack in his voice an indication of how hard he fought the emotion.
I put my hand over his and laced our fingers together. “I’m so sorry, Matt.” I was choked up. Regret, fear, grief—they all moved through me as his warmth surrounded me.
“I need to feel you. I need your skin on mine to remind me I’m alive.”
The last thing I wanted was sex, but if it brought him comfort, I’d allow him to use me in whatever way he needed. I owed that much to him. Without further thought, I removed my shirt and shimmied out of my panties. Reaching behind me, I found Matt already naked. We never slept with clothing on, but I hadn’t expected him to be that way tonight. When I turned to him, he uttered words I never thought I’d hear.
“It’s going to be painful and rough. Don’t mistake this for pleasure, Lissa.”
I turned over and nodded, hoping he could see me by the light of the moon that washed through the window.
Matt hadn’t lied. There was nothing pleasurable about sex that night. It was punishing and aggressive in a way I’d never experienced, but I’d do anything to try to right the wrong in our relationship. He took and took for almost an hour. My vagina was raw and irritated when he finally grunted his release. Tears leaked from the corners of my eyes, not because of what he’d just done, but because he’d needed to do it.
I didn’t know if we’d ever survive this, or if either of us would come back from it—but I’d give myself to him over and over in hopes of gaining his forgiveness or even the chance for an explanation. I was desperate for him to understand I hurt just as much as he did but knew I didn’t deserve that opportunity. I could only hope that time would provide some level of understanding on both of our parts.
When he was done, he didn’t bother to clean either of us up. He resumed his place behind me with a vice grip on my body. His breathing fell into a steady rhythm, and while he slept, I stared out into the night waiting for dawn. When the sun finally graced me with its presence, I slipped from his clutches and donned a pair of sneakers. The only thing I knew to do was run.

☆☆☆☆☆☆

ABOUT REDEMPTION

Desperate for the ultimate forgiveness, Melissa Jackson offers herself up in the most selfless way. But, by atoning for her past, she could lose her future as she tries to keep her secret from unraveling at the feet of the man she adores.

Daniel Hadley becomes enamored with the wrong woman at the right time. Forever the playboy, Dan falls for the redhead with a jaded past, but all he can see is the gift she so freely gives. Her soft spirit and noble gesture have him head over heels, even though it could be his undoing.

Hoping to right her wrongs, Lissa embarks on what will prove to be one of the most difficult challenges of her life. Clueless to the turmoil she hides, Dan plans for a future that might never be. Together, they set off on a journey to discover their path and fulfill their destiny.
​

NOW ONLY $0.99 & FREE ON KINDLE UNLIMITED!

UK | CA | AU


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Stephie Walls is a literary whore - she loves words in all forms and will read anything put in front of her. She has an affinity for British Literature and Romance novels and an overall love of writing. She currently has eight novels out, four short stories, and three collections; all provocatively written to elicit your imagination and spice up your world. She has another novel on its way to bookshelves in May 2017. Be on the look out for the re-release of Freed!

FOLLOW ON AMAZON HERE


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THE BOUND DUET BY STEPHIE WALLS IS NOW COMPLETE!

5/10/2017

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Freed by Stephie Walls is the follow-up to BOUND and is a story of loss, betrayal, struggle, recovery and second chance love.   If you love angtsy, grab-your-heart-and- don’t-let-go books, Gray & Annie’s is one not to miss. Read an excerpt & grab your copy of this heart stopping duet. 

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The moment we stepped outside, Gray saw Brett in the SUV. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. You brought Brett with you?” Gray threw his arms in the air in some melodramatic performance for those around us.
“The idea was for you to get home, correct? And someone needed to drive your truck, am I right?”
Gray nodded with displeasure.
“Then shut the fuck up and show me where you parked.”
“Maybe I should ride with Brett.” He stumbled over the words and almost fell on his face standing still.
“Yeah, that’s a bright idea, Gray. Get in the car with your ex-girlfriend’s husband, who you called at two in the morning to come pick your drunk ass up. Make sure you let him know you asked if I missed you while you’re at it. I’m sure it will make for lively carpool conversation. Gah, you’re insufferable. Where is the truck?”
He started walking, so I followed. Brett pulled out and drove down the side street until we came to the vehicle we were looking for. Gray handed me the keys when I stuck my hand out.
Once in the car, I prayed Gray would keep his damn mouth shut. I didn’t know how we’d gone from his giving me advice at Applebee’s to this. Nothing had changed with Gray, but something had snapped inside me. My response to Gray had been completely over the top. I guess in my mind, our texts had been platonic, but maybe in Gray’s they were something more.
“Have I given you the impression I missed you, Gray?” I tried to keep my tone even. I didn’t want to start a fight…not that Gray would engage in one. God knew he would never fight for me.
“It’s just us, Bird Dog. It’s who we are. We’re meant to be together, and the universe is going to put us back that way.”
He put his hand on the inside of my thigh and leaned toward me. I swerved at the intrusion and swatted him away.
“What are you doing?” I screeched.
“Just trying to be close to you. You used to like it when I touched you. Loved getting my calls at night. Having me with you in your bed.”
“You’re a jackass.” I was tempted to pull over and swap cars with Brett, but even though Gray was ticking me off, I didn’t want him dead—Brett would kill him. “Do you care about me at all, Gray?”
“Of course. I love you.”
“You’ve never loved me, but if you care about me—don’t fuck up my marriage!”
“You don’t love him. You settled for him because I married Amber. The sooner you admit that the sooner this charade stops.”
I’d just put the truck in park in his driveway when I pursed my lips and slapped the taste right out of his mouth. Never in my life had I hit anyone, but Gray Dearsley had pushed me to my breaking point.
“You son of a bitch. I don’t know who the fuck you—” My door flew open and Brett’s arms caught mine.
He somehow managed to unbuckle my seatbelt and pull me from the driver’s seat, but he’d only derailed me. He hadn’t shut me up.
Gray met me at the front of the truck, and Brett let me go off like a rocket, or a redneck, I’m not sure which. I got right up in my ex’s face, my finger pointing hard into his chest. “You screwed up. You picked wrong. Not me. I’m not the girl you used, anymore. Do not call me looking for sympathy, do not text me wanting pity. You did this to yourself, Gray. Your life, your marriages—they are a reflection of what you put into them. You will not drag me down with you again.”
He ran his tongue over his teeth under his lip, contemplating a response, but apparently thinking better of it. Even drunk, he wasn’t stupid enough to cross me in front of Brett. With a jerk of the head, he turned around and staggered toward his front door. Just once, I’d kill for him to engage in a verbal spar with me. One time, I wanted to be worth the argument.
With a quick gust of air out of my nose in a huff, I shook my head. “That right there is why you’re where you are, Gray. Nothing was ever worth the fight—it’s easier just to walk away.”
I threw his keys across the yard and onto the front porch. I refused to give that asshole one more tear. Instead, I turned toward Brett’s SUV and respectively, my back on Gray.

☆☆☆☆☆☆

MORE ABOUT FREED

Severed...

I moved on. 
I couldn't hold on to what was deteriorating, devastating, destroying,
Me.
Us.
Nobody could.
 
And now, I have real love. 
The kind that means something,
Rocking in chairs and growing old.
 
But, choosing between the past and future is too painful.
Too raw.
Too final.
 
I was bound to Gray, but he lost me,
Let me slip through his fingers.
That was then. 
 
This is now.
I'm freed. 

NOW ONLY $0.99 & FREE ON KINDLE UNLIMITED!


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☆☆☆☆☆☆

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Stephie Walls is a literary whore - she loves words in all forms and will read anything put in front of her. She has an affinity for British Literature and Romance novels and an overall love of writing. She currently has six novels out, four short stories, and two collections; all provocatively written to elicit your imagination and spice up your world. 

​ Website I Facebook I Twitter I

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Sneak Peek: Fallen Woman by Stephie Walls

1/23/2017

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Stephie Walls writes a heartbreaking story of love, passion, and strength.  
​Read an excerpt of FALLEN WOMAN releasing February 1st and
​
pre-order your $0.99 copy today!  

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“Let’s get something straight, Gianna. Everything in that building is my business, and I’ll handle it the way I see fit. If you don’t like the way I conduct business, you’re welcome to find employment elsewhere.”
My jaw came unhinged. I couldn’t believe what he’d said. My lip quivered, but I refused to lose control. I wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. “Is that what you want, Mr. Lane?” At the sound of my formality, he jerked his head up from his drink. “Stings a little, doesn’t it?” I tried to push Holland out of the way to get out of the booth, but the mammoth of a man wouldn’t budge.
“You two need to calm the fuck down. What happened today?” He posed the question to both of us, but I leaned back, indignant. Gnawing on my bottom lip, I crossed my arms and waited on my boss to answer Holland’s question. 
Once Jase was done telling his side of the events, which included Dale being terminated, I sat quietly next to Holland on the opposite side of the booth. 
With Holland acting as our mediator, he asked me, “So what about that has you upset with Jase?”
“Nothing.” That was true. None of what happened with Dale had me the least bit bothered. I was disappointed I didn’t get the job, but that wasn’t where my issues lay.
Jase slammed his hands on the table, causing the glasses to shake. “Then why the hell did you leave?”
“Holland, could you ask your friend to stop screaming at me? Not everyone in the bar cares about our day.” 
Holland didn’t have a clue how to handle Jase or me. He was lost, and I didn’t care.
“I’m not screaming, but I don’t understand why you left, Gia. You didn’t even wait for me to resolve the situation.” His words came out breathlessly as he tried to lower his voice.
“You’re not listening. This isn’t about Dale,” I hissed the words in his direction.
“Then what the fuck is it about, Gianna?”
Too embarrassed to even say the words out loud, I stared out the window.
“Talk to me, please.” 
I just shook my head, unable to compile coherent sentences. 
“If it’s not about Dale, then what happened with Allison?”
“Who the hell is Allison?” Holland asked, clearly unable to put any of the pieces together.
“That girl who brought her kid to the water park,” Jase answered without ever turning away from me.
“Okay,” he dragged out the two syllables. “But who is she to Gianna?”
“No one. She’s a non-issue.” Jase answered Holland again, curtly.
“Is that what we are to you? Non-issues?” I was fuming. 
Jase threw his hands in the air. “You’re fucking crazy, Gianna. I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about. Allison is a non-issue. You’re my best friend. So why are you putting the two of you in the same category?”
“Because we’re both your projects, Jase!” The tears erupted at the mention of his name. I couldn’t keep them at bay, and there wasn’t enough liquor in the world to make me feel better right now. I was embarrassed and ashamed. 
“Whoa, what? My projects? What the hell did she say to you?”
I shook my head, knowing snot bubbles would be forming soon and the hiccups would ensue. This tirade was about to get ugly, and I didn’t want anyone in this bar to witness it. “It doesn’t matter, Jase.” I tried to scoot out, but Holland wasn’t having it, and Jase gave him a death stare that said if he let me up he was a dead man.
“Please, just let me go home.” My words were shaky, and my hands trembled. 
“Fine. You tell me what you’re talking about, and I’ll let you leave.” Jase slammed his hand on the table emphasizing his last word.
He wouldn’t let me go without getting the answer he wanted. “Do you guys have a contract for her, too? Does she fetch a higher nightly rate than I do?”
If I had anything in my glass other than ice, I’d throw it in his face for laughing at me right now. None of this was funny.

☆☆☆☆☆☆

MORE About Fallen Woman 

Gianna LeBron grew up in poverty. Destined to change her circumstances and her zip code, she rises up from the inner-city streets with an Ivy League education and affluent husband. A few short years later, she’s alone with three children, destitute and desperate.

Finding herself in the same hell she’d fought so hard to escape, and determined to find a solution, she compromises who she is. Selling her soul for the almighty dollar, she does what she has to do in order to provide for her children. 

Caught between a secret love and her toddler’s unending need for medical care, Gianna’s forced to decide how far she’ll go to heal her daughter and save the man she loves. 

For money.
For health.
For Jase.

Pre-order TODAY for ONLY $0.99!    

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☆☆☆☆☆☆

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Stephie Walls is a literary whore - she loves words in all forms and will read anything put in front of her. She has an affinity for British Literature and Romance novels and an overall love of writing. She currently has six novels out, four short stories, and two collections; all provocatively written to elicit your imagination and spice up your world. 

​               Website I Facebook I Twitter I Instagram I 


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