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Someone to Call My Own (Road to Blissville #2)
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Psychic Emory Jackson and former black ops specialist Jonathon Silver are men from two completely different worlds with one thing in common: heartbreak. Emory still mourns the loss of his husband five years prior, and Jon is reeling with grief from the recent death of his twin brother.
Sparks fly when mutual friends introduce them, but it’s so much more than basic attraction. There’s an undeniable awareness and a sense of belonging that neither man can deny. Despite Emory’s premonition of a future with Jon, he has vowed never to love again. Jon is convinced that his tainted soul is the reason he will never have someone to call his own. What if they’re both wrong?
Maybe these broken men with their jagged edges could somehow align perfectly to form something whole and beautiful. But will that realization come too late for them?
Someone to Call My Own is the second book in the Road to Blissville series. These books can be read as standalone or as part of the series. The author first introduced these characters in the Curl Up and Dye Mysteries, but it isn’t necessary to read that series first. This book contains sexually explicit material and is intended for adults 18 and older
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My head felt like vicious elves took a jackhammer to my brain, my throat was dry and raw, and I struggled to open eyelids that felt weighted down by something heavy. My first sense that sparked to life was smell when I inhaled harsh antiseptics through my nose, then I registered the sound of machines beeping near my head. My sluggish brain realized that I was in the hospital, but I couldn’t remember why. The sudden memory of River’s car careening out of control on the ice-covered bridge forced me to consciousness.
My eyes darted open, and reality slammed into me as hard as the impact of our car into the side of the bridge. One minute we were on a date for his birthday and the next our world literally spun out of control. I searched the semi-dark room for River and panicked when I didn’t see him. We hadn’t spent a day apart in over five years, and there was no way he’d leave me alone in the hospital. The pain in my skull increased as my blood pressure rose high enough to trigger a warning alarm on one of the machines I was hooked up to.
Several nurses and a doctor rushed into my room and their attempts to calm me only upset me more when they wouldn’t answer my question. “Where’s River?” It took me several attempts to get the words out of my dry, aching throat but they acted as if they hadn’t heard me. I struggled to get free from their grasp so I could find my husband, but they easily controlled me in my weakened condition. Instead, the nurses and doctor just kept repeating the same thing.
“Calm down, Mr. Jackson. We’re here to help you.”
A heavy fog invaded the edges of my consciousness, and I realized they’d injected me with something to calm me. Ativan? Something stronger? The hospital staff eased off of me once my body started to relax.
“We need to get your blood pressure down, Mr. Jackson,” a soft-spoken and kind-eyed nurse told me as I melted into the hospital bed. “You have a nasty brain injury, and high blood pressure is dangerous right now.”
“River,” I said weakly once more before my eyes drifted shut.
When I reopened them again, a different nurse was checking my vitals. “You’re looking much better already,” she said. I had no idea how good, or bad, I looked, and I didn’t care. I only wanted to know one thing. “Let me finish checking your vitals, and I’ll bring in your visitor.”
My pulse kicked up a notch as hope filled my heart, but luckily not enough to set the alarms off again. I knew that River wouldn’t have just left me alone. He must’ve gone home to get some clothes or got a bite to eat. The nurse’s comment about my appearance momentarily worried me until I remembered that River didn’t care if my hair was a mess or if I had cuts or scrapes on my face. He loved me unconditionally. My God, he must’ve been worried out of his mind. How long have I been out of it?
The nurse patted my shoulder and told me that she’d be right back. I tried to wiggle into a sitting position, but I was too weak. My face hurt to smile, but I plastered the biggest one I could muster when the door reopened. “He’s been worried sick about you,” the nurse said when she came through the door. The man who entered behind her wasn’t the one I longed to see though.
My cousin Memphis, who felt more like a brother, looked at me with so much sadness in his eyes that my heart knew what he was going to say before the words left his mouth.
“No!” I refused to believe it. I childishly covered my face with my hands, so I didn’t have to see the pity in his eyes. I willed my ears to block the sound of his voice when he told me that River was gone.
“I’m so sorry, Em,” Memphis said softly.
The days that followed were the worst in my life. I learned that River’s family claimed his body and buried him while I was in a coma. They refused to tell me where, so I had to spend what little energy I could muster on hiring a lawyer who would fight for my rights that the state laws didn’t recognize at the time. The anger kept me from focusing on the agonizing reality that my husband, my lover, and my best friend was gone forever. Whenever the anger subsided, even if it was only a brief respite, depression moved in swift and hard. I couldn’t get out of bed, and I tried to sleep as much as I could because at least I saw River in my dreams.