Twisted Perfection

the bed. I could see Jace’s name on the screen. “It’s Jace.”
    I looked at the time on the phone. It was one in the morning. “Why is he calling so late? Answer it.”
    Woods reached over me and picked it up then pressed the button on the phone. “Hello?”
    I watched as all emotion left his face. He didn’t say anything. Jace was obviously talking because Woods was listening but he wasn’t responding. I couldn’t tell what it was about from the look on his face.
    “I’m still here,” Woods assured Jace but that was all he said. Nothing more.
    Then he hung up the phone a few seconds later. He sat there staring at the phone in his hand. I couldn’t read his face. Something was wrong though. He was acting strange.
    “What did he want?” I asked.
    Woods shook his head. “Nothing. He didn’t want anything. He just needed to tell me that my dad dropped dead of a heart attack thirty minutes ago.”

    Look for part two of their story in the fall of 2013

    Simple Perfection

Other books by Abbi Glines
    Fallen Too Far
    Never Too Far
    The Vincent Boys
    The Vincent Brothers
    Breathe
    Because of Low
    While It Lasts
    Just For Now
    Existence
    Predestined
    Ceaseless

    Coming June 2013
    Sometimes it Lasts (While It Lasts #2)

New York Times Bestseller – Wall Street Journal Bestseller – USA Today Bestseller

Fallen Too Far
    by Abbi Glines

Chapter One
    Trucks with mud on the tires were what I was used to seeing parked outside a house party. Expensive foreign cars weren’t. This place had at least twenty of them covering up the long driveway. I pulled my mom’s fifteen- year-old Ford truck over onto the sandy grass so that I wouldn’t be blocking anyone in. Dad hadn’t told me that he was having a party tonight. He hadn’t told me much of anything.
    He also hadn’t shown up for my mother’s funeral. If I didn’t need somewhere to live, I wouldn’t be here. I’d had to sell the small house that my grandmother had left us to pay off the last of mom’s medical bills. All I had left was my clothes and the truck. Calling my father, after he had failed to come even once during the three years my mother had fought cancer, had been hard. It had been necessary though; he was the only family I had left.
    I stared at the massive three-story house that sat directly on the white sand in Rosemary Beach, Florida. This was my dad’s new home. His new family. I wasn’t going to fit in here.
    My truck door was suddenly jerked open. On instinct, I reached under the seat and grabbed my nine-millimeter. I swung it up and directly at the intruder, holding it with both hands ready to pull back on the trigger.
    “Whoa… I was gonna tell you that you were lost but I’ll tell you whatever the hell you want me to as long as you put that thing away.” A guy with brown shaggy hair tucked behind his ears stood on the other side of my gun with both his hands in the air and eyes wide.
    I cocked an eyebrow and held my gun steady. I still didn’t know who this guy was. Jerking someone’s truck door open wasn’t a normal greeting for a stranger. “No, I don’t think I’m lost. Is this Abraham Wynn’s house?”
    The guy swallowed nervously, “Uh, I can’t think with that pointed in my face. You’re making me very nervous, sweetheart. Could you put it down before you have an accident?”
    Accident? Really? This guy was beginning to piss me off. “I don’t know you. It’s dark outside and I’m in a strange place, alone. So, forgive me if I don’t feel very safe at the moment. You can trust me when I tell you that there won’t be an accident. I can handle a gun. Very well.”
    The guy didn’t appear to believe me and now that I was looking at him he didn’t appear to be real threatening. Nevertheless, I wasn’t ready to lower my gun just yet.
“Abraham?” he repeated slowly and started to shake his head then stopped, “Wait,
    Abe is Rush’s new stepdad. I met him before he and Georgiana left for Paris.”
    Paris? Rush? What? I waited for more of an explanation but the guy continued to stare at the gun and hold his breath. Keeping my eyes on him, I lowered my protection and made sure to put the safety back on before tucking it under my seat. Maybe with the gun put away the guy could focus and explain.
    “Do you even have a license for that thing?” he asked incredulously.
I wasn’t in the mood to talk about my right to bear arms. I needed answers.
    “Abraham is in Paris?” I asked needing confirmation. He