Blurb
He's
the most famous movie star in the world, and now he's on my doorstep begging
for a second chance.
When
I got my first big break, I was thrilled to be co-starring with the Wyatt Burgess–former childhood star,
charismatic, sexy as hell–and heavily dependent on drugs and alcohol.
I
thought I could handle life with him, and I did for a while. But after his best
friend overdosed outside a nightclub, he spiraled deeper into his addictions.
Desperate, I gave him an ultimatum: the lifestyle or me.
After
ten years of heartache, I’ve carved out a life that makes me feel stable and
content. The last thing I expect is Wyatt Burgess on my television screen,
telling the whole world his biggest regret is losing me.
Now
he’s standing in front of me, forcing me to choose between the comfortable life
I’ve created and the passionate whirlwind that allowing him back into my life
could bring.
But
I wasn’t one hundred percent honest when I left, and I fear he’ll never forgive
me.
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Excerpt
Copyright ©2024, Wendy Million
In a daze, I wander the narrow hall to my bedroom at the rear of my home. Although I can afford a lavish house, I have a small three-bedroom bungalow on an oceanfront lot. Nothing fancy, but it suits my needs. When I have to, I put on the glitz and glamor, but for the most part, I’m hidden away here in Hamilton, Bermuda. The frantic pace of Los Angeles is kept at bay by careful scheduling and an adherence to privacy above all else. The Hollywood pomp and circumstance were never for me; just the right place and people. Wyatt never understood that.
My security intercom buzzes, and I answer the nearest
receiver. “Headed to bed, Freddie. What’s up?”
“Uh, Ellie, there’s a man here who wants to see you.”
“It’s late. I have jet lag. No one who knows me would
come this late.”
I’ve made sure my house is hard to find. Entrances and
exits are concealed by overgrown bushes and shrubs. The property is gated and
not listed on any documents that are easy to access. Cab drivers and
sightseeing tours get a hefty donation at the end of their high season if they
haven’t used my name or property to advertise their businesses. Extreme privacy
has been my companion since I left Wyatt and Los Angeles behind.
“It’s Mr. Wyatt Burgess, and he says he isn’t leaving
until you agree to speak to him.”
Ice freezes in my veins and then fire chases it out.
Turns out I don’t need to levitate off the island to commit murder tonight.
“Oh, Freddie. I have a thing or two to say to Mr. Burgess. You can deliver him
to the door.”
“Yes, ma’am.” A grin is evident in his voice. He must
have watched The Jackson Billows Show
too. With the show taped in the late morning, Wyatt had lots of opportunities
to hop on a two-hour flight here. Never occurred to me he would.
I check my appearance in the kitchen mirror and then
scold myself. I’ll open the door only to tell him to go to hell. Using national
television to declare his undying love after ten years and a series of bad
choices and then expecting me to take him back?! I don’t think so. Not
happening.
At the side entrance where expected guests are delivered,
I swing the door wide.
Immediately, I realize my mistake. He’s taller than I
remembered, which seems ridiculous. That’s not all, though. His dark hair is a
little darker, and his blue-green eyes more electric. Without the barrier of
the screen, everything jumps at me at once.
My heart does one loud, crushing thump and falls to
pieces.
Ten years, gone in a heartbeat.
About Wendy Million
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