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In Just Beneath the Surface: Landon’s Story, the lines between love and obsession, man and monster, helping and controlling, are more than blurred …

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“While we were apart. Did you – ”

“Never. I’d never do that. Why would you even ask me that, Seven?”

“Then, what’s wrong?” Seven reached over to touch him.

“Don’t touch me, right now, baby. I swear I’m – ” Slowly, he ran his hands over his face.

“What’s wrong?”

“What would it take for you to leave me?” Landon asked, biting his nails.

“I don’t know, Landon. If you cheated or hit me. Why? Why are you – what’s wrong?”

With both hands on the steering wheel, Seven glanced over at him every few seconds and waited for his answer.

“I feel like I’ve lived all these different lives. Like I’m all these different people – and I mean bad ones. Like I been hiding, and I been good at it, Seven – the best at it. Now it’s all around me. How do you hide from something that’s all around you?”

“From what, Landon?”

“I’d never tell you.” He turned to look out the window. “What would I do that for? What would that do? Push you away? If I got you, if I have you, and you could forget about everything that’s not right here – right here in this car, we’d be so perfect. But you won’t let go, though. You refuse to let go.”

Seven gripped the steering wheel, as he began making the same demands he had been making since they became a couple: that she trust him wholeheartedly, let go of her friends and family.

“You’ll never find this anywhere else.” He pointed to his heart.

 

Just Beneath the Surface 2

Just Beneath the Surface I

My heart was racing as I leaned against the bathroom door. I could not stop playing it back in my mind. But in that bathroom, I finally quotAt-least-he-apologizedfelt safe. A loud bang on the other side of the door sent me sprinting to the opposite side of the bathroom. I only stood there staring at the door for a moment, waiting for whatever was next. But nothing happened. He did not yell at me, break the door down or hit me. I sat down on the bathroom rug and stared at the door shaking my head.

What did he expect from me? How was I going to turn into a house cleaning, laundry folding, cooking, jumpy woman waiting for the next time she would be shoved into a wall?

At least he did not actually punch me. He had not even slapped me. Maybe his anger stopped there, at grabbing and yanking. Although he had crossed the line and choked me, I had no choice but to examine myself as well. I was the idiot who was stupid enough to get drunk and stay out until one in the morning. Was it really fair of me, she who had no job and contributed nothing to her household to come walking in at this hour? Especially when he had had a horrible day and only wanted a home cooked meal and some clean socks in his drawer? Maybe I was over reacting.

I had been sitting there on the bathroom rug thinking, running what I said and what he said back in my mind over and over again. The alcohol had worn off, and the back of my head was tender from the blow to the wall. After taking a couple of over the counter pain pills, I convinced myself that I was ready to come out of the bathroom.

I opened the door just enough to see out and found Spencer lying across the bed with a pillow over his face. I crawled onto the bed and listened to him cry softly. He jolted and sat up straight as I placed my hand on his arm. My instincts told me to take cover as I was still a bit rattled from being flung into the wall and choked. But instead of running back to the bathroom, I sat still as he took my hand. We stared into each other’s eyes silently as though we could read one another’s thoughts. And for the longest, neither of us spoke.  

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I struggled to remember what I had been telling myself, coaching myself over and over again. I said to myself that if he spoke to me, I would pretend not to hear him. If I spoke to him, I would be short. If I was unable to be short, I would stick to finalizing our divorce. If conversing about our divorce was too difficult for him, I would — what? What would I say? How could I ignore what was on my heart? The rambling in my head?

Amazon: Just Beneath the Surface I

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“His fingertips began apologizing, grazing over my cheeks. He closed his eyes and stepped toward me until our bodies touched. He kept
quotesand-when-you-stayedwalking toward me until we were both against the wall. He then buried his face in my blouse as he began to weep. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he whimpered. ‘Do you understand me? I’m so, so sorry.’ He held my face in his hands. My heart pounded. My chest hurt. How could I go? But how could I possibly stay?”

When Kendall Berkely takes a look in the mirror, she not only desperately wants to run away from the stranger staring back at her, she also knows that her days are numbered. She can feel it in her bones, and has the bruises to prove it. To make matters worse, Kendall will soon discover that her seventeen year old daughter, Diamond is on a path nearly just as dangerous.

After the demise of the family unit she once knew, a distracted mother, and being forced to accept a new stepfather, Diamond finds herself knee deep in a multitude of mistakes. When Diamond finds herself more lonely than ever before, she crosses paths with Bobby Lidell, a teacher’s aide with a dark side ..

But what is lurking in the shadows will not stop until a vow has been kept; what is lurking just beneath the surface will come seeking revenge.

Just Beneath the Surface 1

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Just Beneath the Surface, into the mind of Spencer:

They see a purple mark or a ring around her eye, and suddenly everyone’s a spiritual guru. Suddenly everyone’s a hero.

Know what they don’t see?
1. her admitting to her part
2. us moving forward
3. our chemistry
4. her and I getting dressed up and going out, laughing, living in a bubble where no one else exists

Before you play hero, you ask yourself what’s wrong with your relationship, and why you point the finger at me, just because the way I handle my household is different than the way you handle yours. Do you call your wife lazy? stupid? A bitch? Are you the jealous type, harassing her every time she’s out of your sight? Do you manipulate her to get your way — just a tiny bit? Do you lie to her? Ever cheated on her?

I’m willing to bet there’s a spiritual guru, a hero, somewhere, who’d happily point out the flaws in your relationship, too. How about if he tried to convince your wife to leave you – how would you like it?

Give me a break. There are no heroes. And everyone’s got purple marks and rings someplace – whether it’s visible or not. (Just Beneath the Surface, into the mind of “Spencer”)

 

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