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The sound of the ocean, the crash of the waves as they kick
up against the sand and rocks—these are the only sounds Megan Greene wants to
hear. She wants to leave the rest of the world behind, and find some peace. The
offer of a private house on the beach, set in a small town in Maine, is
perfect. Time to think—to be by herself. It’s all she wants. It’s the escape
she needs. Until she stumbles across the painting that seems to echo her own
chaotic mindset. Until she meets the unfriendly artist behind the stormy
painting and discovers his secrets.
All Zachary Adams wants is to be left alone. His
canvases, and the unending scope of the ocean and sand, are his life. They
direct him—fill his hours. Bring him focus. Until she enters his life. She
dredges up memories of the past—the haunting images he has hidden for years;
the fears he has never shared. A story he keeps buried below the surface.
Can she make him see what he is missing? Can he trust her
enough to believe?
Together they embark on a journey where their pasts collide
and threaten to tear them apart. Will their fragile bond hold or wash away with
the ebbing tide?
Genre Adult Contemporary
Romance
Expected Publication
Date October 14th 2014
Excerpt #1
As I descended the few stairs to the beach, I was surprised
to see the large golden retriever as well as the mysterious Zachary. I stood
for a minute, observing him in private. He was standing, barefoot in the surf,
staring out over the water as his dog frolicked close by. Zachary was a tall,
dark silhouette against the sand and stormy, strange-colored sky of the late
afternoon. Wearing dark jeans and the same overcoat that showed off his broad
shoulders, a beanie once again pulled low on his head, he stood with his hands
in his pockets, motionless, as the water swept across his bare feet. The rolled-up
edges of his pants were dark with the ocean spray clinging to the material. I
shivered just watching him. The water had to be freezing.
Seeing her new friend, Dixie let out a happy, little yelp,
which had the retriever bounding over to her, once again licking her head and
huffing as he greeted her. The two of them took off, heading right toward
Zachary. He leaned down, greeting Dixie, allowing her a sniff, then patted her
head and straightened up. He didn’t turn around or acknowledge my presence.
With a roll of my eyes, I walked forward, stopping when I was close enough to
be heard, but not have my feet in the frigid water. I waited, but he said
nothing, ignoring me completely.
Unfriendly indeed.
“That’s Dixie—my dog.”
His chin dipped with a brief nod. “Elliott.”
I couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of my voice. “You or the
dog?”
His lips quirked at the edges. “My dog.”
“I’m staying at the Harpers’ house.”
He nodded.
“I’m not Karen—I’m a friend of hers.”
His sarcasm was thick. “I realize. I have
met her—more than once. There is a slight resemblance, perhaps, but I
can see you aren’t her. Your hair rather gives that away.”
“I’m sure it was a thrill for her,” I murmured, surprised to
hear the trace of a British accent in his voice. I chose to ignore the remark
about my hair.
Nothing.
“They’re letting me stay here for a while.”
“How kind.”
I shook my head. Was he for real?
“I’m Megan. Megan Greene.”
Silence.
I searched my brain for something to say. “Looks like a storm’s
coming in.”
“Observant.”
I frowned at him—definitely rude. His voice, however,
despite its unwelcoming tone, was low and rich sounding, his subtle accent
curling around the words when he spoke. I wanted to hear more than a few
monosyllables from him, and to hear him say my name.
“Aren’t your feet cold, Zachary?”
He glanced down and shrugged, still facing the water, not
even acknowledging the fact I knew his name. “Not really. I’m used to the
cold.”
I decided to try a different subject—maybe one that would
open him up a little. “I saw your work at the gallery in town; you’re very
gifted.”
Again, he nodded.
“Your Tempest painting is”—I searched for
the right word—“exceptional.”
“It’s not for sale.”
Disappointed at his words, I studied his partially hidden
profile. Again his jaw was covered in stubble, and all I could really see was
his nose and the downturned set of his full mouth. Some wayward hair sticking
out from his beanie was blowing in the wind; its color not easy to make out. I
was sure it was dark, but I couldn’t see enough to determine if I was correct.
I wanted to step forward, force him to look at me, but there was something
about his tense stance that screamed “back off.” He was obviously uncomfortable
with me being this close, so I remained where I was, even though I felt some
bizarre sort of need to get closer. I had to struggle not to move beside him,
slip my hand into his, and offer him some sort of comfort; to loosen the tense
set of those broad shoulders. I shook my head at the strange urge.
“Would you perhaps reconsider?”
“No. Jonathon already inquired on your behalf. I have it on
loan to the gallery as a personal favor. It’s not for sale—at any price.”
I smiled, attempting to tease him. “Everything has its price,
Zachary.”
I wasn’t prepared for the venom in his voice when he spoke.
“I’m fucking aware that’s the way most of the world works. I
don’t conduct my life that way.”
Then he turned and walked away, his long strides eating up
the distance, his unbuttoned coat billowing out behind him. He whistled for
Elliott, who dropped the stick from his mouth and chased after his master.
Both Dixie and I stood staring at the retreating figures.
Not once did Zachary pause or look back, while Elliott raced ahead of him. I
waited until he had climbed the stairs and disappeared from sight, never taking
my eyes off him.
I blinked and looked over the water.
Now I could say I had met my neighbor.
That went well.
Excerpt #2
Megan stood gazing at me, her head shaking slowly back and
forth, but she didn’t move. “You don’t mean that.”
Why wasn’t she listening to me? Why wasn’t she
leaving?
“Get out of my house. Leave.” I pointed to the door, making
sure she understood. “Now.”
“You wouldn’t send me out into a storm, Zachary. Your words
are just empty threats to try and get me to hate you.” She came closer, her
voice soothing and calm.
I barked out a harsh laugh as I stepped back. “You should
hate me.”
“I don’t.” She edged forward again.
I frowned at her. Why was she coming closer? She should be
backing away; even if she knew I wouldn’t throw her out of the house, she
should want to move as far away from me—from my hideous face—as possible.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m not afraid of you.” She moved forward, closing any
remaining distance between us to mere inches. I tried to step back, but I had
nowhere to go, my back hitting the stone of the fireplace. I dragged in a
shaking breath, only to have my already overloaded senses fill with her warm
scent, shutting my eyes as it settled around me like a soothing blanket. When I
opened them a moment later, it was to her wide, dark gaze. There was no
revulsion or pity in their depths; only a simple calm, beseeching stare. She
looked vulnerable as we gazed at each other, the room around us ceasing to
exist.
Why was she looking at me like that? What did she want?
“Zachary,” she whispered.
It was too much. She was too close and too—
I lifted my hands to push her away, except when they wrapped
around the top of her arms, it was as if they had a mind of their own. Time
seemed to stop as my fingers caressed the smooth, silky skin not covered by her
T-shirt; the warmth of her burning through my fingers to my very core. My arms
flexed as they dragged her closer until our faces were almost touching. Her
hands held tightly to my loose sweater, bunching the fabric in her small fists
so hard, I knew the cuts on her palms would reopen. I knew her blood would seep
into the material, forever staining it with her essence. It didn’t matter; I
couldn’t let go of her. I held her so close it was as if I was trying to mold
her into my skin and make her part of my body. Her hot breath washed over my
face, and I could hear my own ragged, harsh breaths filling the room.
Still, neither of us said a word as we stared, clutching and
holding each other, the heat between us burning brighter every second that
passed. A small whimper escaped her lips, a pleading, needy sound and I was
lost. My mouth covered hers roughly and I jerked her flush to me, not allowing
a sliver of space between us. I groaned into her wet, warm mouth as I felt her
hands slip into my hair, holding me close to her face. Her tongue was like silk
on mine as we caressed and tasted, our tongues stroking and entwining. The
taste of her was as sweet as I knew it would be, her lips as soft and her
effect on me crippling. I plunged my hands into her hair, tilting her head to
deepen the kiss, directing her where I needed her to go with my touch. Megan
gripped me tighter as I claimed her; needing and wanting more. Her heart
hammered powerfully in her chest, so I knew she could feel mine as well. Small
sounds from deep in her throat filled my ears as I ravished her mouth, lost in
the heat and wonder that was Megan.
Excerpt #3
“Don’t feel sorry for me,” I snapped. I hated pity.
“I’m not feeling sorry for you. I said I was sorry people
chose to be unkind because of your scars. There’s a difference,” she snapped
right back. A dull flush tinged her cheeks, her eyes glinting and fiery with
annoyance as she frowned at me. Despite her anger, I found her incredibly
attractive and my lips quirked.
“What?” she spat at me.
I shook my head as I chuckled and grabbed the bottle of wine
to top up our glasses. I might be low on food, but I never ran out of wine. “I
was thinking how I wanted to capture you on film again, looking exactly like
that.”
“Like what?”
“Like a kitten trying to act like a tiger. All growls and
swipes of your little paws as you hiss at me, putting me in my place.” I
reclined back, taking a deep swallow of my wine as I gazed at her over the rim
of the glass. “You’re very sexy when you’re angry. Did you know that?”
“Stop it.”
“It’s true. Your eyes flash, and the color on your cheeks is
sublime. Your glare, which I’m certain you mean to be angry, is more of a turn
on than anything.”
“I am angry at you. You twist everything I say.”
I tilted my head in acknowledgment. “I know. It’s a bad
habit I picked up after years of being lied to.” Lifting her hand, I kissed the
knuckles. “I apologize. I’ll try harder.” I placed another kiss on her skin.
“But I still want to capture you when you’re angry.”
Rolling her eyes, she stood up, taking our empty plates.
“Somehow, Zachary, I have a feeling you’ll get what you wish for without much
effort.” She sighed as she walked to the sink. “You seem to be able to make me
angry faster than anyone I’ve ever met.”
I closed the distance between us in two large steps. Cupping
the back of her neck, I brought her mouth to mine. “Anger is simply another
form of passion,” I murmured against her lips.
“A tiring one,” she returned in a whisper. “And I won’t ever
lie to you.”
“Everyone lies.”
“No, they don’t. Whatever world you were in where they did,
I’m glad you’re out of it.” She paused, frowning. “I’m glad you’re here—with
me.”
I didn’t want to talk anymore. I didn’t want to think about
the past, or groceries, or even what was going to happen tomorrow. All I wanted
was to lose myself with her again. To block out everything else.
I picked her up, striding down the hall with her cradled in
my arms, my mouth covering hers.
She wanted me to be happy. Having her wrapped around me,
buried inside her, made me happy.
Dreamcast
My Cast of Characters for Beneath the Scars…
Zachary Adams – Henry Cavill
His eyes are so expressive and he has that sense of
ruggedness about him that reminds me of Zachary. There is something strong
about his demeanor and when he smiles it is like the sun coming out. He was the
perfect choice.
Megan Greene
Alexis Bledel
That pretty next door look, with a beautiful smile.
Add a few freckles and brown contacts, she is exactly as I pictured
Megan.
Jared Cameron …Ryan Gosling
Good looking and he knows it. He knows how to use it. I
think he’d portray a great Jared with enough smarminess to give you the shivers.
Karen Harper … Anne Hathaway
Anne portrays that confident beauty Zach described. Sure of
herself, outspoken and loyal. All traits I think she possesses.
Playlist
About the Author
Known as the quiet one with the big laugh, Melanie works for
the sporting teams of a local university. Her (box) office job, while
demanding, is rewarding as she cheers on her team to victory.
While seriously addicted to coffee, and somewhat challenged
with all things computer-related and technical, she relishes baking, cooking,
and trying new recipes for people to sample. She loves to throw dinner parties
and socialize, and also enjoys traveling, here and abroad, but finds coming
home is always the best part of any trip.
Melanie delights in writing a good romance story with some
bumps along the way, but is a true believer in happily ever after. When her
head isn’t buried in a book, it is bent over a keyboard, furiously typing away
as her characters dictate their creative story lines to her even more inspired
tales, for all to enjoy.
Connect with Melanie
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