About The Book:
Title: Point of Redemption
Series: Nordic Lords MC #2
Author: Stacey Lynn
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Expected Publication: July 30, 2014
Lies. Heartbreak. Betrayal.
Lies. Heartbreak. Betrayal.
No one knew the devastation of those three words more than Faith Winston and five years ago, she endured every one of them. All she wanted was to feel safe and marry the very man who promised to love her and protect her, Ryker Knight.But growing up in the Nordic Lords Motorcycle Club, she should have known she couldn’t have a happy ending. Instead, her world became a nightmare. The bikers—her family—abandoned her, leaving her to crash without their safety net.
Ryker Knight has spent the last five years consumed with guilt, running from the ghosts that haunt him. That is until his past catches up with him the moment his brother needs his help. Returning home to Jasper Bay, he’s forced to face the same ghosts he was running from. Only to find that the woman he loved is trapped in a hell of her own, entrenched behind enemy lines —and it’s all his fault.
And even though Ryker’s life comes with priorities that he can’t – and won’t - turn his back on, he refuses to leave Jasper Bay until he’s found Faith.
But will she want to return to the life she’s always wanted even if Ryker is no longer capable of giving her what he once promised?
Excerpt:
*This is not full edited and excerpt may be changed or deleted prior to publication*
“Don’t you get it, Ryker?” She stepped away from me and slowly turned around. Before I could process what she was doing, her back faced me as she lowered her robe. With her arms bent at the sides, the robe fell down her back and draped across the back of her waist. She reached up with one hand and pulled her hair over her shoulder so I could see the black lace.
I wanted to run my hands over her skin and feel the lace beneath my fingers. But I stopped myself. My eyebrows pulled in, confused as to what she was trying to show me.
“Look,” she said. “Look closer.”
I did. I moved in and bent down and watched her shiver beneath my hooded gaze. And then I felt the need to hit something because I could finally see what she wanted me to see.
“Faith,” I said as I lightly reached out and began tracing the scars with the tip of my thumb. My teeth ground together and my jaw radiated in pain from trying not to scream at her. I could barely see them under the lace, but they were there. White scars, some still pink. I moved the robe down, wishing the lace was gone so I could see the maze of angry slashes and scars that decorated her fucking gorgeous skin.
“What is this?” I growled. The back of the robe was fisted in my hands and I pulled it off. I didn’t see the beauty in front of me, the woman who could always make my dick hard in seconds. Now I saw the broken and marred skin and all of it was my own damn fucking fault for not taking a minute five years ago to stop and think for one damn second.
Faith looked at me from over her shoulder. I dragged my eyes, reluctantly pulling them off her skin and scars, and saw the deadness in her eyes. “Disobedience has its consequences.”
She shrugged her shoulders and moved away from me, but I stopped her. One hand went to her waist and I tightened my grip on her hip before she could walk away. I stared at my hand on her skin wishing I was touching her for a different reason.
“I’m so fucking sorry.”
Her eyes grew wet before she looked away from me to the floor. My fingers twitched on her hip and I felt her jump slightly.
“Faith,” I said, my throat raw with pain and regret. “We’ll free you from them. I fucking swear it.”
She spun around and my hand fell from her skin down to my side. She reached out, grabbed the robe from my other hand, and shrugged it on, knotting the belt tightly around her waist.
“What you don’t understand,” she said quietly, “is that I’ll never be free again.”
I wanted to run my hands over her skin and feel the lace beneath my fingers. But I stopped myself. My eyebrows pulled in, confused as to what she was trying to show me.
“Look,” she said. “Look closer.”
I did. I moved in and bent down and watched her shiver beneath my hooded gaze. And then I felt the need to hit something because I could finally see what she wanted me to see.
“Faith,” I said as I lightly reached out and began tracing the scars with the tip of my thumb. My teeth ground together and my jaw radiated in pain from trying not to scream at her. I could barely see them under the lace, but they were there. White scars, some still pink. I moved the robe down, wishing the lace was gone so I could see the maze of angry slashes and scars that decorated her fucking gorgeous skin.
“What is this?” I growled. The back of the robe was fisted in my hands and I pulled it off. I didn’t see the beauty in front of me, the woman who could always make my dick hard in seconds. Now I saw the broken and marred skin and all of it was my own damn fucking fault for not taking a minute five years ago to stop and think for one damn second.
Faith looked at me from over her shoulder. I dragged my eyes, reluctantly pulling them off her skin and scars, and saw the deadness in her eyes. “Disobedience has its consequences.”
She shrugged her shoulders and moved away from me, but I stopped her. One hand went to her waist and I tightened my grip on her hip before she could walk away. I stared at my hand on her skin wishing I was touching her for a different reason.
“I’m so fucking sorry.”
Her eyes grew wet before she looked away from me to the floor. My fingers twitched on her hip and I felt her jump slightly.
“Faith,” I said, my throat raw with pain and regret. “We’ll free you from them. I fucking swear it.”
She spun around and my hand fell from her skin down to my side. She reached out, grabbed the robe from my other hand, and shrugged it on, knotting the belt tightly around her waist.
“What you don’t understand,” she said quietly, “is that I’ll never be free again.”
About The Author:
Amazon Bestselling Author:
Just One Song and Just One Week,
Don't Lie to Me, and
Remembering UsI am a wife, a mom, and a writer. I can often be found curled up on the couch with a good book, or obsessively eating Skittles in a very complicated and organized manner. No joke.
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