Object of Desire

Object of Desire

by Dal Maclean

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Tom Gray is one of the world's top models–an effortless object of desire. Self-contained, elusive and always in control, he's accustomed to living life entirely on his own terms. But when Tom comes under suspicion in the gory death of his employer, his world spirals into chaos.

Someone's framing him. Someone's stalking him. And as old secrets come to light, Tom finds his adversary always one step ahead.

Will Foster is the only man Tom trusts to help. But Tom brutally burned all bridges between them two years before, and Will paid a bitter price. If he wants to survive, Tom must prove his innocence to Will–and to the world.

Product Details

BN ID: 2940155187172
Publisher: Blind Eye Books
Publication date: 05/22/2018
Sold by: Smashwords
Format: NOOK Book
Sales rank: 688,735
File size: 590 KB

About the Author

Dal Maclean comes from Scotland. Her background is in journalism, and she has an undying passion for history, the more gossipy and scandalous the better. Dal has lived in Asia and worked all over the world, but home is now the UK. She dislikes the Tragic Gay trope, but loves imperfect characters and genuine emotional conflict in romantic fiction. As an author, and a reader, she believes it's worth a bit of work to reach a happy ending. Agatha Christie, English gardens and ill-advised cocktails are three fatal weaknesses, though not usually at the same time.

Read an Excerpt

"Dead? Come on, Nick, that's... Of course she's not...dead."

"She is." Nick's voice. Choked and shaky, at the other end of a poor phone line. "God, Tom. She really is."

"But...I saw her yesterday," Tom insisted. "Catriona. At the office. She was fine."

His blank, stunned eyes skittered over his surroundings, trying to grip on to normality.

Grand white colonnades, white render, yellowing grass, scorching sunlight–Greenwich Riverside–with the glass and metal towers of Canary Wharf, looming across the Thames.

The gorgeous photographer Tom had been idly chatting-up, when he answered his phone.

A bored assistant, waiting by a fold-up table, holding a bottle of make-up remover, pointedly, in her hand.

Two gulls, startling white against startling blue, wheeling and crying over the river.

"She's on the bed." Nick's unwanted voice again, worming in his ear. "And...there's so much blood. She's cold."

Tom drew in a sharp breath through his nose. "Have you called an ambulance?"

"Christ, Tom, of course I have! Please. Please, I need you to come now. She..."

Tom squeezed his eyes tight shut, until he saw sparkles behind his straining lids. Don't say it. Don't. You. Fucking. Say it.

"She's killed herself. Tom." Nick's voice broke.

Tom opened his eyes.

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