A Perfect Escape

Can two people running away from life, figure out how to trust each other enough to live?

"Who the hell are you?" 

Meg blinked. If Bradford sent this man to find her, then he wouldn't ask her who she was, would he? Relief slowly washed over her. "I might ask you the same question." 

His face registered surprise, but he continued to stare. A second later he shook his head and briefly closed his eyes. "Look, I'm tired and I'm not in the mood for questions. Just tell me who you are and why you were taking a shower in my house." 

"Your house?" 

"Last time I checked." 

"But I've rented it until the end of May."
 

Megan Thomas wants to get lost—preferably in someone else's life. But can she really escape the terror of her past, to grab onto some hope of a future?

Leaving Chicago and her mob-connected husband behind, she assumes a new identity. She planned her escape to the last detail—but she didn't plan on Smyth Parker.

Smyth Parker is already lost. And he sure as hell doesn't need a complication like Megan Thomas in his life. He wants nothing from no one and expects to live out his life in solitude. But when Megan fears her husband has found her, she runs again, and no detailed plan can save her this time. When she runs blindly into Smyth's arms, he has no choice but to protect her

Be forewarned: This book contrains graphic descriptions of sex and violent situations, including murder and assault.

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A Perfect Escape

Can two people running away from life, figure out how to trust each other enough to live?

"Who the hell are you?" 

Meg blinked. If Bradford sent this man to find her, then he wouldn't ask her who she was, would he? Relief slowly washed over her. "I might ask you the same question." 

His face registered surprise, but he continued to stare. A second later he shook his head and briefly closed his eyes. "Look, I'm tired and I'm not in the mood for questions. Just tell me who you are and why you were taking a shower in my house." 

"Your house?" 

"Last time I checked." 

"But I've rented it until the end of May."
 

Megan Thomas wants to get lost—preferably in someone else's life. But can she really escape the terror of her past, to grab onto some hope of a future?

Leaving Chicago and her mob-connected husband behind, she assumes a new identity. She planned her escape to the last detail—but she didn't plan on Smyth Parker.

Smyth Parker is already lost. And he sure as hell doesn't need a complication like Megan Thomas in his life. He wants nothing from no one and expects to live out his life in solitude. But when Megan fears her husband has found her, she runs again, and no detailed plan can save her this time. When she runs blindly into Smyth's arms, he has no choice but to protect her

Be forewarned: This book contrains graphic descriptions of sex and violent situations, including murder and assault.

6.99 In Stock
A Perfect Escape

A Perfect Escape

A Perfect Escape

A Perfect Escape

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Overview

Can two people running away from life, figure out how to trust each other enough to live?

"Who the hell are you?" 

Meg blinked. If Bradford sent this man to find her, then he wouldn't ask her who she was, would he? Relief slowly washed over her. "I might ask you the same question." 

His face registered surprise, but he continued to stare. A second later he shook his head and briefly closed his eyes. "Look, I'm tired and I'm not in the mood for questions. Just tell me who you are and why you were taking a shower in my house." 

"Your house?" 

"Last time I checked." 

"But I've rented it until the end of May."
 

Megan Thomas wants to get lost—preferably in someone else's life. But can she really escape the terror of her past, to grab onto some hope of a future?

Leaving Chicago and her mob-connected husband behind, she assumes a new identity. She planned her escape to the last detail—but she didn't plan on Smyth Parker.

Smyth Parker is already lost. And he sure as hell doesn't need a complication like Megan Thomas in his life. He wants nothing from no one and expects to live out his life in solitude. But when Megan fears her husband has found her, she runs again, and no detailed plan can save her this time. When she runs blindly into Smyth's arms, he has no choice but to protect her

Be forewarned: This book contrains graphic descriptions of sex and violent situations, including murder and assault.


Product Details

BN ID: 2940156308934
Publisher: Sand Dune Books
Publication date: 03/26/2017
Sold by: Draft2Digital
Format: eBook
File size: 624 KB

About the Author

Writing flirty contemporary romance, mystery and suspense, and upmarket women's fiction.
 

Maddie James writes stories from the heartland, from small towns to ranches. As M.L. Jameson, she pens gritty paranormal and romantic suspense. Madeleine Jaimes writes upmarket women's fiction focused on friendships and relationships. 

In 2022, Maddie celebrated her 25th year of publishing romance fiction, with nearly 80 published titles to date. Affair de Coeur claimed Maddie, "shows a special talent for traditional romance," and RT Book Reviews said, "James deftly combines romance and suspense, so hope on for an exhilarating ride."


Gritty, steamy, deadly romantic suspense and thrillers...

M.L. JAMESON is the romantic suspense/thriller pen name of bestselling romance author, Maddie James.

While Maddie dabbles with cowboys and small town happily-ever-afters, M.L. Jameson writes gritty, steamy, deadly, and often dark and complicated romantic suspense/thriller novels.

RT Book Reviews claims, "James deftly combines romance and suspense, so hop on for an exhilarating ride."

Read an Excerpt

Prologue

The hot-shot assistant district attorney lay face down on the cold slab of concrete. His hands tied tightly behind him caused his shoulders to bow into an unnatural backward arch, even though his body fell slack with fatigue. Bruised and battered, he lay surprisingly conscious, his starched white shirt now limp and soaked with blood. His blood. Thick bubbles of scarlet gurgled from his nose with each labored breath he took. He looked somewhat like a dying fish gasping for air.

What a horrible way to die.

But he hung on a lot longer than she'd expected. Especially for all he'd been through the past hour.

The horror of it all seized her and wouldn't let go. If it weren't for the fact that her own hands were pulled into a vise grip behind her, forcing her into an upright position, she would have bent at the waist and retched all over the floor. The stench of imminent death forced bile into her throat. The shock alone of what was happening--directly in front of her--should have rendered her immobile. She never dreamed Bradford would carry things this far, that he was capable of creating terror of this magnitude.

Without warning, a silver flash arced through the charged atmosphere. She instantly felt, as well as heard, the resounding echo of a single gunshot and simultaneous rip of the bullet. The force sent blood, matter, and tissue flying, spattering her face, clothing.

She was that close. Too close.

An ungodly scream, like the shriek of a wounded animal, rent the air and she realized it came from her own throat. Immediate terror so powerful it nearly rocked her off her feet gripped her and the nausea took over. Her legs went limp and she didwhat she didn't want to do, vomit down the front of her shirt. Teetering on the edge of consciousness, her head hung, the hands holding her from behind the only thing keeping her from falling onto the floor.

Her own pain brought her quickly back to her senses as someone snatched and yanked a handful of hair at the back of her head, forcing her to look straight ahead.

Into his face. His eyes.

What now?

His evil stare bit back with a sadistic power she never knew he possessed. How often she had seen those eyes look at her so differently. In adoration. In excitement.

In lust.

His power over her, over most women, was his charm. His charismatic demeanor, his enigmatic ability to turn a woman into putty within thirty seconds, their downfall. And she fell into that trap. Probably more deeply than most.

But she'd never seen the veil of evil cast over those eyes before.

Not like this. Not until now.

She'd known his reputation as a shady dealer, not above an illegal act--an egotistical, self-centered, domineering, power-hungry sonofabitch.

But she never expected he was a murderer.

He jerked her hair again, physically moving closer. He brought the pistol up to her chin, the cold, hard snub jabbing into her tender flesh. So vile, so despicable. She found it difficult to keep her gaze pinned to his face, into his eyes. But she needed to. She prayed if she kept the connection he might remember something, anything, that would endear her to him and he wouldn't kill her.

"You see that!" he shouted. "Did you see how I fucking killed that bastard?"

She responded with a quick jerk of her head. He yanked her closer.

"If you ever, ever," he began slowly, his voice menacingly lower, "even think about betraying me, you stupid blonde bitch," he thrust his face closer and she could smell his tobacco-stale breath, "I won't hesitate to put a bullet in you. Only I won't be so kind as to put the bullet in your brain, my dear. My friend Smith and Wesson here would enjoy having its fucking way with you. I guarantee being ripped apart from the inside out isn't a pretty way to die."

He released her with a forceful push and stepped backward. For the first time in hours she was glad his goons held her upright. "No one fucks with me and lives. You understand?"

She nodded in quick jerks, probably more out of reflex rather than a conscious effort.

An uncanny shiver of relief melted over her. For whatever reason, he needed her around a little longer. She wasn't entirely sure, however, if that was a good thing or bad.

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