Title: Fool’s Gold
Series: Kisses and Crime
Author: Natalie E. Wrye
Genre: Erotic Romance/Romantic Mystery & Suspense
Cover Design: Alivia Anders, White Rabbit Book Design
Release Date: September 29, 2016
Say hello to Dani.
Is this your first time meeting her?
Good. This is Dani’s first time meeting her, too.
Daniela Bishop has everything to live for.
A beautiful loft in the south of France. A gorgeous albeit brooding husband who looks at her as if she’s his last meal.
Too bad she doesn’t remember any of it.
A life she never knew with a lover she doesn’t recognize?
It couldn’t get any worse… until it does.
Married to a man with secrets darker than his Greek god-like features, Dani will do anything to piece together the life of her husband, Bishop (no first name), and subsequently her own.
But when memories masquerading as nightmares come back to show her the real truth about her life, her family and her love, Daniela must come to grips with a past that is nothing like it seems… and an unknown life she may end up dying for.
Most people enjoy the sound of rain; they find it calming.
I am not one of those people.
For some reason, the rain has never given me peace.
The sound of water, slow, steady and rhythmic, parades through my bedroom, making it pulsate, and I wake from a deep sleep, reaching my hands across the mattress—searching…
What I’m searching for, I have no idea… but my hands pause when they feel emptiness—nothing.
Just the coolness of the bedspread.
Just the solace of an empty spot.
I feel cold—inexplicably so, and when I turn over to face the window, I see a cloudy sky, scarlet curtains…
And no rain.
Not a single drop from the sky, at least as far as I can tell. The windows seem to be heavily fogged.
But maybe not…
I take a closer look.
A thin film is outstretched over the poorly framed glass, making my vision feel murky.
Grey light filters in through its thin layer, and at this point, I can’t even tell if the sun is shining.
But I can still hear the rain.
Not on the outside, no.
It’s inside somehow, trickling just beyond my bedroom wall.
I sit up straight, bracing my open palms on my bedroom pillows when it occurs to me that the pillows aren’t mine.
In fact, as I take closer look at the bed sheets, I slowly realize… I’ve awakened in a bed that isn’t even mine…
What the flying fuck…
I vault out of the bed, practically diving sideways, as if it were on fire.
A single tumble and my bare feet land on the cold ground near the edge of the bed, simultaneously pacing, taking in the remainder of the room with sluggish eyes and an unsettled mind.
I don’t recognize the silk robe caressing my shoulders. I’ve never before felt the floor rug beneath my feet.
Nothing is familiar. None of it.
Not the room. Not its two rust-colored doors. Definitely not the high ceilings, nor the darkened hardwood floors.
I seem to have gone asleep in one world and awakened in another.
Where the fuck am I, and how in the hell did I get here?
I walk over to the doors, but oddly they won’t open. I walk across the room to stand in front of the thick glass separating me from the world, and I realize that everything around me—the buildings, the people, the marketplace just outside…
I don’t recognize any of it.
And I’m all alone.
How did this happen?
Everything, everyone, appears to be moving in sync, in a motion that speaks of everyday life.
It seems like a normal goddamned day for the rest of the world… but not for me.
I am the oddity.
I press my forehead against the hazy glass, prepared to scream, and just when I start to… the rain that seems to pulsate in the room just stops.
The sound of heavy footsteps follows in its wake, matching the thundering of my now pumping heart—a heart that seems to have leapt between my ears, beating with a panicky pace.
I see the doorknobs turn and through one of the two closed doors, a man enters the room, naked from the waist up, a white towel in one hand and another wrapped near his navel.
And in that instant, my mind goes numb.
He is gorgeous beyond fucking belief.
Gold-green eyes peek beneath a darkly soaked head of hair, and he looks straight at me—his hazel irises expectant, one strong arm outstretched as he dries the wet mane that drips onto his naked shoulders.
Strong broad shoulders.
Shoulders that sit upon a body made of cream-colored stone.
The look in his eyes is intense, and he stares at me as if he is incapable of doing anything else.
I don’t know why… but it thrills me, sets my senses ablaze… and scares me half-to-fucking-death.
Gorgeous or not, this is the guy—the man from last night’s dream… and I have no fucking clue who he is.
Natalie Wrye is a math geek by day, writer by night. She is a single, former Yankee living in Northwest Georgia with nothing but her Friends and Gilmore Girls reruns to keep her company. Natalie started writing nonsensical stories at the ripe age of 6; she hopes things have changed since then. She loves chocolate, cuddly things, and large libraries. Oh…and she thinks it’s pretty cool to talk in 3rd person.