The writing of The Fawn has been a bittersweet journey. This is a story very close to my heart and a story suffered by many women around the world. It's not a new story. It is one that has been told time and time again by many different people in many different ways and with many different experiences, but with the same old problem. Hopefully through my love of my characters and emotions I've made it an interesting one. I wrote the first twenty pages of this story back in 2008 shortly after finishing the first draft of Whisper Cape. Although the story of The Fawn is completely fiction, it does represent a time in my life when I was insecure and my self-esteem was at an all time low, sometime back in my late thirties early forties. Things changed, circumstances changed, and I was able to find my own self worth. One thing similar to The Fawn is that I didn't do it alone. The people in my life had a huge influence on me, friends mostly. And my knight who helped me realize my own self-worth time and time again. Just as Jackson is there for Lena, my knight was there for me. That is where the similarities end. But the emotion is strong in this story and I hope I've been able to portray it well enough to be appreciated. Lena's journey is very different from my own, yet, holds so much weight in my heart.
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Released Date: March 1, 2014
A New Adult Novel
Sexual content and mature subject matter, including domestic violence and abuse.
After a not-so-wonderful young adulthood—shuffled from one foster home to another—Lena Benton had hoped marriage would be her ticket to happiness. Wedded a year after high school graduation, Lena was certain she’d found her knight. But when Troy Harington’s true colors surface shortly after their glorious day of elopement, things aren’t quite as rosy as Lena had envisioned. When an unforeseen event turns ugly, all she can do is ... run!
But does she run far enough?
Jackson Beaumont prides himself on being a nature-loving, guitar-strumming carefree sort of guy, known for his eagerness to help injured animals find their way back into the wild. When Lena Benton walks into his bar, he’s once again swept off his feet with concern and desire to help the wounded. Will he risk having his heart torn apart again when the memory of the fawn he rescued as a child resurfaces?
No more tears, I ordered myself. It’s over. Was he dead? I hoped he was dead. I had to have killed him. My emotions—convoluted with anger and fear—dominated my judgment, giving me courage to go on. I’d never considered myself weak, to allow a man to have such complete and utter control over me—to beat me whenever he had the whim. How the hell had that happened?
Well, that person was gone and I didn’t want to be weak anymore. I lifted my glasses, studied my eye again, and thought of my mother—she’d been weak, I remembered. The vision of my stepfather beating my mother to death invaded my mind. I was nine at the time, and sat cowering in the corner, praying he wouldn’t come at me when he’d finished with her. I’d watched him slap my mom around before, and she’d always been able to recover. But that last time, he’d gone too far. I watched as my mother fell to her knees, clutching her stomach as his foot came off the ground and struck her in the face. She’d fallen backwards and her head hit the edge of the red, brick hearth of the fireplace. I covered my eyes and screamed as blood spewed out all over the bricks and the worn out, dingy cream carpet. A neighbor heard the screaming and called the police. They’d gotten there in time for me, but too late for my mother.
I’d been on my own since I was eighteen after enduring one foster home after another, never really fitting in. But at the tender age of fourteen I’d found my niche. An old discarded second-hand guitar I’d discovered in someone’s trash became my savior. As long as I had a guitar in my hands nothing else mattered. After a few months of living with some friends and several temporary gigs here and there, I’d been lucky enough to find a spot with a smalltime band singing and playing lead-guitar. They called themselves The Magic Crew. They were good too, on their way to stardom, and I was right there with them until Troy Harington showed up and swept me off my feet.
It seemed as if it had all been a dream as I thought about how he’d manipulated me into believing he loved me. Handsome? Oh yeah, he was handsome.
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