SCARRED

scarred-kindle

Blurb

Michael

What would cause a beautiful girl to display such hatred in a place of worship?

What is she hiding?

Why does every nerve in my body go on alert at the mere thought of being with her?

 

Charlotte

Is it possible there’s a man who isn’t revolted by me?

Will he run like everyone else?

Have I finally been given a chance at love?

scarred-fullExcerpt

Michael

Everyone in the chapel, including me, flinched when the doors crashed open and hit the wall with an earth shattering bang.

The minister ceased talking and glanced up. A frown crossed his face and an expression of, was it recognition, dawned.

The congregation swiveled in their seats, eager to see who was rudely interrupting the funeral service of such a beloved citizen.

A woman in heels clicked her way down the aisle.

“Nice ass.” My eyes followed her progression. Closely. The woman had a shock of blonde hair which hung in soft curls past her shoulders. Her pale blue skirt moved back and forth with the rhythm of her swaying hips as she made her way forward. I had never seen her before.

My youngest brother leaned close. “Mid-thirties, right age for you. Nice ass.”

I turned to glare at him but found myself smiling at his comment regarding the woman’s derriere. His lips curved upward in a knowing smile. Yep, there was no denying the fact, my two brothers and I are definitely ass men.

When I turned back, the woman stood in front of the minister. Her hands were jammed on her hips. Her stance, stiff. Her voice angry when she addressed him.

“Peter.”

“Charlotte Lewis. It’s been a long time.”

I was mesmerized. The tension between the two hung thickly in the air, you could have cut it with a knife.

She stepped toward the coffin resting on a table beside them. The lid remained up as mourners had been paying their final respects before the service commenced.

“Charlotte, please show respect.”

“Respect? What a fucking joke.” She moved closer to the coffin.

The gathering behind her was silent, watching her every move. We were gathered to farewell a much loved member of our community. Why was this woman so angry? Who was she and why was she here?

I shifted in my seat where I sat at the rear of the church, I didn’t want to miss any of what was unfolding.

Charlotte snatched up a photo which had been clasped in the corpse’s hand. “So fucking peaceful now you bitch. No sign of the fucking chaos you have caused.”

Everyone gasped and shifted uncomfortably in their seats. The woman raised her head and addressed us.

“Look at you, here to say your goodbye’s to this evil bitch. She doesn’t deserve any of this. She deserved to be burnt at a fucking stake.”

Let me change angry to livid, ropable. The woman oozed hatred.

The gathering jumped in shock when she turned and threw the photo to the floor. The glass shattered into tiny fragments. She then turned back and spat in the dead woman’s face.

A shocked murmur rippled through the church.

With one last glance at the minister, she spun on her heel and stomped back down the aisle.

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Teasers

 

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