Loverboy
Author –
Trista Jaszczak
Genre –
Romance/Thriller
Re-Release Date – October 31, 2013
Publisher –
Planettopia Publishing
Cover Artist
– Beetiful Designs
Book Blurb
When Charlotte Murphy escapes
from the ruthless serial rapist and killer, Loverboy, she finds herself
completely lost and scared to death. Lost, frightened, recovering, and in the
sights of a brutal killer. In a most odd but clever tactic from the police, they
assign Charlie 24/7 live-in protection; a move that is supposed to comfort her
and make healing easier. Somehow, despite the odds, Charlie finds a refuge in
officer Nick Andrews and in his arms she finds the strength to heal and the
courage to move on with life. Nick finds everything that he wasn't looking for
in Charlie’s eyes and a fight against a killer that becomes personal.
BUY LINKS
EXCERPT
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My name is Charlotte Murphy.
Charlotte? Charlotte… No… No, they call me Charlie. I call me Charlie. Everyone
calls me Charlie; they have for years. My head hurts. Bad. I’m twenty-one? I’m
from Indiana. Wait. Where in Indiana? Why can’t I remember? My parents have
lived there all my life. Indiana? Morgantown, Indiana. But, I moved? I don’t
live there anymore. Ugh. Why can’t I move my head? No. I don’t live there
anymore. I live in New York. For…for…? School. For school. I live there for
school. And, I’m a dancer. I’m an instructor for a studio part time. I work
with the younger girls. I can’t move my arms, either. Where am I? Where was I?
It’s black, everything is black. I was leaving school. No. Work? No, I don’t
work until later this week. Why can’t I remember? What was I doing? I was
leaving…something. Somewhere. I’m sore. Everywhere hurts. The party. I was
leaving a party. That’s it. I left the party, because people were acting crazy.
I walked. I walked home. I remember. I cut through Central Park. But then
someone grabbed me. Someone grabbed me hard. They covered my mouth. I remember!
My eyes pop open, and suddenly I’m
greeted by annoying, harsh white lights and beeping noises. I groan softly. My
God, I was right. I was grabbed. Someone kidnapped me. They don’t still have me
do they? They can’t. No. I ran. I got away. I move my eyes around slowly and
realize the only thing that can have beeping noises and such bright lights is
the hospital. I’m in the hospital. I don’t remember getting here. I couldn’t
have gotten here by myself. Could I? I moan again, this time making an attempt
to move my hand. At least, I think I’m trying to move my hand. It hurts, too.
My head, my neck, my arms, my legs, everywhere. Stabbing pains, shooting pains;
pains that I’ve never felt before in my life course through every last inch of
my body. Just how hurt am I? I can feel my heart beginning to pound furiously
deep in my chest. I hear a clicking noise and feet on the floor as the sounds
come closer.
“Charlotte?” I hear a soft female
voice.
I open my mouth and realize how dry
it is. I swallow hard and make another attempt to speak.
“It’s okay, Sweetie,” she interrupts
me. “You don’t have to talk. Do you know where you are?”
I give myself a moment and fight
through the pain enough to nod my head.
“You understand that you’re in the
hospital?” She asks.
I lick my dry lips to find an array
of what feels like cuts around them, and nod slowly once more.
“You are one lucky girl,” she says,
as I feel her working with the tubes that I now see are all attached to me. “We
didn’t expect you to wake up this soon.”
“Pain,” I finally choke out.
“Don’t worry; we’ll get you
something more for the pain.” She reassures me. “Just try to relax for me.
Don’t worry now; the police are here.”
The police?
“Police?” I stammer.
“Why, dear, after what you’ve just
been through they wouldn’t dare leave you without protection,” she says softly,
as I feel her working with another tube that I can now tell is running directly
into my arm.
“Protection?” I ask. “I was,” I
pause to swallow. “I was kidnapped.” My thoughts become jumbled a moment as I
try to comprehend everything that’s happened to me. Everything in my mind seems
to be surrounded by a thick haze, and I can’t pull even one random through from
the mess.
She looks down at me, making the
most pitiful face I have ever seen on a person. “Oh, Sweetheart, I better let
the police talk to you about that.”
Just how bad am I?
“Can I,” I stop. “Can I sit up?” I
ask
“Do you feel up to it?” She asks. “I
don’t want to exhaust you; you just woke up.”
“How long have I been out?” I ask,
now feeling more strength in my voice.
She takes a moment to glance at the
gold watch on her wrist. “Just about twelve hours now, dear.”
Twelve hours?!
“I think sitting up will help my
back,” I reply, softly.
She cocks her head to the side,
giving me the pitiful look again. This time I can’t be too sure, but I think I
can see tears in her eyes. She finally nods and begins pushing buttons on the
side of the bed that control the angle and lift. I can feel my body’s muscles
beginning to work for the first time, in what feels like, years. Aches, pops,
and uncomfortable groans; I can feel it all. I finally bring my strongest hand
up to my neck, rubbing a tender spot that is completely covered with what I can
only assume is a large bandage.
“Would you like a pillow behind your
back?” She asks, the pitiful look falling over her face again.
I can’t imagine just how bad I look,
but judging by the look on her face, not pretty. I nod slowly as she helps me
lean forward, just enough for her to slide the pillow behind me.
“Can I get you anything else?” She
asks, giving my shoulder a tender pat.
I shake my head.
“Well, the doctor will be in
shortly,” she replies. “But, if you need me, just push this button.” She pulls
a remote from behind the bed, pointing at the bright red button. She smiles. “The other two buttons control
your TV.”
“Thank you,” I manage, as I weakly
take the remote from her hand.
As the nurse turns to make her exit,
I’m surprised to see a doctor already on his way in. He’s tall with pale skin,
and his eyes give the impression that he hasn’t slept in days. His hair too;
it’s mousy brown and cut short, but looks as though he’s just crawled out of
bed. He smiles.
“Glad to see you awake,” he says.
“How do you feel?”
“Like I was just run over by a Mack
truck,” I say, working to adjust myself in the bed.
“Well, given what you’ve just been
through, I would say you should feel even worse,” he says. “Mind if I have a
look at you?”
I shake my head. Do I honestly have
a choice? He steps closer, and suddenly I feel a pang of panic that I can’t
explain. My heart begins to race and I can feel sweat beginning to build up on
the palm of my hands. I swallow and give him a strange look. I open my mouth to
apologize, but he politely stops me.
“It’s okay, I won’t hurt you,” he
says.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I don’t,” I
pause to swallow and look away for a moment, “I don’t know what happened.”
“You’ve been through a lot,
Charlotte. You’re a very lucky young woman.”
“I guess I don’t remember what
exactly I’ve been through,” I say, looking down at the tiled hospital floor.
“One step at a time,” he says. “Best
just to take it easy for now. Would you like for me to call Doctor Kenton?
She’s really great to work with. I think you would really like her.”
I shake my head. “No, it’s okay. I
trust you.”
Five whole minutes into his routine
examination, and I regret not letting him phone Doctor Kenton. My palms are
sweaty, my mouth is dry, and, though I have been able to control my racing
heart, I’m sure he’s able to pick up on how uneasy I am with his hands anywhere
near me. After listening to my heart, he backs away slowly and smiles.
“Everything looks perfect,” he says.
“You sure you feel alright?”
I nod. “As well as I can for the
aches and pains.”
“I can certainly make sure you have
something for the pain,” he says, “Is there anything else I can get you?”
“Well, I do have a question,” I say,
“How long will I be in here?”
“It’s hard to say,” he says, “It
could be a few more days; it could be a week. The best thing for you is to stay
here until you’ve healed. You’ve endured a lot, and I wouldn’t want to release
you just yet.”
I nod. I should have figured. “Is
there any way that I could get some clothes that are a little more,” I pause.
“Covering?”
He nods. “I can’t see how some good
warm sweats would hurt.”
“Thank you,” I say.
“And, one last thing,” he says.
“There’s a gentleman here; a police officer.
He’s to stand guard at your door.”
Police? Stand guard at my door? What
the hell happened to me?
“Okay.”
“I’m sure he’ll be in shortly for
his questions.”
I nod.
“You let us know if you need
anything, Charlotte.” He smiles.
I nod again in silence as he makes
his way out the door. It’s then that I can hear him talking to the cop, who
truly is standing just outside my door. I slowly lean my head back and sigh. I
can’t remember a thing. What’s worse is, now I don’t know that I want to.
The light knock at the door makes me
jump unexpectedly. I let out a deep breath as the nurse from before steps in,
smiling.
“I brought you something warmer to
slip on,” she says, “The police department was kind enough to lend us some
sweats for you,” she explains as she sets them on the bed. “Would you like some
help getting dressed?”
I look down at my right hand that’s
badly bruised, there’s an IV ran in the top. Glancing to the left, I see it’s
in the same horrible shape, minus the IV. I give a slight nod, and she begins
helping pull the blankets back. It’s the first time I’ve seen anything other
than my hands, and I see that both my legs are cut up badly and bruised. My
mouth drops as I see some of the cuts are extremely deep and have been stitched
up. My eyes follow up my legs to my bruised thighs, and I see the deep purple
bruising has gone in between them. I look up at the nurse, with, more than
likely, the same pitiful look she gave me.
“I’m sorry,” she says, softly. “We
don’t have to do this now.”
I shake my head and swallow. “I want
to be covered.”
She nods as she helps my legs off
the side of the bed.
“I was raped.” I ask, “Wasn’t I?”
She quietly reaches for the navy
blue sweat pants and gingerly guides my legs into them. Finally, she looks up
and gives me a slow, sad nod.
I lick my lips and look down as I
ease myself down off the bed long enough to pull the sweat pants up around my
sore waist that is just as tender to touch as my legs.
“Would you like the sweatshirt on
too?” She asks, holding up the navy blue sweatshirt that has the word POLICE in
bold yellow print on the front.
I nod. “I just want to be covered.”
“I understand,” she says as she
begins working gingerly around the IV, and an array of deep cuts and bruises
that I now see are all over my upper body as well. I feel a wave of nausea wash
over me as I fight to hold everything from vomit to tears inside.
“There,” she says, finally tugging
the warm shirt down around me. “Feel better?”
I nod. “Thank you for your help.”
“It’s no trouble,” she replies.
“Would you like some socks, too? These floors get so cold at night.”
I immediately nod, wanting each and
every inch of my body to be covered by something, anything at all.
She pulls a pair of thick gray socks
from a storage cabinet, and is kind enough to help them on my feet. She smiles
and pulls the blankets around me once more. “You get some rest now. The more
you rest, the quicker you’ll heal.” She smiles, as she heads for the door.
I force a smile. “Thank you. I
will.”
Normally, I wouldn’t mind being left
alone at all; but, now that I have a lot swimming through my mind, I don’t want
to be left alone to remember anything. I remember I had walked to my friend
Rachael’s party. I knew most of the people there, except for a small handful of
her latest fling’s friends. They were the reason I left. Turns out they had a
taste for a lot of booze and drugs too. And, by drugs, I don’t mean marijuana.
I mean cocaine and other substances I don’t even want to think about putting
anywhere near my body. I told Rachael it was bad news, and to get them out.
But, she didn’t believe me, of course. Isn’t that how it always worked? It was
her party and her place, so I did what I thought was best. I grabbed my coat
and took off. I walked. I know I walked; I usually walk everywhere. But, I cut
through Central Park. Not because it’s really a short cut, but just because
it’s one of my favorite places. That was my mistake, cutting through the park.
That’s where he got me. How stupid can I be? Who walks through a deserted park,
late at night, alone? Apparently, stupid Charlie Murphy does.
I make a feeble attempt to roll to
my side, but I’m greeted by a new stabbing pain on my hip. One so bad I let out
a loud cry and bring myself nearly to tears. I take a few deep breaths, and
suddenly the large, wooden hospital door is flung open with such a great force
that it makes a loud banging noise against the wall. There, standing in the
doorway, is the police officer. There’s no mistaking him in his perfect black
uniform. He’s young, a lot younger than I would ever expect, and tall with
golden brown hair that has a messy style. My yelp has clearly startled him. His
body finally relaxes, and he straightens himself out.
“I’m sorry,” He says, “I didn’t mean
to bother you, I just…” He stops.
I shake my head. “It’s okay.”
“I’ll just be outside if you need
me,” he says, as he grabs for the door handle to shut it behind him.
I stare blankly at the door. He’s a
‘He’. How could the police department even think of sending a man after what
I’d been through? Even though, I admit I wasn’t fully aware of just what I had
been through yet. Stupid police department. Stupid me. Stupid men. Stupid
everything. I sigh deeply. The pain in my side is slowly beginning to fade into
a light throbbing. I have a sudden urge to lift my sweatshirt in order to see
what has caused the immense pain, but after seeing my legs, I fight the urge to
look just yet. After my legs, I’m terrified to see the rest of me, even though
I know I will have to eventually. It is my body, after all.
Despite the aches and pains that are
pulsing and throbbing, I pull the blanket up around my shoulders a bit tighter
and close my eyes. I suddenly feel exhausted again. Apparently I’d just been
through hell, and I looked like it too, so I didn’t see anything wrong with
letting myself fall into a nice, deep sleep.
AUTHOR BIO
Trista Jaszczak (jazz-ick) is the author of
the Believe series, retold, and upcoming relaunches, Loverboy, What Lies Inside
and the Darkness Falls series. She is an Air Force spouse and mother to two
mischievous and rambunctious little girls. She is originally from Hamilton,
Ohio but calls home where ever the Air Force sends her. She currently resides
in Anchorage, Alaska where she finds endless inspiration in the pure Alaskan
wilderness. When she isn’t writing, she spends her time with her family in the
vast Alaskan outdoors, plucking away at her old guitar or working on self
improvement in the gym. She loves the outdoors, the moon, old movies and music.
