Dear Agony,

You’ve been my shadow, following me through childhood—filling my days and nights with terror and uncertainty. You cleverly disguised yourself as some form of pain or suffering as I grew into a young woman. We were unwavering companions … until I severed our ties.

I traded homelessness on the streets of New Orleans for a luxurious bed covered by the finest linens.

I traded dumpster diving for dinner in the finest restaurants.

I traded myself to a stranger—Bastien Pascal.

I have a good life within my platonic and mutually beneficial companionship with Bash.

He’s my friend. My mentor. My roommate.

Until everything changes.

I’m not supposed to get goosebumps when his hand brushes my skin.

I’m not supposed to be eager for his soothing touch following one of my nightmares.

I’m not supposed to think about what might happen if I reached out to him in the darkness.

Falling in love with him? Preposterous . . . unavoidable.

Agony, why are you back with a vengeance to rob me of this life I’ve come to love so dearly?

I’m finally happy. Don’t ruin this for me.

Always yours,

Rose

 

In this epic love story, Dear Agony forges a connection between an unlikely pair—a beautiful rose entwined in barbed wire and a shipwreck sinking into the darkest depths of the ocean. This agonizing romantic novel poses some gut-wrenching questions: What does a woman do when the man she loves is planning his own demise? And how far will she go to give him something to live for?

ADD TO GOODREADS

 

AMAZON

 

 

 

Excerpt from Dear Agony

Chapter 14

Bastien’s POV

Bringing Rose on at PPI has proven to be one of my best decisions ever. Not only is she the best assistant I could have hired, I get to have her near me all of the time. Win-win.

But not everyone is happy about Rose’s employment at the firm. Wendy is less than thrilled, but I’m proud of the way Rose handles herself. Kill her with kindness. That’s Rose’s MO where Wendy is concerned, yet she has this clever way of putting the woman in her place.

Rose is sitting on my office sofa. She’s in deep concentration reading the paperwork for PPI’s newest property so she doesn’t notice me looking over to steal glances at her.

That red dress fits her like a glove, showing just the right amount of leg. And those mile-high leopard-print heels . . . hot, hot, hot. I love having her at the office with me, but damn, she makes it hard to concentrate, especially when she’s working in my office instead of hers.

She looks up from the paperwork and opens her mouth to speak but stops when she catches me ogling her. She smiles and her brow wrinkles. “What?”

I shake my head. “I didn’t say anything.”

“I know. Why are you looking at me like that?”

I’m curious to hear how she perceives the way I watch her. “What kind of way am I looking at you?”

Her smile deepens and she glances away. “Never mind.”

“I want to know. How am I looking at you?”

She glances over at me and then down again. “Like you want something.”

The woman couldn’t be more right. I do want something. Her. “What do you think I want?”

She tilts her head to the side and grins as she nibbles her bottom lip. That lip I want to suck into my mouth and then bite and kiss at the same time because I can’t decide which I’d rather do.

“Tell me. What do you think I want?” I’m curious to see how far I can take this conversation. How much I can get her to admit about the way she interprets my gaze. She might be inexperienced, but surely she can see I want her.

Rose is so different from any other woman I’ve ever wanted. She’s delicate. Fragile. Innocent. She doesn’t know how to play the seduction game, yet she has seduced my heart, body, and soul.

I need her.

I want her.

I love her.

 

 

 

About the Author

Georgia resides in rural Mississippi with her wonderful husband, Jeff, and their two beautiful daughters. She spent fourteen years as a labor and delivery nurse before she decided to pursue her dream of becoming an author and hasn’t looked back yet.

When she’s not writing, she’s thinking about writing. When she’s being domestic, she’s listening to her iPod and visualizing scenes for her current work in progress. Every story coming from her always has a song to inspire it.

Representation: All questions regarding subsidiary rights for any of my books, inquiries regarding foreign translation and film rights should be directed to Jane Dystel of Dystel & Goderich.