Broken Dolls

eXtasy Books

Heat Rating: Sizzling
Word Count: 49,106
0 Ratings (0.0)

Nobody is failsafe. When Angel’s psychiatrist crosses forbidden lines in attempt to draw her out, he finds himself in over his head. Dr. Nobody shows that even people society deems normal can have a low threshold for giving into their own dark demons, mental and emotional instabilities.

In her struggle with social phobia, a woman in her late thirties leaves a prestigious career in New York and retreats to a quieter life in Pennsylvania. She’s hoping the move results in a fresh start away from judgmental relatives and the pressure of social mainstreaming.

Angel finds comfort in the arms of her tribe—a group of gorgeous men who worship her—when their rock band reunites. However, her new shrink suspects something isn’t right. In his relentless quest to uncover her truth, she becomes his unhealthy obsession.

When Doctor Nobody discovers that Angel has several deep freezers full of body parts, will he keep his promise to help her get well? Or will the good doctor become her next victim in a very cold case?


This book was previously published.

Broken Dolls
0 Ratings (0.0)

Broken Dolls

eXtasy Books

Heat Rating: Sizzling
Word Count: 49,106
0 Ratings (0.0)
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Cover Art by Martine Jardin
Excerpt

I love slipping into the rock star role. The tribe loves it and I find ultimate escapism. 

I stare into the floor-length mirror on my bedroom wall. For my age, whatever that means, I still look good even pushing forty. Apparently, even good enough to entice a conservative psychiatrist into risking his career for a hot tryst with me. 

I wear my hair long and wild. I’m a natural blonde but over the years, my lovely golden blonde color darkened some with age so I now highlight the top layers to keep it bright without looking brassy or cheap. I adhere to the expression accentuate the positive, and use it to my advantage.

Middle age brings with it certain challenges to maintaining a nice figure. Since I’m not a workout freak, I watch my diet and walk every chance I get. I’m not as thin as I used to be. Now, I choose garments that hide the little extra around my middle yet show off my shapely legs, nice butt and ample bosom.

I’m not ashamed of my body at all, but my self-esteem could use some work. There’s something misfiring on the inside that others can see. Yet, despite my best attempts at normalcy, I fall short and people eventually see my brokenness.

Liam, a military man home on leave, was my last attempt at a normal relationship. His unexpected departure drove me straight back to my former coping mechanisms with the tribe—a group of men I’ve known intimately for years. I had severed ties with them for a while to try and live a normal life.

After Liam told me he’d decided to stay overseas, which inevitably ended our relationship, I left New York to make a fresh start away from judgmental family members, a stressful career, and memories of Liam. I retreated to PA to reunite with the tribe. They are thrilled to have me back in the band. 

I do my best to focus on my positive attributes. The tribe plays a major role in making me feel like the beautiful woman that I am even when I can’t see it. They adore me, and with them, I’m a goddess.

In spite of my reclusive life, I have much I’m grateful for.

I live in a wonderful community, not gated but close. My new apartment is very nice and a spacious integral garage is included with the rent. My new baby, a sleek Mustang GT, is safely tucked in right below me. 

Another great aspect to my residence is that it spans the width of the building, running front-to-back so I get a brilliant view of both the sunrise and sunset. 

With my deck door and bedroom windows open, an invigorating cross breeze on cooler days soothes me. Then at night, watching the moon climb into the sky energizes my soul. I’ve always loved the night so much more than day. I’m a moonflower, more alert and productive during nocturnal hours.

Overall, the ambiance of this busy yet not too chaotic locale suits me much better than the insanely fast pace I tried keeping up with in New York.

While gently pulling my eyelid sideways with one finger, I sweep liquid black along the lash line with my free hand. After painting wings at the corners, I triple coat my lashes with black mascara, then dip a foam applicator into white shimmer eyeshadow cream and go to work, feathering the makeup to perfection until I achieve my desired look. 

Next, a bit of mineral glitter onto my index finger is smoothed beneath my eyes to the edges of my cheekbone. I do this over each eye until my mask to the world is complete. I no longer want outsiders to see me, no longer crave fame or success. All I really want, need, is acceptance.

 The finishing touch, a tube of rich berry gloss, glides over my lips.

I pull on sheer black patterned stockings, then a fitted black leather skirt. Next, I tuck the girls into a sexy black satin plunge bra and dab expensive perfume across my cleavage. After donning a collarless long-sleeve zip-front leather top and fingerless gloves, I pick out my favorite pair of boots to complete the ensemble.

I fluff my long blonde hair, grab my guitar, and off I go. It’s time to shine. 

House lights go down in a packed venue. A roaming spotlight crisscrosses the stage.

Sax and Rider move into position center stage. One sun-blond and the other with coal black hair, both have heart-melting eyes and hard bodies—serious eye candy. They front the band and rightfully so. Sax and Rider are, without a doubt, the most charismatic duo of the group.

Levi cues the band from behind a massive mixing console. His job requires significant skill because a poor audio engineer can ruin a gig. Shoulder-length dark chocolate curls frame his handsome face. Thick black lashes form dark rims around hazel-green eyes, enhancing his allure. As the serious member of our band, his position isn’t glamorous like the others’, but we couldn’t get by without his talent. 

Rush stands at his multi-level keyboard to my left, looking every bit the rock star. He epitomizes the rocker look with a mane of tossed dark-blond spirals that tumble recklessly down his back. Anytime he glances at me with those deep blue eyes or flashes a dazzling smile my way, I find it hard to stay focused and must look away. A strong silent type, yet every bit as appealing and a shameless flirt,   he could easily front the band. Even so, he seems happy with his station.

Mick’s off to my right on bass guitar, sexy in a black vest and tight jeans. He’s a cutie with collar-length kinky blond hair, golden blond like mine, and the sweetest brown eyes I’ve seen on a guy. I typically don’t like brown eyes but Mick’s are exceptional and honest, unlike Liam’s eyes.

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