Restored

Restored
Restored, the third and final novel in the suspense and romance Broken Series, is ready for pre-order!

For my birthday (now until June 26),

buy the entire series and get $5 off!

 

 


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“Some things are too broken to fix.”

Grant is determined to regain the use of his legs, but all his efforts to build physical strength cannot heal the bitterness in his heart. Jean longs to help, but how can she get through to him? Slash’s bullets destroyed so much more than nerves and muscle control. Is there any hope for their future together?
Slash is due to be released from prison, and Candy and Jose know he will have new plans for revenge. The question is, who will he target first, and how can they stop him? Will Champagne help them catch him, or is her cooperation more pretense leading to another betrayal?

Experience the exciting conclusion to The Broken Series trilogy, where each beloved character must choose anger or forgiveness, fear or hope.

“Kimberly Rae is by far my favorite author. She keeps me on the edge of my seat, taps into my emotions, and makes me think more honestly and deeply about my faith.” – Alice

 

Prologue

Late Saturday Night, January 10

Slash

Lockdown. The word stood proud and defiant between its two guardian synonyms of torment and despair. Prison, Slash was used to, but the silence of lockdown was unendurable. The air fogged thick with memories. He was eight years old again, locked in the basement for waking his mother to tell her he was hungry. He waited alone, terrified, nourished only by the certainty that when she sobered, she would be filled with regret and love him again. She would feed him and hug him, and say she was so very sorry. The booze made her mean. It wasn’t really her.

They would go to the park and play. She would laugh. That night, she would sing him to sleep. He would store every crumb of joy, because once the headaches began, or one of her boyfriends came by, she would give in again and he would be discarded.

Slash paced the borders of his small cell, touching the cold block walls but seeing only the past.

“Mommy, I didn’t mean to.” His little boy voice was a plea. “The bottle slipped out of my hands.”

She had pulled a knife from the kitchen drawer, and he knew that this time when she sobered, if she sobered, he would not open his arms to her. This person, this creature with bloodshot, wild eyes, was no longer his mother. She was darkness and silence and pain: everything he feared and everything he hated.

He had begged, backed away, turned to run. She raged toward him. Her feet slipped on the cheap wine spreading like blood across the floor. The knife slashed through the air…

Slash slammed his forehead against the wall and cried out his rage. The echo of his own voice mocked him. How many days had gone by? How many more were left? Would he go insane before they let him out?

The sound of his cell door opening had to be a delusion of his fragmented mind. A man stepped in, the officer who had assigned him to sixty days in solitary. Slash did not have the mental stamina to imagine killing him.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” the officer grumbled. He held out a book. “But Sheriff Craig liked her, so I couldn’t say no.”

Slash took the book in hand and glanced down. By the time he read the title and looked up again, the man was gone. Slash’s cell door was locked tight again, shutting him away from life and sound and humanity.

Humanity he hated, but he hated the silence even more.

The book in his hand was a mystery. Why would anyone send him a Bible? He opened the cover and read scribbled words. Candy’s handwriting. After all their years together, he would recognize her sloppy technique anywhere. Sloppiness had always disgusted him. He had to squint to make out the words.

“The truth will set you free.”

His heart pounded. Had she marked some kind of code into the Bible, a way to get him out? But why? Surely she despised him and wanted him dead. Was it a trap? A plan for escape so she could kill him, or one that would never materialize, to plague him with false hope?

He rubbed the back of his neck, under his hairline. He had nothing but time. He would read the whole book. Every word.

He sat on the miserable imitation of a bed and flipped through the first few pages. Truth, Candy had written. There was no such thing. No real freedom either. Only release from one prison cell to another until death, then a face-to-face meeting with the devil.

Slash had given over his soul long ago. That was a truth, but not one that would ever set him free.

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