To Dez Purington from Pretty in Ink Designs, thank you for designing such an amazing cover for Take a Breath. I can’t wait to see what you come up with for Take it Deep, and Take the Gun.
To Joe Rossi, who helped me with the section regarding American football, since I haven’t a clue about how it all works, I was ecstatic when you agreed to read that part in Take a Breath and tell me where I was going wrong. Your input is truly appreciated. Thank you.
To my family, thank you for supporting me to the fullest and allowing me to keep my dream alive. I love all you to bits!
And, to the readers, thank you so much for sticking with me through the good and the bad. I know some of my work hasn’t been loved by all, so I’m eternally grateful for your loyalty. I will be bringing out more books as the year progresses, so I hope you will enjoy most of them. Whatever the outcome and whatever you think or feel, please know that I value your opinions. I will always value a reader’s opinion. As I stated above, you are what enables me to grow and develop as an author. I know I can do better. I can always do better.
Love and light,
Jaimie xx
For lovers of dark and twisted...
SIREN
I’m not a good person. In fact, I’m a real bitch. If the opportunity arises, I will take your husband, give him the best sex he’s ever had, and laugh behind your back once I’m done with him. I do not put on airs and graces. I just take what I want whenever I want it.
I am the abused who has become the abuser. I live for power because all power had been stripped from me for years. Now that I have it back, I feed off of it like it’s my primary sustenance, and I don’t care who I hurt in the process.
Every woman hates me, but do you know what? I don’t give a shit.
You won’t like me. I’m not here to be liked. You want to know my story? I won’t stop you from observing. Just know that once I’m done with you, no shower—no matter how scalding—will ever get me out from under your skin.
Warning: If you’re looking for pink, fluffy clouds, rainbows, and HEA’s, then this book is not for you. These pages contain flashback scenes of child abuse in all forms (physical, sexual, and emotional) as well as BDSM and other taboo themes.
Love does not live in this book. Only dark, twisted, and sick obsessions thrive here.
You. Have. Been. Warned!
SIREN
By Jaimie Roberts
SIREN
I stand over my father’s grave, wiping the tears that threaten to fall onto the soil beneath my feet. I’m wearing a black dress, which is cut just above the knee, and on my feet is a pair of brand new, black and red Louboutin high heels. I scream class, but I am also the perfect image of a daughter in deep distress over her father’s untimely death.
And what an untimely death it was.
I clutch my chest, heaving sobs of grief as I bend down to lay new flowers at his grave. I have been coming here every single day, bringing new flowers to replace the old ones. I pick up yesterday’s flowers and toss them aside as I trace the line of my father’s name on his headstone.
Here lies Richard Valentine, loving father to two daughters. Born 26th January 1970, Died 15th July 2016.
That was three weeks ago. His body was found buried in Virginia Water in Surrey—only nineteen miles or so from where I live. He was buried deep, but a storm sixteen days ago unearthed his decaying body. He had a stab wound in his back which was determined to be the cause of his death. It was murder, of course, and it is only now that the police are investigating.
At first, they thought he had run away—possibly met a girl, got swept off his feet, and was living by the beach, sipping cocktails with a buxom blonde. My sister kept on the case, though. She tried to tell them that it wasn’t like him to just disappear without at least keeping in touch. I vouched for her to the police, but I also reminded her of that time when he disappeared for a year without a trace and came back just as suddenly as he had left. I knew the real reason why, but I didn’t divulge it to my sister or to the police. That little secret was between Daddy and me alone. The two police officers gave each other that look … The one that says, “Yeah, there’s no foul play here.” They just thought he had found the girl of his dreams and was busy acting the part of the doting boyfriend to his new plaything.
As I think on this, I stroke his grave tenderly and sweep away the leaves that have fallen from the nearby trees. I need to make sure that it is clean and tidy before kneeling down at his grave and throwing my arms over the gravestone. With my arms shielding me from anyone who may be watching, I take in a long, deep breath. A smirk rises on my face as I utter the words, “You always loved it when I threw my arms around you, didn’t you?” I sigh, scooting up to get closer to his headstone before spitting on his grave.
“I hope you’re enjoying your time in hell, Daddy.”
Excerpt of SCARS – Out now
SCARS
No amount of physical or emotional scars left behind could ever actually reveal true heartache. The evil from which they were formed cuts so deeply into your bones that it seeps into your bloodstream and pumps through your veins until it’s ringing in your ears. The scars never truly show themselves … Never reveal the brunt of their true force. While they are a symbol of survival, they are also reminders of things we would much rather forget—of pain that cannot be shed.
I have become an orphan … left to pick up the pieces of a broken heart which can never be fixed. I am incurably and irreparably hopeless.
Time stood still the day my family was ripped away from me. I lost myself—my very identity. I was chosen to live. I was chosen to carry with me the burden of being the one who survived. I was left with the question which haunts me endlessly:
Why me?
Why me?
Why me?
And now, I lie in a small room. Four walls are what welcome me day after day. No sharp objects, no ropes … Not a thing I could use if I wanted to end it all. He took me. That’s why I’m here. He will never let me decide my own fate. He will never let me choose my own destiny.
He will never let me go.
It was he who chose me. It was he who had been stalking me for the last nine months. And it was he who pulled me from the car on that fateful day—two, maybe three weeks ago. He won’t leave me in peace … He will never leave me in peace.
He is forever waiting in the wings, watching me. I am his, he tells me. As long as I have breath in my lungs, I will always be his. He rules my head, my body, and my heart. But the most frightening thought of all is that … pretty soon … he will rule my soul as well.
With that last thought, I clutch the duvet to my chest.
I would have expected to be alone with my family gone, but he’s certainly made sure that my situation could have been worse.
Far worse.
I get fed three times a day, provided with refreshments on a regular basis, and a little later, I get treated to hearing his voice over a speaker in the corner of my room. He talks to me. He wants me to tell him about my life, my fears, my longings, and my dreams.