by MJ Summers
Breaking Clear
MJ Summers
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Also Available
Dedication
Author’s Note
Breaking Clear Playlist
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Eight
Twenty-Nine
Thirty
Thirty-One
Thirty-Two
Thirty-Three
Thirty-Four
Thirty-Five
Thirty-Six
Thirty-Seven
Thirty-Eight
Secret Scenes Giveaway
Also by MJ Summers
About the Author
Copyright
Copyright © 2015 by Gretz Corp.
All rights reserved.
Published by Gretz Corp.
First edition
All rights reserved under all applicable International Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen.
No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Information is available upon request
Kindle Edition: June 2015
EPUB ISBN: 978-0-9921422-3-0
Also Available
Break in Two (Full Hearts Book One)
Don’t Let Go (A Full Hearts Novella) – Prequel to Breaking Love – E-book only
Breaking Love (Full Hearts Book Two)
Letting Go (A Full Hearts Novella) – Prequel to Breaking Clear – a FREE downloadable E-book
Breaking Clear (Full Hearts Book Three)
Breaking Hearts (Full Hearts Book Four) – Coming November 2015
The Full Hearts Series has more than one possible reading combination for your enjoyment. Each book can be read as a stand-alone (i.e. NO cliff-hangers) but each book also has at least one character linked to another book in the series.
BEST Reading Order: Entire Series as listed above
OR
If Cowboys Aren’t Your Thing: Breaking Love, Letting Go, Breaking Clear
OR
Breaking Love, Breaking Clear
OR
If You ONLY Love Cowboys: Break in Two, Breaking Hearts
OR
Don’t Let Go, Break in Two, Breaking Hearts
Dedication
For my beautiful children, O, E and A.
You’ve shown me just how full one’s heart can be,
you remind me every single day that the world is full of
infinite possibilities, and you force me to continue
to grow and learn, whether I like it or not.
As with Grandma and Grandpa,
you three are never, ever to read my books.
Author’s Note
Dear Reader,
Well, here it is—my third novel. If you had asked me two years ago if I would ever write a book, I would have looked behind me to see who you were talking to. And now, as I sit at my desk, hours away from completing my third novel, I find myself with a wonderful career that I can take anywhere and work on anywhere, creating stories that you can enjoy anywhere. Well, except the naughty scenes. There is a time and a place to enjoy them and most certainly a time and a place to write them.
Breaking Clear (Book 3 of the Full Hearts Series) is the story of old friends and new love. It is the story of a family trying to heal from a painful past and trying to make room for one another once again. It is the story of Harper Young, who I hope you met and loved in Breaking Love (Book 2 of the Full Hearts Series). She may be the life of the party, the strong, feisty best friend everyone wants to have, but she’s also had her share of heartache that she does her very best to forget. She is about to become reacquainted with Evan Donovan, the super-hot boy next door who grew up to become a super-hot man. Their love story, like so many in real life, is full of ups and downs, tender moments and terrible arguments. They’ve both been hurt badly and need to help each other find their way home.
Unlike real life, their love story is a work of fantasy and as such, Evan and Harper do not have to practise safe sex. Were they real, they most certainly would.
Before we begin, I want to pass along my heartfelt gratitude for honouring me with your time as you start this story. It is because of you that I have a wonderful new life in which I can spend hours every day lost in worlds of my own creation, which, as far as I’m concerned, is the very best job on the planet. My sincerest hope is that you, too, will find your escape in these pages.
Happy reading,
MJ
Breaking Clear Playlist
“Sometime Around Midnight” by The Airborne Toxic Event
“Give Me Love” by Ed Sheeran
“Break Your Plans” by The Fray
“Foolish Games” by Jewel
“Detlef Schrempf” by Band of Horses
“Hold Fire” by Delays
“Let Your Hair Down” by Magic!
“Rotten Love” by Levy
“One More Night” by Stars
“Not a Bad Thing” by Justin Timberlake
One
Manhattan, New York
The call came on a Thursday afternoon. It was an early summer day not unlike many Harper Young had spent as art director at Style magazine. She silenced the ringer on her cellphone without looking to see who it was. It would be several hours before she would check her messages and hear the news. It would be many months before she would realize that this was the call that had caused her carefully carved-out life to veer sharply in a direction she never could have anticipated. Sliding her phone back into the pocket of her trousers she continued to work, forgetting about the call completely.
“Stop, Assaf. Wait. The balance in this shot is off. We have one too many to the left.” Harper strode quickly across the set and motioned to a tall, slim girl wrapped in a leather-belted trench coat.
Assaf, the photographer, nodded and a stylist whisked the girl away. Harper stepped over to one of the models to quickly adjust the collar on his jacket. She glanced at his face, her hands never stopping. “Dylan, was it? Your first day?”
The young man nodded.
“You’re adorable. But you need to stop giving me the blue-steel look or you’ll be fired.” Turning back to the rest of the waiting team, she clapped her hands together. “Okay, everyone! Let’s get moving. Music up. Models, eyes forward. Think cold winter streets, think frostbite—but sexy frostbite.” This caused some people to laugh, and Harper smiled too. “That’s it, people. Let’s have some fun!” she called out, giving Assaf a wink.
Even though it was an unseasonably hot day in New York City, Harper’s mind was on the November issue of the magazine, fu
ll of luxurious cashmeres, tall leather boots and the darker makeup trends that come with the winter season. Sia sang over the speakers as the camera snapped and the models pouted and turned under Assaf’s direction. In her twelve years at the world’s premier fashion magazine, Harper had spent the last four as art director, overseeing hundreds of shoots like this one. She controlled every detail, managed every crisis, commanded respect from everyone around her. She had made her way up the ladder and knew what it took to stay there. Decisiveness and confidence were every bit as important as knowledge of fashion.
This moment was her favourite—the thrilling culmination of weeks of planning and dozens of choices. This was when she felt most alive. The buzz of activity around her, the art and beauty she had envisioned being captured so it could be shared with the world. This was why she had gotten into fashion all those years ago. This made wading through all the challenges of tempers, prima donnas and nervous advertisers worth it. Tomorrow, in the quiet of her office, she would examine the contact sheets and see the fruits of her hard work; she would have that familiar sense of satisfaction in knowing she had done what she set out to do. Another moment she savoured.
Glancing at the door, she noticed her immediate boss, Blaire Jones, watching the shoot’s progress. At forty-eight, Blaire looked closer to forty than fifty. Her petite frame did little to stop her from intimidating others wherever she went. Blaire gave Harper a quick nod before exiting the studio. After so many years working together, Harper was trusted to handle even the most important shoots and today’s was no exception.
Harper eyed the lighting and was about to call out to Assaf when her cellphone buzzed in her pocket again. Taking the phone out, she saw it was her brother Craig calling. Putting her cell on silent mode, she made a mental note to call him back when the shoot was finished. Right now, she had to keep her eye on the room.
Boulder, Colorado
The sun ducked behind a fluffy white cloud, offering Evan Donovan a temporary respite from the heat as he reached into the chalk bag strapped to his waist with one hand, the other clinging to the tiny hold above his head. Glancing down, he could see the ground was at least a hundred feet away now, and a satisfied smile crossed his face as he reached his chalked fingers up to find the next hold. Climbing gave Evan a thrill that was beyond compare—the solitude, the freedom, the knowledge that he had both the determination and the staying power it took to make it to the top. Climbing wasn’t just a sport for him. It was a reminder of how he wanted to live his life—taking smart risks that would lead to success. Taking risks required confidence, focus and drive, all of which he felt as intensely as the granite his body was pressed against. Here, he was unstoppable. Here, he would dominate. And there was nothing in the world like it.
Glancing down again, he called, “Hey, dog! You coming or what?” His dog, Boots, ignored him and continued sniffing around at the bottom of the cliff, searching for butterflies to chase. What he would do if he ever caught one, Evan didn’t know. Boots, a massive grey pit bull, was probably the most gentle animal he’d ever come across. The dog had found Evan, not the other way around, six months ago when he had appeared late one evening at a new house Evan was building. He had been close to starving and bore both fresh wounds and old scars. Even now that his wounds had healed and he was healthy, Boots was a terrifying animal to look at, but he was quick to offer a big dog-smile, and his exuberant tail wagged his entire body whenever he greeted someone. “I’m going to beat you to the top!” Evan warned, chuckling to himself as he watched Boots peer up and then race to the trail that led around the side of the cliff and to the top of the ridge.
The cloud passed by, giving way to the sun again. Fresh beads of sweat formed on Evan’s face. The heat didn’t bother him, though. In fact, today, nothing could bother him. He’d finally gotten the approvals for all of the utilities on the largest land-development project of his career. He’d put in the bid over a year ago, knowing it was a long shot. But he had won it and now was back on top, putting a long distance between himself and the hardship the recession had caused. With all the permits in place, he could get his crews to work first thing Monday. And once everything got started, it would be a long time before he would find himself climbing again.
But this wasn’t the moment to think about all of that. He needed to clear his mind of both his success and his responsibilities so he could stay focused on what his body was doing. Each muscle needed to work in unison to avoid a fall. Even though he was harnessed into safety gear, he knew from experience how painful it was to slam against the rock if he slipped.
Ten minutes later, with the last of his strength, he pulled his muscular body up over the side of the cliff, then stood and turned to take in the view. Boots, who had made it to the top already, hurried over to join him.
“Let’s have some water and relax a while.” Reaching into his pack for a bowl and a water bottle, he filled the dog’s dish before plunking himself next to the animal. Evan endured Boots’s customary face licks before wiping his cheek and sucking back a long, refreshing drink. Taking off his shirt, he used it to wipe the sweat from his face and chest before tossing it into his pack.
“We’d better enjoy this. As of Monday, we’re going to be at work nearly every day for the next three years,” he said, rubbing his hand over Boots’s large, flat forehead.
As Evan’s mind wandered back to his work, a mixture of pride and anxiety filled his belly. He knew what it was like to rise to the top and lose it all. But he would never fall like that again. The first time around, he had been young and reckless, spending money as quickly as it came in. And he had a wife with expensive tastes who liked to help rid him of his cash. This time would be different. Life had taught him to be smarter than that and to live modestly. If another recession hit, he would be ready. At thirty-eight, he was on his way again and this time nothing was going to stop him.
Two
Manhattan, New York
Seven hours later, Harper stood in front of the door to her tiny apartment, digging around in her Balenciaga bag, frantically searching for her keys. She squirmed from side to side, wishing she had visited the ladies’ before leaving the club, where she had been celebrating her assistant, Jasmine’s, birthday. Four glasses of wine and a long cab ride were not a good combination.
“Should have gone at the club . . .” she sang urgently as her fingers finally grasped the keys.
Letting herself into the apartment, she locked the deadbolt, tossed her bag onto the counter, kicked off her heels and scurried to the bathroom, making a wide turn around one of the racks of clothes and accessories that lined the wall. The racks gave the room an unfinished look, but it was something she had learned to live with. Her need for an extensive wardrobe far outweighed her desire to live in a beautiful space. Besides, she was rarely home other than to sleep. Returning a few minutes later to the cramped space that doubled as kitchen and living room, Harper brushed her teeth with one hand while she searched her purse for her cellphone, hazily remembering there was something she had forgotten to do.
“Uh-oh,” she muttered when she realized that her brother Craig had called three more times.
She dialed her voice mail, putting her cell on speaker to listen to her messages.
“Harper, it’s Craig. Call me back as soon as you get this. It’s about Dad.”
She deleted the message and spit the toothpaste into the kitchen sink, her heart quickening in her chest as the next message began.
“Harper, where are you? Call me.” Click.
“Harper, it’s Craig. I wish you would call me back. I don’t want to leave this on your voice mail but this is the third time I’ve tried you. Dad’s been in an accident at work. I don’t know exactly what happened. He’s been rushed to the hospital. They don’t know if he’s going to make it . . .” Craig’s voice trailed off, followed by a long pause. “I’m waiting for a call to find out more. I’m off the coast of Texas right now and I can’t get home for at least a couple of d
ays.”
Harper’s hands shook as she forced herself to listen to his next message. “I don’t know where the hell you are. He’s still in surgery. Can you please call me back as soon as you get this?”
Dialing her brother’s number, Harper slid to the floor, waiting to hear the worst.
“There you are. What the fuck, Harper?” Craig answered.
“I’m so sorry . . . Is he . . . ?”
“He made it out of surgery. He’s in intensive care.”
Harper took a gulp of air. “Oh God. What happened?”
“A part of the building they were working on collapsed. The guys on his crew said the beam that landed on his back weighs at least five hundred pounds. It took four of them to lift it off Dad.” Craig’s voice cracked. He cleared his throat before going on. “If he makes it, they think he’s going to be paralyzed.”
“Shit,” Harper whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks as she leaned her head on the cupboard door.
“How fast can you get home?” Craig asked.
Harper’s breath caught as she tried to stifle a sob. “I’ll start looking for a flight now. Maybe I can get on a red-eye or something.” Standing, Harper wiped her face as she hurried over to her laptop. “Does Wes know?”
“Not yet. I can’t reach him. I think they’re doing some night raids right now. I left a message with his staff sergeant.”
“Okay. Okay, Craig. I’ll get there as soon as I can. I promise.”
“Thanks, Harper.” Craig let out a long puff of air. “I just don’t want him to be alone, you know?”
“I won’t let that happen, Craig. I promise, I’ll get there.”
* * *
Twenty minutes later, Harper sat in the back of a cab watching the buildings whiz by, her knees shaking. Though she was freezing, she could feel hot tears streaming down her face. She needed to get to her dad. She needed to see him. She couldn’t let Roy be alone in the face of death or his now-uncertain future. He had been there for Harper her entire life. And for most of her life, he was the only one who had been there. Her mother had left them when Harper was fifteen years old. They had heard from her only a handful of times since then, each call reopening the wound she had inflicted.