Free Me

by Laurelin Paige

  And JC was resourceful. With all the things I didn’t know about him, I did know that. He could make things happen. He could stay committed to a task. He could follow through.

  If he really loved me as he said he did, he’d do anything it took to find me.

  End of Book One

  Find Me

  BOOK TWO IN THE FOUND DUET

  He left his life to keep me safe from one danger. I left my life to feel safe from another. Some days I regret the choices I made when we parted. Other days I’m convinced there was no other way.

  Everyday, I wait.

  I wait for him to find me.

  JC and Gwen’s story concludes with FIND ME.

  Coming 2015.

  Sign up here to be notified when FIND ME becomes available.

  Acknowledgments

  Ah, fun. We’re at this part. This part that I both dread and look forward to. There are so many people that I am dying to express gratitude for, but I always feel inadequate about how I say it. And I’ll probably forget someone and feel like crap on a stick about it. Maybe this will be the book I get everyone in.

  Enough stalling. On with it.

  To Tom who frees me in more ways than he knows. Thank you for being my husband, my caretaker, my research assistant, my graphic designer, my children’s father, my lover, and my friend.

  To my girls who will one day realize what it is Mommy writes and will be proud anyway. (If you’re not, pretend.) Thank you for being patient with my parenting skills and please know that I love you more than there are words in my books.

  To my mother who maybe doesn’t even read these. I’m only who I am because of you. Thank you for the freedom you’ve given me to live my life. It’s made for the best life ever.

  To Bethany Hagen, my beloved editor, book fairy, and best friend that the Internet has ever given me. And this is where my words feel inadequate. This book was so tough at the end. If not for you, for me. I am unfathomably grateful for your faithfulness. You stayed with me when you had every reason to let this project finish without you. You cannot know how much that has meant to me. I will try to make it up to you with talk of beaches and moors and Fassy and priests and tarot and Mozart and anal and gummies and Scotch.

  And, also, I appear to be a crier now. Well, that’s new.

  To Rebecca Friedman for being someone I enjoy working with, talking with, scheming with, plotting with, and making deals with. Let’s go to Italy and spend a few weeks, shall we? I bet we’d talk about work the whole time.

  To Shanyn Day for putting up with me and doing all the things I hate as well as pretending I’m still a decent person, even though you see me when I’m really not. And for all that job stuff you do—publicity, assisting. That’s good too.

  To Kayti McGee for being my work wife. You are strong and wise and witty and creative in ways that blow my mind. You’re there when I need a fresh dose of snark and an ear to hear my judgies. If you put out more, you’d be perfect.

  To the best band ever, the NAturals—Gennifer Albin, Sierra Simone, Melanie Harlow, Kayti McGee, and Tamara Mataya. You ladies are my safe place. Thank you for letting me be part of you.

  To Eileen Rothschild for giving me enough flexibility to be able to write All. The. Things. And for being cool and giving me contracts and marketing support and all that.

  To Kimberly Brower for the audio deal (and for being a reader), and to Flavia Viotti for all the foreign deals you’re going to make for me as well as the ones you already have.

  To Lauren Blakely and CD Reiss for your ideas, brainstorming and friendship on the way to world domination. You both poop gold. I’m so lucky to be able to get to sniff some of it.

  To Cait Greer for keeping me formatted and within regulation at all the vendors without ever batting an eye. To Kari March for the most beautiful teasers—and such a quick turnaround! To Jenna Tyler for eyes that miss nothing—you make me look flawless.

  To Josh Taylor for the unsolicited but very welcome law advice. I’ll try to frustrate you less in book two.

  To Letty Caporusso, Roxie Madar, and Melanie Cesa for the early feedback. Your notes were priceless and so very appreciated. To Angela McLain for being the first to read the final version. Did you even know that? Surprise!

  To Brandie Zuckerman who named Gwen and I forgot to credit her. It’s been so long now that even you have a new name. Hope your life is going as beautifully as it looks on Facebook.

  To the groups I have found myself in—the women who keep me in Order (you know who you are), the women who tell me to FYW (you know who you are), and the women who write at home like me and are wildly entertained by Hiddles and dinoporn (you know who you are). When I say I’ve found myself, I don’t just mean that I ended up with you accidentally I mean that I have found my true self amongst your company. You’re beautiful people and I’m lucky to know you all.

  To the amazing industry friends I’ve made along the way (this is where I’ll forget peeps)—Kristen Proby, Emma Hart, Trish Mint, Amy McAvoy, Jesey Newman, Claire Contreras, Kristy Bromberg, M. Pierce, Kyla Linde, Lisa Otto, Pepper Winters, Rachel Brookes, Melody Grace, and so many more that I can’t possibly name them all. It’s thrilling to be able to work in a field with so many people I admire. You make the daily commute from my bed to my desk worth it.

  Thank you to the bloggers who support and promote and give their time and Facebook/Twitter feeds to my stories and me.

  Thank you to the Free Me Street Team and the Obsessed with the Paige girls and the Hudson! Fixed Trilogy fans. I lurk in your groups way more than you realize. Thank you for the continued love, even when I’m not around.

  Thank you to the READERS! Every single one of you who picked up my book when there are so many books to choose from—I am so indebted to each of you for your time and your purchase or borrow and your word-of-mouth. You have transformed my life. I am overwhelmed by you daily. DAILY. Thank you from the absolute bottom of my very filled heart.

  And above all, to my God who has given me the ultimate freedom. I am awed by your plans for me and ever grateful. Thank you for seeing my beautiful soul underneath my wounds.

  If you liked FREE ME, please consider supporting the author by telling your friends and/or leaving a review. Easy links: Amazon, iBooks

  For a monthly chance to win a $100 Amazon Gift Certificate, plus being notified of Laurelin Paige book releases, visit www.laurelinpaige.com, and sign up for new release emails.

  Twitter @laurelinpaige

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  Pinterest www.pinterest.com/laurelinpaige

  Also by Laurelin Paige:

  Alayna Withers and Hudson Pierce defeat all odds as they find love in the New York Times Bestselling Fixed Trilogy

  Fixed on You (Fixed #1) – Amazon, Nook, iBooks

  Found in You (Fixed #2) – Amazon, Nook, iBooks

  Forever with You (Fixed #3) – Amazon, Nook, iBooks

  Fixed Trilogy Bundle (all three Fixed books in one bundle) – Amazon, Nook, iBooks

  Hudson (a companion novel) – Amazon, Nook, iBooks

  An excerpt from Fixed on You:

  I finished the transaction with Regular and slid down the bar to take care of the suit at the end of the counter.

  “Now what can I get…you…?” My words trailed off as my eyes met the suit’s, the air leaving my lungs, suddenly sucked out by the sight that met me. The man…he was…gorgeous.

  Incredibly gorgeous.

  I couldn’t look away, his appearance magnetizing. Which meant he was exactly the type of man I should avoid.

  After the numerous heartaches that had dotted my past, I’d discovered that I could divide the men I was attracted to into two categories. The first category could be described as fuck and forget. These were the men that got me going in the bedroom, but were easy to leave behind if necessary. It was the only group I bothered with anymore. They were the safe ones. David fell into this category.

  Then there were the men that w
ere anything but safe. They weren’t fuck and forget—they were, “Oh, fuck!” They drew me to them so intensely that I became consumed by them, absolutely focused on everything they did, said and were. I ran from these men, far and fast.

  Two seconds after locking eyes with this man, I knew I should be running.

  He seemed familiar—he must have been in the club before. But if he had been, I couldn’t imagine that I’d have forgotten. He was the most breathtaking man on the planet—his chiseled cheekbones and strong jaw sat beneath perfectly floppy brown hair and the most intense gray eyes I’d ever seen. His five o’clock shadow made my skin itch, yearning to feel the burn of it against my face—against my inner thighs. From what I could see, his expensive three-piece navy suit was fitted and of excellent taste. And his smell—a distinct fragrance of unscented soap and aftershave and pure male goodness—nearly had me sniffing at the air in front of him like a dog in heat.

  But it wasn’t just his incomparable beauty and exquisite display of male sex that had me burning between my legs and searching for the nearest exit. It was how he looked at me, in a way that no man had ever looked at me, a hungry possessiveness present in his stare as if he not only had undressed me in his mind, but had claimed me to be sated by no one ever again except him.

  I wanted him instantly, a prickle of fixation taking root in my belly—an old familiar feeling. But that I desired him didn’t matter. The expression on his face said that he would have me whether I wanted it or not, that it was as inevitable as if it had already happened.

  It scared the hell out of me. The hair on my skin stood up as witness to my fear.

  Or perhaps it rose in delight.

  Oh, fuck.

  Also by Laurelin Paige:

  Lights, Camera…

  Take Two – Amazon, Nook, iBooks

  Star Struck – Amazon, Nook, iBooks

  An excerpt from Take Two:

  She sat back, attempting to put everything in perspective. He was a player. A self-declared gigolo. At least he didn’t deny it.

  And she couldn’t deny that she was mildly interested. More than mildly. More like wildly.

  But she knew herself. She was too into him already. It wouldn’t take much to make her fall for him. As Bree had said, he would make her cry.

  She sighed then leveled an even stare at him. “I can’t date you, Micah.”

  His eyes hinted amusement. “Who said anything about dating?”

  “And I definitely can’t do that with you.”

  He leaned forward, challenge written all over his face. “Why not?”

  “Are you serious? To just be a random number in a group of women? A notch in your bedpost that doesn’t mean anything?”

  Micah put his hand over hers. His touch burned like fire on her skin. “You wouldn’t be random. You’re Maddie from the party.”

  “God, Micah, that’s just…gross.” She slid her hand out from under his. “I’m not against one-night stands in general, but you said it before. You’re different. You’d be different.”

  Micah leaned forward and placed his hand on her leg under the table, sending electric shocks throughout her body. “If by different you mean the most insanely hot, wicked pleasure you’ve ever felt, then yes, I’ll agree.”

  His fingers moved in circles on her leg, and her mind filled with unwanted images of the insanely hot wicked pleasure Micah promised.

  Shaking the fantasies out of her head, she removed his hand from her thigh. “Though I imagine what you say is true…” He winked at her and she had to look away. “That’s not what I meant. Most hookups you can love and leave. But not you. I’d see you everywhere after and I’m not talking about in person. And it would make me a major hypocrite. I don’t approve of how you use women like Kleenex—”

  “Hey, no one’s ever complained.”

  “I’m sure they haven’t.” His cavalier attitude about the whole thing just reinforced her decision. “And I’m sure you aren’t used to hearing those words, but I’m not interested, Micah. Not in the least.”

  Okay, that was a lie, but he didn’t need to know that.

  Written with Kayti McGee under the name Laurelin McGee

  Miss Match (coming June 30, 2015)

  Welcome to the sexy, crazy, wildly unpredictable world of modern matchmaking, where fixing up strangers is part of the job—but falling in love is an occupational hazard…

  HE’S THE PERFECT CATCH.

  Blake Donovan is tall, handsome, rich, and successful—so why would a guy like him need a matchmaker? Andréa Grayson has no idea, but a job is a job. After being blackballed from a career in marketing, Andréa agreed to use her unique profiling skills to play matchmaker out of pure desperation.. But when she meets her highly eligible—and particular—first client face to face, she wonders what she’s gotten herself into…

  IS SHE HIS PERFECT MATCH?

  Blake knows exactly the kind of woman he’s looking for—and it’s the total opposite of Andréa. Though smart and undeniably sexy, she is simply too headstrong for a man who’s used to being in charge. Still, Blake’s blood pressure rises whenever she’s near him. How can he explain the smoldering attraction that sizzles between them? And how can Andréa deny she’s feeling it, too? Maybe, just maybe, they’ve finally met their match…

  Available June 30th, 2015 where books are sold. Amazon, Nook, iBooks

  About the Author

  Laurelin Paige is the NY Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling Author of the Fixed Trilogy. She’s a sucker for a good romance and gets giddy any time there’s kissing, much to the embarrassment of her three daughters. Her husband doesn’t seem to complain, however. When she isn’t reading or writing sexy stories, she’s probably singing, watching Game of Thrones and The Walking Dead, or dreaming of Michael Fassbender. She’s also a proud member of Mensa International, though she doesn’t do anything with the organization except use it as material for her bio.

  You can connect with Laurelin on Facebook at www.facebook.com/LaurelinPaige or on twitter @laurelinpaige, though she really doesn’t spend much time there. You can also visit her website, www.laurelinpaige.com, to sign up for emails about new releases and a chance to win a $100 Amazon Gift Card in a monthly drawing.

  I love being able to share other books with readers that have knocked my socks off. The Awakening of Ivy Leavold by Sierra Simone is one such novella. I got to read it early and I LOVED IT. So I’m sharing an excerpt with you here. Hope you enjoy!

  ~ Laurelin

  THE AWAKENING OF IVY LEAVOLD

  By Sierra Simone

  An excerpt

  “Miss Leavold is going to play with us,” Mr. Markham announced as we entered the room once more.

  The girls clapped their hands delightedly.

  “But I must set down some rules,” he continued.

  The girls pouted. He gave them a stern look.

  “Gather round. No, not you Miss Leavold. Wait over there.”

  They clustered around Mr. Markham, talking in low murmurs, while I stood uncomfortably by myself, feeling excluded from their conference and also feeling trepidatious about the contents of it at the same time. He had said we were going to play Blind Man’s Buff—what could there be to talk about?

  The group dispersed and Ned came over to tie the blindfold around my head, knotting it securely. I could hear the people moving about the room, finding hiding spots behind furniture and curtains.

  A cool glass pressed against my mouth. “It’s only wine,” Ned said. “To help you relax.”

  That didn’t sound so bad. I parted my lips and drank as Ned held the glass for me.

  “Have you ever played before?” he asked.

  “As a child.”

  I could hear the smile in his voice. “Our rules are a little different. You’ll see. But the premise is the same—search for the others. If you can name the person you’ve captured, then they are out of the game. If you cannot name them, then they are free to escape. Are you read
y?”

  “I suppose.”

  “Well then. Best of luck, Miss Leavold.” And Ned’s warm presence was gone.

  With the blindfold obscuring my sight, my other senses heightened. I could still taste the wine on my lips, feel the heat from the nearby fire on my back. Shoes shuffled on the carpet as I took a tentative step forward. I could hear the rustling of gowns, the occasional giggle and the ensuing shh.

  I reached out a hand, following the noise, using my memory as best I could to navigate around the furniture. My fingertips grazed something—a sleeve—the sleeve of a dinner jacket—and I seized the arm within it and pulled its owner close. I reached up to touch their face, to make an identification, and then I felt lips pressed against mine. Not Mr. Markham’s lips—these were fuller, gentler. I felt myself tense under the unexpected touch—Mr. Markham was watching and I felt some sort of loyalty to him, however misguided that loyalty was.

  “It’s okay,” the person whispered. “It’s part of the game.”

  The Gallic accent gave him away. “Hugh?” I guessed.

  “One for Miss Leavold,” I heard Helene say.

  I kept walking, bolstered by this little victory. Arms out, fingers flexed, I ran right into a woman who smelled of something spicy and exotic. I wondered if she would kiss me too, but instead, she wrapped her fingers around mine and placed them against her chest, sliding them down from her breasts to the nip of her waist and then the swell of her hips. The embroidery on her dress scratched against my palms. Who had been wearing an embroidered dress?