{"id":18378,"date":"2017-05-04T07:00:33","date_gmt":"2017-05-04T12:00:33","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/twinsietalk.com\/?p=18378"},"modified":"2017-05-02T21:29:50","modified_gmt":"2017-05-03T02:29:50","slug":"releaseday-giveaway-stalk-me-by-lily-ryan","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/twinsietalk.com\/?p=18378","title":{"rendered":"#ReleaseDay #Giveaway – Stalk Me by Lily Ryan"},"content":{"rendered":"

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Every good girl needs a bad boy to set her free!<\/span><\/b><\/p>\n

To anyone on the outside, I had a picturesque life, like a scene on the inside of a snow globe.
\nI didn\u2019t realize how I longed to be set free, until a set of blue eyes looking in, shook things up and shattered the glass around me.<\/span><\/p>\n

It\u2019s been five long years since I\u2019ve seen Dylan Stark. The man who owns my heart. Five years since we last spoke. Touched. Kissed. Because, Dylan confessed to a murder he didn\u2019t commit.<\/span><\/p>\n

Everything changed since he\u2019s been gone. There are things I need to explain. Secrets I\u2019ve been keeping.<\/span><\/p>\n

Now Dylan is back, and he\u2019s dangerous as ever, because he still owns my heart. He shakes up my world and makes me want to confront the truth.<\/span><\/p>\n

I don\u2019t know if he can forgive me, so I\u2019m not sure if this is our story\u2019s end, or if we are at the start of a new beginning\u2026<\/span><\/p>\n

Stark Me is a second chance romance between a bad boy gone good, and a good girl gone bad.<\/span><\/p>\n

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\u201cWhat the fuck happened?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Sirens blare. My head hurts. <\/span>No,<\/span> it doesn\u2019t <\/span>hurt, <\/span>it feels like it\u2019s bursting at the<\/span>seams<\/span>. It\u2019s about to blow into a million tiny pieces any second now.<\/span><\/p>\n

I blink my eyes a few times to clear my blurred vision. Two sets of worried blue eyes stare back at me.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThank the fucking Lord,\u201d Shea Sullivan says, gathering me into his arms. I want to push him away, because this only makes the sharp pain in my head worse, but I can\u2019t.<\/span><\/p>\n

It\u2019s the other pair of eyes I can\u2019t pull my stare from. The blue eyes with a storm, more savage than the tornado that tore Dorothy from Kansas, brewing in them. The deep blue eyes that narrow on me with anger and suspicion. The blue eyes that I long to see a hint of compassion in, even if it\u2019s only for a moment. The eyes of bad boy Dylan Stark.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat the fuck happened?\u201d Dylan repeats, anger heavy in his voice.<\/span><\/p>\n

His words hit me like a slap in the face. I don\u2019t know what he\u2019s talking about. I look around, and that\u2019s when I see it. Blood. All over me. Smeared on my shirt. Covering my hands. A scarlet-streaked knife beside me.<\/span><\/p>\n

Panic settles into my brain, clawing its way into my soul.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cJimmy,\u201d I whisper. \u201cWhere is Jimmy?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

No answers are given before the police storm the front door, guns <\/span>drawn<\/span>, arms extended ready to shoot.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHands where I can see them,\u201d <\/span>a voice booms<\/span>.<\/span><\/p>\n

We do as we\u2019re told, and I notice that I\u2019m the only one with blood on me.<\/span><\/p>\n

My eyes are glued to <\/span>Dylan,<\/span> because whatever went down here, it\u2019s going to affect him most of all.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhere is Jimmy?\u201d I demand.<\/span><\/p>\n

Dylan doesn\u2019t answer. He just stares at me, jaw clenched, a cold, hard look in his eyes, as he\u2019s read his rights and a pair of handcuffs is slapped tight on his wrists. He\u2019s angry, unresponsive, as they shove him out the door.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAre you hurt?\u201d An unfamiliar voice directs the question at me.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYes.\u201d I touch my chest instinctively, but all seems fine. No cuts. No stab wounds. \u201cNo.\u201d I\u2019m confused. I look back down at my hands. If I\u2019m not hurt, where did all this blood come from? \u201cI mean, I don\u2019t really know. My head is a wreck.\u201d A new set of eyes evaluates me with scrutiny.<\/span><\/p>\n

Shea\u2019s taken outside, but unlike Dylan, he goes of his own free will, without the<\/span>aide<\/span> of cuffs or anyone pushing him forward. The officer watching me presses a button on the communication device attached to his shirt collar and speaks. I don\u2019t know what he\u2019s saying; it\u2019s all jumbled, and my mind is on Dylan.<\/span><\/p>\n

A team of two men come in. A penlight is flashed in my eyes, and sharp pain sears through my head.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cFuck!\u201d I say, screwing my eyes up tight and holding my head between my hands. \u201cThat hurts.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

After a brief examination of my body, one of the men asks if I can walk.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSure,\u201d I answer, getting to my feet.<\/span><\/p>\n

As soon as I\u2019m halfway up, a wave of dizziness and nausea sweeps over me. I extend my hands to break my fall, because I\u2019m going down and the floor is coming at me at warp speed.<\/span><\/p>\n

The men are talking. I don\u2019t know if it\u2019s to me or to each other. Sound has left me. Sight, too. Darkness creeps in from the corner of my eyes and spreads inward until I can\u2019t see anything but the comfort of nothingness it offers.<\/span><\/p>\n

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\na Rafflecopter giveaway<\/a><\/p>\n