By Leslie A. Kelly
Genre: Romantic
Suspense
About the Book
She can trust him with her heart, but can she trust him with her
life?
Growing up as a foster kid, Jessica Jensen found her escape in movies-especially those starring teen heartthrob Reece Winchester. When she meets him as an adult, he's just as charming, fascinating, and devastatingly handsome as she'd imagined. Before she knows it, Jessica is falling hard. But her real-life Cinderella story is about to take a deadly turn...
Jessica has completely upended everything about Reece's carefully ordered life. There's a reason he's never allowed anyone to get so close to him before. But now that she has, there's a target on her back. Because someone knows that the Winchesters have been hiding some dark family secrets. Someone who is out there waiting to strike. Waiting...and always watching.
Growing up as a foster kid, Jessica Jensen found her escape in movies-especially those starring teen heartthrob Reece Winchester. When she meets him as an adult, he's just as charming, fascinating, and devastatingly handsome as she'd imagined. Before she knows it, Jessica is falling hard. But her real-life Cinderella story is about to take a deadly turn...
Jessica has completely upended everything about Reece's carefully ordered life. There's a reason he's never allowed anyone to get so close to him before. But now that she has, there's a target on her back. Because someone knows that the Winchesters have been hiding some dark family secrets. Someone who is out there waiting to strike. Waiting...and always watching.
Review Quote:
"Throughout this charged, fast-paced love story, Kelly
expertly balances sensuality and intrigue. This will be a hit with readers
looking for a
spicy contemporary romance." - Publisher's Weekly
About the Author
Leslie A. Kelly is a New York Times, USA Today
Bestselling Author of dark romantic thrillers and sexy romance (as Leslie
Kelly.)
Known for their dark, edgy plots, strong
characters, intense action, and powerful worldbuilding, Leslie's romantic
thrillers have won great acclaim, including the National Reader's Choice Award,
the Aspen Gold Award, the Gayle Wilson Award of Excellence, and a Romantic
Times Magazine Award nomination.
Leslie lives in Colorado with her husband
of 34 years and two spoiled dogs.
Visit her "alter ego"
site--www.lesliekelly.com--to learn more about her sexy contemporary
romances.
www.leslieAkelly.com
Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/ill-be-watching-you-leslie-a-kelly/1132620043?ean=9781538735145#/
On Social Media:
Excerpt
As a film
director, Reece Winchester was used to watching life through a camera lens,
picturing angles, depth, color, and texture. He lived as a voyeur, removed from
the action he oversaw, the unseen god of the worlds he created for moviegoers
everywhere. Some people might see him as being aloof or uncaring. Hell, maybe
he was. But he’d learned hard lessons throughout his life about trust, about
grief, about tragedy and loss. Better to put a layer between yourself and the
outside world, as far as he was concerned.
Maybe
that’s why he was able to remain calm during this latest catastrophe. He only
sighed as he stared at the charred remnants of his house, eying the wisps of
smoke still rising from the ruin in the early morning light, was number one on
that list.
“Damn,
Reece, I’m so sorry,” said his brother Rowan, who’d been the one to call him at
two a.m. to tell him about the fire. He’d repeated the phrase about a dozen
times.
Reece had been
shooting in the New Mexico desert, so his Beverly Hills home had been empty
when it went up in flames last night. He’d spent most of the flight back being
thankful he’d left his dog with his and had given the couple who looked after
the place two weeks off. During other trips, he’d left Cecil B., his golden
retriever, at home with the Scotts. He didn’t even want to think about what
could have happened if they’d been there. Shit could be replaced. Lives could
not. The loss of a couple of statues of a guy named Oscar was nothing compared to
the singeing of one hair on the heads of his employees or his dog.
“Any idea
yet what started it?” he bit out.
“I talked to the
fire investigator. He already found accelerant.”
Accelerant.
Arson? Jesus.
“Somebody hates
me enough to burn down my house?” Reece murmured, a little more stunned by that
fact than by the fire itself.
“It could have
been a frustrated stalker who expected to find you at home.”
“And when I
wasn’t, they decided to make sure I didn’t have a home to come back to?”
“You know
it’s possible.”
Yes, it probably
was. He’d had overzealous fans before, mostly during his acting days. They
occasionally slipped from pushy into obsessive. He’d been dealing with a
particularly bad one lately, who’d found out where he lived and had been
leaving notes stuffed into the security gate. Perhaps that was who had gotten
past the fence last night and decided to send his home up in a giant ball of
flame that had, reportedly, been seen by people miles away.
“Do you ever
wonder if we’re damned?” he asked.
He’d had this
thought many times over the years but had never shared it with his twin.
“Don’t say that.”
He didn’t
push, knowing Rowan had done a better job moving beyond all the dark episodes
of the past. Reece, though, had found letting that go extremely difficult to
do.
“You know you can
stay with me for a while. At least until you find another place,” Rowan
offered.
Reece nodded.
“Dad has a spare room, too.”
Reece, his twin
Rowan, and their baby brother, Raine, had bought their hardworking father, who’d
supported them all his life, a big place on the beach a few months ago. His dad
would hate to hear about the fire but would probably love some company.
Reece watched
silently as firefighters walked the site. They carefully looked for any
sputtering embers trying to reignite. With the drought, they also had to be
sure no sparks landed on a nearby roof, spreading the conflagration to the
entire neighborhood.
“Why don’t we get
outta here?” Rowan asked. “You’ve given your statement. You don’t have to stay.
Want some breakfast? We can pick up Cecil B. and take him out for pancakes.”
Seeing his
dog sounded like a great idea to Reece. “Sure.” He was hungry, as, he
suspected, were the sweaty, exhausted firefighters. He’d already put in an
order for cold drinks and food for the guys who’d tried so hard to rescue his
six-thousand-square-foot house.
Just a house.
Just a building. Right.
Frankly, the
worst part wasn’t the fire, but the realization that someone had set it. He was
in somebody’s crosshairs. The knowledge unsettled him.
“Surfing after?”
They hadn’t surfed together in months, both of them having busy schedules, and
Reece.
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