Addicted to You Page 12

  Other Havenwood Falls books by Belinda Boring:

  Nowhere to Hide (Havenwood Falls)

  The Collector: Awakening by Kristie Cook, R.K. Ryals, Belinda Boring & Nadirah Foxx

  Blood and Damnation (Legends of Havenwood Falls)

  Other books in the main Havenwood Falls series:

  Forget You Not by Kristie Cook

  Old Wounds by Susan Burdorf

  Fate, Love & Loyalty by E.J. Fechenda

  Covetousness by Randi Cooley Wilson

  The Winged & the Wicked by T.V. Hahn & Kristie Cook

  Alpha’s Queen by Lila Felix

  Ink & Fire by R.K. Ryals

  Lose You Not by Kristie Cook

  Tragic Ink by Heather Hildenbrand

  Flames Among the Frost by Amy Hale

  Rock Me Gently by Susan Burdorf

  From the Embers by Amy Miles

  Defying Gravity by Kallie Ross

  Gypsy Heart by Randi Cooley Wilson

  Break Me Not by Kristie Cook

  How the Dead Lie by Stacey Rourke

  The Lurkers Within by Danielle Bannister

  Addicted to You by Belinda Boring

  Affliction Mine by C.J. Pinard

  The Ward & the Wanderers by T.V. Hahn (March 2019)

  Toil & Trouble by Melissa Wright (April 2019)

  More books releasing on a monthly basis

  Also try the YA line, Havenwood Falls High; the historical paranormal line, Legends of Havenwood Falls; and the darker, sexier side of town, Havenwood Falls Sin & Silk.

  Stay up to date at www.HavenwoodFalls.com

  Subscribe to our reader group and receive free stories and more!

  About the Author

  International and #1 Multi-Genre Bestselling Author Belinda Boring is known to many readers as the Queen of Swoon and also the Queen of Cliffhangers. Her Mystic Wolves series has topped many charts along with receiving several awards and nominations such as Paranormal Book of the Year, Best Debut Book, as well as being in the Top 3 Best Rated on Amazon. With additional titles like Bittersweet Melody, Bittersweet Symphony, Enchanted Hearts, Loving Liberty, and Broken Promises, it’s easy to see why readers are captivated by this swoon-worthy author!

  A homesick Aussie living amongst the cactus and mountains of Arizona, Belinda Boring is a self-proclaimed addict of romance and all things swoon-worthy. It wasn’t long before she began writing, pouring her imagination and creativity into the stories she dreams. Whether urban fantasy, paranormal romance, or romance in general, Belinda strives to share great plots with heart and characters that you can’t help but connect with. Of course, she wouldn’t be Belinda without adding heroes she hopes will curl your toes. Surrounded by a supportive cast of family, friends, two adorable Chiweenies, and the man she gives her heart and soul to, Belinda is living the good life. Happy reading!

  You can find Belinda on Social Media:

  Official Website: www.belindaboringauthor.com/

  Facebook: www.facebook.com/BelindaBoringAuthor

  Twitter: twitter.com/BelindaBoring

  Instagram: www.instagram.com/BelindaBoring

  BookBub: www.bookbub.com/profile/belindaboring

  Amazon: www.amazon.com/Belinda-Boring/e/B005C1IRFC/

  Acknowledgments

  I wanted to say a quick, but VERY heartfelt thank you to everyone who has supported and stood by me throughout this year. I’m grateful for your love and friendships. I’m grateful for the inspiration you bring into my life and the way you embrace each and every one of my stories and characters.

  I love writing within the Havenwood Falls world. Paranormal romance is one of my greatest loves—both to read and write—so I feel like I have the best of both worlds. There aren’t enough words to express how much I appreciate author Kristie Cook and the exceptional authors I write alongside with. I remember reading countless quotes and articles about ‘finding your tribe’ and how much that can help as an author. Without a doubt, I’ve found my tribe, and I ADORE each and every single one of these talented writers. I cherish the friendships I’ve been able to make. You guys are the cream of the crop!

  Thank you to those who work behind the scenes as I write:

  My amazing author coach, Jessi Gibson. She helps me to keep focused when I have a STRONG tendency to squirrel. I love having her in my corner—cheering for me and keeping me accountable when I start doubting myself.

  My faithful beta readers, Cindy Mayberry, Julie Engle, Julia Lucero, Susan McCray, and Stephanie Krause. Your feedback means a lot. Thank you!

  The best writing partner a girl can have, Stephanie Garza. Our video writing sessions are some of the best memories I have, and I’m so grateful for you. We’ve written a lot of words this year. I can’t wait to see what 2019 holds.

  My family: Thank you for always asking how my writing is going and being excited when I finish a story. It might not seem like much, but to me, it is. I love you all!

  My incredible husband, Mark. You’re the reason behind it all. Whatever I did to deserve you . . . I’d do it a thousand times again and again. You always seem to know what I need, when I need it. You help me remember my words. You listen to me when I’m stuck and have to talk the scene through. Most of all, you never complain when we listen to Hamilton and In The Heights on repeat. You get me. You support me. You give me the space I need to be creative. Me and you forever . . . that would be enough! << shameless plug of a Hamilton lyric.

  Lastly, because we save the best for last, right? All my love and gratitude to you all—those who pick up my books and agree to take the journey with me and my characters. Thank you for entrusting me with your time and imagination. Thank you for embracing my characters. You guys are AMAZING!

  As always, don’t be afraid to take a risk and dare to fly!

  Happy swooning!

  Bels xxx

  An Excerpt

  Affliction Mine (A Havenwood Falls Novel) by C.J. Pinard

  At his cousin’s pleading, Karson Kane returns to Havenwood Falls to help with his elven uncle, who’s about to be released from supernatural prison. Karson has no idea what awaits him in the mysterious mountain town, but he feels strongly he’s meant to go.

  Within the first twenty-four hours, Karson’s cousin gets thrown in jail, too, and Karson ends up in the ER, leaving him to think he may have made a mistake coming to the magical town. Until he meets Scottlin Glover. The gorgeous, auburn-haired breath of fresh air treats his injuries, but leaves him wanting more from her, as he can’t seem to take his eyes off her.

  Scottlin is very intrigued by the elven. Being only half human, she has ways to both heal and help, but she can’t figure out how to help Karson when they realize there’s something terribly wrong with him beyond the initial injury.

  Karson begins to suspect that he has been lured to Havenwood Falls under false pretenses, but can’t seem to find any answers. If he and Scottlin can’t put their scorching attraction aside and heal Karson, the consequences will be more serious than they imagined—and very permanent.

  Affliction Mine

  By C.J. Pinard

  The backpack was getting heavy, and I shifted it to my other shoulder as I wondered just where the hell this Greyhound bus was. It was supposed to depart at 10:20 a.m., but as of yet, it wasn’t even here in the station.

  “Karson! Hey, dude!”

  I turned around and spotted my coworker, Dex, waving at me.

  Oh, God, what does this guy want? I wondered as I watched him approach.

  “Happy new year. Where you going, man?” he asked, staring at me as he took a swig from a black and green can.

  “Going out of town. Why are you here?” I asked, keeping it vague so he’d go away.

  “Same. Goin’ to see family. You know.” He shook his head before taking another swig of his caffeine-loaded drink as he measured me with a curious stare.

  Seriously hoping this pothead wasn’t on the same bus as me, I smiled tightly at him and said, “Great. Well, see you next week
.” I turned and headed toward the vending machines that lined the back of the Greyhound station.

  Just as I was about to choose a bag of jalapeño-flavored potato chips, the loudspeaker announced that the bus to Montrose was leaving. I quickly shoved my dollar bill into the machine and willed the bag to drop so I could board the damn bus.

  Once I snatched the chips from the bottom of the machine, I hustled to the boarding area, presented my ticket, and found a seat in the back, just wanting this stupid trip to be over with. I had other shit to attend to, and dealing with my “cousin” and his weird-ass request wasn’t what I had on the agenda for the holidays.

  Still . . . I literally couldn’t remember when I had last been to Havenwood Falls. A part of me wondered why most of my childhood was absent from my memory, but I knew it had to do with the sleepy Colorado town. Had I really grown up there?

  I pulled out my phone and clicked on the email app, deciding to re-read the cryptic message for the hundredth time.

  Karson,

  This is going to sound weird as hell, but hear me out. I need you to return to Havenwood Falls like, yesterday. I know you’re thinking, “Return? When was I there?” Well, you have been here. You grew up here. You don’t remember because the town is full of witches and other supes and shit. You leave, you don’t get the luxury of remembering it at all. The witch bitches are gonna have my ass for telling you this, but I don’t have any fucks left to give at this point, so here goes.

  My pops, your uncle, is in a bad way. He used his affliction to piss off the Court and was sent to prison. Why am I telling you this? Because he’s gotta do six weeks in jail here before they release him back to us. Before you ask why you should care, here’s why: My dad’s a loose cannon. In his late 40s and still ain’t learned shit about shit. I need you to help me put a leash on him once he gets out. The Kane name has been muddied enough. Oh, and also, your dad is here (they’re brothers), and he’s been asking about you. It’s getting old, and you need to come home. Of course, you prob don’t remember your dad, but still.

  Fuck . . . I know this email is so damn weird to you, but you have to trust me, cuz. Head up to Havenwood Falls, and you’ll see. Once you get here, your memories will return. All of them. It’ll take a hot minute, but I promise it’ll happen. It’s gonna be a trip, bro. Take a bus to Montrose, and when you get off, there will be a special bus to Havenwood Falls at the stop there. Hop on it, and don’t ask any questions. I’ll swing by and get you at the coffee shop, which is the last stop for the bus. We’ll talk then. Reply with your itinerary, dude. I need you here pronto.

  Jalen

  My head was spinning. The email had literally come out of nowhere yesterday, and the only reason I sat on this damn bus right now was pure, unadulterated curiosity. I hit reply on the email and told him I was on the bus heading to Montrose, but had no idea when I’d actually reach Havenwood Falls, as there was no online schedule to the place that I could find.

  But the part of the email that touched on getting my memory back and the mention of my father had definitely sweetened the deal. As a twenty-four-year-old living on my own, I’d always taken care of number one. Nobody had ever been there to help me. I knew I had parents, but I could never get ahold of them. They never answered my texts or calls. I looked down at my phone and clicked the Contacts icon. Sure, I could click on Dad, but I knew it would go to a generic voicemail box.

  It always did.

  Hell, I couldn’t even remember what my parents looked like or their names.

  Then the email from this Jalen guy came in, promising me answers. It would have been a cold day in hell before I’d turn that down. I had no idea if he was shitting me or not, but hell, I’d take the chance. I had to. What did I have to lose, really? I was tired of wandering aimlessly, no matter how busy I was, always wondering if I had a family.

  Half of me was hopeful this Jalen character was telling the truth and could fill in the missing pieces I felt had been absent from my brain. The other half of me was terrified that someone was playing a joke on me—that someone was running a hustle, and I would, yet again, be caught up in some shit I should have just walked away from. I had been lucky the guy hadn’t pressed charges that night in the bar when I let my temper get the better of me over a stupid game of pool.

  I pushed that from my mind and continued to click. I had to clear out my emails, because once I reached this mystery town, I knew I’d have no time for shit.

  The next email to pop up on my phone was from a particularly needy client. Willing my eye to not twitch before I opened it, I took a deep breath and began to read:

  Karson!

  I want a Smurf. I need a Smurf! On my ass, or maybe my inner thigh ;) I know you can pull it off, can’t you, cutie? ~Angel

  I swallowed down my irritation and decided not to even reply. I deleted Angel’s email and hoped she’d get the hint that I didn’t want to tattoo her.

  Ever.

  A few weeks ago, she’d come into my shop in downtown Colorado Springs, tagging along with a friend. The friend was pleasant enough, just wanting a small tattoo of something to commemorate her father’s passing. It was an easy tat, but what wasn’t easy was the friend, Angel, who’d sat and stared at me as I worked. Sure, she’d pretended to be looking through the photo albums of my designs, but I knew she was checking me out. I could feel the weight of her stare as I tatted her friend.

  When the friend’s tattoo was done, she had been very happy with it, and paid me and thanked me profusely. Angel, though, asked me for my number. In deflection, I’d referred her to the front counter, where Dex would have given her a business card with the email address to our general box.

  The crazy bitch used it, too. She’d sent me no less than six emails with photos of tattoos she wanted, and then suggested we meet up “in private” to talk about them.

  Shouldn’t I have been flattered? I guessed I should have. But at this time in my life, I didn’t want to deal with such entanglements. Angel was hot, but I wasn’t into pushy women. I was the one who called the shots.

  I eventually drifted to sleep, and was awoken hours later when the bus driver indicated over the loudspeaker the stop we’d just reached: Montrose.

  The cold air hit me like a slap in the face as I hopped off the bus and looked around. A truck stop of some kind greeted me. There were gas pumps and a large, convenience-type store with a red and yellow logo.

  Not seeing any buses marked Havenwood Falls, I adjusted my backpack and wandered into the store. I needed to take a piss, anyway. The restrooms were clearly marked, and after I used the facilities, I went to wander around the shop, wondering what I should do next. I was starving, so I bought a premade sandwich and a bottle of Mountain Dew, along with a bag of beef jerky. I spied a small sitting area, and made my way toward it to eat my dinner. The bus ride had taken twice as long as it would have if I’d driven, and I’d only had the chips.

  On my way to the tables, I passed a rack of brochures boasting all Colorado had to offer for recreation and tourism. A brochure for Telluride caught my eye. Something about the way the mountains in the photo were positioned in a box canyon intrigued me. Flicking my gaze away from it to make sure I wouldn’t run into anything as I walked, my plan was to set my food down and come back for it. But as my gaze shifted back to the brochure, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me; for where I could swear it had read “Telluride,” it now read “Havenwood Falls.”

  What in the hell?

  Of course, I immediately snatched the pamphlet from its resting place and quickly made my way to the tables, never taking my eyes off it. I blindly unwrapped my sandwich and bit into it as I set the pamphlet down on the table and unfolded it. Its glossy photos called out to me. As I stared at it, a knowing feeling began to swirl in my gut. I’d seen that canyon before. Everything inside of me said I had been there before. I knew it deep down in my soul.

  I opened the first page of the brochure, and my stomach began to turn over even more. Pho
tos of familiar scenes seemed to jump off the page and smack me in the face. I knew that ski resort. I knew that inn. I knew those waterfalls. I knew that town square. And I most definitely knew that fucking tattoo shop.

  My eyes scanned every inch of it, and when I flipped to the back, bright yellow writing caught my eye: Buses to Havenwood Falls depart daily at 12 noon and 12 midnight.

  A glance at my watch showed 8:57 p.m.

  Looked like I had three hours to kill, because come hell or high water, I would be on that bus.

  After surfing the web, checking social media, and people-watching, a couple hours had passed, and I was getting anxious. I grabbed my bag, got up, and wandered over to the corner of the store.

  I approached a store employee who was stocking coffee mugs bearing various Colorado logos and pictures. “Excuse me, can you tell me where the Havenwood Falls bus stops?”

  She turned around, a mug in her hand. She dipped her eyebrows in confusion. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand what you’re asking me.”

  She seemed nice enough, but her response frustrated me. “Havenwood Falls—you have a bus departing at midnight. Does it meet out front? Is it marked?”

  She shook her head. “I . . . I don’t know where that is, so I can’t help you. But maybe my manager knows. I can go get him—”

  I pulled out the pamphlet and practically shoved it in her face. “See?”

  She narrowed her eyes at it, then looked at me. With a shake of her head, she said, “That says Telluride. That bus meets out back. It’s clearly marked.”