What if your next patient is an old love, who you haven’t heard from in ten years?
Any other woman would have turned and run the other way the moment they saw Logan Peterson—after what he did, he would deserve it.
The thing is, I can’t walk away from him. And now we have to stay professional, because I am the only one who can help him. But there’s this undeniable pull between us—it’s what brought us together ten years ago and it could destroy us now.
Do I risk a second chance with him? Would it even work, especially since I kept a secret from him for ten years?
And they say love is supposed to be easy, right?
Restoring Our Chance is a second-chance romance featuring a gentlemanly alpha male and a bold, fiery heroine. It is currently a standalone in a soon to be larger series. No cheating. No cliffhangers. But will there be a happily ever after? Well, read it today to see if love can be restored!
***Author’s note: this book is intended for a mature audience in terms of content, language, and passionate happily ever afters!
Targeted Age Group:: 18-40
What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
I loved the idea that there is one person out there for some people. Even if it doesn't work the first time with that person, what if you are offered a second chance at love? Therefore, I wrote Samantha and Logan's story–they grew up together, they fell in love and got physical, but then they went there separate ways for many years. Kinda like a modern version of Homor's Odyssey. After a separation, can they make it work? That is the story I told and I really liked how it fell together as I was creating it.
How Did You Come up With Your Characters?
Logan was the easy character. I wanted strength and independence, but also a protector. His flaw was his cowardice, but that is something that can be redeemed. I really thought hard about what would drive a man away from the woman he loved–it had to be something two-fold. He wanted the military life and to be the hero-soldier. But admitting his feelings or giving up his dreams meant that he just disappeared from the woman he loved so he wouldn't have to face her. That is an ugly thing to do and it is the perfect tension to flavor the story. Samantha was difficult. I needed a good match for someone who needed forgiveness. So I made her a doctor, someone who could heal and empathize, but also hold Logan accountable. And she couldn't just forgive him–he broke her heart after all when he left her. I wanted her strong and fierce, but also soft and caring. So I gave her a child. It took a lot of work to smooth her out, but with the help of some friends we made a powerful woman without making a b-word.
Her black pencil skirt hugged her curvy hips and I could tell her ass was just as plump and delicious as it had always been. Although her blouse was loose, I knew those perky breasts were in there somewhere. I wanted to go searching through the snowy white material until I freed them from the gauzy fabric. Samantha’s body was perfect, and I wasn’t the only one who thought so. I could see my case manager ogling her behind as she walked away from him. Although he was a big guy, I was bigger and undoubtedly meaner. I shot him a look, unleashing a fierce scowl at the bastard. And he shrugged, as if to explain that what he was doing was the normal guy thing to do. It might be normal to appreciate a fine woman, but this was no ordinary woman. This was my Sammy. Or at least, she had been.
I looked back to her face, panic bubbling in my chest at the thought: She’s here, but is she mine?
“Good to see you again,” she said, sticking her hand out as if she expected me to shake it.
I crossed my arms and glared down at her. She was a tall woman, and those exquisite heels—which she had tripped over when entering the room—made her even taller, but I could still look down my nose at her. “Is that how you greet an old friend?”
“We were never friends. You were my older brother’s friend, and because of that, I am not sure I am the right doctor for this case. There is a conflict of interest seeing as we have a history—”
“I think our history is exactly why it needs to be you,” I cut in.
I raised an eyebrow in challenge. If the court-appointed babysitter was not present, I might have kissed her then. The plan had been to take it slow and assess the situation, but now that I was back in her presence, all I could think about was picking right back up where we had left off. My dick loved that idea. Clearly my body would get the better of me if I was not careful. The moment she had tripped through that door—always one to make an entrance—the damn piece of wood had become rock hard and was threatening to break the seam of my pants. I was hoping she hadn’t noticed.
“You need a neutral party to do this properly. I am afraid I can’t be neutral.”
She cut me off, suddenly in a well contained rage. There was a flash behind her eyes; those long fingers flew into the air to wave about. I saw that she was about to unleash a volley of emotions on me, but at the last second, she swallowed hard and her splayed fingers found her hips. With that professional demeanor back, the only tell she exhibited was her slightly raised voice and her sharp tone. Her words were laced with venom, something she probably didn’t display with most of her clients. “This is a professional mental health facility in a state of the art hospital, Mr. Peterson. You will address me as Dr. Bowers.”
“Okay, Dr. Sammy.” I chuckled to myself as her eyes grew wide and her nostrils flared. “Look here,” I continued. “I have been court-appointed to undertake mandatory treatment to ensure I am fit to enter society again. I do not believe that I have any permanent damage to my psyche, but since you knew the man I used to be, perhaps you can help ensure that the older, wiser, and more glorious Logan Peterson is fit for civilian life. So, Doctor, it needs to be you.”
Yep, if that manager wasn’t here, I fantasized about what I would do to her right now. My mind wandered with images of lifting Samantha up against the wall, her pretty little heels dangling in the air. Then I would have kissed her until she was begging for more. Although time had passed, this still had to be my Sammy. Underneath this hard-edged professional, that same tenderhearted woman I once left had to exist. I had never stopped thinking of her. It was the one thing that held my fucked-up world together: the knowledge that goodness and kindness existed and was being kept safe back home. I owed Sammy; she had no idea how much.
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