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    Healing Hearts: The Hearts Series, #4
    Healing Hearts: The Hearts Series, #4
    Healing Hearts: The Hearts Series, #4
    Ebook100 pages1 hour

    Healing Hearts: The Hearts Series, #4

    By Muffy Wilson

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    About this ebook

    Brianna Denton walked the night and crawled the pubs searching for her sister's murderer. Drugs and alcohol drove her twin to prostitution in the shadows and rat holes of the underbelly of North Beach society.  Brianna lived her sister's life on the tight edge of the raw reality until she pushed someone too hard, too fast.

    Tatianna's life drew Brianna into the bowels of the dark underground society, but to who's destiny—her own or Tatianna's?

    Someone wanted her dead too.

    He'd seen her on the streets, in the flea bag bars and pool halls the midnight scum frequented. She fascinated him with her Mediterranean beauty and her disdain. She was fast, unapologetic, but her curves were slow and yielding. He ached for her until one night slithered into the wee hours of the early morning at Blu's Balls. The smoke in the pool hall hung in the air like a noose from the ceiling.

    She wanted a bath but she wanted the blond-haired, blue-eyed man with the heart-shaped face and the gentle mouth more, first.

    Dr Ben James recognized Brianna immediately when the EMT's brought her into his ER. He hadn't seen her since that night—the night she picked him.

    Can he save her life? If he can't, can he forget her?

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherQPress Publishing
    Release dateJul 7, 2017
    ISBN9781386770893
    Healing Hearts: The Hearts Series, #4
    Author

    Muffy Wilson

    Muffy, author of erotic, romantic stories about love, sex, hope and passion, was born in San Antonio, Texas, to traditional parents. Her father was a career officer and pilot in the U.S. Air Force which required the family to travel extensively. Muffy spent her formative years in Europe and came of age in France. She now lives a charmed life by the water in SW Florida. Muffy pretends to be a serious real estate business person but, in real life, indulges her private interest writing sexy and sensual Literotica for several publishing firms ~ Live, Laugh, Love with Passion.

    Read more from Muffy Wilson

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      Book preview

      Healing Hearts - Muffy Wilson

      Healing Hearts

      MUFFY WILSON

      USA Today & International

      Bestselling Author

      PROVOCATIVE ROMANCE

      Copyright © 2016 Muffy Wilson

      All rights reserved.

      DEDICATION

      This book, as are all the books in this series,

      is devoted, and dedicated, to lovers

      everywhere.

      Neither time, nor separation

      or

      death

      Will ever be able to keep those who love apart.

      Hearts, once joined in love heal seamlessly

      to become, and love, as one.

      How could one ever beat without the other?

      ––––––––

      ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

      Edited by John Hudspith ~ http://www.johnhudspith.co.uk/

      Cover Art and Design by Kellie Dennis at Book Cover by Design

      http://www.bookcoverbydesign.com.uk

      All cover art and logo copyright © 2016 by Muffy Wilson

      ––––––––

      ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

      All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

      PUBLISHER:  Muffy Wilson Books

      HEALING HEARTS

      Walking on the edge with the underbelly of society in the shadows of the night could be hazardous to your health

      ...or worse—deadly.

      Hearts

      Everyone gets what they deserve. Everybody knows that.

      Hell, it didn’t matter anyway.

      It was the wee hours of the morning and Brianna was all alone on the barren, black, wet streets. Curiously, she was unafraid to walk the night with the underbelly of society that lives in the darkness.

      It was probably just like the night her sister was murdered. She was probably troubled by the same things—haunted by the depths of her own depravity. The clack-clack-clack of her heels on the sidewalk announced her approach as she headed...where? Home? That was a laugh. It made her think of the first time—her first time, maybe her sister’s first time—on the streets and in the black flesh pits of San Francisco that served up watered down whiskey, easy women and the finest drug connections money could buy, steal or cheat. Shrouded in the black lies hidden by the night, she did whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted and with whomever she wanted. The rain always had that effect, kept the good ones home while the creeps washed out of every skank black hole.

      It was like that her first night...and he was a creep. But she did him anyway, holding her breath as he huffed, thrust, and panted into her young pink mouth. She thought of her kid sister. Was he the one?

      The police didn’t know and had no more leads. What was she to do? She had to find out; she had to help. At least, she had to try.

      But, she got swept away in the trying.

      If she had any doubt about what she had become, it vanished with that blow-job stuffed into her sweet Mona Lisa smile. Every night since, her skirts got shorter and the nights longer and the creeps, well, the creeps were all still creeps.

      It was getting harder to remember what her kid sister looked like and why she was here. It was getting harder and harder...and easier, too. There were nights she didn’t care who killed her sister and there were nights she could think of little else.

      The line between purpose and obsession became obscure.

      She could question how she wound up on the streets, but she already knew. It was a matter of choice—her choice—and the men, the trail of men in her life, were a matter of choice too—her choice and hers alone. She picked them; they didn’t pick her. Still...It was just a matter of time before she would call one of those black rat holes home to curl up with the viper that lived within.

      There was a wild thought afloat that nothing positive ever happens until you hit the very bottom of the abyss. Nothing positive had even begun to happen in her life. Guess she had further to fall, since she clearly had not hit rock bottom. Could be. Until then, she entertained herself with the fine parade of men. The steady stream of eager lovers had only one thing wrong—there was no love involved. No names, no what do you do for a living, no talk about wives, lovers, divorces or kids. Those were her rules and if you wanted to fuck her, you did it on her terms. Clear, simple; no muss no fuss...and no kissing. She didn’t want to kiss the underbelly of society. They were all scumbags and she liked it that way—on the edge, the tight, unforgiving edge.

      If Brianna remembered, she showed them Tatianna’s photograph and asked if they’d ever met or seen her. If they had, it was sure they’d fucked her so there was little reason to ask them that. Sometimes she forgot to show them the photograph. It was those times she asked herself what was she really doing out here if she wasn’t looking for her sister’s killer?

      She liked the seedy, smoke-filled pool halls and honky-tonks where there was a foregone conclusion that the women who frequented joints like that were looking for joints, medicinal or meaty, of their own. She was no different and the joints she favored were prolific. Someday, one of them would be attached to Mr. Right maybe, but until then, there were plenty to keep her busy enough to feed her demons—and fight her sister’s battles.

      But, if she wasn’t chasing her sister’s killer, what was she doing? Her sister brought her out here, onto the cold heartless streets of despair, just like she pulled the cops into the sordid peep show that was her life. If they couldn’t find Tatianna’s murderer, why did she think she could? Maybe, the loss of her sister, her twin, was just the excuse she needed to find herself while searching for the answers in Tatianna’s life. Tatianna, poor Tatianna...When she grieved for Tatianna, she mourned for herself as well. They were both dead, in one way or another.

      She lost sight of her purpose as she fell, tumbled—out of control—into the depths of her own personal Hell.

      She rarely went to the same place night after night. She preferred to dot her sordid experiences in the arms of new men, occasionally a repeat, but she would never find Mr. Destiny or Mr. Murder if she kept repeating the same mistakes and the same creeps.

      It actually seemed like a good plan. Last night it was The Bitter End, a real cesspool where the beer was warm and the women were cold, but everyone played great stick and didn’t ask questions.

      She wondered briefly how long before tempting Lady Fate looking for Mr. Right in an ocean of Mr. Wrongs would result in her own bitter end.

      Tonight she planned on going to Baby Blu’s Sticks & Balls. Everyone called it Blu Balls...for a reason, she surmised. She had seen her share of blue balls in the past—plenty of them. She had been the source of inspiration for them.

      She smiled to herself, straightened her skirt before pushing the door open. The place was hopping and it was so smoke-filled, her eyes instantly teared. Why these places always stank of piss and sweat

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