A lost soul and a seeker of truth
travel down the road to redemption
and discover more than they bargained for.
Jackson Stiles: Road to Redemption
Road to Redemption #1
Jo Richardson
Released Sept 21st, 2016
Jackson Stiles is used to having bad
days, but they’ve been especially bad since a certain tabloid reporter seems to
have it out for him.
Emma Green doesn’t mean any harm.
She simply sees it as her duty to report the misdeeds of certain Private
Detectives who charge too much in a society where people need more superheroes
and less villains; something even Jackson has convinced himself he deserves to
be called, deep in his gut.
When the two of them realize they’re
investigating the same suspicious circumstances, Emma makes Jackson an offer he
only wishes he could refuse. But can the man who trusts no one allow the one
woman he can’t stand help him get to the bottom of a murder he feels
responsible for?
Exposed and unsure, these two
unexpected allies come together to unmask the mysteries cloaked in plain sight
while uncovering secrets within each other. A lost soul and a seeker of truth
travel down the road to redemption and discover more than they bargained for.
“Morning, Stiles.” The
five-and-a-half-foot brunette that likes to make my life miserable is easily
five-eight, maybe even five-nine, in the heels she’s got on today. Combined
with the dark blue power suit she’s wearing, she comes off as all business
despite the fact that she doesn’t make eye contact with me. She’s too busy
scrolling through a bunch of bullshit on her smartphone.
I growl a response so it
comes out as more of a warning than a greeting. Is it a bit much for this time
of day? Maybe. Considering our history, I’m not exactly worried about her
impression of me, though.
Emma Green is the latest
and greatest “crime” reporter for our friendly neighborhood tabloid. And I use
the term “reporter” loosely, by the way. Very loosely.
Doesn’t care about
getting the story right in certain cases, if ya know what I mean, loosely.
Her name’s been on nearly
every article the Redemption Chronicle has put out since she arrived
from somewhere down in Florida. She shows up at most crime scenes, from
burglaries to homicides, and has very much become a royal pain in my...
“You’re late, by the way.
They were just talking about you.” She mutters and points, blindly, down the
hall as she steps into the elevator. Which is my cue to get the fuck out.
My one and only cigarette
calls to me from the front pocket of my button down. Thank God I remembered
it. But quite frankly, I don’t have the energy to pull it out. Not that
I wouldn’t get arrested if I did, but . . .
“And you look like hell.”
She’s full of compliments today, I see.
“Fuck you very much,
Green.” Not that I’m complaining. It makes it easy to respond to her in like
fashion. And bonus: I’m feeling pretty good about getting the last word in on
this battle of the banter, as the doors close but then they open again.
“Maybe you shouldn’t stay
up so late playing around with your buddies over at the police department.” I
look back to see her foot blocking the sensors that would normally allow the
doors to close. She still can’t be bothered to look up. She’s too busy burying
her nose into the iPhone.
Let’s be real here.
Flirting is not her forte.
“I appreciate that
enlightening bit of useless advice, Green.” Despite my attempt to be nice
sarcasm spills out of every word. It’s only when she pulls her foot all the way
in and the doors are halfway shut that I ask myself─ how did she know I was
downtown last night?
Emerald eyes peer up at me
as the question enters my mind. And I swear, she’s fucking smirking.
Between the pleasant smile
and the way her expression lights up like she’s about to pounce, I’m not sure
what the hell to think. I haven’t seen her smile like that since the day I
briefly met her on the scene of a break-in I was hired to investigate. First
thing I noticed was her smile. She seemed...new.
The next thing I noticed
was her eyes.
Deep green. The
grab-a-hold-of-you-and-don’t-let-go kind that make you wanna know everything
that’s going on behind them.
And don’t even get me
started on her ass. It begs for mercy because she, no doubt, runs it every day,
then follows up with a pint of fat free yogurt and a jug of water.
Not that I’ve thought
about it.
But I digress.
She was polite enough. Or
so I thought. Asked me if I had any insider’s information on what had gone down
that day. It’s not like I was rude or anything. All I did was tell her I wasn’t
doing her fucking job for her.
I paid the price for that
comment in the article she ran the next day. The headline read, “Local P.I.
steals more from family than burglar.” I won’t bother you with the details, but
let’s just say, the article was less about the break-in and more about what an
asshole I am.
I mean, what the fuck?
I can assure anyone who
has the balls to ask, I charge less than ninety percent of the dicks working
the tri-state area. Just ask the bill collectors.
The asshole thing is still
up for debate...in most circles.
Lesson learned here? Never
trust a woman with eyes that stunning or an ass that tight.
Basically, I fucking hate
her.
A movie fanatic, a writer of stories, a lover of life.
I grew up
in Maryland with four siblings, three parents and an endless number of cousins
within the vicinity – but it was too cold up North for this thin blooded girl.
So today, I live in Florida with my two girls and a husband that shares my same
sense of humor and basic take on life as we know it.
Life is
too short to put dreams on the back burner.
I write
both contemporary and paranormal stories that include mystery, suspense, humor,
action, romance, and anything else I can think up.
Thank you for hosting JACKSON STILES today!
ReplyDeleteCrystal, Tasty Book Tours
Thank you so much for sharing Jackson's excerpt today & for being a part of the tour this week, Jen! XOXOXOX ~ Jo
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