[easyazon_link identifier=”B00Y1HSY2Y” locale=”US” tag=”lorhaeckha-20″]Unforgiven (The Wilde Brothers Book 8)[/easyazon_link]COMING AUGUST 11
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Lorhainne Eckhart brings you the final book in THE WILDE BROTHERS series, UNFORGIVEN, a big family romance that will rock your world.
Samuel Wilde is one of the brightest young lawyers in Seattle. He’s handsome, smart, and sexy and has an unbreakable bond with his brothers—that is, until one woman comes between them, threatening to divide the Wilde family forever.
“Over 2500 Combined Reviews for Author Lorhainne Eckhart”
Praise about Books from Lorhainne Eckhart…
-“Lorhainne Eckhart always astonishes me with her very real, very fallible characters.”
-Author Lorhainne Eckhart is adept at showing deeply felt emotions through actions, instead of just telling us.
-“The author, Lorhainne Eckhart, is courageous to write a story with a “good guy” who is so despicable in his behavior!”
EXCERPT
His lungs were on fire.
It wasn’t so much that he enjoyed the burn as that he needed it. He pushed himself hard, driving himself to a place that welcomed the burn in his legs, the bite in his chest, the pace he set for himself—brutal, to the point that anyone watching might wonder if he was punishing himself. Samuel Wilde, junior lawyer at Pike and MacGregor, wasn’t about to admit that he had done anything wrong in his current caseload, so he pushed on harder, faster. His feet pounded the pavement, and not even the puddles soaking his track pants could slow him down. He welcomed the rain, though it was cold enough to leave him chilled inside and out. Even that wasn’t enough to stop him.
The truth of the matter was that Samuel was good at being a lawyer. He was sharp, and he picked up on details others missed. In fact, he’d recently been evaluated by the managing partner as being exactly the type of lawyer they wanted for partner, because Samuel could find the weakness in his opposing counsel and use it to his advantage.
He tried to tell himself that this need to punish himself wasn’t because of the growing rift dividing his brothers—or the fact that no one in his family had shown up for his wedding…his wedding to a woman who’d once been with his brother.
But he, not Jake, had had Jill first.
He stared up at the gray concrete and high rises and clouds as he ran. The steel and the endless dismal rain matched his mood. He could see home just ahead, the high rise where his condo was and where Jill would be waiting, but he needed this time to himself. Just him and his thoughts, his dark thoughts.
A horn blared when he stepped off the curb. He jumped back, lifting his arm to shield his face from the splash of the car speeding curbside. “Asshole!” he shouted, but the rain drowned him out along with the sounds of the morning traffic. It had been his fault, anyway, almost running out into traffic without looking. What was wrong with him? His legs were shaking as he stood there and then started jogging in place until the walk light flashed. This time, the traffic had stopped, and he started across the street, making himself look twice, right and then left, at the stopped cars crowding the intersection.
He pulled open the glass front door to his building, his sneakers squeaking on the dark tiled floor. He swiped his hand across his face, wiping away the water, and pressed the button for the elevator. In the shiny steel doors, he glimpsed the reflection of his light beard, his wet gray tracksuit with his hood up, everything drenched. Droplets of water ran down the side of his face, and he was unsure if it was sweat or water from the mess looking back at him. Even Samuel had to admit, looking at himself, that the people he had passed on his run were probably wondering whether he was a thug. At the very least, they would have known he wasn’t someone in the mood to be messed with.
The elevator dinged, and he shivered as he stepped inside, jabbing the button for floor thirty-three. He leaned against the back of the elevator, feeling his legs start to tighten, his heartbeat racing. He should have stretched before stopping, as he’d pushed himself hard this morning, much as he had every day for weeks, but lately he had embraced the burn in his muscles as he pushed himself to the brink of madness, maybe because this was the only thing he could feel that was real. This physical pain made sense, and he understood it, although it did little to help the hurt he felt from his family.
The elevator slowed and opened to his floor. He nodded to his waiting neighbor, a portly man with thin hair in his sixties, who was wearing the same blue trench coat he wore every day. What was his name? It would come to him, he was sure. All Samuel knew was that he was a banker and had visitors every Wednesday night, always a different college girl dressed in some slinky number, most likely from a local escort service.
The only things he knew for sure about the man were his impressions, and that was all he wanted to know.
Samuel slipped his key into the lock and opened the door, then tossed his keys on the counter. He could hear the clock ticking and the low hum of the appliances.
“You’re back? I didn’t know you’d gone out.” Jill was holding a mug of coffee as she walked into the small walkthrough kitchen. She was so quiet. She’d cut her dark hair shorter, framing her round face. She was lovely, and there was something about her dark eyes that haunted him.
“Should you be drinking coffee?” he said.
She put the mug on the counter as he pulled back his wet hood from his head and peeled off his hoody, dumping it over the back of a kitchen chair. The four-piece dinette was crammed against the wall, but then, this one-bedroom apartment was only five hundred square feet. He should really think of getting something bigger. Jill had already asked twice, but he hadn’t answered. He knew she wouldn’t push. She never did, never had.
“It’s only one cup.” She was behind him.
He should turn around and look at her, talk to her. He reached for the mail on the table, flipped through the bills, and then dumped them back down. “I’m going to grab a shower,” he said—a hot one he could lose himself in.
“Do you want company?” she said.
This time, he had to make himself turn around, his hand gripping the door frame as he looked at Jill, at her rounded belly, the baby she carried. “Not this morning. I need to hurry. I have to meet a client.”
She stood across the room. The tension between them was so thick he could feel it like a wall, so heavy that it kept him where he was, away from her. Why didn’t that make him sad?
“What time are you going to be home?” she said. She crossed her arms over her breasts, which were larger now. At one time, he hadn’t been able to get enough of her, touching her, making love to her, being inside her. But something had faded. He didn’t know what exactly, only that it was something between them or in him that had died.
“Late,” he said. “Don’t wait up.” He turned away, walked into the bathroom, and shut the door.
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