Book Birthday: BLIND PASSION by Bonnie Dee

Blind Passion (Wyatt Brothers, #1) by Bonnie Dee is an NA Romance, out now! 

Through personal darkness, two strangers find their way to each other.

Leah Schaeffer has come a long way since an accident took her sight. She’s finally ready for independence, but convincing her wealthy parents she’ll be safe on her own isn’t easy. The first night in her own place at last, she encounters her neighbor with the midnight velvet voice and her world shifts again.

Since finishing a military tour, J.D. Wyatt has struggled both financially and emotionally. When Leah’s parents hire him to act as her bodyguard, he seizes the opportunity. The catch—she can’t know she’s being followed. As he grows closer to the intriguing woman and begins to have feelings for her, the burden of this secret grows heavier.

Although Leah and J.D. have suffered different types of trauma, their mutual understanding of each other’s pain bonds them. But their relationship, dependent on absolute trust, is rooted in lies which will detonate like an IED when exposed.

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Excerpt

I was nearly asleep, the plot of the CSI show lost on me, when my doorbell rang. I literally jumped to my feet, my heart pumping so hard and fast it hurt. Who would be at my door tonight? If Bets had changed her mind and decided to come over, she’d have phoned first. Maybe my parents had forgotten something and come back for it.

I muted the TV, moved to the door, and leaned close. “Who’s there?”

“J.D. Wyatt.” He added to jog my memory, “From across the hall.”

“Yeah. Just a minute.” I hurried into my bedroom, found a cardigan, and wrapped it around me to hide my braless state, then returned to open the door.

“Hi. What’s up?” My voice sounded breathless, as if I’d sprinted and I was sweating a little.

“I brought you something.” A paper bag rattled, and he paused long enough for me to realize he’d held up whatever it was, forgetting I couldn’t see. “Ice cream. Or if you need something a little stronger after the big move, I’ve got whiskey too.”

I tried for clever. “How about whiskey floats?”

“Perfect.” He chuckled, and heat more potent than whiskey rippled through me.

“Come on in.”

I led the way into my apartment. For just a second, I doubted whether it was sensible to invite a complete stranger inside. Shouldn’t I get to know him for more than two minutes? But I shrugged off my mother’s voice whispering worry at me.

I gestured in the direction of the couch. “Sit down. I’ll get glasses.”

He stepped close and held the bag so my fingertips brushed paper.

I took the bag and went into my kitchenette where I shoved the ice cream in the freezer and opened the bottle of whiskey. I poured a couple of glasses and sipped mine to calm my nerves before returning to the living room. What did I look like? Was my hair a mess? My pj’s too scruffy? How was I going to check my appearance every day without Mom there to give me the thumbs-up? At least the aide, Gina, would be around for a month.

I calmed myself but clung to the glasses too tightly as I returned to the living room and held out one.

“Thanks.” J.D. took it from me.

From the direction of his voice, I needed to correct a few paces the other way in order to reach one of the chairs facing the couch. I navigated slowly, and when my shin bumped the chair, I found the front of it and sat—more awkward than I’d like in front of a guest, but not too bad.

My unexpected visitor clicked his glass against mine. “Cheers.”

The straight whiskey was far more potent than the microbrews I was used to. It burned my throat and baked my stomach, but a warm, relaxed sensation filled me soon after, and that was nice.

“Looks like you’re settling in,” J.D. said. I imagined what my apartment might look like, but for the first time, I was living someplace I hadn’t seen before my accident, so I couldn’t visualize it.

“My family helped put everything in order.” I searched for something else to add. “You mentioned you moved in recently too. Are you new to Chicago?”

“Yeah. I’m from Kentucky. Went into the army after high school. I just returned from a tour in Afghanistan and crashed at my brother’s place here for a while.”

Another military vet. There seemed to be a lot more of them these days.

“I’m juggling a couple of part-time jobs while I figure out what to do next,” J.D. added.

“Guess we’re both in transition. I’m all about figuring out my future too.”

“Change is hard.” His voice was slow and thoughtful. His Southern accent seemed more pronounced.

I loved the smooth, sexy drawl. Maybe it was the liquor percolating through me, sending tingly sex signals down between my legs, or maybe it was the hushed intimacy of the two of us sitting together in my apartment, but I was becoming aroused. Every time J.D. shifted or swallowed more of his drink, the quiet movements gave me a little shiver. Again a sense of familiarity tickled at the edge of my consciousness, as if I’d been here before. And I felt as if I was poised beside something big stirring and waking up.

“Change is hard,” I echoed. “Especially when it’s forced on you and you don’t know what direction to take next.”

I must sound pathetic. The alcohol loosened my tongue, making me talk too openly to a stranger.

“Sometimes it seems like I’m feeling my way blind—oh fuck, I did not just say that.” The horror in J.D.’s voice made me smile.

“It’s okay. Don’t sweat it. Honestly, it’s kind of nice to know I’m not the only one flailing around in the dark.”

He laughed, and what a sweet, rich sound that was. Little petals of attraction unfurled inside me. Or, to be more honest, it was petals of pure, primal, gut-level lust. I slowed down on sipping the whisky before it made me do things I might regret.


About the Author

I began telling stories as a child. Whenever there was a sleepover, I was the designated ghost tale teller. I still have a story printed on yellow legal paper in second grade about a ghost, a witch and a talking cat.

I enjoy reading stories about people damaged by life who find healing with a like-minded soul. When I couldn't find enough books to suit my taste, I began to write them.

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