Perfect Stranger

By Roxy Matthews

A Second Chance, Love At First Fight Romance about Grief, Loss, and Overcoming

 

She wants to move on from her past. He can't. When tempers ignite, defenses are left in ashes that only acceptance can sweep up.

Learning to live after loss hasn't been easy for Pam Mason. So when her best friend sets her up with a 'New Year, New You' adventure, Pam isn't convinced it's what she needs. That is until a perfect stranger's indifference sparks a flame inside her, one that tears down her defenses and melts his chilled heart.

Together they can build happy memories, if only they can get past their volatile one.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Roxy Matthews
• Release date: Jun 9, 2024
• ISBN: 9798227473134

Roxy Matthews

R.M.Sackville is a self-published author of novellas, novelettes, and short story collections that delve into the dark and twisted, testing the boundaries of taboo with Dark Fantasy, Sci/Fi, and Thriller pieces. Her work has been featured in Suspense Magazine and LitFest Magazine.     R.M.Sackville's softer side can be found under her alternate pen name; Roxy Matthews, where she writes Romantic/Suspense and Fantasy. In 2018 she was named one of Canada's Best Writers of the Year by Polar Expressions Publishing. Her work has been featured in several anthologies under this pen name, including ‘The Way Through’ by Polar Expressions Publishing, The Charmed Writers Flash Fiction Anthology 2019, and Naughty Night's Press' Sweeter Than Chocolate: Valentine's Day Anthology.  Subscribe to her newsletter for updates on new releases and promotions at https://bluebaloo79.wixsite.com/roxymatthewsauthor/newsletter

Book preview

SALE OF THIS BOOK WITHOUT A FRONT COVER MAY BE UNAUTHORIZED. IF THIS BOOK IS COVERLESS, IT MAY HAVE BEEN REPORTED TO THE PUBLISHER AS UNSOLD OR DESTROYED AND NEITHER THE AUTHOR NOR THE PUBLISHER MAY HAVE RECEIVED PAYMENT FOR IT. 

NO PART OF THIS BOOK MAY BE ADAPTED, STORED, COPIED, REPRODUCED OR TRANSMITTED IN ANY FORM OR BY ANY MEANS, ELECTRONIC OR MECHANICAL, INCLUDING PHOTOCOPYING, RECORDING, OR BY ANY INFORMATION STORAGE AND RETRIEVAL SYSTEM, WITHOUT PERMISSION IN WRITING FROM THE PUBLISHER.

THANK YOU FOR RESPECTING THE HARD WORK OF THIS AUTHOR

COPYRIGHT © 2019 ROXY MATTHEWS

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

ISBN-13: 978-1-989671-04-7

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, or incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used factiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.

Check out other titles by Roxy Matthews

Pale Bay Treasures Series:

Drago’s Destiny

McBride’s Gem

Tanzer’s Jewel

Doucet’s Stone

Destiny’s Warrior

Holiday Resistance

Perfect Stranger

Eternal Enemies Series:

Imprinted

Refused

And

R.M.Sackville

Misery’s Companion

Tools of Terror

Hypno-Planticus

Unhinged

Red On White

Canadian Psycho

DEDICATION

I’d like to thank Gina Kincade for giving me this wonderful, eye opening opportunity. Working in a genre I don’t normally write truly helped pull me from my comfort zone, show me just what I was capable of.

I will forever be grateful for the extra gray hairs, and my newfound habit of staring off into space with a dumb look on my face as I mumble to myself.

Much love.

CHAPTER ONE

DECEMBER 31ST, 2019

T OMORROW IS THE first day of a new year.

Kate Winter tipped back her crystal wine glass, sipped the crimson liquid.

Time to make new memories, let go of the old.

Pam Mason eyed her best friend since fifth grade from one end of the chocolate brown sofa as she lifted her own.

Kate was right, as memories go. Some were fleeting, while others stayed with you day after day. There were those that brought a warmth to your cheeks, a smile to your lips and there were those that stole your breath, and shattered your heart.

That was the illogical thing about memories; good or bad, they were part of life, a part of being alive. When you stopped making them, you had, in essence, stopped living.

Pam nodded, took a sip, lowered the glass to the coffee table with unsteady fingers.

I do want to, Kate. I really do.

I know it’s hard to take the first step, Kate interrupted. It couldn’t hurt to put yourself back out into the world, to make happy memories again?

Just the thought of happier memories to replace the sound of the heavy thud from the living room, the vision of her husband’s blood pooling on the rug, the touch of his cold skin that still skittered goosebumps on her flesh had her exhale on a sigh.

She wanted to be a part of the living again. In the days, weeks, months, and years since Mark’s passing, Pam went through the motions of life with her own mortality in the back of her mind. Rarely seen in public since, her social life died when Mark had. Just the thought of emerging from her cocoon of safety had her palms dampen, sent a shake to her legs.

Kate reached a hand out, cupped Pam’s knee.

We’ll take it one step at a time. She winked, threw Pam a smile. Make it an adventure. A ‘New Year, New You’ adventure.

Relief at Kate’s words had Pam lift her wine glass, downing the liquid in one gulp. Alright, but no Tinder dates.

Kate pulled her hand from Pam’s knee, a sly grin lifted one corner of her lips. I mean Tinder’s probably not the best bet for a woman your age anyway.

Pam gasped, playfully punched the bleached-blonde’s arm, thankful for the lighter tone to their conversation.

Hey, I’m just saying, Kate laughed. Forty is not the new thirty.

And that was the first time in years, Pam laughed until her stomach hurt and ribs ached.

Once finally contained, Pam topped off her wine glass and then Kate’s.

Kate only wanted what was best for her, and holing up in her and Mark’s two-bedroom house wasn’t conducive to letting go and moving on.

I understand. Kate acknowledged, her voice no longer playful but serious. You’ve been through a lot and time is something we all need to heal.

That’s true. Pam nodded.

But you’ve been listening to that clock tick off the seconds like a death sentence for too long.

Kate nodded towards the grapevine encircled clock hanging above the wall-mounted television. The same one that tick, tick, ticked in the suffocating quiet that