Last Hope

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A tale of resilience and second chances in a world where love and danger intertwine.

In Devon Miller's world, darkness has a name. And a face. Since her childhood, she’s been dealing with violence she can’t seem to escape from. Left for dead one night, she seeks refuge on the doorstep of Riley Burns, a famous music manager with whom she shared a fiery connection one night, months ago. Riley Burns is the best at what he does. The famous artists he represents and considers his family fulfill his professional dreams. But behind his successful persona, Riley lives a lonely existence. And the secrets he has just learned about his family threaten to destroy the fragile balance of the life he built for himself. The connection he experienced with the mysterious woman he met at a party a year ago still occupies his thoughts, and yet despite his best attempts, he has never found her after she vanished without a trace.

Bruised and on the run from a dangerous past, Devon has no one to trust, except the one man who made her the center of his world for a few hours. Soon Riley becomes her safe haven, helping her stand strong against the demons haunting her. What Devon doesn’t know is that her presence in Riley’s home is the missing puzzle piece he desperately needs to give a new sense to his life. Together, they must learn to forgive and trust that life can shine brighter after tragedy, as their friendship grows into something meaningful and beautiful.

Can Devon leave her past behind and embrace the possibility of true love and hope, or will it threaten to shatter the life she and Riley have built?

Last Hope is a standalone novel in the Carter Hills Band universe.

*Due to mature subject, this book is only suitable for people over 18 years of age.

I blew out a cleansing breath and erased my browser history.

I’d become so good over the years at hiding everything I did. It had become second nature to me. Protecting myself and the ones I loved. No matter the cost.

An email popped up on my screen.

Another job order.

I pumped my fist, ready to celebrate.

“Girl, get some champagne,” I said to myself. I wished I had people to party with. Friends who’d be proud of what I’d accomplished. All by myself.

I blinked the emotions threatening to put out the fireworks shooting inside me.

I deserved to applaud every single one of my milestones, no matter how small they were.

After all, where was life, if not in the little things that made it wonderful? No matter how hard the rest seemed. Yes, the little things, details that could look insignificant from an outsider’s point of view but deserved as much love as big accomplishments.

Champagne. Yes, I’d celebrate my own success. On my own terms.

Work had never been so steady before. Great things would happen. I could feel it. A shift in the air. Or a good fortune.

I changed into a comfy sweater and a pair of worn-out jeans, added a coat of pink lipstick and some mascara.

Humming a song, I traipsed toward the kitchen counter to fetch my purse and car keys to fulfill my bubbly mission.

A loud pound resonated on the door.

My glee died, buried ten feet deep.

My cheerful heart turned to stone in my chest.

A cold shiver ran from my head to my toes.

My pulse thrummed heavy and strong.

I sensed him before he even opened his mouth.

Something dense clogged my airways.

My spine trembled at the idea of being used as a punching bag once again.

All the oxygen left my lungs, and my head turned.

Tears brimmed in my eyes.

Why? Why couldn’t he leave me alone? The hammering on the door intensified. It fractured more pieces of my heart. Little fragments I could never retrieve.

Robbie had a key. He usually let himself in. No matter the time. Maybe he lost it. Perhaps I could pretend to not be here and he would go away. Find another way to dissipate his anger. Find another someone who wasn’t me.

Because Robbie only came here if wrath bubbled inside him, and he had an urge to unwind.

And only if he was wasted. As if being drunk was an excuse to beat me senseless. Like he couldn’t bring himself to do it when sober.

Some part of him still cared for me. At least I hoped.

But his demons were bigger, faster, stronger, and they robbed him of everything that had once been good in him.

Sober Robbie, even using hurtful words, only manhandled me. Sober Robbie didn’t beat the shit out of me. Sober Robbie wasn’t that much of a monster. Sober Robbie had restraint. Sober Robbie could stop himself before it was too late.

Drunk Robbie was unpredictable. Drunk Robbie relished hurting me. Drunk Robbie enjoyed the violence. And the domination over another human being.

Drunk Robbie stole all my innocence.