Stalker

One text to the wrong number…mine…and everything changed. He won’t tell me his last name, and maybe that should throw up a thousand red flags, but when I’m all alone in a new city and struggling to make ends meet, his texts are the lifeline I’ve been desperate for. But I never would have answered that text if I’d known that Lincoln Daniels, superstar hockey player extraordinaire was the one sending them. He’s trying to sweep me off my feet now. He says he’s obsessed. He wants me wearing his number…permanently. The question is…is he still the wrong number, or can this hockey god prove he’s Mr. Right? \* Lincoln Daniels is a morally grey antihero who is obsessed with his girl and will do anything to keep her. This is a darker hockey romance. The Pucking Wrong Number is a hockey romance standalone from USA Today and International Bestselling Author C.R. Jane.

It was supposed to be a fun evening at the Halloween carnival, but I ended up being stalked by a masked stranger the entire night. He found me in the haunted house and gave me that first forced touch. He caught me at the bouncy house and used his mouth and knife on me, making me feel good, even though I tried to hate it. And when he chased me through the woods, calling me his prey, I didn’t know if it was the fear or the excitement and anticipation that made me run faster. His kinks were unmatched. Dark and depraved. They were just for me. He called me his little rabbit.
He told me to run. He wanted to chase me, to hunt me down. And when he caught me, he’d do whatever he wanted to me.

He’s coming for you. Death is meant to come on a chariot of broken dreams or in the dark trenches of a storm, not in love letters and gifts. He did not take my soul when I was meant to die. He did not want it all the other times that I’ve offered it to him on a silver platter. Yet, time and time again, he reminds me that I am his: His night monster, his dark love, his perfect other. Death was the only thing keeping me alive. He watches me from his corner, taunts me with sweet messages, marks my body with his touch as I sleep. He took the people that I love away from me. Still, no one believed me when I said that I saw the faceless man on the night of the accident. No one can escape death. Me? I’m chasing it.