Book & Author Details:
Perfectly Broken by Prescott Lane
Publication date: March 2014
Genres: Adult, Contemporary,
Publication date: March 2014
Genres: Adult, Contemporary,
Synopsis:
Even after years of trauma therapy, Peyton still believes she’s broken. She has little desire to date or show off her natural beauty, content simply to hang out with her best friends and run her pie shop in New Orleans. But her world turns upside-down when a handsome architect and self-confessed player shows up in her shop and thinks she’s perfect, much more than the usual hook-up. While Peyton does her best to resist his charms, believing she could never be enough for him, she can’t deny the obvious heat between them.
With Reed determined to have her, Peyton must decide whether to continue to hide behind her apron and baggy clothes or take a chance and share her scars with Reed, a man with a playboy reputation and scars of his own — a dark past he can’t possibly share with Peyton, not after learning the horrors she’s endured. But if they can find a way to trust each other, and themselves, they just might be able to heal, to save each other, to live perfectly broken together.
With Reed determined to have her, Peyton must decide whether to continue to hide behind her apron and baggy clothes or take a chance and share her scars with Reed, a man with a playboy reputation and scars of his own — a dark past he can’t possibly share with Peyton, not after learning the horrors she’s endured. But if they can find a way to trust each other, and themselves, they just might be able to heal, to save each other, to live perfectly broken together.
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AUTHOR BIO
Prescott Lane is originally from Little Rock, Arkansas, and graduated from Centenary College in 1997 with a degree in sociology. She went on to Tulane University to receive her MSW in 1998, after which she worked with developmentally delayed and disabled children. She currently resides in New Orleans with her husband and two children.
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EXCERPT 1:
Dr. Lorraine closed the chart
again. “Listen up!” she barked, startling her young patient. “I
know the game you play. Reed doesn’t, so he left not realizing this is
what you do. Someone gets close to you, or you open up a little bit, and
then you get scared, hide, look for a reason to push them away.” Peyton’s
eyes began to tear, and Dr. Lorraine handed her another tissue. “The
scared girl laying on the dirty ground helpless after losing her innocence.”
“Sometimes it’s better to push people
away, so you don’t hurt them,” Peyton said, “and they don’t hurt you.”
“Bullshit!”
Peyton shook her head. “I’m never going to be whole
again.”
“That’s bullshit, too. I won’t
have talk like that, Miss Peyton. I just won’t have it.” Dr.
Lorraine cocked her head to the side. “It’s time for a change in
direction -- a serious change of direction. This is what we are going to
do. You made a lot of progress with Reed – lots of good oral and other
stuff. But now you’ve cut him off, and I see you backsliding. I
don’t like to see it. I won’t allow it.” She stroked her chin then
cracked her knuckles in preparation for some great declaration. “I’m
prescribing a little retail therapy.”
“What?” Peyton cried.
“Yes, that’s what I’m
prescribing. You get that friend of yours, Quinn, and hit the shops –
Canal Place, Magazine Street, St. Charles Avenue, wherever,” Dr. Lorraine
ordered, her whole body bouncing. “I don’t want to see you in those sad,
baggy ass clothes anymore. Just looking at them, they mess with my head,
and they screw up my whole day. You ever think about how they make me
feel?”
“No,” Peyton said with a laugh.
“Makes me sad. I hate them.
So I want new shoes, clothes, athletic wear, undergarments! Everything
new. Got it?”
“How is this therapy?”
“Honey, you’re hiding again.
You’ve flipped your sex switch back to off, and I’m not about to let it
hibernate in some frozen tundra again for years. We’ve worked too damn
hard. You need to get in touch with your sexuality without a man helping
you do it. You have to do it. And clothes are the perfect
place to start.”
Peyton shrugged. “I don’t feel like it.”
“You don’t feel like it? Tough
shit! I didn’t feel like getting my pap smear last week, but I did.”
Peyton smiled. “It just seems like a waste of time and
money.”
“Well, if you don’t want to do it
through clothes, I can prescribe something else. Maybe a pole dancing
class?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Or daily masturbation?”
Peyton rolled her eyes. “Fine, I’ll get the clothes.”
“Good,” Dr. Lorraine said, writing
in Peyton’s chart, as if filling out a prescription to take to the
drugstore. “Among other things, I want you to get some power panties.”
“Power panties?” Has she been talking to Bret?
“Sexy underwear,” Dr. Lorraine said,
still writing. “They can make a woman feel very powerful.” She put
down her pen and looked at Peyton. “When a man wants to be taken
seriously, he usually wears a red tie. Ever notice that in presidential
debates? Lots of red ties. Red is the color of power.” Dr.
Lorraine waved her hand and snapped her fingers. “So get yourself some
red panties, girl! Take back your power! Do it for yourself!”
She handed Peyton her prescription.
“I didn’t realize my power was in my
underwear.”
EXCERPT
2:
A rush of vanilla hit him as a breeze
blew through the air. He took off his jacket and slid it around Peyton’s
shoulders, his fingers grazing her neck when he moved her hair to the
side. Her eyes locked on his, and he pulled on the jacket collar to bring
Peyton close to him. He took his time, teasing her, his warm breath just
barely brushing her lips. Her hands slid up the muscles of his back,
pulling his lips even closer to hers, hoping he’d kiss her, ready to crawl up
his body, begging, if he didn’t.
Reed gave a sexy smile, eyeing her
mouth, and took a step back. Peyton felt the muscles between her legs clench
in disappointment, but she wasn’t about to show it, straightening her
spine. “I thought you said our date would be ‘pretty damn hot’?”
Reed laughed. He hadn’t laughed
like this with a woman before. She was just so damn funny and cute,
standing before him wearing his jacket. He didn’t mind her wearing
oversized clothing if it was his. “Come here,” he said and pulled
her back to him
EXCERPT 3:
Reed woke up in a sweat, breathing
heavily, as if from a bad dream. But it hadn’t been bad at all. He’d
been dancing with Peyton in Audubon Park, feeling her soft skin, tasting her
lips, smelling the vanilla. He cursed the dream was over then looked
outside, the moon shining brightly through his bedroom window. He thought
about calling her and reached for his phone. He saw it was the middle of
the night, so any call would have to wait.
Then he decided he wasn’t going to call
her at all. He’d be seeing her tonight at the engagement party -- for the
first time in 36 days. He flipped through the photos of her on his phone,
landing on the one he loved the most, her resting her head on his chest, a
small smile on her pink lips. He’d give anything to go back to that
moment, to have her in his arms again. It seemed as if Griffin had held
her more than he ever did. He threw the covers over his head, trying to
get back to sleep and desperate to return to his dream.
But thoughts of tonight, thoughts of
Peyton, kept him awake. Over several weeks, he’d tried to let her go but
just couldn’t. Despite all the boxing, all the exercise, trying to bury
himself in work, he wasn’t strong enough. He’d fallen in love – the first
time ever – and now couldn’t recover. She’d been his soft spot, and he’d
hit concrete without her, shattering his heart. He had no idea if she was
as tortured, conflicted, unsettled as he was, or whether she’d just moved on
without a second thought. He hoped she felt like he did. But she
sure found a roommate pretty damn quick! His talk with Quinn helped
put some things in perspective, but he still didn’t trust Griffin living in
Peyton’s house, just a few doors down from her bedroom.
His mind flashed to the possibility
that she was bringing some guy tonight. Griffin? And he
wasn’t going to ask Bret if he knew whether she was. That would be
pathetic and weak. He needed to be calm and strong, though not too
strong. He couldn’t just wail on some new guy tonight, not even Griffin
-- no matter what he saw, even if her lips, God forbid, touched Griffin’s or
some other man’s.
He gripped his pillow tightly then
threw the covers off his head, the moonlight hitting him again, shining down an
unmistakable truth, one he already knew all too well. He needed
Peyton. He needed her to love him.
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