July 31, 2018
Cover Designed by: Amy Queau- Q Design Cover and Premades
Goodreads: http://bit.ly/2HGkqIn
Blurb:
Thwack.
Thwack.
Thwack.
โFack!โ It was another one of the hundreds of curses that erupted from the Kemp kitchen.
With wide eyes, I watched the wood fly across the porch and onto the sand and heard another loud crash as I stalked the house next door with my phone pressed to my ear.
โSo how is my son?โ His mother asked as I saw more of Rowan Kempโs kitchen fly over the railing, off the porch, and into the sand. โIs he adjusting well?โ
โDamnit! Oh, fack your motha,โ Ianโs voice rang out in frustration. Giggling, I covered the mouthpiece of the phone as another cabinet door hit the sand. Heโd been at it for a few hours. It started with an explosive phone call that I managed to avoid mostly due to my taking cover in the shower and ended with a bang.
โHe… is. It looks like heโs remodeling the kitchen.โ
In a flash, Ian stood on the porch only in shorts, his chest heaving, a bottle of the red in his hand. He studied the wood in the sand before he glanced at my house. I ducked out of his line of sight and answered her before more banging started. โHeโs fine.โ
โOh, thatโs wonderful news. Maybe you could put him on the phone?โ
More growling ensued and then a clear, โDamn you! EISH!โ
โWell, at the moment, I think it would be impossible, heโs in the midst of demolition.โ
I cringed at the ripping sound and poked my head out of my screen door just as he hurled more wood over the railing.
โYou know heโs always been so good at things like that. He built his father a beautiful bookshelf for his study.โ
โThatโs wonderful,โ I said, as Ian unloaded an entire can of lighter fluid on the discarded wood. I raced around the bottom floor of my house and collected every fire extinguisher I had before I sat them next to my front door. Seconds later I heard the whoosh of the wood go up in flames. The rising inferno seemed to fuel him as he added more of his motherโs kitchen to it piece by piece.
Rowan went on, speaking of her pride and joy. โFrom boy scouts all the way through college, my boy excelled at everything he did. Honor student, swimming, tennis. I had to beat the women away with a stick.โ
Ian chose that moment to snap another cabinet door in half over his knee and used his empty wine bottle to bat it into the burning pile.
โYou donโt say.โ
โOh, yes, he was such a ladiesโ man before he met Tara, his ex-wife.โ
Only mildly prepared, I walked out onto my porch at the same time Ian returned to it. He had several photo books in his hand. Rowan whispered in my ear as if he could hear her. โI was never really that fond of her, she seemed a little cold compared to his warmth.โ
Ian pulled pictures from the books and began to burn them one by one. Something in my chest split as he walked around Rowan Kempโs burning kitchen cabinets, tossing away what I was sure were irreplaceable pictures.
He had lost his shit. It was, without a doubt, Ianโs doomsday.
โDonโt!โ I screamed from where I stood.
Ian ignored me as he tossed an entire book into the fire before shaking another so that the pictures fed the flames.
โKoti? What is it?โ Rowan said anxiously on the phone.
โOh nothing, I was just…โ
โIs everything okay?โ
โOh, fine,โ I said, as I paced the porch watching her son destroy his motherโs memories. He must have found the pictures in the linen closet. The Kemps had very few of their own things in the house.
โRowan, Iโm going to ask him if he needs any help.โ
โOkay,โ she said hesitantly. โBut please ask him to ring me.โ
โWill do.โ I was already running toward the small bonfire just as Ian tossed another picture into it.
โWhat are you doing!?โ
โPrivacy,โ he said through thick lips. โThatโs all I asked for.โ
โKind of hard to ignore you, Ian. Since youโve gone all Tom Hanks Castawayโme man, me make fire!โ I reached for the picture in his hand as he tossed it in. I watched it burn. It was a shot of a woman in her wedding dress who I assumed was Tara. She looked beautiful as she smiled at her groom. I was only able to admire Ian in a well-fitted tux for seconds before the fire engulfed the photo.
Jesus, what could have happened?
โIan, if you want to talk about itโฆโ
He picked up another book and took a few pictures out shoving them into his pocket before he tossed it into the pile.
โLeave.โ
โPlease stop. You donโt understand what youโre doing.โ
Blazing eyes scoured me before he looked back at the fire. โI know exactly what the fuck Iโm doing.โ
Sweat pooled on his forehead. He was covered in splintered wood. Ian Kemp had cracked, and he wasnโt coming back until he was ready.
Way too far into his headspace, he ignored me standing next to him.
I walked back to my house and watched him dismantle years of memories as he stared at the fire until it went out.
And then the house next to mine went completely quiet.

A Texas native, Kate Stewart lives in North Carolina with her husband, Nick, and her naughty beagle, Sadie. She pens messy, sexy, angst-filled contemporary romance as well as romantic comedy and erotic suspense because it’s what she loves as a reader. Kate is a lover of all things ’80s and ’90s, especially John Hughes films and rap. She dabbles a little in photography, can knit a simple stitch scarf for necessity, and on occasion, does very well at whiskey.
Contact Kate- Email-authorkatestewart@gmail.com
Website Facebook Group Facebook Author Page Newsletter signup Twitter Instagram