Synopsis
This book is not suitable for young readers. It is intended for mature adults only (18+). It contains strong language, adult/sexual situations and potential trigger subject matter.
Garrett Armstrong, the lead guitarist of Epic Fail, womanizer and not-so-nice guy, leaves a trail of women in his wake. A recent one-night stand wreaks havoc and turns his present completely upside down. He’s faced with a reality that he never expected. Never wanted.
Samantha Weston can’t escape the black cloud that follows her. She suffered an unspeakable loss as a teenager and has been climbing uphill ever since. As soon as her life starts to become manageable, she’s slammed with another tragic event, forcing her to abandon the only thing in life that she cherishes.
A heartbreaking situation throws this unlikely pair together. They’re forced to face things that seem impossible. Can Sam get past the demons that haunt her? Can Garrett accept a fate he swore to avoid at all costs?
Can they conquer the sins that are poised to destroy them, or will they become an Epic Fail?
Epic Sins is the first book of the Epic Fail series, a spinoff of The Forever Family series.
Reading The Forever Family series is not required as these are all spin-off/standalone novels, but it may enhance your experience.
Music Inspiration
Every book of mine plays out to a soundtrack in my head. This book was written while listening to Marilyn Manson and Royal Blood on constant repeat.
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Epilogue
Coming Soon...
Note to My Readers
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Sam
Past
Villanova, Pennsylvania
Age 16
“SAMANTHA, HONEY, ARE YOU IN HERE?” Aunt Peggy’s voice is muffled through the closed door. I pull the covers over my head and hold my breath, just like I did when I was a kid. The scent of dryer sheets fills my nose, bringing me back to reality. I’m in the guest room of my aunt’s house, trying to hide from everyone, from everything. There are strangers all over her house, and I’m terrified to hear anything they have to say. The doorknob rattles and I sink deeper into the bed, hoping that I’m invisible to her. To the world.
“Sam?” Her voice is clearer, closer. The bed sinks beneath her weight and I feel her warm hand through the comforter. She rubs my leg and I whimper as I hear her voice shake. “I’m here for you. We’re going to get through this.”
I suck in all available air around me as my tears begin to soak through the sheets. “I can’t—I just can’t,” I manage to say while turning onto my side, still covered completely.
“I know how hard this is for you. How senseless and difficult it is to understand.” She pauses and allows her sobs to come freely. “It’s wrong and I’m mad. Angry, goddammit.” I tense as the curse word flies from her mouth. Aunt Peggy has never raised her voice around me, and I certainly have never heard her use profanity. “How that monster ever deserved to breathe the same air as us, as them, I will never comprehend.” She inhales deeply and her voice becomes more controlled, calm. “We’re going to get through this. They would want you to live. To be happy.”
My heart races; sweat from my temples rolls down my cheeks and mixes with my tears. I’m teeming with anger. Hate. I bolt up, tossing the covers off of me. “Be happy? How the hell are we supposed to ever be happy again? They’re gone! Gone! He took them from us.” Aunt Peggy’s eyes widen and her already pale face turns ashen. She looks confused, then scared. “He took away my parents. My home. Everything.” I’m practically screaming as I clench the comforter in my fists.
Voices from the hallway come closer, and soon Detective Michaels’ shadow fills the room. “Ms. Weston,” he addresses my aunt. “I’m so sorry to interrupt. Do you have a minute? We have a few more questions for you.” Despite his ominous presence, his eyes seem kind. “Is that alright?” I swallow the bile that has risen and feel it burn as I force it back down my throat. What else could he possibly want to know?
Aunt Peggy’s eyes find mine and her face softens. “I’ll be right outside, okay? I won’t be far.” I nod and look away, finding a smudge on the wall to hold my focus. The smudge begins to blur as tears once again fill my eyes, threatening to spill onto my cheeks. I want these people away from us. I can’t bear to hear them repeat the events that happened this morning. The events that destroyed my family.
She reluctantly stands up and follows the detective into the hallway and down the stairs. Detective Michaels’s voice is anything but quiet and discreet. “We’re trying to understand how he was able to leave the treatment facility. There are no witnesses, and we’re scouring through hours of surveillance footage.”
“I don’t understand. Wasn’t there security? What kind of place was this?” Aunt Peggy asks, anger rising once again in her tone. “And what makes you think I could possibly have any information about this?”
“He admitted himself into the rehab center. He was there of his own accord. While there was security, it was light. What we’re trying to figure out is what caused him to snap and why he chose to go to your brother’s house. Are you sure you’ve never heard your brother or sister-in-law mention his name?”
“I’d like to know the same thing, Detective. I promise you, my brother and his wife did not know this man,” she hisses.
I find myself standing in the open doorway, straining to listen to their conversation from downstairs. I don’t want to know. I don’t want to know. My feet pay no attention to the mantra I repeat in my head, and my legs shake as I follow their voices. I quietly walk down the stairs and peer into the living room, hoping I’m still invisible. Let this be a dream. I don’t want to know. I don’t want to know.
“Detective Michaels,” a new voice echoes from the kitchen. “We have the nine-one-one call ready.” Oh no.
No. No. No.
As much as I want to turn and run back up to the bedroom, I can’t.
Papers rustle and several people move quickly through the living room into the kitchen, filling the space around the large center island where a laptop computer sits. My aunt stands behind them, frozen in place, grasping one of the stools at the counter, knuckles white.
No. No. NO.
“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?”
“Help us! Help us, please! He’s in the house!” A crushing pain tears through my chest as I listen to my mother’s desperate screams.