Blurb
Life has never been easy for Kiara Reeves — she’s trading dreams for tips, bussing tables to keep everything from falling apart. Then one stormy night, she's rescued by a handsome stranger in a tailored suit. Blue-eyed, dark-haired, and utterly out of her world, Jasper Lockhart comes from wealth and power.
When their worlds collide, their friendship blooms into something deeper. But the universe has other plans. Kiara finds herself in over her head — and Jasper swoops in to save her — again. Only, this time, it’s not a free rescue. It comes at a price.
Original (First 500)
I was panting by the time I ran out of the forest. Howls of unknown creatures could be heard through the eerie silence of the forest. I reached the empty road where there was no sign of life. My legs throbbed from the pain, I couldn’t even walk properly. It felt like I had huge sacks of rice attacked to my ankle.
I jogged farther down the road. It was like one of those scenes they showed in horror movies. Even the trees stopped whooshing.
I almost limped. I wouldn’t die without fighting. You see, I had committed a crime. I grew up and lived in a trailer park. To say I was from an underprivileged family would be an understatement. My mother worked a minimum wage job that paid our bills with much difficulty. I, on the other hand, went to university, all thanks to a scholarship and I also worked part time at a diner. They told me if I worked in a stripper club, with my kind of face and body, I could easily get paid thrice the amount my mom and I made but I never considered it.
Although we had a hard time getting by each day, I still had hope that I would make something out of my future by studying, but all of that was about to get thrown out of the window because my crack headed father decided to stop by. He usually dropped by every once a month, to collect his allowance from mom and me like a fucking pimp. My mom usually gave up all our savings. It pissed me off so much, but she was my mother. She opted to get a swollen face while she told me to lock myself in the kitchen because like any other mother, she didn’t want her child to get hurt.
Rage. That emotion had so much power. I had grabbed for a flower vase and swung the door open. When father saw me, he uttered the nastiest curses his drunk mind could come up with. My mind had blurred and all I could think of was hitting him. I came back to my senses when it was too late. I hadn’t meant to hurt him, I just wanted him to shut his mouth, but I’d silenced him for life. It was an accident and although he was a pain in the butt, he was still my father.
I fled from the scene and my mother assured me she would take care of it. I’d managed to survive for two days until the police tracked my location. I’d been on the run since then. A part of me wanted to surrender and put an end to this, the other part of me knew that if I was ever convicted of the murder, my life would be over within the four walls of prison which meant no university, which equated no career.
I ran faster as I heard the sirens closing in. Cars zoomed by and I waved my arm out to them for a lift. I just wanted to be out of this godforsaken place. I saw another car come forward so I walked towards the middle of the road, waving my arms for it to stop.
To my surprise, the car came to an abrupt halt. It was a slick black BMW SUV. I moved towards the driver’s side and waited until the person rolled down the window.
I just had a couple of seconds to convince this man to let me in his car.
“It’s a little late for a beautiful woman like yourself to be prowling around in the middle of nowhere. Would you like me to drop you somewhere?” The man asked in the most polite way that I had ever heard a man speak. I noticed the way his eyes lingered over me in a quick once over.
He was a very attractive man with dark hair and electrifying blue eyes. His skin was a light shade of bronze. A small scar cutting through his eyebrow, but that little imperfection didn’t stop hi from looking like a women magnet.
“Please. I would really appreciate it.” I said as I walked to the passenger side of the car. I sank into the soft leather chair, the man drove away into the dark night.
The car was filled with awkward silence, and I was starting to feel uncomfortable. I wondered if taking a ride in a total stranger’s card was a bad decision since I’d heard of some gruesome horror stories of hitch-hiking.
“What’s your name?” He decided to break the silence.
“Ki…Kiara.”
“Kiara is a beautiful name.” He complimented me with a smile.
“Thanks.”
“So, where to?”
“I don’t care. Anywhere that you are going.” I responded meekly.
He sniggered. “Well, sweetheart, I’m going home.”
“Then maybe you can drop me to a motel on your way?”
“Or, you could come home with me, stay the night and I’ll drop you off tomorrow morning. Sounds good?”
It sounded tempting since beggars can’t be choosers, not when a hot gentleman was offering me a roof for a night, but trusting a complete stranger wasn’t an option.
“I don’t think I can…”
A police officer waved his hands to us ahead. I panicked and grabbed the man’s hand. “Please don’t let the police take me. I need your help.” I begged him.
He pinned me with the calmest stare. “Have you gone against the law before, Kiara?”
“I can explain everything later, but please just help me out of this situation. I beg you. Don’t stop the car.” My eyes brimmed with tears.
He shrugged off his suit jacket and handed it to me. “Get in the back seat, there’s plenty of space below the seat. Lie down and cover yourself with my jacket.”
I did exactly as I was told as slid into the backseat floor and pulled the dark jacket over myself so I was hidden from view.
The car came to a stop, and I heard the man speak, “Is there a problem, officer?”
“Mr. Lockhart.” The officer addressed him. “We have information that a woman is on the run after she murdered her father. She is about five feet four, long black hair and brown eyes. Is it possible you may have seen her on the road?”
“I’m sure a woman with that description wouldn’t go unnoticed. Haven’t seen a soul.”
Some more exchange of words and then Lockhart said, “you have a great night too, and say hello to Marie for me.”
The car was back on its way on the road. I heard him say something but I couldn’t understand because my eyelids felt very heavy, it was difficult for me to even keep my eyes open. Being on the run for two continuous days had exhausted my body. I drifted off into a peaceful slumber.
My Edit
I burst out of the forest, panting. The air rang with howls—unearthly cries battling the rise of sirens closing in. The road was empty—for now—and it was easier to run on potholed pavement than uneven mud and twigs.
The hum of an engine behind me made me stop and turn. Not a cop car. Thank God. Or whatever. I stumbled into the middle of the road, waving my arms.
A sleek black BMW SUV braked hard in front of me. I rushed to the driver’s side, lungs burning, sirens swelling, too close.
The window rolled down. The man inside had dark hair, electrifying blue eyes, and wore an expensive suit.
He smiled. “A beautiful woman like yourself shouldn’t be wandering around in the middle of nowhere. Need a ride?” His tone was polite, but his eyes lingered too long.
He seemed oblivious to my sweat and dust, the panic in my eyes. The sirens. Men. Did he think I was just out for a jog? “Please,” I panted. I tried to look normal, like I wasn’t seconds away from collapsing.
He nodded. I jogged around to the passenger side and climbed in. The leather seat hugged me, cool and soft. I almost moaned at the luxury. The car smelled new, and the air-conditioning was heaven.
My breathing sounded way too loud in the silence. What kind of weirdo drove without music?
“What’s your name?" he asked, smiling. I noticed that he had a sexy scar cutting through his left eyebrow.
I tried to catch my breath. “Kiara.”
“Beautiful name.” he smiled again. Goddamn. This guy was so hot, I didn't understand how he was alone, instead of under a pile of writhing, naked women 24/7.
His icy blue eyes and the blast of cool air on my damp skin made me shiver. “Th-thanks,” I stuttered.
“So, where to?”
I shrugged. “Anywhere you’re going.”
“Sweetheart, I’m going home.” His gaze lingered a second too long.
“Ah.” I flushed. Did he think I was hitting on him? “Can you drop me at a motel?” I could only afford a couple of nights, but as long as it was far enough out of town, I would be safe long enough to figure out what to do next. Judging by his grin, the word ‘motel’ only encouraged him.
He grinned. “Would you like me to join you? Or, you could come home with me…”
I was irritated — and tempted. He was hot, and if his house was anything like his car, I’d be more comfortable there than in a roach-infested motel. But all I wanted was a shower and a bed, and not for the same reasons he did. He wasn't offering a friendly pillow fight in matching pajamas and a gossip sesh all about how I murdered my father.
I turned to watch the forest blur by — and saw the roadblock we were zooming toward. “Oh, shit!” Two police cruisers blocked the road ahead. I clenched the door handle, ready to bolt.
He hit the door locks. “What’s going on, Kiara?” His sharp gaze froze me to the spot.
“I—” I didn’t even know where to start — and locked in, I couldn’t even run.
He studied me, finally noticing my sweat and grime, the rips in my clothes, the scratches on my skin. The guilt on my face. Calmly, he shrugged off his suit jacket and handed it to me. “Get in the back, on the floor. Cover yourself with this.”
Shaking, and not sure why he was helping me, I climbed between the seats and slid to the floor behind his. I pulled the jacket over me. His clean, musky, expensive smell mingled with my sour sweat and forest mud.
The car slowed. His window whirred down. “Is there a problem, officer?”
“Mr. Lockhart,” the cop said. “We on the lookout for a woman on the run — five-four, long black hair, brown eyes. Murdered her father. Have you seen anyone like that?”
I cringed as he described me.
“Haven’t seen a soul,” Mr. Lockhart said smoothly.
Relief flooded me, followed by shame. I didn't deserve his help. But I was too exhausted to move, now that I'd finally stopped running.
The car rolled forward. Lockhart said something, but his words blurred into darkness as sleep dragged me under.
(Original word count: ~500 → Edited: ~565)
I burst out of the forest, panting. The air rang with howls—unearthly cries battling the rise of sirens closing in. The road was empty—for now—and it was easier to run on potholed pavement than uneven mud and twigs.
The hum of an engine behind me made me stop and turn. Not a cop car. Thank God. Or whatever. I stumbled into the middle of the road, waving my arms.
A sleek black BMW SUV braked hard in front of me. I rushed to the driver’s side, lungs burning, sirens swelling, too close.
The window rolled down. The man inside had dark hair, electrifying blue eyes, and wore an expensive suit.
He smiled. “A beautiful woman like yourself shouldn’t be wandering around in the middle of nowhere. Need a ride?” His tone was polite, but his eyes lingered too long.
He seemed oblivious to my sweat and dust, the panic in my eyes. The sirens. Men. Did he think I was just out for a jog? “Please,” I panted. I tried to look normal, like I wasn’t seconds away from collapsing.
He nodded. I jogged around to the passenger side and climbed in. The leather seat hugged me, cool and soft. I almost moaned at the luxury. The car smelled new, and the air-conditioning was heaven.
My breathing sounded way too loud in the silence. What kind of weirdo drove without music?
“What’s your name?" he asked, smiling. I noticed that he had a sexy scar cutting through his left eyebrow.
I tried to catch my breath. “Kiara.”
“Beautiful name.” he smiled again. Goddamn. This guy was so hot, I didn't understand how he was alone, instead of under a pile of writhing, naked women 24/7.
His icy blue eyes and the blast of cool air on my damp skin made me shiver. “Th-thanks,” I stuttered.
“So, where to?”
I shrugged. “Anywhere you’re going.”
“Sweetheart, I’m going home.” His gaze lingered a second too long.
“Ah.” I flushed. Did he think I was hitting on him? “Can you drop me at a motel?” I could only afford a couple of nights, but as long as it was far enough out of town, I would be safe long enough to figure out what to do next. Judging by his grin, the word ‘motel’ only encouraged him.
He grinned. “Would you like me to join you? Or, you could come home with me…”
I was irritated — and tempted. He was hot, and if his house was anything like his car, I’d be more comfortable there than in a roach-infested motel. But all I wanted was a shower and a bed, and not for the same reasons he did. He wasn't offering a friendly pillow fight in matching pajamas and a gossip sesh all about how I murdered my father.
I turned to watch the forest blur by — and saw the roadblock we were zooming toward. “Oh, shit!” Two police cruisers blocked the road ahead. I clenched the door handle, ready to bolt.
He hit the door locks. “What’s going on, Kiara?” His sharp gaze froze me to the spot.
“I—” I didn’t even know where to start — and locked in, I couldn’t even run.
He studied me, finally noticing my sweat and grime, the rips in my clothes, the scratches on my skin. The guilt on my face. Calmly, he shrugged off his suit jacket and handed it to me. “Get in the back, on the floor. Cover yourself with this.”
Shaking, and not sure why he was helping me, I climbed between the seats and slid to the floor behind his. I pulled the jacket over me. His clean, musky, expensive smell mingled with my sour sweat and forest mud.
The car slowed. His window whirred down. “Is there a problem, officer?”
“Mr. Lockhart,” the cop said. “We on the lookout for a woman on the run — five-four, long black hair, brown eyes. Murdered her father. Have you seen anyone like that?”
I cringed as he described me.
“Haven’t seen a soul,” Mr. Lockhart said smoothly.
Relief flooded me, followed by shame. I didn't deserve his help. But I was too exhausted to move, now that I'd finally stopped running.
The car rolled forward. Lockhart said something, but his words blurred into darkness as sleep dragged me under.
(Original word count: ~500 → Edited: ~565)
Critique
Good Lord, what a great premise. A murderer on the run gets rescued by a handsome, psychotic billionaire. Sounds like this guy’s about to get a run for his money. The original first 500 words are rife with danger, backstory, motive, and the first meeting with the mysterious savior/villain/love interest.
Writers often hear that you should “start with action.” Many do—for a paragraph or two—then slip back into their comfort zone: backstory and exposition. Honestly, that’s valid. If you don’t want to start with action, don’t. Start with a haunting, beautifully written prologue—something the reader can skip on the first read and savor years later on a reread.
Here, though, the author slows down an otherwise tense action scene with too much backstory. If Kiara runs down the road and jumps into this stranger’s car, that’s plenty of opportunity for reflection later—while she’s lying in the back seat with nothing to do but think. Or, she could fall asleep and save the explanations for Lockheart. It’s a natural way to weave in backstory and reveal character dynamics at the same time.Setting
The settings are great; running through the forest, with sirens and animal noises, to the plush, cold interior of the car. With the only sound being Kiara's breathing, she gets creeped out and starts to wonder if she may have jumped from the frying pan into the fire.
Characterization
Lockheart is a red flag factory. The first thing he does when he finds a dirty, panicked woman in the middle of the road is comment on her appearance. The second is to proposition her. And when he learns she’s wanted for murdering her father? He lies to the cops and keeps her in his car. Yeah, I trust this guy.
I'm not sure if Lockheart is supposed to come off as creepy. Kiara doesn't seem to pick up on most of his red flags, and probably younger readers wouldn't either. I did add some nuance to the way that she responds to his flirting. Instead of just being flattered or not reacting at all, I let her be a little bit exasperated. It matches better with the cynical tone she uses to describe her backstory.
In the original, Kiara is way too okay with being so openly propositioned when she's clearly in distress.
“Or, you could come home with me, stay the night and I’ll drop you off tomorrow morning. Sounds good?”It sounded tempting since beggars can’t be choosers, not when a hot gentleman was offering me a roof for a night, but trusting a complete stranger wasn’t an option.“I don’t think I can…”
I don't know why Kiara's response makes me giggle. It just sounds like a little kid response. Here's how I had her respond:
I was irritated — and tempted. He was hot, and if his house was anything like his car, I’d be more comfortable there than in a roach-infested motel. But all I wanted was a shower and a bed, and not for the same reasons he did. He wasn't offering a friendly pillow fight in matching pajamas and a gossip sesh all about how I murdered my father.
