Title: All The Broken Places (The Healing Edge #1)
Author: Anise Eden
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Release Date: February 16, 2016
All of Cate’s problems are in her head. That may be her greatest strength.
Cate Duncan is a promising young therapist, dedicated to her work. But after her mother’s suicide, she is seized by a paralyzing depression. To save her job, Cate agrees to enter a program with Dr. Angeline MacGregor, run by her stern son, Ben, and housed in a repurposed church. Cate doesn’t quite understand what the program entails, but she soon learns that the skills she will develop there may not only help her learn how to cope with her own problems, but will also lead her to a much greater purpose.
The MacGregor Group is a collection of alternative healers whose unconventional approaches include crystals, aura reading and psychics. They know that their life’s work invites skepticism, and welcome the chance to prove naysayers wrong. But they need the unique abilities that Cate can bring, and as she slides ever closer to her own abyss, they will do everything in their power to protect Cate from those who wish her harm―including herself.
A powerful novel of suspense and a wildly inventive start to this paranormal romance series, ALL THE BROKEN PLACES engages readers with its striking blend of the supernatural and the psychological.
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Sid headed down the walk, looking back to flash me a grin. “See you in twenty-one days, and not a day more!” Then he was gone, leaving me alone with the cowboy.
A ball of nervousness slammed into my stomach. I let my auto-manners take over. “Um, I’m sorry, Pete. As you can see, I’m not quite ready. Care to come in and have a seat?”
Pete followed me inside, his boots clomping on the hardwood. With relief, I noticed that the night before, Sid had picked my clothes up off of the living room floor. Pete leaned gingerly against the back of the armchair.
Well, fine, I thought. If he doesn’t want to make himself comfortable, there’s nothing I can do about it. I trundled upstairs and tried to mentally calculate which outfit I could put on the fastest. Sid had draped my jeans and slinky silk blouse from the night before across the arm of the chair. I made the blouse decent by throwing a tweed blazer on over it. Not knowing what to expect from the day, I opted for comfort over style and slipped on a pair of casual loafers, then threw my hair into my go-to braid.
Thankfully, I’d showered the night before. A brief onceover with my toothbrush and I was reasonably presentable. I swallowed three of Dr. Nelson’s little white pills and hoped they would kick in quickly. Sid and I were close enough that I never felt overwhelmed by his emotions, but God only knew how many new people I’d have to deal with over the course of the day—starting with Mr. Cowboy Congeniality. Grabbing my purse, I headed back down the stairs.
“Okay, ready,” I said. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”
Pete was sitting on the couch, fingering the pack of cards that Sid had brought over. I noticed for the first time that the deck was decorated with nude pin-up girls from the 1950’s. I felt myself blushing again.
“No problem.” It appeared that Pete had a limited vocabulary. He tossed the cards back onto the coffee table. As he did, I glimpsed a piece of folded-up, marbled blue stationery peeking out from between the cushions on my couch—a practice suicide note I’d missed while cleaning up the day before. Well, it wouldn’t do to have anyone find that lying around. When Pete’s back was turned, I pulled it out of the couch and slid it into the back pocket of my jeans.
He opened the front door for me. As usually happened when I tried to leave the house, my heart fluttered in an irregular beat, and I felt like an invisible hand was holding me back. This time, though, the weight of Pete’s presence beside me and a strong desire not to humiliate myself proved to be sufficient motivation to propel me forward.
Pete’s vehicle turned out to be a beat-up, white Ford pickup with actual steer horns mounted on top of the cab. We climbed in and he pulled away from the curb. My embarrassment over the fact that a perfect stranger had met my lover, seen me in my bathrobe, and discovered pictures of nude women on a deck of cards in my living room—all within the space of ten minutes—grew as we drove. I felt compelled to break the silence. “That was Sid. He’s—”
“None of my business,” Pete cut in, and his tone made it clear that he was truly uninterested in hearing another word about it.
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