Heart of a Killer

By Viola Tempest

My name's Mara, and Valentine's Day sickens me to the point where I'd rather rip out my own heart than have to endure the cringey faces of lovesick couples around me. Everywhere I go, they're right there, rubbing it in my face how I'll forever be alone.

 

But then I see him, his wavy blonde hair—the color of the sun! He's radiant, and so, so handsome. He looks back at me, and I wave… and wave… and wave… until I finally realize that he's waving at someone else, someone who doesn't deserve a god like him.

 

Callum, I find out is his name, and that revolting woman he sat next to on the bus is his girlfriend, Eve. But he should be with me, not her! And I'll do whatever it takes to make him mine.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Viola Tempest Publishing
• Release date: Feb 14, 2024
• ISBN: 9781959671534

Viola Tempest

Viola Tempest is a dystopian fantasy and paranormal romance author who yearns to expose the truth of those in the modern world: the good, the bad, and the ugly. Her inspiration primarily stems from life experiences, those who annoy her, ex-boyfriends, and the crazy dreams that pop into her head every once in a while.

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© Copyright 2024 Viola Tempest

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Names, characters, and places are products of the author’s imagination.

Cover Design by Andrea Fodor

CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

About the Author

Stalk her below!

CHAPTER 1

People are always staring, always watching. Their gazes can’t help but linger on me, staring with their intense gazes that make me uncomfortable. It’s worse with men, but women do it, too. People on the street, the cashier at the grocery store, the driver on the bus, everyone always seems to have their gazes directly locked onto me.

I grab my bag of groceries in one hand and use the other to hold onto the overhead strap as the bus lurches forward and down the street. My heart hammers in my chest, and I practice my breathing exercises.

Inhale. Hold. Exhale.

Inhale. Hold. Exhale.

Again and again, slower each time.

The man sitting beside me looks up with his bushy gray eyebrows, raised. This doesn’t help, and I swallow. Hard. I glance away and try to focus