About the book:
Bella Jewel’s self-published novels hooked a whole audience of readers in and landed her on the USA Today bestseller list. Jewel is debuted in print with 72 HOURS in April, hooking readers with her tense romantic suspense. Now she continues the series with THE WATCHER (St. Martin’s Press; May 30, 2017), another thrilling suspense. A new direction for Jewel, her newest looks at Marlie, a kidnapped victim who is pushed to the edge when her buried demons become real and a burning romance with the man who helps her confront those same demons.
When her sister goes missing, a woman must confront her horrific past with the help of the sexiest man she's ever met. After killing the serial killer who kidnapped her, Marlie Jacobson became famous overnight. She never wanted the fame and left to live in the shadows. But when her sister disappears, Marlie returns home and enlists the dangerously handsome, world-famous tracker Kenai Michelson to help find her missing sister.
Kenai agrees to work with Marlie, and as they grow closer, they can’t deny the powerful desire simmering between them. As their relationship heats up, the investigation takes a terrifying twist: is the serial killer who kidnapped Marlie back from the dead? And what lengths will Kenai go to protect the woman he loves?
A nail biter from start to finish, Jewel’s new venture into romantic suspense is enthralling and will have you cheering on the hero and heroine as they track down a terrifying serial killer. Adding a whole different element to romance, THE WATCHER is a tightly spun plot with heat between the pages. This is only the start to Jewel’s romantic suspense direction as she will follow with her next romantic suspense book Blind Date this August.
THE WATCHER IS LIVE!
Reviewed by Jill:
4.5 stars for - The Watcher - by Bella Jewel. This book is a complete standalone. Fans of her book - 72 hours - will certainly appreciate this one as it is another gripping romantic suspense. I was sucked in from the first chapter and quite literally couldn't put the book down until the last page. Reader discretion is advised due to darker themes.
Marlie Jacobson's life was under the microscope after she was kidnapped and tortured by a serial killer, but she survived by killing her captor. Marlie's mother exploited her nightmare by writing a book about what happened to her and she hasn't quite forgiven her since. She chooses to live out of the spotlight and far away from her family until she receives a phone call that sends her world into chaos. Marlie's sister is missing and she will do whatever she can to find her and bring her home safely.
Kenai Michelson is a world famous investigator that has a reputation for closing his cases. After much convincing Marlie hires him to find her sister, but insists on going with him to investigate any clues they uncover. Kenai is a handsome, broody and a little bit damaged man that also has a difficult past, but he is doing what he can to help Marlie find her sister.
This book kept me on the edge of my seat from start to finish! Loved the intense and sexy romance weaved throughout this mystery of whodunit. I can't wait to see what Bella Jewel comes up with next :)
Excerpt:
ONESeven Years Later
Chirp chirp.
Groaning, I throw my hand over my face. Morning already? Another day? Really. It seems I only went to bed five minutes ago, how could it possibly be time to wake up? The dramatic singing of the birds outside indicate that it is, in fact, morning, and that means I’ve made it to see the light of another day. Another lonely, dragging day of misery.
Okay, that’s slightly dramatic, but what can I say? It’s my life now.
More loud chirping makes me throw my arm from my face and slap it down on the bed be- side me. “All right, I’m up,” I grumble, attempting to sit.
My body aches and my head is pounding. It seems I wake up this way more often than not
these days. The doctor tells me it’s all in my head, that there is nothing physically wrong with me anymore. He didn’t get his entire body beaten with a bat, so what the hell would he know? I feel it every time I move. My legs mostly. An ache that seems like it’ll never leave, a soreness in my muscles that I’m constantly trying to stretch out.
I shove myself up to a sitting position, and stare out the window. I see nothing but trees. Just a vast expanse of skinny, yet lush, trees. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be, and that’s the honest truth. I bought this tiny, one-bedroom cabin just outside of Colorado Springs for a bargain three years ago. The owner gave me a great deal because he had an emergency with his family and needed to sell it urgently. It was a dream come true for me.
I left my home in Denver just before that, around the time I went from being a nobody to a famous serial killer survivor. I don’t say this lightly. Fame didn’t come as a relief; it came as my own personal hell. I was suffering serious mental instability, but my mother figured, Hey, why not put my daughter in the spotlight by writing a novel about her horrible ordeal with a deranged psychopath? I’ll never forget the hours she sat, talking to reporters, the police, and me about what happened. She managed to piece together enough information to make a bestseller.
Seemed like a solid plan.
The book took off, became massive overnight. So did I.
Then came the time I couldn’t walk down the street without being noticed by someone. If it wasn’t insane requests for autographs—Really, who does that?—it was people staring at me like I was a zoo animal. They were either too afraid to talk to me, scared no doubt that I might have a giant breakdown, or wanted to ask me a million non- sensical questions about my kidnapping. As if they were casually discussing a movie and not a human life.
I played along for a while, for the sake of my family—mostly for my widowed mother, who was smiling for the first time since my father died only a year before my kidnapping. But later, I struggled with knowing that her happiness came from exploiting my pain. After all, her daughter nearly lost her life, but then, she was making millions from my story, so what the hell, right?
I was suddenly a survivor. The girl who got away. The brave one. The one who got a second chance at life.
I didn’t want any of that.
I don’t know why I didn’t pack up and run earlier, but the truth is I didn’t even know my name most days. Intense therapy and people screaming for my story on the street made my already traumatized mind shut down. I lived most days like a zombie, moving through life purely because I had to, not because I wanted to. Instead of supporting me, my mother made my ordeal about her. Resentment lives deep in my chest daily because of that.
Because she wasn’t there for me when she needed to be. Because she didn’t help me when I was suffering. Because she didn’t comfort me when I’d wake up screaming from the nightmares.
The god-awful nightmares.
Even now, I see his face every time I close my eyes. My therapist assures me it won’t be this way forever. I think she’s wrong. I think it’ll be this way for the rest of my life. I just don’t see how talking to someone about it is going to take away the fact that he’s in my head, and I’m damned sure he’ll never leave.
But I’m surviving, now that I’m out here, on my own; I’m making it through. Some days I don’t know how, but I think the solitude helps. No reporters. No family members. No walking down the street with judgment. No fear. It’s just me. I feel safe, which is something I haven’t felt in such a long time.
I throw myself out of bed and my knees protest angrily, but I push on. I don’t need any more reminders about what he did. My knees like to keep my mind in the past. Part of the reminder is my fault, I guess. After all, I picked the worst job there is for weak knees—waitressing. In my defense, living this far out of Denver, it was really the only option for me.
My boss is understanding. Mostly.
Except for days like today, when I sleep in.
I don’t need to work. In fact, I probably won’t
need to work for the rest of my life, but I refuse to touch money that has come from a monster and the story he created for me. I gave most of it to my mom, but in my own account there’s a good few million that I don’t touch. It just keeps growing and growing as the book continues to sell. I don’t want it. I don’t think I’ll ever want it.
I half walk, half flail, to my closet and pull out my work clothes, which consist of a short black miniskirt and a tight tank top. The diner is a little run-down, so my boss insists on making it more attractive by making us look more attractive. I wear leggings under my skirt, because the scarring on my knees is far too hideous. My boss is fine with it. I think he knew he didn’t really get a choice.
Without time for a shower, I drop my nightie and pull the clothes on, before throwing my hair up into a ponytail and jerking on some shoes. There, I’m ready. I groan my way out into the tiny kitchen and head straight to my coffee machine, praying I remembered to set it for this morning.
When it roars to life, I sigh happily. Thank the heavens.
I take my coffee and pour it into my travel mug. And then I grab my keys and rush out the door. I really need to set an alarm, but that would mean committing to something, and this year I’ve promised myself I’ll just let life take me where it wishes. Yeah right, who am I kidding? I just find comfort in my bed, and most nights it takes me so long to
About the Author:
BELLA JEWEL is a USA Today bestselling author of over 18 e-books, including the popular Alphas Heart eOriginal series with St. Martin's Press. She lives in North Queensland where she's working on her next novel.
