Escaping domestic violence isn't always easy...
What people are saying about Tharp's suspense novels
"Loved FROM THE ASHES by Bonnie Tharp. It contained mystery, thrills, friendship and romance. I loved the characters and their relationships with each other. Family can be more than relatives! I also liked learning a bit about fire recovery. You need to read this book!" - Karen C.
FROM THE SHADOWS: "Another incredible book by one of my favorite authors. I read this book in two evenings. I just couldn't put it down. I can't wait to see what Bonnie writes next. If you haven't read any of Bonnie's books, you should buy them now." - Bety W.
FROM THE DARKNESS: "This is the 3rd book in the Rachel McGill saga and the story keeps twisting and evolving. Tharp brings relatable characters to life with fire, murder, mayhem and a love triangle to boot. What isn't to love about this series?" - hrly-girl
YOUR EVERY MOVE: "This suspenseful novel kept me guessing until the end. I was hooked early on to the pace and great writing, so much that I spent several nights staying up way too late to read just one more chapter. Amanda, the young protagonist, grows and matures through the story and ultimately demonstrates her strength at the climax. While the ending was bittersweet, it left this reader satisfied and hopeful. Although the other books I have read by Bonnie Tharp are not in this genre, I was thrilled with this offering." - Carol M.
Read an excerpt
She'd just put her six-month-old baby girl down for a nap to finish making dinner. She heard the pickup truck pull into the drive and prayed he'd had a good day. They were few and far between now. It was always someone else's fault—his boss or his co-worker, or a crazy driver, or the stupid neighbor or her.
When Drake was mad, he became the master of the mumble. Neither the boss nor neighbors ever heard the expletives; he said them under his breath. But when the door shut or the phone disconnected, he screamed and struck anyone within reach. He had to vent his anger.
The front door slammed against the wall, leaving another hole from the doorknob. She had plastered it already three times, sanding and painting it until there wasn’t a dent. He didn’t care; breaking things was more fun than fixing them.
He slammed the door, and she jumped. Startled from her sleep, the baby began to cry. Willow turned the burner down on dinner and went through the living room to soothe the baby and hopefully get her back to sleep. “Hi,” she said on her way past her husband.
“Hi, yourself,” he said, grabbing her arm in his vice-like grip. His hands had been gentle once, but not anymore. “Where do you think you’re going? Is dinner on the table?”
“Not yet. Let me quiet the baby, and I’ll set the table. Dinner’s almost ready,” she said. Willow stood as still as possible while her insides jumped around like water on a hot skillet. She would not show her fear.
He slapped her face with his free hand, causing her to stagger and see stars. Had he not held her, she would’ve hit the floor. He had over a hundred pounds on her and delighted in smacking her across the room. He didn’t usually touch her face, preferring to hide the bruises under clothing, but today was different. Today was worse. She could smell beer on his breath.
“Drake, please stop. You’re hurting me,” she said, trying to prevent the tears that would only make it worse. Sometimes, her tears made him even more angry. Other times, they made him laugh.
"That's the general idea, Willow," he growled, squeezing her arm.
She felt her fingers go numb. The baby’s cries were becoming frantic.
"Shut that kid up, or I will shut her up," Drake said. His narrowed, dark eyes looked like daggers.
Willow jerked her arm free and ran to the baby’s room. She lifted the frightened child into her arms, bouncing gently and shushing her. “Quiet, baby girl. Daddy’s had a bad day.” Her arm ached, and her cheek stung where he’d hit under her eye. “You be quiet now and go to sleep. It’ll be alright. Mommy will find a way to make it all right,” Willow whispered into the baby’s ear. The exhausted child closed her eyes and sucked her thumb, cuddling under her mother’s chin. Willow stroked the silky strawberry blonde strands and kissed the tiny head.
If she didn’t return to the kitchen quickly, Drake would throw a fit, and she didn’t need any more bruises. She laid baby Blythe down with her stuffed pink elephant and patted her diaper to soothe her. The baby wrapped one hand around the animal’s trunk while sucking the thumb of the other hand.
Willow quietly closed the door. Drake was lounging on the sofa with a beer and the television on full blast. “I’ll get dinner in just a minute,” she said, hurrying through the room. Not making eye contact would keep her tears at bay, but not the terror.
Drake decided they couldn’t afford a baby when he lost his accounting job last year, but Willow’s pregnancy was too far along. She had no intention of terminating it. They would find a way to get by. But instead of getting a job right away, he used what little money they had saved to buy beer and drown his sorrows.
A friend helped him get work as a mechanic, which paid almost as much as he had made before, but Drake Hastings felt it was beneath him. In weeks, he went from a thoughtful man to an angry beast. She hoped it would pass, but it got worse when the baby was born. He informed her that the baby was a burden that he didn’t want to bear.
Willow’s ribs were beginning to heal from his last beating. He never hurt her enough to put her in the hospital overnight. So far, there had been only broken ribs. Her side ached just thinking about that day, and the steel toed boot connecting with her body.
Today, Willow hoped she wouldn’t get a black eye. She could hide some bruises with makeup or clothing, but not all of them. She couldn’t keep living this horror, and what if Drake struck or shook Blythe? He could kill her. He could easily kill them both.
Willow had to find a way out, and soon.