New Release with Review:The Watcher by Bella Jewel





THE WATCHER
By Bella Jewel
Published by St. Martin’s Paperbacks
**On Sale May 30, 2017**
Mass Market Paperback | $7.99
ISBN: 9781250108388
Ebook ISBN: 9781250108395

Buy Links
Amazon US:http://amzn.to/2r05Seq
BN:http://bit.ly/2q31eQA
Kobo:http://bit.ly/2pCRN8T
“72 HOURS will blow your mind on every page! The villain is truly haunting, with an evilness that leaves its mark and
threatens to become a permanent fixture. The journey is harrowing, but well worth the literary upheaval.
— Romantic Times Book Reviews
"A sexy, dramatic suspense that I didn’t want to put down!”
— Harlequin Junkie
“Sexy, irresistible, and lively, this story was addicting! I read it all in one sitting and I couldn’t get enough.”
— The Novel Tease


The Watcher
By Bella Jewel
Bella Jewel’s self-published novels hooked a whole audience of readers in and landed her on the USA Today bestseller
list. Jewel 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 novel.



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
Marlie and Kenai as they track down a terrifying serial killer. THE WATCHER is a tightly spun plot with serious heat
between the pages. This is only the start to Jewel’s new series as she will follow with her next romantic suspense book
Blind Date this August.





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From the moment I read the prologue, I just knew that this story was going to take me on one hell of a ride. A serial killer who hunts women just for the fun of it and does unspeakable things that would give you nightmares for years to come, and a woman who faced such evil, is what had me turning the pages at warped speed. 

It’s been seven years since Marlie Jacobson escaped the horror of being kidnapped and tortured. Going through something that traumatic is bound to leave scars and for Marlie, those scars are not only physical but painfully emotional. Now living a normal life as best as she can, Marlie is trying to move on and not let fear overtake her life. But that all comes to a screeching halt when she learns that her younger sister has disappeared. 

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Knowing she has to get the best Investigator to work with her on her sister’s case, Marlie enlists the help of Kenai Michelson. He’s cocky, extremely brooding, and quite frankly a real a**hole but he’s the best at finding missing people and when you’re running out of time, that’s the only thing that matters. With a haunting past of his own, Kenai agrees to help in the search that will hopefully bring her sister home. But little do they know, is that their search will now become a deadly cat and mouse game. 

Who will survive? 

I enjoyed this one more than 72 hours if I’m being honest and I loved how this author made you feel like you were a part of everything that happened to Marlie. Her fears was real, her paranoia was more than justified and I’m glad that all of her emotions that she was going through, was not glossed over. Did she make crazy at times with her stupidity? Hell yes! I was itching to smack that girl so hard in a few situations but I’m glad she pulled herself together. 

My only complaint is that the story was a bit predictable and I lost that element of surprise when it came to finding out what was going to happen next but I still enjoyed it despite that. So if you’re looking for a light sexy psychological thriller, this one is perfect for you. 


               

                               ONE

Seven 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 sing- ing 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, attempt- ing 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 mus- cles 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 hor­ rible 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 ex- ploiting 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 ear- lier, 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 trau- matized 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. Resent- ment 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 re- porters. 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 re- minders 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, liv- ing 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 scar- ring 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 prom- ised 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


                    
                     


USA Today bestselling author Bella Jewel is a fun-loving Australian who lives in sunny Queensland with her two playful
daughters. She’s been writing since she was fifteen and has authored a broad range of stories with wild characters
ranging from bikers to pirates. When she’s not writing, Bella can be found kicking about on dirt bikers or riding horses.
Bella has many more books planned for the future. She is the author of 72 Hours and The Watcher.

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