Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 91216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
It’s the night before Christmas and I’m alone in the house…
Popular jewelry influencer Chloe Hallman is steeling herself to spend another holiday on her own. Instead, she finds herself drawn to two different guys… a smoldering hot fan of her secret, seductive online persona, and a sexy fireman named Jack who looks out for her in their NYC neighborhood.
She has no idea that I know her better than she knows herself. Her deepest secrets, her darkest desires—she's careful, but I’ve been watching, never leaving footprints in the snow outside her home.
Jack was the first responder to the accident that stole a beautiful young woman's family two Christmases ago, and he's been quietly guarding her ever since. When Jack uncovers Chloe’s secret account, his obsession only grows. Both he and Chloe are drawn to the darkness that mirrors their own.
She’s my Christmas wish come true. And I'm hers. She just doesn’t know it yet.
Will Chloe’s Christmas be a tale of fiery passion...or a dangerous game with a man whose love knows no bounds?
He Sees You When You're Sleeping is a dark romance with a morally grey male lead. Some themes may be disturbing to readers. Please check the content warnings at the beginning of the book.
Tropes: Stalker romance, Acquainted in real life, Christmas romance, Fireman romance, Morally grey MMC, He falls first, Kink friendly
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Chapter One
Chloe
Fa la la fucking la.
I can’t lay in bed all morning avoiding the day, and yet here I am.
The Christmas lights strung on the large snow-covered hedge outside my window do little to get me in the spirit of what needs to happen for the day. The reflection of the twinkling lights dance on the frosted windowpane, creating a myriad of colors. But it all feels hollow.
I draw in a deep breath, tasting pine and cinnamon from the scented candle I’ve kept lit since first waking in a failed attempt to get me in the mood for work.
Chloe Hallman, social media influencer, can’t exactly be a Scrooge during the holidays. Especially when you’re the brand ambassador for Moth to the Flame Designs, a jewelry company that makes a huge portion of their annual profits this time of year.
But right now, I’m a stark contrast to the polished, always cheerful Chloe Hallman who adorns Instagram feeds and social media timelines. The festive cheer, the joyful banter, and the lively pictures of me draping costume jewelry on with cherry cheeks are all part of the job. Chloe Hallman is a brand, an icon of merriment in the wintry days of December. But that’s not me, not today. Today, I’m just Chloe.
With a sigh, I throw back the cozy quilt and swing my legs over the edge of the bed. My feet touch the icy wooden floor as I rummage through my closet for a suitable outfit—something green and red perhaps, with a touch of gold. A laugh that should feel natural surfaces as I pull out a rather ostentatious Christmas jumper.
Remind me again why people love these things?
My phone rings, and I know there are only a few people in my life that would call me rather than text. Glancing at the screen, I see it’s Aunt Sue. Of course it’s her.
I hesitate for a moment before answering, the gaudy jumper still dangling from my other hand.
“Hi, Aunt Sue,” I say, trying to inject some cheer into my voice.
“Oh, sweetie! I’m so glad I caught you. I know you couldn’t make it to Thanksgiving this year, but we’d really love to have you for Christmas. I know flights are atrociously expensive right now, but I saw Southwest was running a deal to Phoenix and they really have increased in their customer service, and . . . yeah, anyway, I thought I’d give you a call.” Her voice is as warm and syrupy as ever.
I grimace, glad she can’t see my face. “I really appreciate the invite but—”
“I know you said you’re allergic to cats, but they have great medicine for that now and—”
“Aunt Sue,” I interrupt, pinching the bridge of my nose. “It’s not just about the cats.”
There’s a pause on the other end of the line, and I can almost hear the gears turning in her head. “Oh,” she says, her voice dropping an octave.
“It’s a really busy time of year for me with work.”
There’s an awkward silence. “I know your mother wouldn’t want you to be alone during the holidays,” she begins. “And—”
“Aunt Sue, please,” I cut her off, my voice sharper than I intend. I take a deep breath, softening my tone. “I know you mean well, but I’m not alone. I have friends here, and plans.”
It’s not entirely a lie. I have friends, even if our plans are more of the “maybe we’ll grab a drink” variety than anything concrete.
“Well, if you change your mind . . .” she trails off, hope still lingering in her voice.
“I’ll let you know,” I say, knowing I won’t.
We spend the next ten minutes catching up and having small talk, but I can still sense her disappointment.
As I hang up the phone, a wave of guilt washes over me. I’m not allergic to cats, for one. And I could easily make the trip to Phoenix. My excuses are weak. I know Aunt Sue means well, but the thought of spending Christmas with my extended family, surrounded by reminders of my parents and how much we all loved the holiday season, is more than I can bear.
I toss the gaudy jumper onto the bed and sink down next to it, running my fingers over the scratchy fabric. Mom would have loved this monstrosity. She always had a flair for the dramatic when it came to holiday attire.
A sudden shout from outside interrupts my thoughts. I quickly make my way to the window, pressing my face against the frosted glass to get a better look. Outside, my eighty-two-year-old neighbor is lying in a heap of snow with a shovel next to him.
I watch as Mr. Haven groans, attempting to pull himself off his snow-lined walkway. His elderly body disagrees with his effort, and I wince in sympathy.
“Stay there, Mr. Haven!” I shout. “I’m coming out to help.”