BECAUSE OF THE DARK by Danah Logan: Cover Reveal, Excerpt, Playlist, Pre-Order Links, Teasers & Giveaway

Though, I don’t have many left.

Two years ago, I lost my dream. My future.

My best friend’s sister stumbled across a secret she had no idea existed—her secret.

Friendships were betrayed. Unexpected alliances were formed.

My loyalty was tested, but I blindly stood by their side.

What I didn’t realize was that following them into the dark would cost me everything. My friends. My scholarship.

I was driven by anger and resentment toward the people I had once trusted with my life.

Until I met her: King.

At least, that’s the name I go by these days.

I didn’t plan this. I wasn’t supposed to stay. Keep moving, he ordered. Then, one fateful afternoon changed the course of my future. I ran into him: Weston Sheats—literally.

I stayed in the shadows for over a year. Eventually, my need for him to notice me made me step out of the dark. I wanted him to see me once. I swore I wouldn’t let him get close, I would not get attached. I failed.

I fell—hard.

An unexpected turn of events was the wake-up call I needed. I had to tell him, come clean. But would he accept my past? Who I am, and what I did?

Realizing there was no future, I did what I was supposed to do months ago…and I took the one thing with me that could’ve made a difference for both of us.

Because of the Dark (BOTD) is the fourth book in The Dark Series.

While BOTD features Wes’s story and is considered an INTERCONNECTED standalone, this book builds on the events in the previous three books. It is highly recommended to read the entire series to get the full experience.

Please be aware that if read as an interconnected standalone (prior to the previous books in the series), BOTD will contain SPOILERS about the plot in the other books.

This series is intended for MATURE (18+) readers. BOTD is a dark, new adult, contemporary, suspense romance. It is labeled dark due to the themes that may be considered TRIGGERS for some. Reader discretion is advised.

 

WES

My Harley Street Bob vibrates under me as I wait for the light to turn. I’m still in disbelief about how Kai finished the entire bottle of Patrón and was still standing upright when I walked through the door of our shared townhouse. The guy has a capacity for liquor I’ve never seen before and is still fully functional. But of course, I’m stuck replacing it once we run out. Allowing him behind the wheel of his Rover—functioning or not—is not something I can do with a good conscience. Thankfully, this task has become easier since June, when I turned twenty-one, and I no longer have to rely on a fake ID or bribes.

The red finally switches to green, and I’m moving again. Two more blocks until The Moose’s Head. After almost twenty-four long-ass (and most of them cold as fuck) months, I’m still dumbstruck by the names of bars, restaurants, or local shops. You’d think just because we’re in the Treasure State, surrounded by mountains and wildlife, we’d still have something like Whole Foods or Binney’s. No, we have The Farmer and The Moose’s Head—TMH for the locals.

Turning off the ignition in front of the liquor store, I take in the decked-out Jeep MOAB next to me. The car screams badass. Matte black, five-percent tint all-around black rims, light bar, chrome tube steps—that’s what I call a sweet ride.

I take a step toward the double doors when a familiar ping sounds in my wireless headphones.

“Message from Rhys McGuire.”

“Wes, bro, you can’t avoid us forever. It’s been two years. We know you got the invitation. Calla misses you. Call us,” the robotic female voice reads me the text from my former best friend.

They’re the reason my life turned into this dumpster fire. I don’t bother pulling out my phone. Seeing the words will only result in me sending it flying, and I can’t afford a new one. Instead, I walk into The Moose’s Head and veer toward the aisle with the hard stuff.

After this, I really need to replenish our stash. Thank fuck I brought the hiking backpack. That way, I can load up triple time.

Getting everything I need, I add a pack of Big League Chew to my liquid purchase—never heard of that shit until arriving in Podunk, Montana, but it’s addicting, and now I buy it whenever I come here.

I head back to my bike, bottles clinking together on my back despite the layers of paper bags I ordered the flannel-clad clerk to wrap around them. My gaze sweeps over the Jeep. After the text, I forgot all about it.

I’m standing at the light right off of TMH’s parking lot, waiting for it to turn, when I see the Jeep pull out of its spot in my side mirror.

“Radioactive” by Bullet For My Valentine blares through my headphones as I drive down 19th to our house on the south side, near the university. I approach another intersection just as it turns red, and I slow the bike down. Almost stopped, I glance in the mirror and spot the Jeep speeding toward me.

I’m about to abandon my Harley to save my ass when the driver hits the brakes and brings the car to a standstill about a foot from my rear tire, leaving skid marks on the asphalt.

Adrenaline is pulsating through my body, and my hands tighten around the handlebar. This dude is asking for it. Still riled up from the text, I wouldn’t mind planting my fist in someone’s face. I’m about to get off my bike to march toward the MOAB when the light switches and the jerk beeps at me.

I’ve never been a hothead. Rhys used to be the one who tended to lose his temper in our friendship. Not that I was a pussy; I simply didn’t have the desire to pick a fight. I was the jokester—the person no one took seriously—until everything was ripped from under me. The day I punched my best friend across the face…that was when I changed.

The Jeep drives behind me with less than the mandated safety distance, and I clench my jaw.

I switch lanes as I approach Bear Court, where I have to turn left—yup, even the streets have ridiculous names here. The dick navigating the Jeep follows suit and comes even closer. Fast.

At the last moment, the Jeep moves back into the right lane and halts next to me. The light turns green, but neither of us moves. I glower at the blacked-out driver’s side through my visor—equally tinted—when the window suddenly lowers about halfway. My heart stutters when a girl with wavy, dark-blonde hair comes into view. Wayfarers cover half of her face that’s visible, and despite not seeing her eyes, I can feel her gaze on me. Somehow, I know that she is stunningly beautiful. My body is instantly buzzing with…recognition?

I hold my breath as something in her expression changes. She is smirking. The crinkle around her eyes is noticeable, even though most of her face is hidden from me. Lifting a hand, MOAB Girl salutes and takes off with screeching tires.

Stunned, I remain at the intersection until I can no longer see her lights down the road.

I have no idea what just happened, but the thudding beat of my heart tells me that it was the most exciting thing since exiting the plane two years ago.

From a young age, she has always had “voices” in her head. She wrote short stories in high school; however, she eventually stopped as life got busier.

Talking about said “voices,” one day, a friend suggested giving it another try–even if it was just for the fun of it. Until that point, her focus was on raising her two-year-old twins, and she had never thought about writing again. But, she dug through old backup CDs (yes, people still have those) and found the original version of one of her short stories.

About forty thousand words in, she realized there is no way to tell it in just one book, and that’s when her first book series was born.

With many more plots in her head, this writing gig has become Danah’s passion, and she spends every free minute in front of her laptop, letting the voices out.