Thursday, February 26, 2015

Lighter by Gia Riley Release Blitz

Lighter by Gia Riley 
Publication date: February 16th 2015
Genres: New Adult, Romance

What do you do when you can't save the one you love? 

Sophie can’t survive without control. Growing up with an alcoholic father, she craves the discipline of gymnastics. Feeling lost on a brand new college campus, she lets loose for the first time in her life. But with freedom comes consequences. Is one night everything she hopes? Or will she become her own worst nightmare?

Kipton's one year away from graduation. He's never thought beyond a one night stand until meeting his sister’s new roommate. Finally setting his sights on the girl he can't resist, he's more determined than ever when she won't give in to his persuasions. He's always gotten the girl, and he's not about to give up without a fight. 

Will Sophie be able to salvage her dreams and wage a war against her own vices? Can she finally let love in? Or will history repeat itself causing her to self-destruct?

Lighter isn't your typical college romance. Darkness suffocates, dreams are dashed, and battles are lost. Love takes on a whole new meaning.



Two Years Ago

“Sophie, wait! I’m sorry. I’m just worried about you,” Megan yells from the double doors
leading from the locker room into the hallway.
She saw the bruises on my body.
I knew better than to change in front of everyone after gym class, yet I did it anyway because I was running late to meet my boyfriend. Blaine doesn’t like it when I keep him waiting. Tossing my book bag over my shoulder, I round the corner and smack right into him – and he doesn’t look happy.
“What did you say to her?” He questions with a deadly stare.
“Nothing. I didn’t say a word.” I didn’t but I still avert my eyes, choosing to stare at the tile on the floor instead of him. Without warning, he grabs my arm and pulls me into the bathroom. It’s empty.
“Please, Blaine.” I’m begging him to stop. He hears me, but he doesn’t listen.
“I told you what I would do, didn’t I?”
I swallow, my hands shaking. “Yes.”
He pins my arms against the wall, hovering over me. “And yet you still couldn’t keep your damn mouth shut.”
I try to yank my arms from his grasp, but his grip is too tight. His fingertips dig painfully into my arms, his nails breaking through the skin. “I swear I didn’t tell her anything.”
He inches closer to my face, the warmth of his breath hits my cheek. “Don’t fucking lie to me, Sophie. What happened the last time you lied to me?”
“I’m not lying. Please, Blaine. I wouldn’t.”
“What happened, Sophie?”
He’s going to make me say it – as if I’d ever need a reminder. It’s impossible to forget. “You had to teach me a lesson.”
“But you never learn. No matter how hard I try to protect you.”
“I’m sorry,” I plead. Regardless of the fact that I’m innocent, he morphs my apology into an admission of guilt.
“Damn right you are,” he spits through gritted teeth. His calmness now completely gone and replaced with anger. “Don’t you ever lie to me again, you hear me?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
He grabs my chin, roughly scraping his calloused thumb over my lips. His dilated pupils pierce straight through me sending chills down my spine. “Tell me you love me.” My words get lodged in my throat and I make the mistake of pausing a second too long. “Say it!” he warns as his fist pounds against the wall next to my head.
“I love you, Blaine.” And maybe there was a time I actually did. He wasn’t always like this, but neither was I. If I could go back in time, I’d tell him no. I’d push him away from me and keep my distance. But I’m just like my mother - unable to get away and desperate enough to stay. “Please let go of me. You’re hurting me.”
Finally he releases me, replacing his harsh words with sweet promises – his rough touches with gentle caresses. With a flip of a switch, he’s back to the Blaine I fell for, masking any signs of the evil he’s become.
“You make me so crazy, Sophie.” He runs his fingers through my long blond hair, leaving a trail of light kisses on my neck. “I only get mad because I love you so much.”
“I know.” Painfully well. My scattered bruises a daily reminder of his temper.
His hand falls from my hair as he latches onto my hip, pulling me flush against his body. “Baby, I need you. You’re everything to me.”
Everything I don’t want to be. Not anymore.
Beneath the surface, I’m scarred and broken; a much darker version of the girl I once was. There was a time I believed I was worthy of true love. But now, living in a hell littered with reminders of broken promises, I know what we have is anything but love.
It’s in this moment that I know I’m not strong enough to fight another day unless I get away from him. But I don’t know how. I need a plan – something to get me away from this town and its memories.
Closing my eyes, I say a silent prayer that my luck will change – that someone will save me from the hell my life has become.

“Sorry, what?” I look between Kipton and Cara. They both glance at me curiously, but don’t ask any questions. Even if they did, I’m not sure I’d have the guts to tell them about the darkness that haunts my past. It’s safer to push it away.

“What if I have you home early?” Kipton asks.
I shrug my shoulders, unsure with my decision at this point. The angel on my right shoulder is telling me to go to bed early and focus on my training. Of course the devil on the left has me picturing every inch of him naked. I have to stop this. My hormones have been in overdrive since he caught me in my towel. “I’ll think about it.” It’s a smart answer. This way, I leave my options open but don’t have to commit yet.
“I’m definitely in,” Cara adds with a clap of her hands and a shake of her ass. “And if I have any say in it, so are you, Sophie.”
Kipton rolls his eyes but waits until Cara turns around to hang more clothes in the closet. When she’s out of view, he mouths the word come and immediately I’m covered in goose bumps. I nod my head, accepting the invitation. My body answers before my brain has a chance to catch up. What did I agree too?
“Have a good night, ladies.” Before he closes the door completely, I let out the breath I’ve been holding. I throw myself onto my bed, realizing the earthy scent of his cologne has seeped into my bedding. If I close my eyes, it’s as if he’s still laying here with me. Inhaling deeply, I cuddle my pillow against my chest. Mid sniff, the door to our room swings open. Kipton grabs his keys off the top of the TV stand and winks at me. “Won’t get too far without these. See-ya tomorrow.”
“Bye, Kippy.” Cara practically sings from her closet. She’s on cloud nine about this party. I, on the other hand, am in serious trouble. Mortified, I roll over to face the window, hearing Kipton chuckle as the door closes.
He caught me sniffing my pillow.
About Gia

Gia is a lover of all things romance and a firm believer that everyone deserves a happily ever after. She resides in the small but mighty state of Delaware with her husband and son. Mother and wife by day, writer by night - she's a girl with a dream to write.

When she's not busy writing, she can be found roaming the isles of Kirkland's or up to her elbows in Play-doh.

"I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel." ~Maya Angelou

Author links


Wednesday, February 25, 2015

The Summer Remains by Seth King Blog Tour

Title: The Summer Remains
Author: Seth King
Release Date: Feb 14, 2015
Find on Goodreads
Twenty-four-year-old Summer Johnson knows two things. The first is that due to a quickly worsening medical condition, she faces a risky surgery in three months’ time that may very well end in her death. The second is that she would like to fall in love before then.
As spring sinks into her namesake season on the Florida coastline, Summer plays the odds and downloads a new dating app - and after one intriguing message from a beautiful surfer named Cooper Nichols, it becomes clear that the story of what may be her last few months under the sun is about to be completely revised. All she has to do now is write something worth reading.
Tender, honest, devastating and triumphant, The Summer Remains explores a very human battle being waged in a very digital age: the search for a love that will outlast this temporary borrowing of bones. In an era when many feel compelled to share and re-share anything about everything, prepare to feel a love so special, you will want to hug it close and make it yours forever.
Chapter 1
On a sunny Tuesday morning towards the end of March, a white-haired man walked into a cold room and told me I might die soon.
I fidgeted on the hospital bed as Dr. Steinberg entered, the late-spring sunlight mocking me as smiled onto the industrial tile floors. I’d known Steinberg since I was four. He’d handled almost all of my throat problems, and I trusted him. He was like a second father to me, and I knew he would always tell me the truth.
That’s why the look on his face scared the living shit out of me.
I listened for the next ten minutes as he gave me the gist of the story. It was all so surreal that my mind could only catch certain phrases before the sentence would run away from me again:
Your esophagus has ruptured again, for good this time…
Your stomach is leaking more and more…
Toxicity levels are through the roof…
Your body just isn’t getting the nutrients it needs from your feeding tube any longer…
And finally, terminal.
“Terminal?” I heard myself squeak, my throat filling up with that weird, shivery feeling you get when you know your life has just changed. Steinberg suddenly became very interested in a fraying string on the sleeve of his jacket.
“T-terminal,” he stuttered. “Summer, the thing is…I’m afraid this is a…well, nobody has ever…”
He finally cleared his throat and met my gaze, tears pooling in the corners of his cerulean eyes. “Sweetheart, I am so sorry to tell you this, but this mountain may be unclimbable for you.”
My mother let out a small, sharp sob in the corner and then clapped her hands over her mouth.
“Okay, unclimbable,” I swallowed, staring down at the floor as I tried to grasp just what that word now meant to me and my family and this weird little life I had created for myself.  “Okay. Unclimbable. Okay.”
But Steinberg wasn’t done yet.
“Hold on. I said it may be unclimbable, not that it definitely will be. I want to prepare you, and I don’t want to give you any false hope, but there may be something we can do, Summer. It’s a small chance, but still, it’s a chance. A Hail Mary, if you will.”
I reached up to rub my temples. “Okay, well, survival sounds good. Better than death, I suppose. What is this Hail Mary?”
Steinberg crossed his arms, studied me for a moment, and then took out a chart and launched into a spiel about something called the Porter-Collins Procedure, an extremely major surgery that would perhaps be saving my life in three months’ time.
“Nobody has ever survived this particular operation,” he concluded a few minutes later, skipping all the medical jargon to keep from boring you to death, pardon my pun. “Nobody. It’s been attempted three times, but none of those were ultimately successful. One person survived for three months in intensive care, but she was fifty-one, and in frail health in general. We think you’re a much more viable candidate, but then again, there is no way to be sure. We can do it in two, maybe three months, after I assemble the specialists and create a game plan – considering your health doesn’t take another nosedive before then, that is. If we’re going to try this, we need you in tip-top shape – or as close to that as we can get you, anyway.”
“Okay,” I said again, sitting a little taller. “And what are the chances that this Hail Mary will even work, and that I won’t just die a few days later, anyway?”
He peered down at me from over his glasses. “I’m afraid to say that it would be stretching things to even tell you eighty/twenty.”
I steeled myself and took a breath. “Okay, well, that’s better than a hundred to zero. Let’s go out with a bang, then, Steinberg. Let’s do this.”
He threw up a fist, triumphant, but I could see the fear in his eyes. “It’s settled, then. Hail Mary it is.”
My mom rushed over to sit beside me and kind of hang onto my shoulder as some counselor woman came in who helped families handle these types of situations – “transitions,” she called them, and just hearing that word threatened to pull me under. Dr. Steinberg watched, an apology on his face, as she said things like “preparations” and “options” and “arrangements.” I tried to be polite and pay attention, but truthfully I didn’t give a damn about what she was saying. It was go time, and things were looking grim. I already knew that. The wet, metallic panic erupting in my stomach was due to an entirely different subject.
“And finally,” the counselor, Angie, said in a hushed, clipped, polite voice that spoke of years of having impossible conversations with worried families huddled in chilly waiting rooms, “I work very closely with Last Great Hope, a wonderful organization that specializes in situations like this, and if there is anything you want before the surgery, Summer – a trip to Tahiti, a cabin in the mountains, whatever – we can do it. Or if-”
“Thanks, but no thanks,” I said, making her stop short.
“Wh – excuse me?”
“Save the Disney trips for the twelve-year-olds,” I told her. “Spend all that money on a cancer kid or something; I know the truth about those fairy tales now. Make someone else happy – I’ve got everything I need. Or almost everything.” I paused as everyone leaned in. “I do have one request, actually. First of all, all of you are forgetting something vital.”
“Oh no, did we forget your milk?” my mom asked as she reached for her purse. “I thought I put some-”
“No, Shelly, we did not forget the baby milk I pump into my stomach tube every day to keep myself alive because my throat doesn’t work, but that does have something to do with it.”
As she pouted in my general direction I realized what a complete bitch I was being, and then I realized just as quickly that I probably wouldn’t be able to stop myself anyway.
“What is it, then?” my mom asked, stung, and I took a breath and then pushed it back out.
“Frankly, I need all of you to chill the fuck out.”
My mom dropped her purse onto her lap. Dr. Steinberg looked at me like I’d just tried to jump out of the third story window. Angie held her pen in midair and stared at me, the sun turning her brownish eyes ocher.
“Excuse me, young lady?” my mother asked. “We need to what?”
“Chill the eff out,” I said, editing my language the second time around. “Sorry, but all this emotion and drama and doom and gloom crap is already making me freak out. You’re all forgetting I’ve had a broken throat and a tube in my abdomen since I was in diapers, and that I can handle this. I’ve dealt with health scares before, and I will do it again, no matter how much scarier this Scare is than all the other Scares. Like, I know you’re trying to help and stuff, and I love you, but having meltdowns in front of me is not going to help me deal with all this, so please, I beg you, everyone take a deep breath, close your eyes, and get your panties out of a bunch.”
“We’re sorry,” my mom said after an impossibly long and awkward moment. “It’s just that we need to prepare you for…for what will happen, and-”
“Prepare me to die?” I asked. “Guess what, Shelly, I’m going to die one day, be it in three months or sixty years, and wasting all my time crying over it isn’t going to help. Here’s what I want, my one last wish – or my maybe-not-last wish, or whatever the hell this is.” A tear appeared in my mom’s eye, and I softened my voice as I reached up to wipe her cheek. “Okay. Before the surgery, I want to have a normal summer by the beach,” I began as I cleared her eye and shook the water from my finger. “I want to go to the sea and go to work and read my books and go about my business like usual without everyone breathing down my neck and treating me like A Broken Person, because if I am treated like A Broken Person for one more month of my life I will break some faces, no offense. Shelly, if you so much as make one special meal – I mean, not that I can eat or anything, because I can’t – anyway, I’m burning down the house. There will literally be a pile of smoldering ashes where your kitchen used to be, I promise.” Shelly pouted again, but I trudged through. “I’m serious, no special treatment. No Christmases in July, no excessive hugging, not even a midnight run to Target for some trinkets from the dollar section. And most of all…”
I looked around and, seeing sympathy in everyone’s eyes and knowing this request would be completely futile, said – “No sympathy. Please. The sympathy is what breaks me and makes me feel broken. If this is gonna be my last chance to live and have fun and be normal, then I’m going to need to feel as normal as possible, and that means absolutely no pity, because that separates me from everyone else and makes me Different with a capital D. And if I don’t stay in a good headspace I’m gonna spend the next three months in a fetal position in my closet having an endless anxiety attack about the surgery, so please work with me here and keep the pity locked up.”
A sigh and a smile. Shelly put her hand on mine. “I would never pity you, Summer. You’re the strongest person I know, and you always have been. You know that. We all know that. That’s not what this is about.”
I tried to smile back. “Thanks, Shelly.”
“Anytime. And can you please call me Mom, like a normal twenty-four-year-old?”
“Not a chance, Shelly.”
“Okay, fine. So, then…a Jax Beach summer? Is that really all you want?”
I paused as her words hung in the overly sanitized air. It wasn’t all, and I knew it. As I sat there I thought of the one thing I didn’t have, the one thing I’d never had, the one thing that screamed at me from the silence and jumped out at me from the shadows – and now that this upcoming summer had perhaps just become Summer’s Last Stand, my desire was suddenly more urgent than ever. I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop the longing from rising to my face, and as I felt the blood burn my cheeks I caught Steinberg’s eyes again, which just embarrassed me even more.
“Well, I mean, since you’re asking, there is one thing…”
“Anything!” Shelly and Dr. Steinberg said at exactly the same time, and I stared out of the window as my eyes got all weird and watery.
“Okay, well, I know something so sentimental is going to sound crazy coming from someone so…well, you know how I am…”
“Honest?” Steinberg offered, trying to be polite.
“Opinionated?” Shelly said.
“Brash?” Angie asked, even though she’d just met me ten minutes ago and it was literally beyond embarrassing that she already held that opinion of me.
“Headstrong and stubborn and annoying,” I finally said, shoving it out of the way, and they all nodded. “Anyway, here goes. Since you’re asking, the thing is…well, I’d like to fall in love.”
I looked down at the ground again as everyone in the room broke my most important rule already: I could feel their pity descending on me, smothering me just like it had my entire life, snuffing out any chance I had at being treated like a normal, living, breathing human, who deserved to love and be loved just like anyone else, as they say in the Hallmark cards.
“Oh, honey…” Steinberg sighed.
“It just wouldn’t be fair to someone…” my mother chimed in, just as Angie the counselor lady threw in her two cents, too.
“Sweetie, you have to understand, your situation is very serious. People get irrational during times like these, and if you get involved with someone and the worst happened, well-”
I crossed my fingers behind my back and shook my head. I’d known they’d react like this – why had I even tried in the first place? Some things, I knew, were just better left unshared.
“Yeah,” I said. “Okay, yeah, you guys are right. I’ll try to…put that off, I guess. For now. God knows I have tons of time to think about it – it’s not like I’m dying or anything.”
Everyone forced quick, fake laughs and then got back to business. Unbeknownst to them, however, my mind was quickly leaving the room, flying past the barren oak branches outside the window and soaring above the clouds to someplace only I knew. My desires could not be contained by the circumstances in this room, or by sickness, or even by reality in general, really. I wanted love more than anything – this was true, as much as it humiliated me to admit it. I’d wanted love ever since I was a cookie-cutter little girl being brainwashed by cookie-cutter Disney movies about cookie-cutter princes and princesses falling into cookie-cutter love and then prancing off to their cookie-cutter castles to live out their cookie-cutter lives. And strangely enough, this desire had only deepened after the fairy tale fantasies faded away and melted into a more grown up, real-world entity known as relationship FOMO, when my condition had rendered me an observer from the social media sidelines as everyone my age paired up and got engaged and married and pregnant and then shouted about it from the Facebook treetops as loud as their keyboards would let them while I sat there single as a nun with the flu. But I didn’t want that cookie cutter love from the Disney movies and my social media feeds. I didn’t want some run of the mill summer romance that would fizzle out as soon as the sunrays slanted in the fall and the Facebook Official status went to shit.
Because I, Summer Johnson, Purveyor of Pragmatism, Lover of Logic, Ultimate Believer in the Rational, and Person Who Was Maybe Going To Die Soon, wanted to drown in someone.

Seth King is a twenty-five-year-old author and artist.

Dangerous Temptations by Brook Cumberland - Release


One night was all it took…
One night to ruin everything I thought I knew.
From the outside, I had the perfect lifestyle.
Wealthy fiancé, blossoming career, amazing friends.
I wasn’t looking to get married yet, but when William—“Manhattan’s royalty”—charmed his way into my life, I couldn’t deny the security and comfort that overcame me.
To society, I was the girl only after his money. I was the party-goer who managed to seduce a man twice my age to have the lifestyle some could only dream of. I was every magazine’s clichĂ© of what a gold-digging whore was.
I wanted to prove them wrong—that our love was real and that I wasn’t that girl.
But then everything changed.
One wrong decision. One unfaithful night. One haunting reality.
Perhaps they were right.
The media didn’t see it coming…and neither did I.
**This is a stand alone romance suspense novel with no cliffhanger. HEA depends on who you ask.**
Recommended for readers 18 and up due to strong language and explicit sexual content.

“How long do you plan to act like this?” His question shocked me, my body jerking in response.
“Act like what?” I turned around, narrowing my brows in disapproval.
“That you despise me,” he said bluntly.
I thought about his question for a moment, realizing this was probably just as hard on him as it was on me, but he was the one acting like an arrogant jerk.
“I wouldn’t have to if you’d stop trying to cross boundaries with me when you know it’s inappropriate.”
“Inappropriate?” He laughed, pissing me off more. “Good god, it’s like you’re a Stepford Wife.”
“You know what I mean.”
“You mean…that I’m tempting you? That I’m giving you something more to desire?” He took a step toward me, caging me in with his arms around me. I stepped back as far as I could before hitting the back of the sink. “If you didn’t feel it too, there’d be no issue. But I know for a fact you do.”
I swallowed, hating that he was right, but it didn’t mean anything. It couldn’t.
“Just because your technique—“ I waved a finger between us, “—normally works for other girls, doesn’t mean it’s going to work on me.”
He furrowed his brows and asked, “And what technique would that be?”
“Getting what you want, who you want.” I pushed against his chest, needing the space. “You’re not used to girls saying ‘no’ to you. You use your name, your father’s popularity to gain respect, and truthfully, it’s a little pathetic,” I snapped, the courage I’d felt quickly left as his eyes darkened, getting more intense.
He leaned into me and shot back, “Do you see any other girls here?”
“Give it time.” I held my ground as best I could. His face that close to mine was making it almost impossible to think straight.
He laughed in my face, a deep, throaty laugh that came out as if he was amused by my antics. “If it’s on the Internet, it must be true, right?”
I had looked him up late last night when sleep wouldn’t come to me. Although I tried, wanting—needing—to forget that whole day, it just wasn’t happening. Most of the stories were from his teenage and early college years, there hadn’t been anything recent, but I used it against him anyway.
“Isn’t that the way the game works?”
“I don’t know what game you’re playing, sweetheart, but I know what you felt when you kissed me. You feel what I feel and there’s no denying that.”
His eyes looked into mine, confident and tense as I stared back. “It doesn’t matter, Alex. It’s never going to lead to anything, so you should just stop trying.”
“And what if I don’t?”
“You’re just wasting your time.”
“I’m willing to bet I’m not, but if you want to be delusional, fine with me.” He pressed his chest against me and brought his face closer to mine. “I wasn’t sorry for what we did, Mac. I’ll never be sorry for that. I’m only sorry you felt guilty about it afterward.”
“If you cared about me at all like you claim, you’d back off, Alex.”
He huffed in an amused laughter. “That’s one thing you should learn about me, Mac. I don’t back off on something I want.” He gripped my chin with his thumb. “I was trying to get you out of my mind, and I failed miserably. The only thing I want from you isyou. I don’t need to parade you around like a little trophy wife or show you off to my friends. Once you see that, you’ll change your mind.” He dropped his hand and stepped back, walking away with the last word. It didn’t matter anyway, I had nothing left to say.

Read the first chapter here

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Brooke Cumberland is a USA Today Bestselling author who's a stay-at-home mom and writes full-time. She lives in the frozen tundra of Packer Nation with her husband, 4 year old wild child, and two teenage stepsons. When she's not writing, you can find her reading love stories, listening to music that inspires her, and laughing with her family. Brooke is addicted to Starbucks coffee, leggings, and anything sweet. She found her passion for telling stories during winter break one year in grad school--and she hasn't stopped since.

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Ricochet by Jessica Wilde - Release

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Title: Ricochet Author: Jessica Wilde Genre: Romantic Suspense Release Date: February 23, 2015 Release Day Blitz: February 25, 2015

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It's the last thing I remembered.
I was afraid.
Afraid to fight, afraid to run… afraid to breathe.
Then, everything had gone dark. As if life was finally hearing my pleas, my cries to end the torment. To end the fear.
But even in the dark, I still felt it.
I always felt it.
My life had been a ricochet of one event leading to the next. Bouncing back and forth from good to bad. Happiness to despair. Hope to fear.
My name is Arianna West. I'm stronger now. Steady. Alive.
I can find a way to survive on my own. I can see what is coming for me. I can channel my fear into strength.
Except… I didn't see Jack.
And Jack changed everything.
For readers 18+ due to language, violence, and sexual content.
Ricochet Teaser 4
I laughed. A laugh so deep that the muscles in my abdomen flexed. How long had it been since I had felt that? Too long. I hadn't really laughed in a long time and something so simple had brought it out of me.
Jack had brought it out of me.
"God, I missed that laugh," Jack whispered.
I went silent, so suddenly that my breath couldn't keep up and it came rushing out with the emotion that had been built up inside of me.
Tears immediately sprang to my eyes and the heaviness in my chest was back.
My life had changed so much. Everything had changed.
"Ari, please don't cry."
He had turned his body towards me and was holding my face in his hands. The tears running down my cheeks didn't make it far. He wiped each one away.
He saw the moment my control slipped and I just couldn't seem to stop the tears. That's when he pulled me into his arms. Arms that had always made everything better. Strong fingers combed through my hair, down my temple, across my jaw, then retraced their way back up and into my hair once more. He was giving me whatever comfort he could while I sobbed on his chest.
I should have been embarrassed about the quick change in my mood. I should have felt ridiculous. Childish. With Jack, though, I never had to worry about being anyone but myself no matter who I was now.
"So much is gone," I said in a broken and weak voice. "So much is missing from me."
"No, Ari. You're still in there, babe, just a little harder to reach."
I shook my head. In denial? I wasn't sure. He was only half right.
"I've bent too far for too long. I'm broken," I whispered. So much regret came pouring out of me and I couldn't control it.
I had been slowly breaking for three years and my determination to move on was waning much faster than I could ever keep up with.
Jack buried his fingers in my hair and I felt the press of his lips on the top of my head. When he spoke, the tone of his voice sounded defeated. Resigned. "The world breaks everyone, and afterward, many are strong at the broken places."
I sniffed as the rumble in his chest vibrated against my cheek. His shirt was wet from my tears and I knew I looked like a mess, but I looked up at him anyway.
"What is that from?" I asked.
"What? You don't think I could come up with something so profound by myself?" he teased.
"I know damn well you could, Jack."
He looked at me for a moment, his eyes searching mine and his fingers sweeping a lock of hair back behind my ear. If I didn't know any better, I would think he was reading my mind, seeing all my secrets, all my broken places. "It's Ernest Hemingway. He said that."
"Do you believe it?"
"I do. So much so that I tattooed it on my shoulder the first chance I got," he mumbled with a short chuckle.
I glanced down at his shoulder. It was too dark to see much of anything, but the moonlight streaming in the window showed enough when he lifted his shirt sleeve. The words were there, permanently inked into his skin just above a complex shape that I couldn't quite make out.

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4/5 Heart-pounding stars!
Oh myyy! This book had my heart fluttering, crying, and soaring to the skies.
Arianna. One word to descibe her: A Survivor. Of domestic abuse.
Yes this was a bit of an emotional read, but seeing Ari build up her strength and slowly working her way to face her demon was worth the read.
While she escapes from her abusive ex, she starts becoming close to the people who once used to mean the world to her, her best friend and her long lost lover.
Rekindled romances are like second-chance romances, and I enjoy books like this. And seeing Jack care and train Ari made my heart warm up. He was ready to die for her. If any of you manage to get your hands on this book, you will truly enjoy it.  
Ricochet Teaser 1
About The Author
I live in Morgan Utah with my husband, daughter, and dog, Kolo. I write as often as my active daughter will let me and my husband has the patience of a saint. I find inspiration from dreams, people I meet, and life experiences. When I write, I usually end up drinking one too many cans of Peace Tea, eating three too many Fruit by the Foot fruit snacks, and accidently kicking my pup and best buddy, Kolo, too many times since he loves to sleep under my desk at my feet. I started writing as a teen, but my fear of the unknown won out every time and I threw everything out. After becoming a mother and deciding to stay at home to raise my beautiful little girl, I tried again when I couldn't stop thinking of ideas. I loved every minute, every hour of sleep lost, and every character that came to life in my mind. It's strange, but my favorite moments are when I have writer's block because I can turn to my husband and find inspiration through him by just doing what we do best together. Talking, laughing, and just being in love. He doesn't like to read, but he never stops encouraging me to keep going. Writing has become an important part of my life and every book has a special place in my heart.
Jessica Wilde
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