First, I had to remember how to breathe. Then, I had to learn how to survive. Two years, three months and sixteen days had passed since I was the Rowe Stanton from before, since tragedy stole my youth and my heart went along with it.
When I left for college, I put a thousand miles between my future and my past. I’d made a choice—I was going to cross back to the other side, to livewith the living. I just didn’t know how.
And then I met Nate Preeter.
An All-American baseball player, Nate wasn’t supposed to notice a ghost-of-a-girl like me. But he did. He shouldn’t want to know my name. But he did. And when he learned my secret and saw the scars it left behind, he was supposed to run. But he didn’t.
My heart was dead, and I was never supposed to belong to anyone. But Nate Preeter had me feeling, and he made me want to be his. He showed me everything I was missing.
And then he showed me how to fall.
“You ever make wishes?” he says, out of nowhere. His voice breaks the thick silence, and it makes my heart jump. I think it would have jumped at hearing him anyhow.
“All the time,” I say. “You?”
“Nah,” he says, and I start to laugh, but I realize he isn’t. “I just made my first one in years.”
“Oh yeah? You want Barbie back?”
“No,” he smiles. “I wished you were over here instead of there.”
More seconds pass, and I let them slip into minutes, my eyes unable to leave his. He didn’t ask. He didn’t come up with some transparent scheme. He was just honest—perfectly, beautifully, terrifyingly honest. We lie there for fifteen more minutes just looking at one another, this new feeling swallowing us both up whole, until Nate finally rolls to his back and then his other side, facing away from me.
More seconds. More minutes. I watch his body rise and fall with every breath, and it’s constant and regular, but I know he’s still awake. Being Cass’s friend, being Paige’s friend, even being Ty’s friend—that’s all part of healing. But what I’m about to do right now has nothing to do with my own personal growth and overcoming my trauma. Being Nate’s friend was a level I left in the dust the second I made his acquaintance. And right now is about me, and the pounding in my chest, and the voice in my head telling me to take what I want.
“Nate?” I speak, my eyes shut tightly.
“Can I come over?” I open my eyes as soon as I speak—amazed the words left my lips.
He rolls back over to face me, lifting his blanket open, and I somehow find my balance and tiptoe to the other side of the room, lying down next to him, in the most amazingly safe place I’ve ever felt.
He’s slow with his arm, pulling the top of the blanket over my shoulder and then reaching around the front of my body to pull me in close. He slides his other arm under my head for a pillow, and my head rests heavily on his bicep. I reach up and pull the tie from my hair, dropping it to the floor. Nate’s hand reaches along my arm when I do, and then he runs his fingers up my neck and into my hair, scooping my heavy strands into a pile along my skin. He continues to run his fingers from my hairline to behind my ear, each stroke like a wave crashing over me, making my eyes feel heavy.
“Hey Nate?” I say, my voice barely a whisper.
“Mmmmm,” he says, his nose pressed against the back of my head while he pulls me in closer, continuing to wind my hair through his fingers.
“You should make more wishes,” I say.
“I just made, like, about twenty. But don’t worry. I’m patient.”
Every nerve in my body is tingling from whatever it is we’re doing. This is no longer just flirting. This is levels beyond flirting. And I am about to fall asleep without the help of Ambien for the first time in months.
Ginger Scott is a writer and journalist from Peoria, Arizona. She is the author of four young and new adult romances, with her fifth title, This Is Falling, set to release in late August 2014.
Scott has been writing and editing for newspapers, magazines and blogs for more than 15 years. She has told the stories of Olympians, politicians, actors, scientists, cowboys, criminals and towns. For more on her and her work, visit her website at http://www.littlemisswrite.com.
When she’s not writing, the odds are high that she’s somewhere near a baseball diamond, either watching her son field pop flies like Bryce Harper or cheering on her favorite baseball team, the Arizona Diamondbacks. Scott is married to her college sweetheart whom she met at ASU (fork ’em, Devils).
With his thick southern drawl and seductive charm, Luke is the country boy everyone adores. He has his future mapped out, but his plans with Olivia are suddenly derailed when she makes a decision that blindsides him, changing the path they both envisioned.
As Luke struggles to keep everything in check during a difficult time in his life, he must put his trust in the one person who broke it to begin with. The last time they saw each other, Olivia busted his heart wide open, turning him into the man he is today.
When Olivia returns to her roots, just like Luke said she would, he is shocked for more reasons than one. Nine years have passed since they’ve seen each other, and when their roads collide unexpectedly, Luke can only push his worry and misgivings away for so long.
Things are different now—they are strangers—and the rope that once bound Olivia’s heart to South Fork, Georgia is pulling her back in, forcing her to remember how it used to be all those years ago.
I have to say that there are things I LOVED about this book, things I LIKED about this book and things that left me feeling MEH. First of all I loved the storyline! This was second chance romance at its best. I loved the angst and chemistry that leapt off the pages. I loved the characters. Olivia and Luke were fantastic and had such depth. Although there were times I wanted to slap some sense into the both of them. Plus Nate was jus YUM and I would love to see something more done with him. I don’t think I am finished with him and I seriously hope that author Lucia Franco isn’t (hint hint). One of the things I liked was the writing, now I may contradict myself with this a little later, but I feel that Lucia has a strong writing foundation and this didn’t feel like a first book. Things that made me feel MEH…the writing in third person. I had a really hard time with that but that was just me. I felt that her writing was solid and painted a beautiful picture but third person just isn’t for me. Also at times I felt the timelines were a little off and left me feeling confused. But all in all this was a good book and I would definitely read her future books.
Lucia currently resides in South Florida with her brainy husband and wild kids who drive her up a wall. There’s never a dull moment in her hectic world, but Lucia wouldn’t change a thing. Luckily she has a strong man to stand by her side and combat the craziness with her. YOU’LL THINK OF ME is not her first book, but it’s the first one she’s completed and likes. The others will come at a later date.
(Can’t Let Go is the fourth novel in the Invisibles Series)
Amazon – http://amzn.to/1mUsqEP
Amazon UK – http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00N37Z9HG
Don’t miss what Publishers Weekly calls a “splendid exploration of sensual performance” in this enticing debut erotic thriller…
Maria Lantos is a post grad Yale student researching illicit 18th-century literature. She’s become exceptionally well-versed in the narratives of classic erotic fantasy. She’s also Claudine, an in-demand escort specializing in sexual role play for an elite clientele.
Anonymous. Satisfying. And discreet.
Until the tenuous separation between her worlds starts to crack.
It begins with the murder of a stranger. Where it leads is to two men who will test Maria’s limits of control and awaken her own sexual desires. As her private nights bleed into day, Maria will discover the dangerous places that extend beyond the imagination, and secrets no longer consigned to the dark.
Show World Live! bore little resemblance to the infamous Times Square district Show
World club; the original naughty venue was long gone except for a tattered storefront on Eighth Avenue. In contrast, the new Show World Live! was aimed at upscale customers and boasted glitzy lounges with hourly strip shows. Booth babies danced naked amid blue and
pink bubbles in Plexiglas boxes. A tranny bar featured top-notch talent from the Bay area, and the porn cinema was made up to look like a grand old theater with plush upholstered seats and
velvet curtains tied on either side of the screen. Claudine was booked to perform two vignettes at the coveted Saturday night show for ticket holders in the club’s famous Round Room, and after, a private performance for a select client. She’d decided on a straight old-time burlesque show for her first act, and Lillian worked wonders transforming her into a likeness of the famous burlesque queen Lili St. Cyr…….
The lights dimmed. The performing area, a bare circle of blond hardwood, was illuminated by a spotlight that left the booths in shadow. A pink divan at center stage sat beside a table
holding a fan of luxurious black ostrich feathers and an oversized perfume bottle, the old-
fashioned kind with a rubber squeeze top. The master of ceremonies, a short sprite of a man
dressed in tails and a white shirt, strode to center stage carrying a gold-topped cane.
“Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you, from the white lights of Manhattan, for one night only, the exquisite, the infamous, Claudine.”
For an instant, her stomach pitched in fear. Would her stalker be out there, watching from one of the booths? Would he be bold enough to hurt her in front of everyone, thinking to
catch her off guard with a public attack? Andrei was stationed to one side of the entrance with a full view of the booths. As long as he was here she was safe. She calmed herself with that thought and the thrill that always came before a performance began to beat through her veins.
The white-blue beam of the spot swept to the performer’s entrance. She heard the first notes of the music and stepped into the circle of dazzling light. Her platinum hair, styled in an updo,
was cinched with a wide ribbon of black chiffon to match the flowing semitransparent fabric of her floor-length dress. It glowed under the lights. She wore arm-length kid leather gloves that fit like a second skin and flashy high heels.
Parading to the music, she shimmied, pivoted, struck various cheesecake poses. She gave her audience a sinful smile, winked, and thrust out her boobs in full burlesque mode, running her hands tantalizingly over her cleavage. Turning her back to the viewers, she wiggled her ass and unhooked the skirt of her gown, tossing it aside.
The pleasure and playfulness of the dance gave her extra zing and for a moment she felt as though she could vanquish her unseen enemy by the sheer force of her sensuality. Only the long tail of chiffon and a tiny thong covered the crease of her bottom. She stepped saucily back into the spotlight, unhitched the tail and bent over so that her buttocks were on full display……..She kicked off her high heels, unfastened her stockings from her garters and rolled them down, slowly exposing toned thighs and shapely calves. She picked up the fan from the pink divan
and, holding it in front of her with one hand, undid the eyelets of the bustier at her back with the other. She tossed the bustier to the floor, and squeezing her naked breasts together, dipped
the fan down, revealing generous nipples glittering with rhinestone pasties.
The audience went crazy…….. Then, to the delight of the customers, she fanned herself as if she were too overheated to continue. She pranced around a little longer, making sure that each booth occupant got a good look at her full tits and her round tush in the tiny black thong. She returned once more to center stage, where she reclined languorously on the divan, giving herself a spray with the perfume. Every move had a comic edge but she knew the men in the audience weren’t laughing. She felt their breath halt, their eyes on her—and savored every moment of it.
The author is a bestselling, international award-winning Canadian novelist whose work has been published in twenty countries. She’s writing under the pen name Barbara Palmer, inspired by the famous 17th century English courtesan and royal mistress.
She sent an innocent man to prison. Now, eight years later, he’s returning the favor…
I’ve been obsessed with Rafe Mason since I was thirteen. The twisted part of this story is that I still want him, even now.
Now that he’s holding me captive on an island.
Rafe has his reasons for doing what he’s doing, and if I’m honest, I can’t blame him. I’m the girl who sent him to prison for a heinous crime he didn’t commit.
But now he’s free and the tables have turned…now he’s the one driven by obsession.
TORRENT is a new adult dark romance with disturbing themes and explicit content, including sexual scenes and violence that may offend some. Intended for mature audiences. Part one of the CONDEMNED series. This is not a stand-alone read. Approximately 43,000 words
I love a twist in a love story. One that makes your mouth drop and think how in the hell did the author come up with this stuff!?!? Well Torrent is definitely one of those books. The twists in this book were unreal and even though it was disturbing you couldn’t walk away from it. It was dark and ugly yet you got pulled in. And it ends in a way that makes you think WTH!?? I didn’t see it coming at all. Now the waiting game till the second book is released! The only issue I had with this book was the beginning. I felt like a lot was thrown at me as a reader with not a lot to run with. I had to reread the prologue and the first 2 chapters again in order to make sense of it. it all comes together and you don’t feel lost the whole book. I give this book 3.5 stars
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Gemma James (a pseudonym for Christina Jean Michaels) loves to explore the darker side of sex in her fiction. She’s morbidly curious about anything dark and edgy and enjoys exploring the deviant side of human nature. Her stories have been described as being “not for the faint of heart.”
She lives with her husband and their four children—three rambunctious UFC/wrestling-loving boys and one girl who steals everyone’s attention.
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