23 de octubre de 2017

REVIEW - SHOW ME THE WAY by A.L. Jackson


I'm a little behind schedule with the blog, I know and I'm sorry, but lately time seems to be faster than The Flash. Hopefully in the next few days I'll be back on track. I wrote this review a few weeks ago, but I don't know why I hadn't posted yet. 

Let's fix that mistake ASAP...




The first sexy, captivating, stand-alone novel in the brand-new FIGHT FOR ME series from NYT & USA Today Bestselling Author A.L. Jackson.


Rex Gunner. As bitter as he is beautiful. 


The owner of the largest construction company in Gingham Lakes has been burned one too many times. His wife leaving him to raise their daughter was the last blow this single dad could take. The only woman he’ll let into his heart is his little girl. 


Rynna Dayne. As vulnerable as she is tempting. 


She ran from Gingham Lakes when she was seventeen. She swore to herself she would never return. Then her grandmother passed away and left her the deed to the diner that she once loved. 


When Rex meets his new neighbor, he knows he’s in trouble. 


She’s gorgeous and sweet and everything he can’t trust.


Until she becomes the one thing he can’t resist. 


One kiss sends them tumbling toward ecstasy. 


But in a town this size, pasts are bound to collide. Caught in a web of lies, betrayal, and disloyalty, Rex must make a choice. 


Will he hide behind his walls or will he take the chance . . .



My Review:

I have a confession to make. This is my first time reading A.L. Jackson books. I have a couple of titles of her previous series, but I was waiting to have the whole thing to start reading. Then this brand new series was anounced and I said I had to read it. It was my chance.

I'm impresed by the incredibly emotional ride this author made me take. The whole story is filled with such a feelings that's impossible not to laugh with the characters or cry with them. This book hit me direct to my heart and I loved it.

Rex Gunner is a single father to his wonderful daughter, Frankie. His wife left him when Frankie was barely a baby, and after having his heart broken he shut himself off emotionally. Every single moment of his life is dedicated to being a good dad to Frankie, to protect her.


Rynna has just moved back to her hometown after the death of her Grandmother. She has mixed feelings about returning home. Rynna left 11 years ago after being bullied and humiliated in her last year of high school, and that's something that branded her for life. Her only regret was not having the chance to say goodbye to her grandma.

Rynna and Rex are now neighbours, but at the beggining their relationship isn't easy. He's moody and brooding, also he's not open to being a friendly neighbour but it's his daughter that brings Rynna into their home and life. Rex is hurting, and he's not interested in getting to know Rynna, even if he's attracted to her... 

Especially because he's attracted to her.

Rex has spent years denying himself happiness because he thinks he doesn’t deserve it. Having any feelings towards Rynna will only bring unhappiness into both of their lives so it is not even worth it. That's what he thinks. What he doesn't know it's they have everything in common, but nothing at the same time.

Rynna can sense the pain that Rex holds inside himself, because it's the same pain he's being carrying. But she believes in taking chances, and she wants to take a chance on him. Soon, the walls that Rex so carefully constructed around his heart are slowly falling down as he falls for Rynna


This is a emotional story as Rynna comes to terms with her past, face her fears and mourn over the lost of her grandma. She is not longer the little girl that was bullied in high school, she's a different person now, and she will find new strength in love. But Rynna isn't the only one facing the past...

This is a story of love, sacrifice and redemption. A story of second chances, of forgiveness and trust. I think I went through almost much every emotion existent, and loved every moment of the ride.


18 de octubre de 2017

#CoverReveal THE OTHER BROTHER by Meghan Quinn

I've been following this standalone series by Meghan Quinn, and dude, this is the prettiest cover so far! Take a look!


THE OTHER BROTHER
NA Romantic Comedy
Model: David Harris


I got the call. The dreaded call every child fears. My dad wasn’t well, and the man who had always been my everything needed me.

There was only one thing to do; pack up and head back to my hometown. I had finally made my dream life in the city with the great job and loving boyfriend. But was there really a choice not to go?

I found a wonderful job, a quaint house to rent, my boyfriend was working on joining me in Binghamton, and my favorite pizza place was only miles away. Life was good.

Until I met my neighbor.

It's been three years since I'd seen Aaron Walters, and my God is he all kinds of sexy gorgeous. Figures. He was supposed to be my forever, the man I grew old with, but he had different plans. How can a man who ripped my heart apart still trip me up? How can he make me still want him now more than ever?

I’m tempted, I’m drawn toward him, I’m completely and utterly unaware that I’m dating his biological brother.

Now two men own my heart. The question is, which brother will I choose?


Isn't it pretty? I'm in love, I swear!!
but I have more goodies, keep scrolling down.





About the Author:


Born in New York and raised in Southern California, Meghan has grown into a sassy, peanut butter eating, blonde haired swearing, animal hoarding lady. She is known to bust out and dance if "It's Raining Men" starts beating through the air and heaven forbid you get a margarita in her, protect your legs because they may be humped.

Once she started commuting for an hour and twenty minutes every day to work for three years, she began to have conversations play in her head, real life, deep male voices and dainty lady coos kind of conversations. Perturbed and confused, she decided to either see a therapist about the hot and steamy voices running through her head or start writing them down. She decided to go with the cheaper option and started writing... enter her first novel, Caught Looking.

Now you can find the spicy, most definitely on the border of lunacy, kind of crazy lady residing in Colorado with the love of her life and her five, furry four legged children, hiking a trail or hiding behind shelves at grocery stores, wondering what kind of lube the nervous stranger will bring home to his wife. Oh and she loves a good boob squeeze!

Like me on Facebook | Find me on Goodreads | Visit my website

#NewRelease WITHOUT TRUTH by Victoria L. James and L.J. Stock


Without Truth
Babylon MC Series Book 3
by Victoria L. James and L.J. Stock
Genre: MC Romance 

#WithoutTruthRelease


Synopsis

Determined to be a better man, Drew Tucker is trying to turn over a new leaf as President of The Hounds of Babylon. With the love of his life, Ayda Hanagan, by his side, and the enemy he once feared at every turn now gone, he can finally see a glimmer of hope on the horizon of their future together. 
With Ayda as adamant as ever to never witness her man suffering again, she has a different outlook on their lives. She wants protection. She wants assurances. She never wants to have to feel scared of losing the man she loves ever again. And she’s willing to do anything to make sure she’s the one who can save him. 
But secrets don’t stay secrets forever in Babylon, and when things done in the shadows begin to step out into the light, Drew and Ayda are faced with a hundred different challenges neither one of them see coming. When everything around you begins to turn your hopes into nightmares, who the hell can you turn to or trust?
Lies are no longer an option.
Not for Drew.
Not for Ayda.
Not for any of The Hounds of Babylon MC.
No matter what happens when the truth is finally set free...

Buy the Book



Meet The Authors

L.J. Stock on Victoria L. James ~ What can I say about Victoria L. James? Loads actually, she’s an amazingly talented author and I had the absolute distinct pleasure of writing with her. I also call her a friend. When we first met, we bonded instantly over our love of music, Victoria tends to be as eclectic as I am with her tastes. She finds stories in lyrics and feels the moods in the melodies. 
When we first started writing together, I’ll admit I was intimidated. Here is this woman with a huge passion for putting words onto paper and painting pictures so clearly that you are completely immersed in them. How was I going to keep up with that? I’m not sure I ever did, but over time we’ve built up a repertoire. We bounce off one another and bring our characters to the forefront and hope that the interactions are as real as they appear for us. 
On a more personal note, Victoria is bright, smart, kind, intelligent, funny, caring and witty. She can see so much in the world around her and always has time for anyone. Victoria lives in sunny ole Yorkshire with her family and her cats - had to mention them - and can normally be found in the playground of her imagination, listening to the Foo Fighters.

~~~~~~~

Victoria L. James on L.J. Stock ~ There aren’t many people you bump into in life that you want to both work and spend your free time with. From meeting L.J. through the wonder that is the internet, we soon came to realise that we had a hell of a lot in common. Music was where our friendship truly began, but our writing partnership flourished not too far behind. I always felt like my writing was missing something, and it was only when I read L.J.’s work that I realised what exactly that was. It was missing her influence! 
After spending over a year working together, day in, day out, not a moment goes by where I don’t thank the Twitter Gods for bringing this amazingly strong and talented woman into my life. She’s an inspiration, a positive force in every situation and one hell of a talented writer. To say I’m honoured that she wanted to create a new world with me is a gross understatement. I’m blown away. One day, I hope I get lucky enough to visit her in Texas, where she lives with her family and her zoo of animals, so we can write by her pool and take part in our other dream… The great Taylor Kitsch Road (stalking) Trip. Who needs a yacht in the Caribbean when we have that to look forward to, right?

Social Links

Facebook:

Twitter:
         LJ Stock          

Goodreads Author:

Follow for all news & updates on Without Consequence and future books in the series: https://www.facebook.com/Babylonseries?fref=ts


OTHER BOOKS IN THE SERIES

Without Consequence: myBook.to/WithoutConsequence



Hosted by:

NOVEDAD: LA CHICA QUE MIRABA AL CIELO de Jonaira Campagnuolo


Cambiar la vida de otros cambiará también tu vida. 

La separación de sus padres forzó a Mary a vivir su adolescencia entre dos ciudades, para pasar una temporada con uno y luego con otro. A sus 18 años, y a punto de iniciar la universidad, comienzan a exigirle que asuma responsabilidades, pero se siente perdida. En cada mudanza tuvo que dejar atrás sueños y amores quedando con las manos vacías. Para evitar que su historia se repita se enfrenta a su padre y huye de casa con el hijo de su hermanastra, un chico de tan solo diez meses de edad, cuyo único problema es tener a una madre drogadicta y a un padre camello que lo obligará a saltar entre las casas de sus familiares en busca de alguien que pueda hacerse cargo de él.
Llega a Jamestown, una isla paradisiaca donde su abuela pasó sus últimos años, y donde quedaron ocultos secretos familiares capaces de transformarle la vida. Allí conocerá a Justin, un joven perseguido por sus propios demonios y quien la ayudará a hallar la fortaleza necesaria para seguir adelante, y se reencontrará con su antiguo amor, Eric, quien además de revivirle las emociones cernerá sobre ella un manto de dudas e inquietudes.
Esta nueva mudanza traerá cambios muy dramáticos para la chica, ya que esta vez no estará sola, y eso la empujará a enfrentar la adultez sin estar preparada para ello, al tiempo que el amor toca a su puerta, así como el peligro.

Portada de La chica que Miraba al cielo

POR QUÉ LEER 


  • El argumento de la obra es doble: por un lado, nos encontramos con una historia de amor y, por otro, con la dura realidad de las drogas y sus consecuencias y como nuestra protagonista salvará a un bebé de una dramática vida con una madre drogadicta y un padre camello. 
 
  • La historia de unos estudiantes que verán su vida truncada por los acontecimientos pero lucharán por salir adelante y por una vida mejor. 
 
  • Una novela dinámica, breve y fluída de la que podrán disfrutar todo tipo de lectores de narrativa, más allá de las seguidoras de novela romántica juvenil. 


LA AUTORA:

Jonaira Campagnuolo, nació una tarde de febrero en la ciudad venezolana de Maracay, donde aún vive con su esposo y sus dos hijos. Es amante de los animales, la naturaleza y la literatura. Desde temprana edad escribe cuentos que solo ha compartido con familiares y amigos. En la actualidad se dedica a trabajar como freelance, a administrar su blog de literatura (http://desdemicaldero.blogspot.com) y a escribir a tiempo completo.
 

Es coadministradora del portal de formación para el escritor de novela romántica ESCRIBE ROMÁNTICA (www.escriberomantica.com) y parte del equipo editorial de ESCRIBE ROMÁNTICA LA REVISTA.

5 de octubre de 2017

#ReleaseBlitz BOURBON SERIES by Meghan Quinn


The Bourbon Series by Meghan Quinn has a new look! The books have hot new covers and have been re-edited to keep your pages burning... I mean turning! 

If you like heat, don't miss this series!


***$.99 FOR A LIMITED TIME ONLY***

Purchase here:

* BOURBON SINS http://amzn.to/2ykrZnD
      * BOURBON DECEIT http://amzn.to/2fNJCod
             * BOURBON KINGDOM http://amzn.to/2yTUaGY
       * BOURBON TRUTHS http://amzn.to/2xTSYFr



On the streets of New Orleans, sins are committed every night.

My name is Jett Colby and I save tarnished souls.

In the downtown, under the glittery lights of Bourbon Street, I found her in cheap lingerie, flaunting her body for callous men and money.

From the lace of her cheap lingerie, to her garter belt, I knew she had to be saved.
She had to be mine.

Broke and destitute with no way of out, she had no choice but to come to me and into my club.

She had no other choice but to become a Jett Girl.

But see, that’s the thing about this city; you might think that under the dazzling lights and illusion of salvation, she’s the one that needed saving.

When the glitter fades and the dirt is washed away, the one worth saving just might be me.

*Formerly known as Becoming a Jett Girl. 
Add it to your TBR--> http://bit.ly/2foiqfA



The walls of my club hold many secrets. Depravity. Sin. Justice.

Come in; debauchery can be yours for the cost of a lap dance and a night of pleasure. 

And I own every last part of it.

But she’s my weakness, and thankfully she followed me through the insolvent streets of New Orleans, giving me her loyalty and her heart. 

My desire for her dominates my every thought, but my broken past could destroy us. 

There are people trying to bring me down. 

Two malicious men stand in the way of what I want: to own it all. 

It’s either Lot 17 or Goldie, my Jett Girl. 

I have to make a choice and for once, it won’t be easy.

*Formerly known as Being a Jett Girl. 
Add it to your TBR--> http://bit.ly/2xhO31t



Under the neon lights of Bourbon, money is everything. 

Justice, faith, and power. They’re the key to my empire and she holds them all in the palm of her hand. Falling for her was a mistake; she stole my heart and consumed me. I was addicted, and she left me weak and vulnerable to my enemies.

They’re everywhere. 

Now she’s gone, turning to my enemy’s business partner; the man I’ve hated my entire life. She said she’s protecting me. She said it won’t be forever.

But how can I believe her? 

Lies, deceit and deception. They’re the sins driving us apart. 

In a city that never sleeps—in a place where scandal hides behind every dark corner, my Jett girl might never be mine again.

*Formerly known as Forever a Jett Girl. 
Add it to your TBR--> http://bit.ly/2wLsFgL



Every choice you make in life comes with a consequence.

I was once on top, I was the professional boxer to be afraid of. I had everything I could possibly hope for. I was happy, satisfied, content . . . until one night.

One off day.

One wrong reaction.

I killed a man. The sound, the blood, the stagnant air, it’s forever imprinted in my mind and now dictates the way I live my life.

Desolate with nothing but my penance to pay, I didn’t expect to have my world flipped upside down when Lyla seductively strutted into my life.

I want her. I need her. I crave her.

But I don’t deserve her.

People like to celebrate the day they were born, I like to celebrate the day my soul died.

This is my story of repentance.

*Formerly known as Repentance. 
Add it to your TBR--> http://bit.ly/2xtvpTx

* * *

About the Author:

Born in New York and raised in Southern California, Meghan has grown into a sassy, peanut butter eating, blonde haired swearing, animal hoarding lady. She is known to bust out and dance if "It's Raining Men" starts beating through the air and heaven forbid you get a margarita in her, protect your legs because they may be humped.

Once she started commuting for an hour and twenty minutes every day to work for three years, she began to have conversations play in her head, real life, deep male voices and dainty lady coos kind of conversations. Perturbed and confused, she decided to either see a therapist about the hot and steamy voices running through her head or start writing them down. She decided to go with the cheaper option and started writing... enter her first novel, Caught Looking.

Now you can find the spicy, most definitely on the border of lunacy, kind of crazy lady residing in Colorado with the love of her life and her five, furry four legged children, hiking a trail or hiding behind shelves at grocery stores, wondering what kind of lube the nervous stranger will bring home to his wife. Oh and she loves a good boob squeeze!

Like me on FacebookFind me on Goodreads | Visit my website

4 de octubre de 2017

CHAPTER REVEAL >> HOOKING UP by Helena Hunting


One
Wedding Unbliss

Amie
This is the happiest day of my life. I allow that thought to roll around in my head, trying to figure out why it doesn’t seem to resonate the way it should. This should be the happiest day of my life. So I’m not exactly certain why the uneasy feeling I associate with cold feet is getting worse rather than dissipating. I’ve already done the hard part; walked down the aisle and said “I do.”
My husband excused himself to go to the bathroom several minutes ago and, based on Armstrong’s itinerary for the day, speeches are supposed to begin promptly at eight-thirty. According to my phone, that’s less than two minutes from now, and he’s not here. The emcee for the evening is awaiting Armstrong’s return before he begins. And then the real party can start. The one where we get to celebrate our commitment to each other as partners for life. As in the rest of my breathing days. Dear God, why does that make my stomach twist?
I sip my white wine. Armstrong pointed out that red is not a good idea with my dress, even though it’s my preference. Besides, I don’t want it to stain my teeth. That would make for bad pictures.
I glance around the hall and see my parents, who are probably celebrating the fact that I didn’t walk down the aisle with a convicted felon. And frankly, so am I. My dating history pre-Armstrong wasn’t fabulous.
The sheer number of people in attendance spikes my anxiety. Speaking in front of all of these people makes me want to drink more, which is a bad idea. Tipsy speeches could lead to saying the wrong thing. I check my phone under the table again. It’s after eight-thirty. The longer Armstrong takes to return, the further behind we’ll get. The music playlist, devised by Armstrong with painstaking efficiency, leaves no room for tardiness. If we don’t start on time I’ll have to take out a song, or possibly two, to compensate for his delay and he’s selected the order in such a way as to make that difficult and that will annoy him. I just want today to be perfect. I want it to be reflective of my decision to marry Armstrong. That I, Amalie Whitfield, can make good choices and am not a disgrace to my family.
“Where the hell is he?” I scan the room and take another small sip of my wine. I should switch to water soon so I don’t end up drunk, especially later, when all of this is over and we can celebrate our lifelong commitment to each other without clothes on. I’m hopeful it will last more than five minutes.
Ruby, my maid of honor and best friend for the past decade, puts a hand on my shoulder. “Would you like Bancroft to find Armstrong?”
Bancroft, or Bane for short, is Ruby’s boyfriend who she’s been living with for several months. Recently I find myself getting a little jealous of how affectionate they still are with each other, even after all this time. Cohabitation hasn’t slowed them down on the sex or their PDA. I have hope that Armstrong and I will be more like Bane and Ruby now that we’ll be sharing the same bed every night.
I’m about to tell Ruby to give him another minute when a low buzz suddenly fills the hall. It sounds like a school PA system. I start to panic—they can’t start the speeches without Armstrong at my side. What’s the point of speeches if the groom isn’t present?
I’m halfway out of my seat, ready to tell the deejay, or whoever is behind the mic, he needs to wait, when a very loud moan echoes through the room. The acoustics are phenomenal in here, it’s why we chose this venue.
I glance at Ruby to make sure I’m not hearing things. Her eyes are wide. The kind of wide associated with shock. The same shock I’m feeling.
Another moan reverberates through the sound system, followed by the words, “Oh, fuuuck.”
A collective gasp ripples through the now-silent crowd. While the words themselves are scandalous among these guests, it’s the voice groaning them that makes me sit up straighter, and simultaneously consider hiding under the table.
“Fuck yeah. Ah, suck it. That’s it. Deep throat it like a good little slut. Fuuuuuccckkkkk.”
My mouth drops and I look to Ruby to ensure I have not completely lost my mind. “Is that—” I don’t finish the sentence. I already know the answer to the question, so it’s pointless to ask. Besides, I’m cut off by yet another loud groan. I clap a hand over my mouth because I’m not sure I’m able to close it, my disbelief is as vast as the ocean.
Ruby’s expression mirrors mine, except hers is incredibly animated since she’s an actress. “Oh my God. Is that Armstrong?” Her words are no more than a whisper, but they sound very much like a scream. Oh no, wait, that’s just Armstrong on the verge of an orgasm. But these sounds are nothing like the ones he makes when he’s in the throes of passion with me.
I clutch Ruby’s hand. The next sound that comes from him is a hybrid between a hyena laugh and a wolf baying at the moon. And every guest at our wedding is hearing the same thing I am. Our wedding. Someone other than me is blowing my husband at my own wedding. My mortification knows no end.
I grab the closest bottle of wine and dump the contents into my glass. Some of it sloshes over the edge and onto the crisp white tablecloth. It doesn’t matter. There’s plenty more where it came from. I chug the glass, then grab Ruby’s.
People lean in and whisper to each other, eyes lift to the speakers. A few people, the ones who are probably just here for the social-ladder-climbing potential, question who it is.
“Is the deejay watching porn?” That comment comes from a table full of mostly drunk singles in their early twenties.
Several eyes shift my way as I carelessly down Ruby’s wine and someone asks where the groom has disappeared to.
The grunts and groans grow terrifyingly louder. This is nothing like what I’m used to in bed with Armstrong. The dirty words aren’t something he ever uses with me, mostly it’s just noises and sometimes a “Right there” or “I’m close,” but that’s about it. He’s never talked to me like he is to the woman currently providing oral pleasure. And I’m very adept at oral. Although with Armstrong it’s very polite, neat oral, with no sounds other than the occasional hum. Slurping is uncivilized and a definite no-no.
I reach past Ruby for the bottle of red since I don’t really give a flying fuck about purple teeth right now. As I sink low in my seat I pour another glass of wine, surveying the people in the ballroom from behind the cover of the centerpiece. The centerpieces are huge and excessive and I don’t like them at all, but at least provides a protective barrier between the guests and my disgust, which I’m certain they must share. He sounds like a wild animal rutting. It is entirely unsexy. I have no idea who he’s getting intimate with, but I’m suddenly very glad it’s not me.
And doesn’t that tell me more about our relationship than it should.
It’s only been about thirty seconds—the most humiliating thirty seconds of my life—before Armstrong comes. How do I know this? Because he says, very clearly, “Keep sucking, baby, I’m coming.”
And “baby,” whoever she is, makes these horrific gurgling noises. It sounds like some form of alien communication. It’s way over the top, and apparently Armstrong is loving it, based on the string of vile profanity that spews from his asshole mouth.
“Holy crap. Is this for real? That was really fast,” Ruby mutters.
I guzzle my glass of wine. Then decide the glass is unnecessary and take a long swig from the bottle before Ruby snatches it away. Wine dribbles down my chin and onto my chest, staining the white satin purple. My dress is ruined. I should be freaking out. But I really don’t care.
“Come on,” Ruby tugs on my hand. “We need to get you out of here while people are still distracted.”
My older brother Pierce and the emcee are standing in the middle of the hall, gesturing wildly to the speakers above us. My other brother, Lawson, is on his way toward the podium in an attempt to do something. I don’t think there’s anything he can do to stop this train wreck from there.
Ruby tugs again, but I’m frozen, still trying to figure out what exactly just happened. Well, I know what’s happened. I just can’t believe it.
The sound of a zipper and the rustle of clothes follows. “Thanks for that, now I’ll be able to last later tonight,” Armstrong says.
“What about me?” A female asks. Her voice is nasally and whiny.
“What about you?”
“Well I helped you, aren’t you going to help me?”
“Didn’t you come with a date?”
“Well, yes, but—” God her voice is familiar. I just can’t figure out where I know it from.
“My cousin, right? He loves my sloppy seconds. Speeches are starting. I gotta get back to my ball and chain.”
Gasps of horror ripple through the room, followed by a few giggles. These people really are assholes.
I think I’m going to throw up. I can’t believe he’s going to come out here and pretend nothing just happened. Like some other woman didn’t just have her lips around his cock. His distinctly average cock. Maybe even slightly below average in length, if I’m being one hundred percent honest.
A door opens and closes.
Lawson turns on the mic behind the podium and taps it, sending screeching feedback through the room, making people cringe. Too bad no one did that a minute ago.
Murmuring grows louder and glances flicker to the head table and then away as Brittany Thorton, a seriously skanky debutante, comes strutting through the doors, using a compact to check her lipstick. She’s made it her mission to attempt to get into the pants of half the eligible men in this room. She’s followed, not five seconds later, by a very smug-looking Armstrong.
“I’m going to kill him.” I grab the closest steak knife, but it appears my hasty, and possibly felonious, plan is unnecessary. My brothers leave their respective posts and stalk toward him. Across the room my mother is gripping my father’s arm, whispering furiously in his ear. Great. Just what I need, additional family drama.
“Oh shit,” Ruby gasps.
I follow her gaze to find Bane converging on Armstrong with my brothers. Bancroft is a tank and he used to play professional rugby. I’ve seen him with his shirt off, he’s built like a superhero and he’ll probably crush Armstrong, or at least break something. Possibly multiple somethings.
For a second I consider that Ruby should probably stop Bane from destroying Armstrong’s pretty, regal face, but then I realize I don’t actually care. In fact, the possibility that he might break Armstrong’s perfectly straight nose fills me with glee. Armstrong’s wellbeing is no longer my concern, it’s more about Bane ending up in prison for murder.
“I hope Armstrong has a good plastic surgeon, he’s going to need it once Bane is done with him.” Ruby echoes my internal hopes and her chair tips as she jumps up. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.” She nods to the right.
I notice my mother and father engaged in a heated discussion with Armstrong’s parents. I really don’t need this right now. Not the drama. Not the humiliation. All I wanted was a nice wedding. Instead I end up with a husband who gets a blow job during our reception—and it’s broadcast to everyone attending.
Ruby urges me into action. “Don’t worry about them. Get your stuff and we’ll get you the hell out of here. I’ll have the limo meet you by the entrance near your bridal suite as soon as I can.”
I nod and stumble unsteadily to my feet, thanks to having consumed the better part of a bottle of wine in the last minute and a half. It’s amazing how ninety seconds can change a person’s entire life.
All hell breaks loose as more men jump in to either pummel or extract Armstrong from the pummeling. I grab my clutch and phone from the table, gather up my stupid, too puffy gown, and head for the bridal suite, where I had prepared for what was supposed to be the most amazing day of my life. And now it’s likely the worst, at least I hope the mortification level I’m experiencing can’t exceed this. I feel like the foulest version of Cinderella ever.
I rush down the empty hall and grab the doorknob as I fumble around in my clutch for the key. I’m surprised when it turns. I thought I’d locked it before we left for the ceremony. Regardless, I need to get away from everyone before I either lose it or commit a felony. Maybe both. Murder in the first. Armstrong will be my victim. And maybe that horrible skank, Brittany.
I thrust the door open and slam it closed behind me, locking it from the inside. Tears threaten to spill over and ruin my makeup. Not that it matters since there’s no way I’m going out there again. I can’t believe my forever lasted less than twelve hours. I can’t believe the man I’m supposed to spend the rest of my life loving couldn’t be faithful to me for even one day. What the hell is wrong with me? With him? I’m as devastated as I am angry and embarrassed. Once I annul this farce of a marriage I’ll become a spinster. I should probably go ahead and adopt six or seven cats tonight.
“I need to get out of this dress,” I say to myself. I reach behind me and pull the bow at the base of my spine. Instead of unfurling, it knots and I only succeed in pulling it tighter. Of course my dress has to be difficult. I growl my annoyance and rush over to my dressing table where my makeup and perfume are scattered from earlier today. Half a mimosa sits unconsumed beside the vase of red roses Armstrong had delivered.
The card read: I can’t wait to spend forever loving you.
What a load of bullshit. I drain the contents of the champagne flute, not caring that the drink is warm and flat. Then I throw the glass, because it feels good and the sound of shattering crystal is satisfying. Next I heave the vase of roses, which explodes impressively against the wall, splattering water and shards of glass across the floor.
I yank out a couple of the drawers and find a pair of scissors. They actually look more like gardening shears and seem rather out of place, but I don’t question it. Instead I reach behind me with my back to the mirror and awkwardly try to cut myself free. It’s not easy with the way I have to crane my neck.
“Goddammit! I need to get out of this stupid dress!” I yell at my reflection. I think I might actually be losing it just a touch now. I stop messing around with the laces in the back and shove the scissors down the front. I nearly nick myself with the blade—they’re a lot sharper than I realized—but that doesn’t slow me down. I start hacking my way through the bodice; layers of satin, lace, and intricate beading sliced apart with every vicious snip.
I just want out of this nightmare.



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Hooking Up by Helena Hunting is coming on 
November 7th, 2017!

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