goodreads

Ltmk's bookshelf: read

Falling Behind
Seven Years of Bad Luck
Forever and Almost Always
Belong to You
Toxic
Deceiving Lies
What's Left of Me
Threat to Our Forever: The Sensual Edition
Adam, Enough Said
Abby's Survival
Ten Tiny Breaths
Sizzle
The Future of Our Past
Unbearable
Restore Me
Real
The Shoe
Heaven Sent
Unexpected Angel
Every Rose

Friday 28 February 2014

Four Years Later by Monica Murphy ~ Release Day & Giveaway

We're so excited that Monica Murphy's FOUR YEARS LATER is finally here! FOUR YEARS LATER is a New Adult contemporary romance and is the final book in the Drew+Fable Series! Check out the excerpt below, then enter to win the fabulous prizes she has for you!
Four Years Later
FOUR YEARS LATER Synopsis: New Adult bestselling author Monica Murphy winds up her sensational series with this sexy story of two college kids with nothing in common but a bunch of baggage and a burning attraction. Over. That about sums up everything in my life. Suspended from my college football team and forced to cut back my hours at The District bar because of my crappy grades, I can’t keep turning to my sister, Fable, and her pro-football playing husband, Drew, to bail me out. I just can’t seem to find my own way. Weed and sex are irresistible temptations—and it’s messed up that I secretly hand over money to our junkie mom. A tutor is the last thing I want right now—until I get a look at her. Chelsea is not my type at all. She’s smart and totally shy. I’m pretty sure she’s even a virgin. But when she gives me the once over with those piercing blue eyes, I’m really over. But in a different way. I won’t deny her ass is killer, but it’s her brain and the way she seems to crave love—like no one’s ever given her any—that make me want her more than any girl I’ve ever met. But what would someone as seemingly together as her ever see in a screwed up guy like me?
  4YL Teaser 1   
  EXCERPT: “Anything else?” I ask them minutes later as I drop the check on their table. Owen slaps his hand against the piece of paper and drags it toward him. “I think that’s it.” “Great.” I smile but it feels brittle. “I can be your cashier or you can pay at the register.” “Hey, what else can you be for us, huh?” one of Owen’s friends ask, making the other one laugh. My cheeks are hot again and my mouth is open. I’m gaping at them like a dying fish and thankfully Owen rushes to my defense. “Shut the hell up, Des.” He glances up at me, all traces of the buzzed foolish boy who first walked in here gone. “He’s drunk. He doesn’t know what he’s saying.” “I know exactly what I’m saying,” drunken Des mumbles, clamping his lips shut when Owen shoots him a deathly stare. “It’s all right,” I say, backing away from them slowly. “Take your time.” I turn to flee from their table when I hear someone slide out of the booth, strong fingers curling around my upper arm and stopping me from leaving. He’s standing directly behind me, the warmth from his body seeping into mine and I go completely still. Willing myself not to react, not to say something stupid and embarrass myself. Look what he’s doing to me just by touching my arm. This sort of thing doesn’t happen to me. I don’t care about boys. I’ve been kissed a measly three times in my life, once by Cody Curtis the tongue thruster and he definitely doesn’t count. So twice. Twice I’ve been kissed and I’m a virgin. A freaking virgin. Owen Maguire has player written all over him. I’m nothing to him. So why is he touching me? Talking to me in that husky low murmur of his that slides over me like slow, warm honey? “…need to talk to you. About this tutoring thing,” he’s saying and I wrench myself out of his grip, irritated that I didn’t pay attention to what he said at first. “Just meet me Monday afternoon as scheduled and we should be good to go.” I turn to face him, a fake smile plastered to my face and he stares at my lips for a long, breath stealing second before he finally lifts those too pretty green eyes up to meet mine. My lips are tingling like he actually kissed them. God. “I don’t even know your name,” he murmurs. Buy Links: AMAZON US BARNES AND NOBLE   Created by Romance Wrangler for Monica Murphy   
  
MonicaMurphypic-250x373ABOUT MONICA MURPHY: New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Monica Murphy is a native Californian who lives in the foothills below Yosemite. A wife and mother of three, she writes New Adult and contemporary romance for Bantam and Avon. She is the author of One Week Girlfriend and Second Chance Boyfriend.        

  LINKS: Website: http://www.monicamurphyauthor.com/# Blog: http://missmonicamurphy.blogspot.com/ Twitter: https://twitter.com/MsMonicaMurphy Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/MonicaMurphyauthor Author Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5934418.Monica_Murphy Amazon author page: http://www.amazon.com/Monica-Murphy/e/B00AVPYIGG FOUR YEARS LATER Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17978533-four-years-later?ac=1

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Destructive Silence by L.U. Ann ~ Blog Tour & Giveaway

Destructive Silence Front Cover Young Adult Edition copy 
  Synopsis
If you never speak of the past, can it be erased?
Lacey Edwards has a past.
A past which changed her life forever.
A past she is desperate to forget.
Lacey is quiet and reserved compared to her best friend Becca Fox. They became instant friends when Lacey moved to Maryland nine years ago. Becca helped pull Lacey out of her internal shell to experience life. By high school, Lacey was active in the club scene and would occasionally have to drag Becca with her. One night, Lacey realized she might be able to run from her past with the help of Becca and one steamy Caine Rogers.
Lacey didn't know, until it was too late, how feelings, honesty, heartbreak and life altering events can change a person. Lacey has Becca’s support but will that be enough?
Will Lacey sacrifice her own happiness to do what is expected?
***WARNING***
Appropriate for readers 16 years and up. This novel contains heavy life issues that some might find offensive.
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Destructive Silence Front Cover Young Adult Edition copy
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Destructive Choices Young Adult Edition Front Cover copy
Synopsis
If the decisions you make don’t define you, what price would you pay to change them?
“Close your eyes. This is the darkness I see, I feel, I live because of my choices."
I spent my life running. Running from my past. A past that changed my life, robbed me of my childhood, and bound me for a life of silence. Silence protected me from further hurt. When I couldn't control my life, I found reprieve in my silence. Dark, cold silence. I’m trapped, trying to find my way out, trying to make a stand, trying to finally live; but is it too late?
Lacey Edwards fought emotional turmoil most of her life. She made choices that unknowingly put her through more painstaking heartache. She found bits and pieces of happiness in all the wrong areas except for one. This one gave her hope for a fresh new life full of promises. Could she hold onto it, or would it slip through her fingertips?
***Warning*** Young Adult Edition. Appropriate for audiences 16 years and above. This novel contains heavy life and social issues that some might find difficult or offensive.
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MeetTheAuthor
Author L.U. Ann moved to Colorado from the Eastern Shore of Maryland with her husband and two children. Life in Colorado is so much different. In Maryland, you would find her in the garden tending to her vegetables and flowers, sea glass and shark tooth hunting once a week, and enjoying the kids swimming in the backyard. Her life took a drastic change when her family moved to their own “Little House on the Prairie" at an elevation of over 6,000 feet above sea level, and a semi-arid climate that makes it hard to grow anything. While barely anything can grow where she resides now, the wildlife makes up for it. Mountain Lions, and coyotes, and rattlesnakes, oh my!
She tries to spend a little time each day writing, but domestic chores around the house usually take precedence. She would much rather hide them from her husband. She tends to her loving four-legged children who at times become much too demanding when she locks herself in the office. This often results in MORE domestic work, and she finds herself cleaning up after their deviant behavior.
At night, you’ll find her begging the kids to go to bed so that she can catch up on the latest book before her sister can. Yes, she is an avid reader who escapes her chaotic but wonderful home to the feisty depths of romance land in search of her newest book boyfriend. Shh, don’t tell her husband!
She is an artist by the grace of God. She worked as a set designer for six years, helping establish a local children's theatre where she was the scenery artist, set, and prop designer. Before that, you would find her covered in paint, so engrossed in painting a mural that time didn't exist. Graphic design is her guilty pleasure.
Special Note From L.U. Ann
I created this Young Adult Edition to reach a wider audience. Lacey is nineteen years old and finishing high school. The issues she faces are the very issues a teenager could be facing right now, some possibly even younger.
This series deals with heavy life issues. Issues that are real. It may not be for everyone, but it's a reality for so many. I hope you take some valuable information away from reading A Destructive Novel series. If anything, please read the resources found in the back of each book.
Thank you for the opportunity to tell Lacey’s story. My story.
L.U. Ann
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Forgiving Lies by Molly McAdams ~ Blog Tour



Forgiving Lies Synopsis:
A matter of secrets...
Undercover cop Logan "Kash" Ryan can't afford a distraction like his new neighbor Rachel Masters, even if she's the most beautiful woman he's ever seen. To catch a serial killer, he needs to stay focused, yet all he can think about is the feisty, long-legged coed whose guarded nature intrigues him

A matter of lies...
Deceived and hurt before, Rachel would rather be a single, crazy cat lady than trust another guy, especially a gorgeous, tattooed bad boy with a Harley, like Kash. But when his liquid-steel eyes meet hers, it takes all of Rachel's will-power to stop herself from exploring his hot body with her own.

A matter of love...
As much as they try to keep it platonic, the friction between them sparks an irresistible heat that soon consumes them. Can Kash keep Rachel's heart and her life safe even as he risks his own? Will she be able to forgive his lies ... or will she run when she discovers the dangerous truth?



About Molly McAdams: 
Molly McAdams grew up in California but now lives in the oh-so-amazing state of Texas with her husband and furry daughter. Her hobbies include hiking, snowboarding, traveling and long walks on the beach, which roughly translates to being a homebody with her hubby and dishing out movie quotes. When she's not at work, she can be found hiding out in her bedroom surrounded by her laptop, cell, Kindle and fighting over the TV remote. She has a weakness for crude-humored movies, fried pickles and loves curling up in a fluffy comforter during a thunderstorm...or under one in a bathtub if there are tornados. That way she can pretend they aren't really happening.

Connect with Molly:
Twitter: @mollysmcadams https://twitter.com/MollySMcAdams
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Hero by Leighton Del Mia ~ Release Blitz & Giveaway

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Title: Hero
Author: Leighton Del Mia
Release Date: February 27, 2014
Genre: Dark Erotic Romance Standalone
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Synopsis
 
Calvin Parish They call me Hero. I defend. I protect. I ask for nothing in return, and that makes me good. Doesn’t it?
That which makes me the ultimate predator also feeds dark impulses I’ve learned to control—until I bring her too close. For years I’ve watched her from afar, but what started out as duty has become obsession.
Cataline Ford I work hard. I play by the rules. I’m content. My scars are quiet and invisible, and that keeps me hidden. Doesn’t it?
One fateful walk home, I’m taken by someone I didn’t know I should fear. Captive and afraid, nobody will tell me why I’m confined to this hauntingly beautiful mansion. I’m given everything; I have nothing. He takes what he needs from me, and for that I hate him. But I might have loved him once.
And just because you’re reading this doesn’t mean I survive him.
 
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About the Author
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Leighton Del Mia lives behind large sunglasses and under massive headphones. She can usually be found behind and under these things at any Starbucks on the West Coast, which is where she writes twisty books between sips of black coffee.
 
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Keep Me (A Hero Novella)
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“I will disappoint you. I will hurt you. If I could be different, I would. But I don’t think I can.”
Declarations and sacrifices have been made. After three years, a better life is finally on the horizon. But when the past leaves marks that are both painful and permanent, is there ever such a thing as starting over? Can memories be replaced or forgotten—and should they be? Keep Me is a follow-up novella for Hero readers who want a glimpse of life after breakfast. It is only intended to be enjoyed after Hero and is not a standalone. It is entirely optional and not essential to the original plot.
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Thursday 27 February 2014

Indulging in Ireyln ~ Blog Tour & Giveaway

NFL quarterback, Zolt Hamil was America’s heartthrob until a career ending injury changed his life. Years later, he’s picked up the pieces and carved out a new path for himself. But the mental and physical scars of that day have left him moody and reclusive, and his only relief is indulging in pleasure and pain with his many one night stands. Though many of women have tried, Zolt refuses to care about any of them. Only one woman has his heart; a hallucination of a young, sable-eyed, blonde beauty whom he conjured that painful day on the football field.
On the first day at his new job at a law firm in Scottsdale, Arizona, Zolt comes face to face with his hallucination, Irelyn Wilkes. Their fateful connection, and explosive passion for each other pulls them together, and this time, Zolt refuses to let her slip from his life.
But Irelyn has her own demons to fight, and her controlling boyfriend is one of them. He doesn't take kindly to other people playing with his toys, and he’ll stop at nothing to keep her by his side. 
Can Irelyn and Zolt defy the odds and find a way to be together? Or, will the events set in motion years ago keep them apart forever?
New Adult. Recommended for eighteen and above due to adult content, language, and sexual situations.





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Destiny works in funny ways, and for Irelyn and Zolt it is no different.
Zolt is a lawyer, now. But before and injury on the field he was a number one Quarter Back. When he was tackled on the field with a career ending injury there was one person who helped him while he lay there in horrific pain. His sable eyed angel. Irelyn!
Irelyn is young lady who remembers the day she watched her super-star crush take a hit on the field that ended his career. She remembers locking eyes with Zolt and trying to comfort him as he lay there in pain.
Only problem is that Zolt thinks that he imagined his angel and that she isn't real. Till that day that destiny stepped in and took action. Zolt starts a new job at a prestigious law firm and Irelyn starts her summer job as a paralegal for her fathers law firm. Yes they both start new jobs in the same firm. When they finally come face to face after 6 years the chemistry between them is undeniable and neither can deny it. Zolt and Irelyn both have their secrets that could finish them before they even get a start. 
I had never read a book from this author but I CAN NOT wait for the conclusion in this series. 
This book will have you on the edge of your seat and send you into a panic. It's a MUST READ!! One-click this book, you won't be sorry!! 


Chapter One: Shadow-Self
Zolt
I ran my hand along her naked arm as I moved toward the bindings that had her securely
fastened to my wrought iron, four-poster bed. She’d been tethered there for over thirty minutes, and
now that the sex was over, I imagined her arms and legs were probably beginning to ache as the
adrenaline left her body.
Miss No-Name Brunette rubbed her arms and legs after I released her. I didn’t need or want
to know her name. I’d never see her again so what was the point.
She watched me gather my clothes, and her eyes roaming appreciatively over my body.
“So, John, when can I see you again? You’re amazing.” She licked her plump lips as her eyes
traveled over my naked body, stopping when she noticed the nasty scars on my left shin. Small gray
eyes darted to mine, and I saw the pity setting in. Pity was a deal breaker for me.
“We can’t,” I said and threw her clothes on the bed.
“Why?” Her bottom lip jutted out in disappointment. “Didn’t you enjoy yourself? You
seemed to be having a great time.”
“It was fine, uh—”
“Nancy. My name is Nancy.”
I shrugged. “Right. Nancy. I don’t do repeat performances. Ever.”
“But—”
“Don’t take it personally. It’s just the way things are.”
Her eyes narrowed, and she scowled at me. Then, she climbed off the bed and pulled on her
clothes. “I don’t understand. Are you married or something?”
“Nope. Not married or anything else that concerns you. I’m just not interested. Tonight was
great. Really. I enjoyed the shit out of myself. Fucking you was exactly what I needed. Thanks.”
“How am I supposed to get home? I left my car at the club,” she whined.
“There’s a cab waiting to take you anywhere you want. I’ve already paid the fare.” I shrugged
again. This was the bothersome part of operating this way. They always wanted to see me again, and
my answer was always no.
“I should have known when you wouldn’t kiss me there was something wrong with you. I
bet your name isn’t even John. Do you even live here?” Whatever-her-name yanked on her shoes,
and then stood with her arms crossed over her chest.
“No, I don’t live here. And, darlin’, my name is whatever you want it to be.”
“Asshole.”
“Come on, now. We both had fun.” I flashed her my megawatt smile. “I’m pretty sure you
came at least three times. It’s all good, and now, it’s all over.”
I walked to her side and gently took her arm, guiding her to the door.
“But I let you restrain me!” She stamped her foot as I opened the front door.
“You did and wasn’t it fun? Maybe you can find a man that will be as adventurous. Now, off
you go, Sally. Bye, bye.”
“Nancy!” she shouted as I closed the door on her. I could still hear grumbling as she walked
away.
“Ugh.” Leaning against the door, I let out a long sigh. It would be a while before I could go
back to that club. Too bad it ended the same every time. But I understood why. Women saw me as a
catch. I knew I was attractive. It wasn’t conceit, either. It was a fact of life that all men of the Hamil
family were hot.
My first year in the NFL, I was on the cover of Sports Illustrated as the Sexiest Man in
Football. That cover, and the other endorsements I had, made me a nice amount of cash, so I was
totally good with being an object of desire. Since they didn’t really know me, they didn’t know that I
was nowhere as attractive on the inside.
I went back to the bedroom, washed and put the toys away, locking the drawer. Then, I
stripped the bed, piling the sheets on the floor for the maid service to take care of.
I left, not knowing when I'd come back. Could be the following day. Could be two weeks
from now. But tonight, I’d been out of fucking control—chomping at the bit to blow off some
steam. In fact, I still hummed with energy.
Fuck!
My shadow-self pressed in on me for days. When I got like this, only one thing helped:
acting out. So, I’d gone to the club in search of the first remotely available Nancy, Sally, or whoever,
that didn’t revolt me. Nancy had been an easy mark. I hadn’t been there ten minutes before I’d
bought her a drink, and we were out the door, heading to the apartment I kept specifically for this
purpose. I was always happy when I found a woman willing to dabble in a little bondage. I wasn’t
heavily into the BDSM scene, but knew how to wield pain for the ultimate pleasure.
If I stopped and thought about it, I’d be forced to acknowledged just how screwed up my
life had become. So I didn't. I didn't think about all the nameless women I had fucked in the last six
years, and how I hadn't been in a relationship since the injury. These exchanges served a purpose.
Beyond that? Well, there was nothing beyond that.
But that didn’t mean I had become so jaded I’d forgotten how to get a woman off. I enjoyed
women. Loved the soft curves of their body, and loved making them come. There was nothing
hotter than watching a woman writhe and squirm as I fucked her closer to orgasm. The sound of her
screaming what she thought was my name was music to my ears, but that was as far as it went.
The reality was, I was a mess, and I didn't want that advertised.
Actually, I was far worse than just a mess; I was fucking broken.
Sometimes, I wondered if I was even capable of having a normal relationship. Truth was, I
waited for someone that didn't exist. A woman my pain-wracked brain conjured that day on the
football field. To make matters worse, she wasn’t even of age. She was a young woman, maybe
fifteen or sixteen, with the most beautiful sable-brown eyes and blonde hair I’d ever seen. Her face
was sweet, kind, and compassion filled. I realized how creepy this sounds. I wasn't a sick fuck who
preyed on young girls, and I had no idea why my mind created her. But all I knew was, if I ever
discovered she was real, I’d do anything to have her.
I rubbed my aching leg, and then climbed into my Viper. God, I loved this car. She was all
power and beauty, and driving her made me happy. I revved the engine and closed my eyes, loving
the purr, and sometimes roar of her V10.
Once on route 101, I opened her up, pushing her past the century mark on the speedometer.
It was crazy to be weaving in and out of traffic on the main freeway. I was asking to be pulled over,
but again, I didn't care. In fact, I pressed her harder and watched as the needle climbed to 110. The
concentration it took to control this machine exhilarated me. Still wound up and looking to banish
my shadow-self the only way I knew how, I pushed her just a little more. Why fucking for over an
hour didn’t do the trick, I had no idea. But if I didn’t burn this energy off before I got home, sleep
would be out of reach. It wouldn’t do to start a new job at one of the country’s most prestigious law
firms red-eyed and tired. Once home, I intended to take a long, hot shower, and then smoke a few
bowls. Hopefully, I’d emerge tired enough to sleep. For a while, maybe I’d find peace until the
nightmare returned that plunged me into my own personal hell.
A hell that I was used to. A hell that only she brought me out of.
The morning announced itself in its usual fashion. I jolted awake screaming, and drenched in
sweat—the images as clear as the day they happened.
“Fuck!” I yelled to the empty room.
Pushing myself back against the headboard, I rubbed my leg, trying to make the pain go
away. The image of her lovely face and those amazing sable-brown eyes chased the nightmare away,
but my body still buzzed with the memories.
I looked over at the bong and lighter on my bedside table and sighed. Just once, I wished I
didn’t have to numb myself to start the day.
Before giving in, I ran my hand over my damp collar-length hair, removing the waves
sticking to my moist neck. I used to keep it short for this very reason, but I liked the way it looked
longer.
As I always did, I picked up the bong and lit the bowl with the lighter. The glow of the
burning weed, and the sound of the bong gurgling as I took a hit immediately calmed me. I inhaled
deep and held the smoke in my burning lungs.
My long exhale sent a plume of smoke into the dawn-lit room. It floated for a second before
dissipating, leaving behind the tangy smell of burning weed.
With my eyes closed, I slowed my heart rate and rapid breathing. The high kicked in, and I
already felt the calm take over. I hated being so weak, and hated that what happened almost six years
ago continued to affect and define my days. I used to be the epitome of discipline. Not anymore.
If I could let go of the self-blame, then maybe the dreams would abate. But night after night,
I replayed the game and its never changing end.
At twenty-two, I had been one of the hottest quarterbacks in the NFL, playing for the
Arizona Cardinals. The year prior, we’d made it to the NFC Championships, losing by a field goal.
The next year, we were back in the same position, with the golden ticket to the Super Bowl
within our reach. The only thing standing in our way was the Philadelphia Eagles. I snarled as I
thought about that team. I always snarled at the thought of them.
Two minutes remained on the clock, and we were on the ten-yard line on third down. I
dropped into the pocket, searching the field for an open receiver. I danced this way and that as if my
movements might slow the clock. With no receiver available, I sucked in a breath and decided to go
for it. What I should have done was thrown it out of bounds and stopped the clock. That would
have been the smart move—the safe move. We had one more chance. I had to make it happen. The
year had to end in a run for the Super Bowl.
Running like a man on fire with the ball cradled against me as if I carried a newborn baby, I
headed for the end zone. But I wasn't a running back, that wasn't what I had been trained for.
Stupidly, I ran with my head down instead of up. As a result, I didn’t see the three-hundred pound
linebacker heading my way. I was the man with the ball, and I had left the protection of my
offensive line, which made me fair game.
The next thing I knew, I was laid out on the ground in extreme pain. When I looked down at
my left leg, I was surprised—and not—to see it angled in an unnatural position. I knew then that I
was well and truly fucked.
I tried to scream, but my voice failed me. Pain and the smell of the turf below me was all
there was.
The hit was dirty, straight up. Later, I found out a bounty of $5,000 had been issued for any
player that took out one of my knees. I hoped he got a bonus because he’d gone above and beyond
his mandate. Not only did I miss a season, my football career was over. Instead of taking out my
knee, his helmet, and the power behind it, hit my shin and shattered my tibia and fibula.
I remembered lying on the ground as the trainers and medical staff attended me. Chaos had
broken out around me. Players fought, and coaches and referees argued.
I needed to find peace from the commotion; needed to concentrate on something other than
the excruciating pain coming from my leg. I turned my head and found a pair of big, sable-brown
eyes, surrounded by golden-blonde hair, staring at me. She was beyond beautiful, and her eyes were
mesmerizing. I had conjured an angel.
In my hallucination, we shared an instant connection. When all around I saw pity and
remorse, in her eyes, I found solace and compassion—a kindred soul to my loss. The need to help,
and her inability not to, showed in the tears falling down her face, and the trembling of her full red
lips. My heart still clenched whenever I thought about it.
As conjurings go, I had created a whopper. When I thought back on it, I knew there was no
way she could be real. The average person wouldn’t have been allowed to get so close to an injured
player on the field. Hell, my girlfriend, who’d been sitting in the stands, wasn’t allowed on the field.
It still baffled the shit out of me that my mind had created such a vivid image.
I could still see her brushing tears from her eyes in my hallucination, and I remember her
taking a small step forward. I wanted her to come closer, to touch me. That was where the
hallucination ended, stopped by a new streak of pain that had traveled through my leg, sending me
into momentary blackness. When I opened my eyes, my blonde-haired beauty with soul-filled eyes
had disappeared. All I had left was the image of her that pulled me from my terror every morning. I
figured she’d probably be around twenty or twenty-one by now if she were real. I’d admit, that even
today, I looked for those eyes in every blonde I encountered.
Pathetic. Yeah. Too fucking pathetic.
I sighed and took two more hits off the bong. Maybe one too many, but at least now I felt
more balanced, controlled, and ready to start the day.
What the world saw now was a man who graduated from Harvard Law School, summa cum
laude, and worked for almost three years at a top law firm in Boston. Some of the country's top law
firms had courted me, and I had my pick of firms. But I decided to come back to Arizona, the place
where my life changed forever.
Gingerly, I climbed out of the bed and headed for the pool. I didn’t bother putting on swim
trunks; swimming naked was awesome. After a few stretches, I dove into the pool and swam laps for
an hour. Swimming kept me in shape, though not the shape of an NFL football player. Those days
were gone.
Finishing my laps, I headed for the shower, feeling excited, like something huge would
happen today. The last time I had this feeling, something huge happened all right. I looked at my leg
and scowled as sudsy water washed over my angry scars.
I dried off and walked into my closet, surveying the suits I had to choose from. I was
somewhat of a clotheshorse—always had been. Today, I picked a black Hugo Boss suit, white shirt,
and black, silk tie. In the mirror before me, I watched a professional, seemingly together man tie his
tie. It was a lie of course, but one I was used to.
Once dressed, I went to the kitchen and packed up a brownie in a plastic bag to take with
me. I'd gotten good at baking brownies. But these weren't just any chocolaty treats. These had a
kick. Cliché I know, but hey, whatever got me through the day. Whether I’d partake in it depended
on how the day went. Obviously, smoking at work wasn’t a good idea. But every now and then, the
pain became unbearable. If a handful of ibuprofen didn’t do the trick, the brownie would. I refused
to take pain meds. Those things did a number on my brain.
I put the brownies away, and all the paraphernalia of my coping mechanism, and locked
them in a cabinet in the pantry. I didn't need Hannah, my housekeeper, finding them. She probably
wouldn't care, but I did.
Thinking of Hannah made me laugh. I'd only met her twice, but we had developed an odd,
sometimes hilarious, texting relationship. I really liked her. Her cooking was amazing, and she kept
my home perfect.
Her work was about to increase, and I was thrilled. My brother was bringing my dog, Ben,
home to me. He had been with Brody in Colorado for the last two months while I got settled. I
couldn't wait to see both of them. Thinking about it made me giddy. I knew Ben would love it here.
There was plenty of room for him to run. Bernese Mountain dogs needed lots of exercise. I almost
didn’t get him because of that. Now, I couldn’t imagine my life without him. He got my ass outside
and stopped me from being such a hermit. If I thought about the fact that my best friend was a dog,
I would get bummed. But then again, fuck it! I loved my dog, and I had missed him terribly.
I doled out my handful of vitamins and four ibuprofen into my hand, and then popped them
into my mouth. From the fridge, I pulled out a bottle of OJ, taking large swigs from the bottle.
Let the day begin, I thought as I walked down the hall to the door. The sound of my designer
shoes on the travertine floors reminded me of the sound of cleats on concrete. It made me smile,
but the memory was bittersweet, and I pushed it aside. Behind bittersweet was pure malice, an
emotion I couldn't allow myself. Not today.
Grabbing the keys to my Viper, I headed out the door.
Watch out Arizona, Zolt Hamil was back.
Dawna Raver didn't always want to be a writer, but the voices in her head keep sending her stories, ranging from new adult, romantic fantasy and contemporary romance.
When she's not spending time in her fantasy world, Dawna loves football, reading, and pretending she's a top chef in the kitchen. Oh, and fawning over her dogs and husband, sometimes in that order.




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