Happy release day to Whitney Barbetti 💘 Esce oggi Back to Yesterday, il secondo volume della sua nuova serie Bleeding Hearts :D Love the cover ♥ Per chi non lo sapesse, questa autrice è entrata di diritto nella mia Top Autori grazie al suo indimenticabile Ten Below Zero, che occupa la 7^ posizione nella mia Top Ten ;)
★TopAutori |
The distance from Colorado to Maine is not far enough to escape the memories.
The time I've been away is not long enough to heal the pain.
I left Colorado, determined to discover who I am outside of my grief, but I fell apart along the way.
I'm lost again.
When Jude follows me, I can't turn him away. But I can't let him in, either.
Not all the way.
I know when he finds out my secret, the one I keep hidden in the darkest part of my heart, he’ll leave me.
Alone.
Like I was before.
The time I've been away is not long enough to heal the pain.
I left Colorado, determined to discover who I am outside of my grief, but I fell apart along the way.
I'm lost again.
When Jude follows me, I can't turn him away. But I can't let him in, either.
Not all the way.
I know when he finds out my secret, the one I keep hidden in the darkest part of my heart, he’ll leave me.
Alone.
Like I was before.
LEGGI L'ESTRATTO
“Are you okay?”
He laughed, but it was without humor. He dropped his head and stared
at his plate as I had minutes earlier. “Am I okay?” Shaking his head, he said,
“No, I’m not fucking okay.” He pushed away from the table hard enough that the
screech of the chair across the wooden floor startled me. Jude was always so steady,
and while he wasn’t necessarily predictable, he wasn’t prone to outbursts of
anger like this. He picked up his plate and walked to the sink and I stared at
his back, willing him to talk to me. But I couldn’t ask that of him.
Picking up my plate, I debated what to do. It was surreal almost,
being in Jude’s apartment but not touching him the way I wanted to. Finally, I
joined him at the sink as he worked a sponge into a lather and swiped it across
his plate. “Let me do it,” I said softly, reaching a hand in to take the sponge
from him.
He let go of the plate and clasped my forearm as I reached into the
sink. His touch was gentle as he turned my wrist over and rubbed a thumb slowly
across the length of my vein, visible through my translucent skin. I could only
hold my breath as he touched me like this, like he was memorizing the blue
lines that ran the length of my forearm. His hands were warm, searching, and I
realized that I’d been yearning for this, for the simple act of him touching my
skin like it was delicate. His fingers moved down, and my closed fist opened to
give him access to my palm, where he traced the lines in my hands. It was so
intimate, even in its simplicity, that all I could do was watch him as he
examined my hands. “I’ve missed you,” he said in a voice that was just short of
a whisper. My heart turned over as he bent my fingers gently back into my fist
and rubbed his soapy fingers over the knuckles.
When he let go of my hand and turned away from me, I felt goose
bumps ignite across my skin. All I wanted was for him to keep touching me, but
I’d hurt him. And he’d hurt me.
We had miles of pain between the two of us, and even though we were
no longer miles apart, that pain existed between us like another person,
holding both of us back.
“I missed you too,” I said too late, when I’d caught my breath
again.
“Please,” he pleaded as he rinsed the plate in his hands. “I can’t
hear you say that right now.”
Nodding, I backed away. I understood. This wasn’t the time or place,
and we were little more than strangers right now. I was a new Trista, someone
he had never known.
Likely, someone he didn’t want to know.
GRAPHIC TEASERS
CONOSCI L'AUTRICE
I am a wife to one and a mom to two humans and one cat. I have a deep and abiding love for nachos - especially the kind with the liquid cheese, like from Taco Bell (sorry). I run on less than four hours of sleep thanks to copious amounts of Diet Coke. (Note: this paragraph is not sponsored by anyone except my hungry stomach.)
As a Navy brat, I grew up all over the country, from California, up the east coast from Florida to New England and Colorado. I currently live in Idaho, where we have lots of potatoes and windmills.
I write character-driven New Adult novels, heavy on the emotional connection. I LOVE love. I love writing about broken characters who find their soul mates.
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