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Meet Till & Eliza in Aly Martinez’s newest fighter series!
Blurb:
Sound is an abstract concept for most people. We spend our lives blocking out the static in order to focus on what we believe is important. But what if, when the clarity fades into silence, it’s the obscure background noise that you would give anything to hold on to?
I’ve always been a fighter. With parents who barely managed to stay out of jail and two little brothers who narrowly avoided foster care, I became skilled at dodging the punches life threw at me. Growing up, I didn’t have anything I could call my own, but from the moment I met Eliza Reynolds, she was always mine. I became utterly addicted to her and the escape from reality we provided each other. Throughout the years, she had boyfriends and I had girlfriends, but there wasn’t a single night that I didn’t hear her voice.
You see, meeting the love of my life at age thirteen was never part of my plan. However, neither was gradually going deaf at the age of twenty-one.
They both happened anyway.
Now, I’m on the ropes during the toughest battles of my life.
Fighting for my career.
Fighting the impending silence. Fighting for her.
Every night, just before falling asleep, she sighs as a final conscious breath leaves her.
I think that’s the sound I’ll miss the most.
Each book in this series can be read as a standalone.
“That wasn’t yours to take away,” he exploded into the otherwise silent night. His words echoed off the surrounding buildings, each wave slicing me to the quick all over again. “That was our place. Not yours.” His voice cracked right alongside my heart.
“Yeah, well, there was a lot of stuff that wasn’t yours to take either.” I held his gaze, desperately trying to be strong, but as his eyes grew wide, I whimpered.
His long legs strode forward, stopping only inches away from me. He was crowding me, but he still leaned in closer to my face. “There is nothing in this world that was ever more mine than you,” he stated. Though it was the absolute truth, I wished with all my heart that it were a lie.
“Till,” I cried, swiping the tears from my eyes.
“Why!” he shouted, causing his muscles to tense under the force. “Goddamn it! I needed that place.”
Porch lights flashed on from the surrounding apartments, illuminating not only the dark but also my rage.
I shoved my hands into his chest. “What about what I needed? You left! I waited in that fucking apartment for weeks.”
He didn’t budge, but my bare feet slipped, sending me toward the ground. Impossibly fast, Till’s hand snaked out and caught my arm. I didn’t let his chivalrous gesture douse my fire. I had six months’ worth of words to say to the man I was irrevocably in love with.
“You took what you wanted. Then you left me.”
“Doodle,” he whispered.
I had been perilously close to the edge of insanity, and with one single word, he’d pushed me over.
I lost it completely.
Pounding my fists against his chest, I screamed at the top of my lungs, “It’s Eliza! My name is fucking Eliza! Not Doodle!” I spun to march away, but Till’s arms folded around me, lifting me off my feet to restrain me.
I was miniscule compared to him. There was no use in fighting, but I still kicked my legs, irrationally desperate to get away from him—but only because I knew I couldn’t keep him for forever.
“Stop it!” he growled into my ear. “I know your Goddamn name—probably better than I know my own.”
Born and raised in Savannah, Georgia, Aly Martinez is a stay-at-home mom to four crazy kids under the age of five, including a set of twins. Currently living in South Carolina, she passes what little free time she has reading anything and everything she can get her hands on, preferably with a glass of wine at her side.
After some encouragement from her friends, Aly decided to add “Author” to her ever-growing list of job titles. Five books later, she shows no signs of slowing. So grab a glass of Chardonnay, or a bottle if you’re hanging out with Aly, and join her aboard the crazy train she calls life.
Sound is an abstract concept for most people. We spend our lives blocking out the static in order to focus on what we believe is important. But what if, when the clarity fades into silence, it’s the obscure background noise that you would give anything to hold on to?
I’ve always been a fighter. With parents who barely managed to stay out of jail and two little brothers who narrowly avoided foster care, I became skilled at dodging the punches life threw at me. Growing up, I didn’t have anything I could call my own, but from the moment I met Eliza Reynolds, she was always mine. I became utterly addicted to her and the escape from reality we provided each other. Throughout the years, she had boyfriends and I had girlfriends, but there wasn’t a single night that I didn’t hear her voice.
You see, meeting the love of my life at age thirteen was never part of my plan. However, neither was gradually going deaf at the age of twenty-one.
They both happened anyway.
Now, I’m on the ropes during the toughest battles of my life. Fighting for my career. Fighting the impending silence. Fighting for her.
Every night, just before falling asleep, she sighs as a final conscious breath leaves her.
I think that’s the sound I’ll miss the most.
Each book in this series can be read as a standalone.
Review
I have had the pleasure of reading all of Aly Martinez’s books. I knew after reading her Wrecked and Ruined Series that I would love anything her imagination could conjure up. I wasn’t prepared for Fighting Silence though. It was a whole new ballpark and believe it or not I loved this book even more than her others.
In an alpha book world where billionaires, stepbrothers, and dark MC books tend to be dominating the romance genre, comes Till Page. He is a new breed of alpha hero. Till will make you hot in all the delicious book boyfriend ways that we have come to love and in the next breath, you will want to hold him and care for him; protect him from his present and shield him from his future. Your heart will break for him and your soul will root for his happily-ever-after: Eliza.
Fighting Silence is Eliza and Till’s journey from the tender age of 13 when all they have is a condemned apartment, dirty clothes, and each other.
“That window she crawled into is magic.”
“Nu-uh,”
“I’m serious. It’s a magical portal that takes you to a fantasy world. There are no parents or teachers. Everything is nice and clean, and the pantry is always stocked. The best part, though, is that she’s always there.”
“Is she magic too?”
“Absolutely.”
Their story spans years and their friendship grows. All the while you are falling more and more in love with these two beautiful people. All the while you are dying for them to finally come together. But Till never plans to have Eliza the way he truly wants her. That would ruin his fantasy because the truth is he needs the fantasy. The fantasy is what is keeping the present away and the future from looking so grim. Till would rather have Eliza’s friendship than nothing at all. It is the nothing at all that really terrifies him.
“I can’t have you without claiming you for forever.”
“Then claim me. I’ll claim you too.”
“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of, Eliza.”
Eliza and Till have a fight on their hands. There story isn’t an easy one. They will fight for each other.
“There is nothing in this world that was ever more mine than you,”
Fight for Till’s little brothers, Flint and Quarry. (who you also grow to love) Fight the poverty that they were born into and fight the silence that eventually Till will have to live with.
Get ready for an action packed story; windows, doors, doodles, impending silence, and hopes of becoming the heavy weight boxing champ of the world will enrapture you. These Two poor kids with big dreams and even bigger obstacles will capture your heart forever. This is not a book I’ll likely ever forget and one I’ll read again and again. I cannot wait for the next book in this series. It is Flint’s story and I have a feeling I might love him even more than Till.
The choice is steep: Stay on the ledge and steal Van’s painting or take the leap and sacrifice her sister. It’s another decision in a long line that she’s had to make in her life, and though it’s easy to make, it’s impossible to execute.
Jade won’t let Cory go until she gets what she wants, but the price for Cory is high. It’s never been hard to steal, to lie, but Van changed all the rules. It was the last thing she wanted to do to him. But as much as that choice is agony, there’s really only one to make.
Betrayal and pain. Love and loss. Decisions and consequences. The edge Cory walks is razor sharp and sky high, but she can’t look down. Not until she makes it to the other side.
Staci has been a lot of things up to this point in her life — a graphic designer, an entrepreneur, a seamstress, a clothing and handbag designer, a waitress. Can’t forget that. She’s also been a mom; she has three little girls who are sure to grow up to break a number of hearts. She’s been a wife; even though she’s certainly not the cleanest, or the best cook. She’s also super, duper fun at a party, especially if she’s been drinking whiskey. Her favorite word starts with f and ends with k.
From roots in Houston, to a seven year stint in Southern California, Staci and her family ended up settling somewhere in between and equally north, in Denver. They are new enough that snow is still magical. When she’s not writing, she’s sleeping, gaming, or designing graphics.
The choice is steep: Stay on the ledge and steal Van’s painting or take the leap and sacrifice her sister. It’s another decision in a long line that she’s had to make in her life, and though it’s easy to make, it’s impossible to execute.
Jade won’t let Cory go until she gets what she wants, but the price for Cory is high. It’s never been hard to steal, to lie, but Van changed all the rules. It was the last thing she wanted to do to him. But as much as that choice is agony, there’s really only one to make.
Betrayal and pain. Love and loss. Decisions and consequences. The edge Cory walks is razor sharp and sky high, but she can’t look down. Not until she makes it to the other side.
Review
“You’re making the choice for him because you’re scared, and that’s not fair to either of you.”
When this part begins Jade has done the unthinkable and threatened Cory’s sister if she doesn’t co-operate in robbing Van. So of course Cory does the only thing she has done her entire life and put her needs and desires aside so that her little sister can have the life she never did. Cory is sad and depressed, for the first time in a long time she felt a real connection to another person, someone she thought really understood her and in order to do what needs to be done she must lie and betray him.
“His fingers touched my chin, lifting it as he brought his lips to mine in a way that healed and broke me all at once.”
For fear of giving too much away, with this being a serial and short that is a concern of mine, I will not dwell on the plot too much. The highlight of this book is the fact that it is a fast paced and urban story in a time when so many romances are not. For me this story feels unique and fresh and unlike any book I have read before.
“Everything was wrong and right, fucked up and perfect, all at the same time.”
Cory is a take charge heroine who won’t put up with people who have wronged her. Van is hip and cool and doesn’t flaunt his wealth. He doesn’t care how different the worlds he and Cory come from are only that he finally found someone who gets him. Cory has built up so many walls around herself and basically only lives to provide for her sister that it is near impossible for her to really let him in.
“We were over, and I would never be the same again.”
I do want to mention that while this serial is very sexy it is not overwhelming to the story as I find many serials are. The balance between lust and drama is just the right mix to make a story that I can’t put down. There is a F/F scene in this installment as well and while this does not bother me I do understand it is not everyone’s cup of tea so I want to mention it.
“People don’t change. They’re only revealed.”
Overall, I think Staci is doing a great job of weaving a tale that I am excited to see to completion. Anyone who is a fan of sexy, fast paced stories with exciting and twisting plots will enjoy this series.
USA Today Best Selling Author, Emily Minton is a Kentucky native. She claims she bleeds blue–Wildcat Blue! Emily loves to read, and this love of the written word led to her writing career.
We all have that someone we can’t forget, the summer it all began, and the sleepless nights wondering what went wrong.
For Gage Montgomery, that someone is Layla Baxter. When he was 18, he took one look at the chocolate-haired bookworm with porcelain skin and knew his life would never be the same. But it all came crashing down when Layla suddenly and mysteriously disappeared from St. Simons Island — leaving him with nothing but her angel wing pendent around his neck. For 12 long years, Gage couldn’t shake what happened, if he’s the one to blame, wondering where Layla might be. When their paths finally cross, he’s determined to get the answers he’s spent his life searching for — and to get the girl, too. Quiet Angel is a story of hope, survival, and lost love made new again.
“I missed you, too, but you were never far.” Gage touched his shirt with the wings inside. “You were always there.”
Prescott Lane is the author of First Position, Perfectly Broken and her new release, Quiet Angel. She is originally from Little Rock, Arkansas, and graduated from Centenary College with a degree in sociology. She went on to receive her MSW from Tulane University, after which she worked with developmentally delayed and disabled children. She married her college sweetheart, and they currently live in New Orleans with their two children and two crazy dogs. Prescott started writing at the age of five, and sold her first story about a talking turtle to her father for a quarter. She later turned to writing romance novels because there aren’t enough happily ever afters in real life. Connect with Prescott Lane on facebook.com/PrescottLane1 and www.twitter.com/prescottlane1.
Giveaway details:
1 necklace – the actual necklace used on the cover of Quiet Angel
The Five Stages of Falling in Love is a Contemporary Romance. Elizabeth Carlson is living in the pits of hell- also known as grief.
Her husband of eight years, the father of her four children and the love of her life, died from cancer. Grady’s prognosis was grim, even from the start, but Liz never gave up hope he would survive. How could she, when he was everything to her?
Six months later, she is trying to pick up the pieces of her shattered life and get the kids to school on time. Both seem impossible. Everything seems impossible these days.
When Ben Tyler moves in next door, she is drowning in sorrow and pain, her children are acting out, and the house is falling apart. She has no time for curious new friends or unwanted help, but Ben gives her both. And he doesn’t just want to help her with yard work or cleaning the gutters. Ben wants more from Liz. More than she’s capable of ever giving again.
As Liz mourns her dead husband and works her way through the five stages of grief, she finds there’s more of her heart to give than she thought possible. And as new love takes hold, she peels away the guilt and heartache, and discovers there’s more to life than death.
Review
Liz Carlson is the mother of four children and a recent widow. And when a new neighbor moves in, changes happen. Liz is having to learn how to accept help from others and allow herself time to breathe. I could feel the heartache and the daily struggles that Liz had to face. After a crazy encounter that leads her to her neighbor’s house, she begins to feel something very different. Ben Tyler is a lawyer and recently moved next door. He finds something intriguing about Liz. And even though there was the preconceived notion that all men shy away from kids from my personal experience, Ben Tyler was not that. Super sweet and swoon-worthy, Ben was a character the reader was rooting for. I kept talking to my kindle and coaching Ben at every chance I could. Every emotion that was felt with Liz, I could feel. I loved the idea that Liz could get her opportunity for second chance love. Characters were beautifully written. Aside from feeling the emotions from Liz, I especially felt the emotions of the children. Adults can come to terms with death, and well children, after losing a parent, just have a difficult time. The journey the reader embarks is one of heartache, sorrow, mourning of a spouse and also the beauty that can come from a tragedy. The author did a superb job and felt very real to me. I couldn’t get enough of the story and the cover is gorgeous! Romance readers will fall in love with their story and will never look at a pop-tart the same way again. 4 smooches for The Five Stages of Falling in Love by Rachel Higginson.
My younger brother is getting worse, and my job – my duty – is to help him at all costs. We’ve tried everything modern medicine has to offer and nothing works.
Nothing.
Deciding to turn to unconventional treatments, we end up at Fire-on-the-Mountain, a holistic resort deep in the Rockies.
In our search for medical marijuana, I find beautiful, free-spirited Hudson Shavell – a girl who may not only hold the key to heal my brother, but to fix me as well. Even though I can’t afford distractions right now, she’s all I can think about. All that I want.
It’s funny how everything can change with one little SPARK.
Erin Noelle is a Texas native, where she lives with her husband and two young daughters. While earning her degree in History at the University of Houston, she rediscovered her love for reading that was first instilled by her grandmother when she was a young child. A lover of happily-ever-afters, both historical and current, Erin is an avid reader of all romance novels. In 2013, she published the Book Boyfriend Series, which included books Metamorphosis, Ambrosia, Euphoria, and Timeless, and recently published When the Sun Goes Down, a contemporary romance novel. Her books have been a part of the USA Today Bestselling list and the Amazon and Barnes & Noble overall Top 100.
With a smile, I turned around, then froze when my sight registered the obscured figure leaning against the wall. A strangled gasp caught in my throat, and my heart took off at a sprint, blood pounding hard in my ears.
Pushing from the wall, he stepped from the shadows, his hands again stuffed deep in his pockets.
My heart rate only increased, the energy radiating from him almost as strong as the disappointment he’d left me with when he’d gone.
I pressed my hand to my chest to try to still the panic thundering against my ribs. “You scared me.”
“I’m sorry.” The words were soft. “That’s the last thing I want to do.”
But he did. I was scared of what he was capable of doing to me, the way I knew he held the power to trounce all over this hammering heart, to hold it in his hand and crush it into a million unrecognizable pieces.
“What are you doing here?” I asked on a shaky breath.
He looked to the sky and exhaled heavily, before he leveled his gaze back on me. “The same thing I’m doing every night, Shea. Thinking about you and wondering why the hell I can’t stop.”
My stomach flipped, and I gulped for air.
“What do you want from me?”
He laughed, lifted his elbows out to his sides in a helpless gesture without pulling his hands free. “Dinner?”
Nonsensical laughter shot from me. “At three in the morning?”
“Breakfast?” he amended, a coy smile pulling at his full, crooked lips.
Tingles spread across my skin, and I ran my hands up my bare arms. “I already told you I don’t have time for distractions.”
“Come on, Shea. It’s just food. Go out with me. Just tonight.”
Somehow I knew it was a lie, even though he wanted to believe it was true.
Nervously, I glanced to the back door all the while being inexplicably drawn to this man I didn’t even know. I knew I should make a break for it, run for the safety of my little world and give him no opportunity to rip it apart.
“I am hungry,” I found myself saying. After a long night of work, it was true. But it had nothing to do with the reason I was giving in.
Because I just wanted to…
I shook my head.
That was it. I just wanted. I wanted to be in his space. I wanted to understand why he had this pull on me. I wanted him.
A.L. Jackson is the New York Times bestselling author of Take This Regret and Lost to You, as well as other contemporary romance titles, including If Forever Comes, Pulled and When We Collide, as well as the New Adult Romance Come To Me Quietly due out January 7, 2014.She first found a love for writing during her days as a young mother and college student. She filled the journals she carried with short stories and poems used as an emotional outlet for the difficulties and joys she found in day-to-day life.
Years later, she shared a short story she’d been working on with her two closest friends and, with their encouragement, this story became her first full length novel. A.L. now spends her days writing in Southern Arizona where she lives with her husband and three children. Her favorite pastime is spending time with the ones she loves.
by New York Times best selling author Ilsa Madden-Mills
Release Date: March 1, 2015
This is a standalone New Adult novel with graphic sex and language.
Introductory price of $2.99 on release day for 24 hours only!
A sassy violinist who lives next door. An obsessed rock star who watches her through binoculars. And one night when she bares it all. Life will never be the same in Tinseltown.
Description:
Vital Rejects front guy Sebastian Tate never imagined his YouTube music video would go viral, sky-rocketing him to acting success in Hollywood. Okay, maybe he did. After all, he’s a cocky dude who knows he’s hot-as-hell, and it was only a matter of time before his stars aligned.
But life in Tinseltown is never what it seems.
After being cheated on, his only rule to falling in love is simple: Keep Calm and Don’t Do It. Spying on his mysterious new neighbor with binoculars seems innocent enough, but quickly escalates into an erotic game between two very unlikely people.
Twenty-year-old Violet St. Lyons is a world-renowned violinist who’s lost her mojo on stage. She hides away in a Hollywood mansion, trying to find her way through her twisted past in order to make her future.
He’s the life of the party with girls chasing him down for his autograph. She’s the introvert with a potty mouth who doesn’t even know who he is.
When they meet, stars collide, sparks fly, and clothes come off. Yet, giving his heart to a girl isn’t Sebastian’s plan; falling for a guy who craves attention isn’t Violet’s.
Welcome to Briarcrest Academy—Hollywood style—where sometimes the best things in life are VERY TWISTED THINGS.
Prologue
Violet
“Fairy dust is not real. This I know.” —from the journal of Violet St. Lyons
Boom!
I, Violet St. Lyons, who once believed herself the luckiest girl in the world, was born on the same day that the Violette–Sells comet was discovered. My parents, two avid stargazers, said it was a sign of how special I was and promptly named me Violet. They claimed my life had been blessed with fairy dust.
At the very least, comet residue.
I’d foolishly believed it for eighteen years, until the moment of my death.
Which was now.
Boom! Another explosion rocked the plane and metal ripped away as a section of the aircraft to my right vanished. Luggage flew through the air. People disappeared. The mom with the baby who’d sat in the aisle across from us—gone. The redheaded flight attendant who’d been collecting trash—gone. Disembodied screams echoed from the surrounding passengers as my own scream took up most of the space in my head. Air sucked at us viciously from the outside as a tornado of people banged around the space and one by one got pulled out into the swirling abyss.
I watched, helplessly transfixed, as I sat between my parents, gripping each of their hands as the plane we’d boarded six hours earlier for Dublin spiraled toward the Atlantic Ocean. I was going to die. My mother was already dead, a twisted piece of shrapnel sticking grotesquely from her chest as her head lolled around her neck. Blood had already soaked her shirt, yet I refused to let go of her hand. She’d be okay. We were always okay. We were the St. Lyons family of Manhattan, an icon of old money wealth with deep political ties. Page six of the NewYork Times featured pictures of us on a monthly basis. We couldn’t die on a plane.
Reality dawned as we plummeted. The yellow breathing apparatus dropped and dangled in my face, taunting me with its pointlessness. Fire and black smoke boiled in front of us where the cockpit had been, and my mind recognized that the pilots had to be dead. Just a few minutes ago, they’d come over the intercom and announced that the plane was making its descent into Dublin Airport exactly on schedule.
Then the first explosion had gone off.
Bits of debris flew around, narrowly missing me. My elderly father grabbed my hand and squeezed, his face drawn back in a horrible grimace. Fear and then horror flickered across his face as he saw Mother, but there was no time to comfort him.
Paralyzed in my seat, we spun like a drunken top, and a part of my brain noticed the sun was rising, its pink tinge lending a soft glow, catching the reflection of clouds and making them silver-lined. The rocky coast of Ireland glittered in the distance. Mocking me. We’d been headed there to celebrate my eighteenth birthday.
Just then my violin case flew past my head from the overhead compartment and crashed against the wall of the plane. Shards flew. I shuddered and wanted to vomit. God, help us. We were here because of me. Our deaths were my fault. I spared a glance at the diamond promise ring Geoff had given me before we’d left. Would the Mayor of New York’s son go on without me?
The air was turbulent yet thin, and my chest tightened as dizziness pulled at me. I resisted. Had to stay awake. Had to be with my dad. I was younger, stronger, faster. My eyes went to the gaping hole in the plane. Had to think ahead. Plan. Water would fill up the plane on impact, ensuring we’d sink rapidly.
My fear escalated as the ocean rushed at us, its surface choppy and ominous. I took in a giant breath and braced myself. We hit at an angle, the plane a torpedo as it sliced into the sea. Daddy disappeared, ejected by the impact, and I yanked on my seat belt, unclicking it to go after him. Heart thundering, I sent a final look at my mother. I wanted to take her with me, but she was gone.
Water everywhere, bubbling and gurgling as it filled up the plane. Salt water stung my eyes. People floated by, some alive as they floundered for the opening. I kept my gaze off the dead ones. Focus. Get out. Only seconds left.
I swam from my seat and fought my way out of the large hole in the plane, lungs exploding. Burning. I’d been under too long.
Daddy! I caught a glimpse of his red shirt above me and kicked harder.
Up, up, up. Must get up. My arms moved. My legs kicked. Excruciating pain. Ignore it. Almost there. So close that I could see the daylight breaking through the water.
The hottest fire I’ve ever known lit in my chest. Scorching.
Air. Just want to breathe. Just get to the top. Please.
My body rebelled and I inhaled and swallowed water, the burn racing down my throat making it spasm as I tried to cough it out. I struggled but took in more and more, the cold liquid filling my lungs.
Dark spots filled my eyes. This was drowning.
Exhausted.
Done.
My body twitched. I grew disoriented.
I let go of the fight. My hands floated in front of me.
Oblivion.
Darkness.
No bright lights, no tunnel.
No heaven, no mother, no father.
No comets.
No fairy dust.
Chapter 1
Sebastian
Two years later
“She was music with skin.” —Sebastian Tate
I tapped my foot.
What was taking her so long?
From my backyard patio in the Hollywood Hills, I watched the odd girl next door with a pair of high-powered binoculars. She flicked on her porch lights, and a low whistle came out of me at the sexy red-as-sin robe she wore, its silky material flashing around her long legs as she moved around her patio. Her hair was down, too.
This was new. Where were the usual yoga pants? The ponytail?
She looked like she knew someone watched, but that was impossible since our outside lights were off. Even the light from the moon hit our house at such an angle that she shouldn’t be able to see us just by glancing over. She’d need a high-powered lens to know I was here.
Usually she played facing her rose garden, but this time she walked to the right side of her patio, which faced us. Weird. But she didn’t play. She just stood there without moving. Staring toward our house. Uneasiness went over me.
What was she doing?
Could she see me?
As if it were a fragile bird, she positioned the violin under her chin and began playing, arms bent and wrist poised, making the most exquisite sounds. And I don’t mean classical like Beethoven or Mozart; I mean body-thrashing, blood-thumping, hard-as-hell music that had me rooted to the ground, like she’d slapped iron chains on me.
Dark and seductive notes rose up in the air, and I got jacked up, recognizing a Led Zeppelin song, only she’d ripped its guts out and twisted it into something electric. She pushed the bow hard, upping the tempo abruptly, her movements controlled yet wild. My pulse kicked up and my eyes lingered, taking in the slightly parted toned legs and the way her breasts bounced as she jerked her arms to manipulate the strings.
Her body arched forward in a curve, seeming as if she might break into a million pieces before she finished the piece or climaxed first. Then, her robe slipped off her right shoulder, exposing part of her breast. Creamy and full, it quivered, vibrating as she moved her arms. Her rosy nipple teased me, slipping in and out of the folds of the material, erect from the cool mountain air and deliciously bitable. I pictured my mouth there, sucking, my fingers plucking, strumming her like my guitar until she begged me to—
Stop, I told myself just as an appreciative groan came out. Whoever Violin Girl was, she didn’t deserve me lusting after her while she was pouring her heart out with music.
I zoomed in as far as the binoculars would go, watching her surrender to the music as she bent and swayed from side to side with her eyes closed, black lashes like fans on her cheeks. Every molecule in my body focused on her, hanging on to each note she pulled from her instrument.
She finished and kept her head bowed for the longest time, perhaps letting the emotion wash over her like it had me. Then, she bowed to the banana trees and gnomes in her garden, waving her hands in a flourish as she rose.
The entire event was surreal, yet poignant as fucking poetry.
I let out a deep breath I didn’t even realize I’d been holding.
Who the hell plays Stairway to Heaven with a violin? She did.
Bam! She snapped her head up, her eyes lasering in on mine, making every hair on my body stand at attention.
And then …
Standing there in the moonlight, she untied her robe and spread apart the sides ever so slightly, her movements seeming almost hesitant, as if she’d had to work herself up. Unfamiliar jealousy hit me and I panned out and checked the rest of the patio, expecting to see a lover. Whoever it was, I wanted to rip him apart piece by piece.
And didn’t that thought surprise me.
My gaze searched her patio, the backyard, her upstairs balcony. Nothing. No one.
She flicked her dark hair back and stroked the lapels of the robe, her fingers lingering over the lacy material. Suddenly the evening smacked of something more than just music. Her arms moved back and forth across the front, opening the robe halfway and then closing it as if she couldn’t make up her mind.
My eyes went up, trying to read her face. Still as a statue, the only movement was her mouth as it trembled, her full upper lip resting against the pouty lower one. Tears ran down her face, but they seemed more of a defiant act, her jaw tightly set, her shoulders hunched inward as if she’d held it in too long and was giving in, but not without a fight.
Violin Girl was trapped in a cage of darkness.
It still didn’t stop me from holding my breath, silently begging her to bare herself to me. She’d already laid bare her music. Part of me needed the rest of her.
She jerked the robe closed, making me groan in disappointment.
New York Times and USA Today best selling author Ilsa Madden-Mills writes about strong heroines and sexy alpha males that sometimes you just want to slap.
She spends her days with two small kids, one neurotic cat, and one husband. She collects magnets and rarely cooks except to bake her own pretzels.
When she’s not crafting a story, you can find her drinking too much Diet Coke, jamming out to Pink, or checking on her carefully maintained chocolate stash.
She loves to hear from readers and fellow authors.
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