PERFECT TOGETHER, an emotional new second-chance romance from New York Times Bestselling Author, Kristen Ashley, is available now!
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Can they be perfect together again?
Wyn and Remy Gastineau were perfect together….
Until, without warning, Remy walks out on their life, their love, and their marriage.
Wyn is blindsided and heartbroken. It takes her years to get over the loss of Remy.
Sometime later, their children call a family meeting, and Remy is acting strange. Wyn refuses to hope. Remy has moved on. She must do the same.
But she’s wrong.
Remy wants her back, and he’s pulling no punches. He’s determined to do the work to piece together the marriage he shattered. Forced by circumstances to tell Wyn things he never wanted her to know, Remy reveals his tragic secrets.
As the family reels from pain long buried now laid bared, Wyn realizes instead of letting go, she has to hold tight to the man and the family they made that’s perfect together.
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“A breathtaking journey filled with passion, emotion and a love that defies all odds…” ~Danielle, Red Cheeks Reads
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“You…have a place?”
“Apartment, yeah,” he grunted.
“You’ve rented an apartment.”
It was a statement, and the pain in it was not veiled.
Hearing it was why my husband of nineteen years looked from placing some of his folded T-shirts into one of his Tumi cases, to me.
His next wasn’t a grunt, it was gentle and sweet, and butchering when he repeated, “Yeah.” “So, we’re done,” I said tonelessly.
He straightened from his packing, “Wyn—”
“Like so much else in our lives, you have decided we’re done.”
His beautiful, full lips thinned.
But he didn’t answer.
The suitcase on our bed that he was packing, the leather bag he used for weekenders already crammed full, zipped shut and sitting on the floor, his workout bag the same, the Tumi carry-on the same, his empty part of the closet and currently emptying drawers…
These were his answer.
“There’s no talking about this? Working this out?” I asked.
“We’ve talked ad nauseam. We’ve—”
I leaned his way and grated out, “Nineteen fucking years, Remy. You’re just throwing that away?”
I could see immediately he was getting angry (I mean, it was actually twenty-one fucking years, including dating, engagement, so of course I would). “I’m not throwing dick away, Wyn.”
I glanced pointedly at each bag that told a different tale.
“You never took a goddamn thing I said seriously,” he noted.
Okay, now I was getting angry.
“Are you insane?” I demanded.
“Were you in California last weekend?” he asked.
I felt my hair sway as my back went ramrod straight.
“I asked you not to go, you went,” he bit out.
“You told me not to go, and it was work, I couldn’t not go. So yes, I went.”
“You can do whatever the fuck you want, Wyn, you own the goddamned company. That includes saying no and sending someone else.”
“And how, precisely, do I say no to Fiona Remington?”
“You open your mouth and form the letters n and o.”
I stood there, staring at the man I’d shared a bed with for decades, the father of my three children, and I felt cold creep over my skin.
“I’m on the cover of the top magazine in my business, for fuck’s sake,” he stated. “On it for winning that award this weekend, and my daughter was my date because my wife was kissing ass in Hollywood.”
That cold grew icy.
“You don’t want to do this, Remy,” I warned. “There’s no coming back from this.”
“Of course I don’t want to do this, Wyn,” he spat. “But you’ve given me no choice.”
Oh no, he did not.
I swung an arm out to the Tumi. “So this is on me?”
“The city of fucking Phoenix gave me an award, Wyn, and you were not here.”
“The highest-paid, most critically acclaimed actor in Hollywood asked me to style her for awards season, Remy, and she had this one window to sit down for a consultation before she’s off to Algiers to begin a punishing three-month shoot, and she won’t step foot on American soil until two days before the award shows begin. So I needed to be there.”
“Yeah,” he said, the finality in that syllable like a crush of stones landing on my head. “You did.”
After he spoke those words, he walked back to the dresser and emptied the drawer.
As he shoved the tees in with the others, I whispered, “There’s no coming back from this, Remy.”
He didn’t look at me as he flipped the suitcase shut, zipped it, and then tugged it from the bed.
Only when he had both bags over his shoulders, the suitcases tipped to their wheels—strong and fit, my rugby-playing husband, he didn’t seem weighed down at all with a representation of our entire life hanging off his shoulders—did his eyes find mine so he could give me an answer.
And that answer was not his words.
That answer was my tall, strong, handsome husband walking out our bedroom door.
About Kristen Ashley:
Kristen Ashley is the New York Times bestselling author of over eighty romance novels. She’s a hybrid author, publishing titles both independently and traditionally, her books have been translated in fourteen languages and she’s sold millions of books.
Kristen, born in Gary and raised in Brownsburg, Indiana and was a fourth-generation graduate of Purdue University. Since, she has lived in Denver, the West Country of England, and she now resides in Phoenix. She worked as a charity executive for eighteen years prior to beginning her independent publishing career. She now writes full-time.
Although romance is her genre, the prevailing themes running through all of Kristen’s novels are friendship, family and a strong sisterhood. To this end, and as a way to thank her readers for their support, Kristen has created the Rock Chick Nation, a series of programs that are designed to give back to her readers and promote a strong female community. You can learn more about Kristen and the Rock Chick Nation on her website.
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