Showing posts with label thriller. Show all posts
Showing posts with label thriller. Show all posts

Monday, February 2, 2015

Courtney Cole Releases #2 in NOCTE Trilogy

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I am absolutely over the moon about this Release Day launch for Courtney Cole's VERUM!! 

VERUM is a New Adult dark romantic psychological suspense novel and the second book in Courtney's The Nocte Trilogy

To celebrate the release NOCTE is on sale for only $.99 through tomorrow! Grab both now and thank me later.

 


Verum

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Add VERUM on Goodreads

 


About VERUM:


The truth shall set you free.

My name is Calla Price and I’m drowning.

My new world is a dark, dark ocean and I’m being pulled under by secrets.

Can I trust anyone? I don’t know anymore.

The lies are spirals. They twist and turn, binding me with their thorns and serpentine tongues. And just when I think I have it figured out, everything is pulled out from under me.

I’m entangled in the darkness.

But the truth will set me free.

It’s just ahead of me, so close I can touch it. But even though it shines and glimmers, it has glistening fangs and I know it will shred me.

Are you scared?

I am.



Excerpt:

Together, we float to the surface, still intertwined. We break through the top and I suck in a breath and Dare is staring into my eyes.

There’s tension here, but not the bad kind. It’s the kind that ignites you, the kind that intoxicates you, the kind that once you taste it, you’ll crave for the rest of your life.

I’ve forgotten that I was going to be careful, that I was going to reject him on every level.

All I can remember, all I can focus on, is how very alive Dare DuBray is making me feel in this moment, how alive he always makes me feel.

For a girl who has been surrounded by death her entire life, this is a very big deal.

“I’m a little afraid of you,” I blurt honestly, and Dare still has his arms around me. Our treading water motions keep our legs rubbing together, the friction still there.

Hot,

Hot,

Hotter.

Dare smiles, but there is no humor in it.

“Good.”

“Why?”

My honesty makes me seem innocent, but I don’t know how to play games. I have no experience with the opposite sex at all.

“Because that makes you feel something.”

But he’s hesitant now and he looks away. There’s something he wants to say, it’s balanced on the tip of his tongue, but he swallows it.

“What is it?” I ask softly. “Just tell me.”

He wants to, I can tell. His secrets are killing him. He just wants to be normal, he’s just acting out a role.

I don’t know why I feel like I know this. It’s just there, suddenly resting on my heart.

“You don’t have to be someone you’re not,” I murmur quietly. His dark eyes snap up to mine and he pulls his hands away. There’s something in his eyes now, something guarded, and our easy afternoon has come to an end.

“What makes you think I am?” he snaps. “Pretending to be something I’m not, I mean.”

I’ve somehow annoyed him, and I don’t answer because I don’t know what to say.

“I’m not being someone I’m not, Calla,” he says coolly as he strides from the water. “I’m being who you need me to be.”

I’m utterly confused, and I’m dripping wet.

“We don’t have towels,” is all he says when I follow him. My clothing soaks up the water and it is a very cold ride back home.

Dare doesn’t say another word and I leave him in the garage.

I don’t see him at dinner, and I don’t see him the rest of the night.

But as I lay in bed around midnight, I see his car leave the garage.

I don’t see him come home, and I’m awake for half the night waiting.

I have no idea where he goes when he slips away.

Somehow, I think he wants it that way.

There’s a fork in the road and even though I see it, I can’t avoid it.

One road goes left, one goes right, and neither of them end well.

I feel it in my bones,

In my bones,

In my bones.

I sing a song of nonsense, and it sings back. The notes echo and twist in the air, and I swallow them whole.

“Come out,” I call behind me, because I know they’re there.

I can’t see them, but they’re always watching.

Eyes appear, blood red, and they blink once, twice, three times.

“I can see you,” I announce and there’s a growl and then I’m crushed beneath the dark, beneath the weight, beneath the oppression.

“You don’t scare me,” I lie.

There’s savagery here, there’s grace.

But above all, there’s oblivion and no matter what I do, I will be sucked into it.

I know it.

I feel it.

I’m crazy.

And it doesn’t matter.

I’m the rabbitrabbitrabbit and I’ll never be free.

Don't miss the first book in the Nocte Trilogy...

Nocte

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Nocte Sale



ABOUT COURTNEY COLE:

HeadshotCourtney Cole is a novelist who would eat mythology for breakfast if she could. She has a degree in Business, but has since discovered that corporate America is not nearly as fun to live in as fictional worlds. She loves chocolate and roller coasters and hates waiting and rude people.

Courtney lives in quiet suburbia, close to Lake Michigan, with her real-life Prince Charming, her ornery kids (there is a small chance that they get their orneriness from their mother) and a small domestic zoo.




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Thursday, October 9, 2014

Sexy and Gut Wrenching...SHAME

Presenting...

SHAME



Everything done in darkness, will eventually be brought into the light.

I ran, but all it did was keep me one step ahead of my past. I tried to start over; new name, new identity. But you can't change your soul.
A fresh start at college was just what I needed. For a while, it worked. I was the party girl, the one that seemed confident, but it was a lie.
When guys kissed me--I felt only pain.
When they touched me--Nothing but fear.
Deep inside, every girl wants to be the beauty in the story, to find someone that will see you as their world.
But the truth? I was the beast. And as much as I wanted redemption, I wasn't fool enough to think I'd ever get it.
Until he walked into my life.
I wasn't prepared to fall for someone. My scars were too deep, the wounds too raw. But he offered me peace, he offered me security. I should have known it was just another lie--I should have known that falling in love with my professor was a bad idea.
But I was powerless to stop myself from falling.
And he was powerless to catch me.
Because the darkness finally caught up to me, and as fate would have it, a cruel twist almost bled me dry. But I'm stronger than I knew. I'm stronger than you think.
You think you know my story, but you don't....after all everyone has Shame in their lives-- and I'm no longer afraid to show you mine.









About Rachel Van Dyken:

Rachel Van Dyken is the New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling author of regency and contemporary romances. When she's not writing you can find her drinking coffee at Starbucks and plotting her next book while watching The Bachelor.
She keeps her home in Idaho with her Husband and their snoring Boxer, Sir Winston Churchill. She loves to hear from readers! You can follow her writing journey at
www.rachelvandykenauthor.com





EXCERPTS
#1

“Just hold still!” I yelled, holding up my phone while Gabe gave me the finger. I grimaced and dropped the camera away from my face. “Nice, thanks for that.”
“I’m a giver.” He smirked.
Saylor, his wife, smacked him on the arm and rolled her eyes.
“Ouch.”                  
I scrunched up my face when he leaned in and took Saylor’s mouth with his, kissing her senseless in the local Starbucks like they were doing a romance scene in a movie. I coughed.
They didn’t pull apart.
So I took a picture.
I earned another finger, but Gabe still didn’t dislodge from his wife.
“Whoa!” Wes’s voice sounded from behind me. “They been at it long?”
“Are all newlyweds disgusting?” I voiced aloud.
Wes moved around the table with his wife, Kiersten, and gave me a goofy shrug. I wanted to roll my eyes, but Wes was too nice and hot. Let’s not forget the hot part. Both he and Gabe were like walking poster boys for GQ. Both blond, now that Gabe had decided to dye his hair back to his original color. It was like staring at two really bright superstars.
Hating them was like hating the Easter bunny. Try all you want, but you’ll eat every piece of chocolate in the basket, just you wait.
“So, classes?” Kiersten leaned forward. “I heard you got stuck with that hot new psych prof.”
Wes growled low in his throat.
“Down boy.” I braced my hands on the table and laughed. “Besides he’s not that hot.”
“A girl passed out.” Kiersten’s eyebrows shot up. “Like in class.”
“Dehydration?” I shrugged, taking a sip of coffee.
“Or…” She leaned forward. “…the rumors are true.”
“Rumors…” Gabe backed away from Saylor, his lips swollen. “…are always based on truth.”
“So you really did do a naked dance in your underwear last week after getting drunk downtown at Pike Place Market?” I tilted my head and waited while Gabe rolled his eyes and popped his knuckles. “Exactly.”
He opened his mouth.
I took a picture.
With a grimace, he snatched my phone away from me. “Never thought I’d have to tell you to lay off the pictures, Miss Paparazzi.”
I slumped in my seat. “It’s for an assignment with that hot professor.”
“Aha!” Kiersten jabbed her finger at me. “I knew it.”
I pinned her with a look. “Sarcasm, friend, sarcasm.”
“Boys get girls pregnant,” Gabe offered, while Wes choked on the coffee he’d just stolen out of my hand.
Serves him right!
“Don’t date them.”
“You’re going to be a great dad.” I smiled sweetly. “What? You’re just going to lock your girls in their rooms and go—” I mimicked his voice. “—uh, you see boy parts are bad, they make girls have lots of babies, like rabbits, and you know how rabbits make dad nervous and—”
“Hilarious,” Gabe’s eyes narrowed. “And please don’t talk about kids yet…”
Saylor laughed quietly next to him then squeezed his arm.
My heart dropped.
A very long time ago, I’d wanted to be that for Gabe, then Taylor happened and well… I shuddered, blocking out the painful memories, the things I’d done, the things he’d done, the things we’d done.
“You okay?” Wes asked, his voice soft. He was way too perceptive for my taste. If I’d wanted to share, he’d be the guy I’d talk to, but I was a vault. Sharing meant admitting my guilt, and admitting meant I’d probably go insane just like he had.
“Yeah…” I straightened in my seat. “…I just don’t want to fail my class, and I need to write down nonverbal cues and take at least one picture. And pretty sure I need to ace this first assignment on account that I was late to my prof’s class, and I got in trouble.”
“He spank you?” Gabe’s eyes mocked across his coffee.
“Yes, Gabe,” I said calmly. “Because that’s how they punish bad students here at UW — with a yardstick and a smile.”
“I wish.” He whistled. “What I wouldn’t give to have Saylor—”
I plugged my ears.
He threw his head back and laughed while Saylor turned bright red and put her hand over his mouth to shush him.
“So…” Wes ignored Gabe as was his usual and leaned across the table. “…why don’t you take pictures of people here in the coffee shop? I mean, ask permission, but most people here are super interesting, right? Studying? Stressed out? Tired?” He pointed to a guy in the corner. “He looks like he’s running on five cups of coffee and one hour of sleep. Go ask, take the picture, make some notes, project done.”
“You make it sound so easy,” I grumbled.
He grinned. “I’m Wes Michels.”
I hung my head lower and grimaced.
“Phone.” He held out his hand and stood.
Within minutes, not only had he snapped two pictures for me but had taken notes on two pre-med students who had stayed up all night cramming for what they’d assumed would be a pop quiz, only to find out that they’d been in the wrong class on the wrong day.
“And that’s why I'm not pre-med.” Gabe shuddered.
“Really?” Kiersten asked. “I thought it was because big words scared you?”
“Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious. What now?” He nodded. “Keep talking, Kiersten, or keep walking.”
“Spell it.” She smirked.
“So this professor…” Gabe changed the subject. “If he tries anything, use the Mace or the rape whistle.”
“Right.” I nodded. “I’ll be sure to do that. In class. With a hundred other students. When he looks at me cross-eyed.”
“Good,” he huffed.
“I was kidding.”
Saylor patted Gabe’s shoulder. “Gotta let the baby birds out of the nest someday, Gabe.”



#2
I closed my eyes and leaned my forehead against hers. A shaky breath escaped her lips. “I’m going to kiss you now.”
“Are you trying to prepare me or ask permission?” she whispered, her voice beckoning me like a siren’s call.
“Both.” My lips hovered near hers. “I figure it’s only fair.”
“Fair?” She pulled back slightly. “How so?”
“Ten thousand.” I angled my head and watched the pulse jump on her neck. “That’s how many nerve endings, on average, are in your lips. Consequently, when your body anticipates pleasure, the build-up is the best part. Imagine, those ten thousand nerves are swelling, allowing blood to surge through them in anticipation of… what?” I swept my tongue across her lower lip and whispered, “Of being touched. I ask permission, not because I’m being a gentleman. It’s actually the complete opposite. I ask permission so your brain anticipates the pleasure before I’ve ever even touched you.”
I tasted her lower lip again and abruptly dipped my tongue into her mouth. Then just as quickly retreated. “The human body is an instrument. Know how to master it… and well…” I let my voice drop as I moved my hands slowly to her shoulders and tugged her body flush against mine. Our mouths met softly at first. I deepened the kiss, memorizing her taste, knowing I wouldn’t experience a kiss like this again in my lifetime. The way her scent, her soft moans destroyed my body, wrecked me from the deepest part of me, was nothing short of life-altering.
And I’d like to think I’d kissed a lot of women.
I’d studied the psychology of sexuality.
I was an expert in pleasure.
But she was schooling me, absolutely wreaking havoc on every logical thought as her soft whimper cascaded over me. Blood surged through my body as it tightened with awareness at her proximity.
She pulled back, her lips swollen. “That was… not a good enough warning.”
Laughing softly, I cupped the back of her head and gently drew it toward mine and kissed her again, angling my lips differently, searching her, consuming her, drawing pleasure from her lips as if it was my life goal to discover every single secret she owned.
Her arms wrapped around my neck. She was shy; she didn’t push against me, didn’t wrap her legs around me or moan into my mouth like I was having sex with her rather than kissing her.
My hands moved down her corset to her hips, and I lifted her into the air and walked her backward toward the brick wall. The whole time, our masks collided. In frustration, I ripped hers off, then mine. The shadows of moonlight hid our faces as I kissed her harder, losing myself in her.
Her nails dug at the back of my neck as she jerked my head harder. Groaning, I let her fall to the ground as I placed my hands on the brick wall to keep myself from ripping the dress from her body.
Shouting started from the ballroom.
“Ten, nine…!”
“Eight,” I whispered against her mouth. “Seven.”
“Six.” She sighed, her breathing labored as her tongue found mine again. “Five.”
“Four, three.” I pulled back and trailed kisses down her neck.
“Two.”
We broke apart, both breathing heavy. “One.”
People burst out onto the balcony as the fireworks started, lighting up the sky. And our faces.
And the only thing I could say as she gasped in horror was “Oh, shit.”


#3
It was hard to explain the way he spoke to me; at times he was flirtatious and well… happy. Other times? It seemed like he was fighting another side of himself, one that was more reserved, uptight, controlled. And if you were to ask me which side scared me the most? I’d say both. Because both sides were dangerous to me — both pushed a person like me past the point of no return. His seriousness made me curious; his flirtation made me want more.
“Just dinner?” I asked. “Isn’t that against the rules?”
“Yeah, well…” He glanced down briefly before flashing a sensual smile, his eyes dilating. “…it seems to be an impulse I can’t really control around you.”
“Control’s overrated, you label-making fool.”
At that he laughed, a rich chuckle that had my entire body relaxing and heating at the same time. I took a step toward him and smiled. “So, rule-breaker, where are we going?”
He grabbed his messenger bag and keys. “You’ll see.”
“Cryptic.” My eyebrows arched as I crossed my arms over my chest. “This isn’t going to turn into one of those six o‘clock news things where the crazy professor takes the girl out then buries her in the woods, is it?” I tried to sound like I was joking, but the minute the words left my mouth, it was no longer funny. Suddenly, I realized how stupid it would be to go with him. I knew nothing about him, nothing at all!
He smiled, tilting his head toward me. “Why am I getting the sudden urge to pull out a list of character references?”
“Because I just scared myself,” I admitted out loud.
“You want my social security number?” He winked. “Credit score? First grade class photo? Oh, and by the way, in first grade I was nominated most likely to own a pet store… so, if you aren’t okay with that, we probably shouldn’t continue this.”
“This?”
“Dinner.”
“Because you liked pets?”
“I wanted to own a lizard farm.”
I covered my mouth with my hands and nodded solemnly. “All little boys have dreams.”
“A bully crushed mine when he told me lizard farms don’t exist.” He shook his head. “In second grade I was voted least likely to succeed, on account that I didn’t speak for the entire year.”
“Why’s that?” I took another step toward him.
He took another step in my direction and shrugged. “It took me a while to get over the lizards.”
“So you stopped speaking?”
“It was more of me trying to make the public aware of my outrage.”
“Ah, like lizard strike.”
“I made shirts.”
“Tell me, professor, is that when the label-making started?”
“No.” He nodded toward the door and started walking. I followed, genuinely interested in what he was going to say and hating that it was possible he was stringing me along only to go all cold-crazy-psycho on me again. “That was an entirely different situation.” He pulled the door open.
“What? No more stories?” I asked.
“Dinner.” He shrugged, his eyes a stormy gray. “I’ll tell you at dinner.”
“Bribery.”
“My trump card. Label-maker stories. You know, I do actually know how to romance a woman.”
“Well...” I cleared my throat and broke eye contact. “…since I’m your student, I’ll just take your word for it.”
“Right,” he said quickly then repeated, “Right, shall we?”
“Lead the way.” I forced a smile and tried to remember that this was dinner, nothing romantic, just my very sexy professor once again apologizing for being a jackass during class.

Don't forget Rachel's RUIN SERIES and SALE NOW!



..............................................................................................................
My Thoughts 

"Shame" is the third book in the Ruin series by Rachel Van Dyken. This story focuses on the story of Lisa and Tristan. Lisa, formerly super-model Melanie, is now  regaining her life as a college student after being in an abusive relationship with Taylor, creator of the popular internet bullying site "Shame." Lisa isn't completely innocent, young and in love she chooses to participate and star in some of Taylor's more evil pranks. At the end of their relationship, Lisa finds herself resisting Taylor's charms and Taylor, being mentally ill and manipulative, attempts to take his life in front of Lisa. 

And this isn't the main story. The main event is what happens after. Lisa changes her name, her life and address to escape her ugly past. Some how, it keeps catching up with her. After being stalked and tormented her friends, who somehow happen to all be some form of celebrity, take special care with her security. 

Then in walks Dr. Tristan Blake, her psychology professor. But Tristan has his own secrets. He is the son of the Secretary of State AND the half brother of Taylor, her sick ex-boyfriend. 

And, he has an agenda...

All in all, not a bad book. The theme of psychological abuse and the terrifying aftermath is what sets this book apart from every other mystery/thriller love story. My problems with the book start with the amount of stardom in her small group of friends and her lack of judgment. 

Really?! The guy your working on a school project with physically assaults her and she shrugs it off. Mmmmmkay...


My last complaint with the storyline comes from the final scene in hospital. **SPOILER** Lisa is recovering after being shot and Tristan is by her side. After the description of all the pain and soreness she is feeling they have sex. Not just any sex, but loud enough for a nurse to come in and catch them in the after glow. But, you just said all your muscles were tender and it hurt to even open you eyes!?!? **END**

On a different note, I agree with another other reviews of this book. The most interesting parts are the journal entries that take us into the mind of the psychotic ex-boyfriend Taylor. The entries not only gives us non-series readers as sense of Lisa's past, it paces the book in a fabulous fashion.

This book is exciting and thrilling. My only complaint is that some places lacked continuity and the some of the extremes taken in the storyline.

-JL



Tuesday, October 7, 2014

K.A. Tucker and "Burying Water"

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It's finally here! I am so excited to bring you the Release Day Launch for K.A. Tucker's BURYING WATER! BURYING WATER is a New Adult Romantic Suspense novel, published by Simon & Schuster and it will blow. You. Away! Check out the excerpt, teasers, and giveaway then run--don't walk--to your nearest retailer!

  Burying Water

Amazon ** Barnes & Noble ** iBooks ** Kobo ** IndieBound

  About BURYING WATER: The top-selling, beloved indie author of Ten Tiny Breaths returns with a new romance about a young woman who loses her memory—and the man who knows that the only way to protect her is to stay away. Left for dead in the fields of rural Oregon, a young woman defies all odds and survives—but she awakens with no idea who she is, or what happened to her. Refusing to answer to “Jane Doe” for another day, the woman renames herself “Water” for the tiny, hidden marking on her body—the only clue to her past. Taken in by old Ginny Fitzgerald, a crotchety but kind lady living on a nearby horse farm, Water slowly begins building a new life. But as she attempts to piece together the fleeting slivers of her memory, more questions emerge: Who is the next-door neighbor, quietly toiling under the hood of his Barracuda? Why won’t Ginny let him step foot on her property? And why does Water feel she recognizes him? Twenty-four-year-old Jesse Welles doesn’t know how long it will be before Water gets her memory back. For her sake, Jesse hopes the answer is never. He knows that she’ll stay so much safer—and happier—that way. And that’s why, as hard as it is, he needs to keep his distance. Because getting too close could flood her with realities better left buried. The trouble is, water always seems to find its way to the surface. BW Teaser 2 BURYING WATER Excerpt: 
Prologue 
Jesse 
Now  

This can’t be real . . . This can’t be real . . . This can’t be real . . .  

The words cycle round and round in my mind like the wheels on my speeding ’Cuda as its ass-end slips and slides over the gravel and ice. This car is hard to handle on the best of days, built front-heavy and overloaded with horsepower. I’m going to put myself into one of these damn trees if I don’t slow down. 

I jam my foot against the gas pedal. 

I can’t slow down now. 

Not until I know that Boone was wrong about what he claims to have overheard. His Russian is mediocre at best. I’ll giveanything for him to be wrong about this. 

My gut clenches as my car skids around another turn,the cone shape of Black Butte looming like a monstrous shadow ahead of me in the pre-dawn light. The snowy tire tracks framed by my headlights might not even be the right ones, but they’re wide like Viktor’s Hummer and they’re sure as hell the only ones down this old, deserted logging road. No one comes out here in January. 

The line of trees marking the dead end comes up on me before I expect it. I slam on my brakes, sending my car sliding sideways toward the old totem pole. It’s still sliding when I cut the rumbling engine, throw open the door, and jump out, fumbling with my flashlight. It takes three hard presses with my shaking hands to get the light to hold. 

I begin searching the ground. The mess of tread marks tells me that someone pulled a U-turn. The footprints tell me that more than one person got out. And when I see the half-finished cigarette butt with that weird alphabet on the filter, I know Boone wasn’t wrong. 

“Alex!” My echo answers once . . . twice . . . before the vast wilderness swallows up my desperate cry. With frantic passes of my flashlight, my knuckles white against its body, I search the area until I spot the sets of footprints that lead off the old, narrow road and into the trees. 

Frigid fingers curl around my heart. 

Darting back to my car, I snatch the old red-and-blue plaid wool blanket that she loves so much from the backseat. Ice-cold snow packs into the sides of my sneakers as I chase the trail past the line of trees and into the barren field ahead, my blood rushing through my ears the only sound I process. 

The only sign of life. Raw fear numbs my senses, the Pacific Northwest winter numbs my body, but I push forward because if . . . The beam of light passes over a still form lying facedown in the snow. I’d recognize that pink coat and platinum-blond hair of hers anywhere; the sparkly blue dress that she hates so much looks like a heap of sapphires against a white canvas. 

My heart freezes. 

“Alex.” It’s barely a whisper. I’m unable to produce more, my lungs giving up on me. I run, stumbling through the foot of snow until I’m on my knees and crawling forward to close the distance. A distance of no more than ten feet and yet one that seems like miles. 

There’s no mistaking the spray of crimson freckling the snow around her head. Or that most of her long hair is now dark and matted. Or that her silver stockings are torn and stained red, and a pool of blood has formed where her dress barely covers her thighs. Plenty of footprints mark the ground around her. He must have been here for a while. 

I know that there are rules to follow, steps to make sure that I don’t cause her further harm. But I ignore them because the sinking feeling in my stomach tells me I can’t possibly hurt her more than he already has. I nestle her head with one hand while I slide the other under her shoulder. I roll her over. 

Cold shock knocks the wind out of me. 

I’ve never seen anybody look like this. I scoop her limp body into my arms, cradling the once beautiful face that I’ve seen in every light—rage to ecstasy and the full gamut in between—yet is now unrecognizable. Placing two blood-coated fingers over her throat, I wait. Nothing. 

A light pinch against her lifeless wrist. Nothing. 

Maybe a pulse does exist but it’s hidden, masked by my own racing one. Then again, by the look of her, likely not. 

One . . . two . . . three . . . plump, serene snowflakes begin floating down from the unseen sky above. Soon, they will converge and cover the tracks, the blood. The evidence.Mother Nature’s own blanket to hide the unsightly blemish in her yard. 

“I’m so sorry.” I don’t try to restrain the hot tears as they roll down my cheeks to land on her mangled lips—lips I had stolen plenty of kisses from, back when I was too stupid to realize how dangerous that really was. This is my fault. She had warned me. If I had just listened, had stayed away from her, had not told her how I felt . . . 

. . . had not fallen wildly in love with her. 

I lean down to steal a kiss even now, the coppery taste of her blood mixing with my salty tears. “I’m so damn sorry. I should never have even looked your way,” I manage to get out around my sobs, tucking the blanket she loved to curl up in over her. 

An almost inaudible gasp slips out. A slight breeze against my mouth more than anything else. 

My lungs freeze, my eyes glued to her, afraid to hope. “Alex?” Is it possible? 

A moment later, a second gasp—a wet, rattling sound—escapes. 

She’s not dead. 

Not yet, anyway.      
BW Teaser 3



Author PhotoAbout K.A. Tucker: Born in small-town Ontario, K.A. Tucker published her first book at the age of six with the help of her elementary school librarian and a box of crayons. She is a voracious reader, and currently resides in a quaint town outside of Toronto with her husband, two beautiful girls, and an exhausting brood of four-legged creatures.        

 

 

 

 

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My Review


K.A. Tucker is one of my favorite authors. Besides “Burying Water” she has written “Ten Tiny Breaths,” “One Tiny Lie,” “Five Ways to Fall,” “In Her Wake” and “Four Seconds To Lose.” You see this author has experience with NA romance for sure. In “Burying Water” we get to experience the suspenseful and thrilling love affair of two people, Alex and Jesse. What is really unique about this story is that it told from the present and the past. Alexandria, or Water, takes us through her journey of trying to remember her past while building her future and Jesse slowly reveals the events that bring us to present day.

I’m not one for romantic suspense, but knowing K.A. Tucker’s writing lead me to this book…and I’m glad it did! The uniqueness in which this story is told and delicate parallels drawn between Alexandria and Ginny are what gives this book such impact. While there are no clear hero’s in this book, it leaves you questioning if you know the difference between right and wrong and if there is a side to choose, who’s would it be?

Grabbing the readers attention from the beginning, “Burying Water,” slowly unfolds the details of the lives of two women and leaves us wondering does if one really needs to know about the other or is it better for a person live in ignorance?