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Showing posts with label Contemporary Romance. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Contemporary Romance. Show all posts
Friday, January 16, 2015
Monday, July 14, 2014
Killing Me Softly Blog Hop
Blog Hop!
Keep Reading to get to the Rafflecopter
For The Writer's Voice, I'm giving away this handmade rose that I made from one of my books. There's a separate Rafflecopter for the rose.
July 15 - August 3, 2014
Fabulous Prizes!
Guitar Pick Necklace
USAF Coin
Killing
Me Softly Blog Hop Schedule
July 15 – August 3, 2014
July 15
Michelle Muto www.michellemuto.wordpress.com
Candy Smith www.purpleshadowhunter.blogspot.com
July 16
Amber Clark www.bookloveramber.blogspot.com
July 17
TBA
July 18
Brea Essex www.breaessex.com
July 19
Kendall McCubban www.bookcrazy123.blogspot.com
Erin Danzer http://www.authorerindanzer.com/
July 20
Melissa Stickney www.crazybeautifulreviews.blogspot.com
July 21
July 22
Amy Jones www.amyjonesyaff.blogspot.com
July 23
Kris Kendall www.ireadselfies.com
Mandy Anderson www.twimom101bookblog.blogspot.com
July 24
July 25
Amy Stogner Avid Reader Amy www.avidreaderamy.blogspot.com
July 26
Lisa Hines www.heffroberts.blogspot.com
July 27
The Writer's Voice
July 28
Trish Davy
July 29
Tia
Bach http://www.depressioncookies.com/
July 30
Carlyle www.worldsawaybookblog.blogspot.com
July 31
Devyn Dawson
August 1
Raine Thomas http://rainethomas.com/blog/
July 31
Devyn Dawson
August 1
Raine Thomas http://rainethomas.com/blog/
Clean New Adult Military Romance
Killing Me Softly
By
Devyn Dawson
Preface
I glance down at my black
pointy-toed high heels and realize they’re the most uncomfortable shoes I’ve
ever worn. Andy’s mom let me borrow a
pair of Andy’s shoes since we wear the same size. It will take me a while to think of her in
the past tense. Looking around the room
all I see are strangers. None of these
people knew her like I did. No one knew
the way she loved soft furry blankets and in the summer she loved softy silky
pajamas. They didn’t know that she spent
more time praying for her friends and animals than she did for herself. No, they didn’t know those things, and they
never will.
My best friend, Andy, died four
days ago in a car accident with her boyfriend Doug. A car crossed over the center lane and hit
them head on. The police say they died
instantly. I talked to her exactly ten
minutes before the crash, she told me she was going to stop by on her way
home. We’ve always done that; stop by on
our way home from shopping to show what we bought. Doug took her to Dallas to pick up a guitar
and to go shopping. Andy’s parents have money. They spoiled her, but she never
acted spoiled. She was kind and
giving. For her birthday, her dad gave
her a prepaid credit card. She had to
keep her grades up, if she did, he’d load a thousand dollars on the card every
month for a year. That’s more money than
I make at my job. When I go shopping, I hit the thrift stores and yard
sales. Just because I don’t spend tons
of money on clothes, doesn’t mean I don’t look like I do. There’s a thrift shop not too far from here
that I find the best deals. If the
outfit doesn’t fit me, I do the alterations myself. My money is from my job at the vitamin store
in the mall. Eight dollars an hour doesn’t go far when you’re the bread winner
in your family.
Andy didn’t spend the money on
things just for her, no, she would buy things for an after school program she
worked for as a volunteer. She would give you every dime she had if you needed
help. When she went shopping for herself, she would buy a matching outfit for
me. She would always say that I was the
sister she always wanted.
Linda, Andy’s mom, is making her
way over to me, her grief is written all over her face. I stand up and wrap my arms around her thin
body and in that moment the magnitude of what happened hits me like a brick
wall. I start to tremble, but I force
myself to keep it together until I get home.
That’s when I’ll have the luxury of breaking down.
“Sugar, how are you holding up?”
Linda asks. One of her friends leans
over and hands her a fresh martini.
“I don’t know,” I shrug my
shoulders. “It doesn’t seem real, does
it?”
“She loved you so much,” I smell
the alcohol on her breath as she kisses me on the cheek. “You’re welcome here any time, you’re part of
our family. If that daddy of yours gives
you any trouble, you come over and you can sleep in Andy’s room. She’d want you to be here with us, you know
that.”
“I know. If you don’t mind, I need to go home and
check on my dad. They changed his meds
this week. As usual, he’s been in one of
his moods. Never mind all that, if you
need anything, I’m number five on your speed dial. I’ll drop off the shoes later this week.”
“Holland, keep the shoes, I don’t
need them back. Go check on your dad,
I’m going to try to get everyone out of here at a decent hour. My head hurts too much to deal with so many
people. I love you, Holly, don’t you
forget it either.” Andy’s the only person who ever called me by my childhood
nickname. When I started high school, I
went back to my given name, Holland. Linda pulls me in for another hug, this
one is tighter and longer than the last one.
In my head I can hear Andy complaining that her mom is getting
mushy. I smile at the thought.
“I love you too. I’ll be by soon.” She’s hugging me as if she’s holding onto a
piece of her daughter for dear life.
Most everyone here are family or
friends of the family. A few people from
high school came to the funeral, but everyone bailed before the graveside
service. If it were anyone other than
Andy, I would have done the same. My
heart is heavy in my chest and tears threaten to come, but I suppress them so I
can get home before I start the water works.
My street is ten streets away from
Andy’s house, but the neighborhoods are polar opposites. Her street is lined with manicured lawns and
matching brick mailboxes at the end of each driveway. Several people on our street have taken their
mailbox down because some kids drove by with a baseball bat and dented in the
metal mailboxes. A couple of the
neighbors have cars parked in their yard and many of the houses have some type
of car up on car ramps or a jack. Andy’s
neighborhood is filled with houses with three bedrooms and two or more
bathrooms. Ours isn’t.
I pull into the driveway that is
cracked from neglect and hot Oklahoma summers.
Our small two bedroom house is dark red brick with white trim that could
use a new paint job.
The screen door bangs closed as I
step into the living room. Dad is right
where he was when I left this morning, asleep on the couch.
“Dad, it’s after two.” I say it loud enough for him to hear me.
He pushes himself up to a sitting
position. “How was it? Is her mom holding up okay?”
“It was as nice as a funeral can be
for an eighteen year old girl. Her mom’s
okay, she’s a strong woman,” I say harsher than intended.
“When will you go to the store to
buy groceries?”
The only question he cares
about……food. He doesn’t give a crap about
the funeral, he’s been sitting on the couch all day. He sits around and feels sorry for
himself. “Dad, I told you I don’t get
paid until Tuesday. Your Social Security
check paid the bills. I have thirty
dollars for gas. That’s all the money we
have in the bank. There’s stuff to eat,
just not what you want. Give me a few minutes to change for work and
I’ll make you some supper.”
“You’re working on the day of your
best friend’s funeral?” He asks, posing
as the concerned father.
“Yes, I’m working on the day Andy
was buried. I have to pay the bills, so
working isn’t an option. Your prescriptions will be running out this week, I
need money for your co-pays. Look, I
don’t want to talk about this right now.”
I set my stuff down as I head down the short hall to my bedroom.
“Holland, I’m getting better! Don’t you worry, before long, I’ll be able to
go back to work!” He shouts out to me.
He’s told me a thousand times how
he’s getting better. Per Dr. Paul, his
regular doctor, he’s never going to be fit to work again if he doesn’t go to
therapy on a regular basis. He’s two
steps away from being placed in an institution.
He was involuntarily committed last October, it lasted for five
days. Being the selfish person I am, it
was the most sleep I’ve had in years. He
was safely behind locked doors, and I didn’t have to worry about which side of
him I was going to come home to.
My little room is large enough for
my full-size bed and a small desk I found at a garage sale. Most of my clothes are folded up inside big
plastic bins. Andy teased me about my
organization skills. She said I’m the
only teenager who puts away their clothes on their own. I found it easier to strap a bin of dirty
laundry to my skateboard and pull it the two blocks to the Laundromat than to
carry it that far. I’ve been doing our
laundry since my mom left when I was thirteen.
That was the year my dad lost his job with the advertising firm and everything
spiraled out of control.
I bend over to tie my shoes and
pick up my keys that fell to the floor.
I double check my reflection in the mirror before rushing out of my room
to make a quick dinner for my dad.
Crap! I think to myself as I
realize I got more bleach splatters on the hems of my khakis. Thankfully, Gerrie won’t be working tonight
to gripe at me about buying a new pair of pants. She find a way to complain about me at every
opportunity she finds. She hates it when
I wear my long hair down, she says I shed it all over the store. Last year she
got upset with me for not being tan like all the other girls in the mall. She told me guys would come in to buy
vitamins if I had a tan and wore make-up.
Andy and I would dream up crazy
come-backs to Gerrie’s insults, but I never used them.
Andy.
How can I face another day without
her humor? How am I going to deal with
my dad without her encouragement? How
will I carry on?
***
Chapter One. Cheeky
Six months later.
“Yes Aunt Laney, I know his
birthday is Saturday. Dad won’t show up
for dinner, he never does. He hates surprises
and apparently he hates showers too. I
know you don’t like to come to our neighborhood, so you can drop it off at the
mall. I’m working tonight and tomorrow
morning.”
“Okay, I’ll bring it to you at the
mall. I’ve reloaded that Visa for you to
get some groceries. Holland, you can
come live with me, no one would blame you,” Aunt Laney says for the hundredth
time. She’s my dad’s older sister and
the only family member who still checks in on us. Her husband is a big corporate lawyer who
represents every big company in Oklahoma.
She was his paralegal, until they fell in love and got married. To ease her conscience she loads a prepaid
Visa so I can buy groceries and gas. She
paid off the mortgage last Christmas.
She has no idea how much easier she made my life when I didn’t have to
worry about that bill anymore.
Things have been looking better
this year. June moved away and I was
promoted to assistant-manager, which included a two dollar an hour raise. “Okay, I’ll see you then….and thank you for
helping us by loading the Visa.”
“Oh honey, you’re a doll. I’m proud of you for being such a good
daughter to my baby brother. I hope
you’ve been able to keep your flawless GPA.
You’ve been working so many days a week, it must be hard to keep up your
grades.”
I can picture her admiring her
fingernails as she talks. She’s always
struck me as a superficial person by the clothes she wears and the people in
her life. “Thanks, I don’t have any
choice, he’s my dad.” I state the
obvious. “I’m taking online classes, so
it works around my schedule. Not to be
rude, but I need to go; I have to be at work in fifteen minutes.”
“I’ll see you later.”
“Okay, I’ll see you this evening,”
I click my cell phone off and close my bedroom door behind me.
“Dad, your dinner is in the fridge in the
purple container, heat it up for one minute.”
I turn the corner and see my dad sitting up for a change.
“You’re going to work early, you
should eat breakfast,” he suggests.
“Dad, it’s four in the
afternoon. I have to do laundry
tomorrow, so it would be nice if you took a shower and put your dirty clothes
in the hamper.” He won’t. He’ll give me excuses why he couldn’t shower
before I got home. Recently, he
developed a fear of showering in an empty house. His therapist called in a new medication, but
it only seems to make him more of a zombie and has done nothing for his fear of
cleanliness.
“Four? The days sure go by so fast.” He rubs his hand across his unshaven
face. He’s not even forty, but you’d
never know by the amount of grey in his beard.
“Gotta go, Dad,” I hold my breath
and give him a peck on his head.
---
Friday evening at Darby Springs
Mall is crowded as usual, leaving the only parking spaces ridiculously far from
the doors. During my lunch period I’ll move
my car closer so I don’t have to get security to walk me to my car after
work. I ease the Charger between two
SUVs, barely clearing the one on my right.
Aunt Laney gave me her old one as a graduation gift during my senior
year. Old to her is anything older than
two years old. She had only owned this
one for a year before giving it to me.
She even covers the car insurance so it wouldn’t be a burden on me and
my dad.
“Hey Sam, can you stay until
close? It’s the fifteenth which means
payday for the military, and they love to come stock up on the protein
powder. This is usually the busiest day
of the month.” I glance around the store
to make sure everything is in order.
“Is that what’s going on? I had to restock the powder a couple of times
already today. One guy wanted to return
something, but I told him to come when you’re working. He said he’d come back tonight,” Sam says.
“Will you straighten up the display
of Vitamin C? Someone turned all the
bottles backwards, it was probably a kid.” Sam’s a quirky guy who spends all of
his paycheck on body building powder and his spare time in the gym. He dates a girl I went to high school with,
she’s rumored to have appeared in a couple of adult films. She’s a pretty girl but she can’t carry on a
conversation without talking about kinky sex. “I’m going to the back to place
some orders, if you need me just call,” I say as I turn to the back of the
store.
“Holland?” Sam’s voice booms over
the phone intercom causing me to jump.
“Yes, Sam.”
***
“That guy is here with the return.”
“I’ll be right there.”
There’s a guy at the register
dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt talking to Sam. His short light brown hair is definitely Air
Force the way it is perfectly squared off on the back of his neck.
I remind myself that I’m the assistant manager
and not to be intimidated.
“Hi, I’m Holland, what can I help
you with,” I ask as I step behind the cashier counter. Another pretty-boy airman with his deep
dimple and flawless skin. There’s no way
he’s much older than I am, that’s good because I don’t typically back down to
people my age. Older guys in the
military scare me, they seem so hard and angry.
“Hey Holland, Sam here told me to
come back when you’re here to refund this powder.”
The first thing I notice are his
eyes, pale blue eyes…incredibly pretty blue eyes and smile. The manager-in-training classes I took told
me to always hold the customer’s gaze.
They obviously never looked into eyes like his. It takes everything in me not to shift my
eyes away from him. It makes me feel
exposed as if he is literally looking into my soul.
“Yes sir, is there a problem with
the powder?”
He’s first to avert his eyes and
look down at the jug of Mega Muscle Protein Powder. “It gave me a rash,” he replies without looking
up at me.
Most of the guys who come in are
embarrassed to admit they ended up with a rash. “A rash? Do you have a photo of the rash?” Our return policy on store-brand products are
if it gives you a rash, you have to provide a photo. There’s nothing more disgusting than looking
at a rash on a stranger.
“That rule on your policy is pretty
intrusive. When I read it, I was floored
that it was a real rule.”
Here we go, he’ll turn off the
charm and turn into a douche. I’m sure
Sam is doing the countdown in his head.
“Yes sir, we must turn in the photo along with the explanation in to our
corporate office. Our policy is for
quality control and has nothing to do with being intrusive. May I see the picture?”
He pulls out his cell phone and
scrolls through his pictures before holding it up for me to see. Sure enough, it’s a rash… on his ass! He took a selfie of his ass rash in the
mirror. He is standing in his boxers and holding one side of them down and
taking a picture with his other hand. I
need to call Andy and tell her about this, she’s going to die laughing. Dammit!
I can’t call her, because she’s dead.
“I need a print of the picture,” I
snap. My mood has gone from good to
pissed in two seconds.
“You really need a picture of my
ass to give me a thirty-five dollar refund?”
I cock my head to the side, my
go-to defense pose when I’m hiding my feelings from the world. “I didn’t write the rules, but I follow
them.” This is the look Andy called my bitch-face.
“Look, I’m not going to go print
off a picture of my ass to get a thirty-five dollar refund. You can keep the powder and the money.” He shakes his head back and forth before
taking his receipt and folding it up neatly before returning it to his wallet.
I stand at the register and watch
him walk out of the store.
“What happened?” Sam asks.
“Nothing, I’m following policy,” I
reply nonchalantly.
Sam looks at me like he wasn’t
buying it for an instant. “Holland, one
minute you were okay and the next you flipped and were pissed off.”
“I didn’t flip.” I gather up my paperwork to tally out our
sales for the day. My dad flips, I just
get pissed.
“I think there’s Pamprin in the
office, if you need it,” Sam says sarcastically. Good thing I like him or I’d write him up
just because I can.
“I’m not PMSing and just for that,
you get to mop the floor tonight.”
Without turning around, I head back to the office. When memories of Andy pop into my head, I’m
reminded how lonely life is without her.
I’ve been going to her grave and sitting there for hours. She was always my sounding board when it
came to my dad, now I feel guilty for all the times I made her listen to me
complain. We should have spent more time
doing pranks and laughing at stupid movies.
Now, I’ll never be able to do those things with someone. Lately, everything reminds me of her and I’ll
either cry or get angry. It isn’t that
I’m mad at her, it’s I don’t know when the pain will stop. My therapist says dumb things like, time heals all wounds, or everyone grieves differently. The therapist was Aunt Laney’s idea since the
health insurance policy she bought for me covers the visits.
“Knock, knock,” Sam’s voice brings
me back to reality. “Hey, do I really
have to mop the floor? I have plans
after work and I don’t want to smell like bleach and dirty mop water.”
“I told you to mop not take a
bath. I’ll let it slide this time, but
don’t ever hint for me to take Pamprin again, okay?”
“Deal. Your Aunt Laney is in the store, do you want
me to send her back here?”
“No, I’ll go out there.”
DEVYN DAWSON
I've thought of myself as a writer for as long as I can remember. I played grown-up with my family, until everyone grew up and left me to figure out what I really wanted to be. Jumping over the cliff, I took a leap of faith and wrote my first full length novel, The Legacy of Kilkenny. My love of young adult books, helped mold me into the writer I am today. The books I write, reflect the types of books I enjoy reading. Every story I write will have a huge twist at the end, one that often leaves the reader in shock (no pun intended, if you know me, you know why I say that, LOL). Thank you for considering to read my books. Happy reading!
Thank you for having me on your blog!
Tuesday, July 8, 2014
Flash Giveaway for Killing Me Softly Guitar Pick Necklace
Hey everyone! I have a giveaway going on until 6:00 PM TONIGHT!
USA ONLY
Wednesday, April 2, 2014
Romance Blog Hop
You asked for it, you've got it... Amber's story! If you haven't read Enlightened, it is recommended to read that book before reading this novella. As a matter of fact, if you haven't read it...don't read the synopsis of this book....or pay attention to the title. By continuing to read, you're taking it into your own hands that you're reading a spoiler. Don't write me and say you had no idea and now you're scarred for life. Nope, you can't say those things.
Amazon Best Selling Series - age 13+
You're reading at your own risk. I'm warning you to turn your eyes and run and read the first two books before going any further.
Amber goes with Jessie to have dinner with Queen Teagan on the other side of the Shimmer. The Queen sent her son Prince Jack to escort the Light Tamers to her castle. Along the way, they end up fighting for their life against a faerie clan with a hidden agenda. The woods are filled with creatures who want to capture Jessie to earn a coin the Unseelie King offers his rogue fae.
WARNING - this story is known to make you laugh out loud. You may actually snort, so be careful about reading in waiting rooms or in front of cute boys.
Amazon Best Selling Series - age 13+
You're reading at your own risk. I'm warning you to turn your eyes and run and read the first two books before going any further.
Amber goes with Jessie to have dinner with Queen Teagan on the other side of the Shimmer. The Queen sent her son Prince Jack to escort the Light Tamers to her castle. Along the way, they end up fighting for their life against a faerie clan with a hidden agenda. The woods are filled with creatures who want to capture Jessie to earn a coin the Unseelie King offers his rogue fae.
WARNING - this story is known to make you laugh out loud. You may actually snort, so be careful about reading in waiting rooms or in front of cute boys.
Monday, August 12, 2013
Cry Me a River Blog Hop
RAFFLECOPTER GIVEAWAY
LISTED BELOW EXCERPT
Cry Me a River
by Devyn Dawson
Contemporary Romance
This book is intended for 17+ due to language, sexual situations, and drug references
Caide thought he had a handle on his life...until he realized he doesn't.
He's 23, a professional chef, has his own TV show, a house at the beach, and a beautiful daughter; who can ask for more? That was his question until his ex-girlfriend (and mother to his child) dies from an accidental overdose. Caide is thrust into the courts and they order him to go to Al Anon meetings and parenting classes.
He has a foul mouth and bad attitude about being forced to go to a support group when he doesn't have a problem. He has a few drinks before he goes to Al Anon and comes face to face with River Murphy, the pretty group leader. She seems all together and doesn't fall for his gritty attitude like other girls do. One night, he finds her after being roofied in a bar, he takes her home to make sure she's okay. The next thing they know, River's life is being turned upside down and she doesn't know why. Caide steps in and the two find themselves in the middle of trying to repair their broken hearts.
Clean version excerpt.
Chapter One
We loved with a love
That was more than love
Edgar Allan Poe
August 7
My mind is wandering as the priest walks up and down the
aisle swinging back and forth an elaborate incense burner. The scent reminds me of the last time I was
in church; it had to have been at least three years ago. I don’t go to church
because it isn’t my thing to sit next to liars, the same people who I’ve seen
in the bars, or wasted at the beach. Not
much gets past people in our little town, Emerald Isle, North Carolina,
population 3800. Most homes along the 14
miles of coastal Emerald Isle, are rental vacation property. The tenants only rent the beach houses for a
week, just long enough to party, make false promises and move on to the
next. Someone coughing brought my
thoughts back to the here and now. Right
now, I’m in church with a massive headache and a hard-on.
My damn BLANK doesn’t care where it is, church, school,
sitting at Sunday brunch with my mother.
No, my BLANK pretty much has a mind of its own. I take in a few deep breaths and remind
myself why I’m here.
My daughter is sitting with her grandparents on the front
row. Heather’s dad hates me for things I
didn’t do. Heather’s mom hates me
because I walk the earth. She’d sooner
see me six feet under than anywhere near my daughter, Lucy Marie. I look over to where they are sitting and
Lucy’s standing up and pointing to the person in the pew behind her. Her eyes are bright and her chubby cheeks
jiggle when she bounces around. My heart
swells with love every time I look at her.
They don’t realize I’m here; I snuck in at the last minute.
Everyone stands and holds hands as the preacher prays. The woman on my left has wiped her nose with
a tissue for the last forty-five minutes.
That’s all I can think about, her snot rag. Maybe I am a germ-a-phobe, but is it wrong to
not want someone’s nasty germs all over my hand? I have hand sanitizer in my pocket, which
I’ll use as soon as we part ways. Until
I do, I’ll fixate on the fact, I have her snot all over my hand. I try to focus on the preacher, my brain is
telling me to get up and leave before anyone realizes I’m here, but I
can’t. I’m not leaving until I hold
Lucy. I haven’t seen her since the week
of the Fourth of July. Heather brought
her over and wanted me to keep her for the night so she could go out and
party. She fell off the radar for five
days. Her parents came over looking for
Lucy and acted as though I stole my own daughter. They berated me because I didn’t call them
right away. At least I called them. The minute her mom saw a few empty beer cans
on my kitchen counter, she flew off the handle and started screaming at
me. Did she bother to remember I’m
twenty-three and four beer cans doesn’t make for a drunken stupor.
Everyone stands and pew by pew we line up and walk to the
front of the church. My heart races,
every step feels like I am one step closer to God and to reality. I’ve never taken communion; it always scared
me to eat the body of Christ. When
you’re a little kid, your thoughts are literal and I didn’t want to be a
cannibal.
There are two people ahead of me, my palms are sweaty. I hear people whispering, I’m sure they’re
pointing at me and calling me names. “Caide
is a douche”… “Caide is an alcoholic”… “Caide is a sinner”… They’re probably not dropping
the f-bomb in church, since they’re all perfect.
Someone nudges me from behind, “You’re next,” she whispers.
I turn and I swear my heart stops. The white casket is perfect for Heather. The lining of the casket is pastel pink satin
and her blond hair is curled and cascades down over her breasts. My heart suddenly starts and is pounding in
my ears. My throat closes up and for the
first time since the day Lucy was born, my eyes fill with tears. Heather is dressed in a pink floral dress
with a little white sweater. Lucy’s
teddy bear is tucked up under her hand as well as a picture of the three of us
when things were better.
My heart isn’t prepared for the pain, the complete and utter
pain. I’ve never been to a funeral
before and now I’m sure I never want to go to one again. Her face is peaceful, something it hasn’t
been in months. I know they covered her
arms to hide her track-marks and the make-up covers the dark circles under her
eyes. We were in-love once upon a
time. She’s the mother of my daughter and
she’s dead. I can’t wrap my brain around
it all, how could she do this? How could
she check out like that? She was supposed
to always be in my life, but I wanted her happy and healthy. I shouldn’t have turned my back on her. If only I had tried harder, she’d still be
here.
Without thinking, I reach over and brush my hand across her
cheek. I almost came apart in front of
everyone. Her skin was so cold and hard,
like a cement bench in the dead of winter.
“Oh baby-girl, what happened? I’m
so sorry….I’m so sorry….I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. Heather baby, you were going to get
clean. What happened? How did it happen?” I shake my head back and forth and I know my
tears are dripping on her dress. It was
her present from me when she lost her pregnancy weight. I bought the dress during my lunch break and
gave it to her when I got home that night.
She put it on and danced around the house like a little girl in a new
dress. I loved her that night and we
made love until we both were exhausted.
Now she’s dead and I’m alive. I
take a letter from my suit pocket and placed it next to her. “I’ll always love you baby-girl. Don’t worry about Lucy, I’ll take care of her
and she’ll know how much you loved her.
I promise.”
Someone clears their throat behind me and I take that as my
time is up. As I turn around I make eye
contact with Heather’s mom. She motions
for me to come over to her. Lucy sees me
and her whole face lights up with excitement.
Her arms reach for me and I see how reluctant her grandma is to hand her
over, but she knows Lucy loves me.
“Caide,” She says curtly.
“Darla, I’m sorry for your loss.” What else could I say?
“I don’t want to discuss our differences today; right now we’re
here to honor my daughter. We’ll meet
you in the lobby, please take Lucy with you.”
Her eyes are cold, her hands clenched together. Darla’s in her early fifties but could pass for
forty. If I didn’t know her personally,
I’d think she’s good looking. Unlike
Heather’s blond hair, Darla’s is short and dark auburn. Darla and her husband, Alan, married right
after high-school. They went to college
together and while they were still in school, Alan invested in a small company
called Wal-Mart. They made their money
with blood, sweat and tears. Alan is
notorious for telling his rags to riches story to anyone who will listen. Today, both of them look ten years older than
they are.
And like that, I have my daughter to myself for a few
minutes. She reaches for my face,
placing both hands on my cheeks and leans forward, giving me the sloppiest kiss
I’ve ever had. I wrap my arms around her
as tight as possible and tell her how much I’ve missed her. Lucy is an eighteen month old
firecracker. She has deep dimples in her
cheeks and bright blue eyes to go along with her dark red ringlets all around
her head. Heather and I thought she’d be
bald forever, we actually asked the doctor if something was wrong with
her. He laughed it off and told us she
was perfectly normal and right before her birthday, her hair started growing
like crazy. Memories like these make me
realize that’s exactly what they’ll be forever and never again will we laugh
about our little bald pumpkin.
Heather and I were together until Lucy was almost six months
old. One day, I came home from work
early to find her and the next door neighbor, Joan, snorting cocaine. Neither of them realized I was there and
after they did their line, they started to make out. I was livid!
Thankfully, Lucy was asleep in her crib.
We fought about her bringing drugs into our house with our daughter in
the next room. She tried to rationalize
that making out with another girl isn’t cheating, it’s a freebie.
It was me who called Heather’s
parents and asked if Heather and Lucy could move in with them. I would have kept Lucy if my schedule wasn’t
so unpredictable. They agreed it would
be easier for them to keep an eye on Heather if she were living with them. We officially broke up about a month
later. She was doing harder drugs and
her parents were with Lucy full-time. I
thought Heather would straighten up after she got the partying stage over
with…she didn’t.
A heavy-set woman with big hair comes over to me in the
lobby, telling me she is Aunt Josephine and she was asked to take Lucy back to
the house. I’ve met her before at a
family function or two. It’s time for
Lucy to have a nap anyway. She shouldn’t
go to the graveside any more than I should.
I kissed her goodbye and promised her I’d give her a call tomorrow. My parents are going to the graveside service;
they weren’t able to get coverage at the restaurant to make it here in
time. I’ll text mom and tell her I’m
going home, she’ll understand,.
About the Author Devyn Dawson
Devyn Dawson is the
author of the best selling series; The Light Tamer Trilogy, The Legacy of
Kilkenny Series, and new adult book Sapphire, A Werewolf Love Story. Her career
has included working for Fortune 500 companies, grave decorating, and
accounting. She enjoys spending her spare time riding on the back of her
husband's motorcycle to the beautiful North Carolina beaches, or cuddling her
new granddaughters.
Devyn lives in New Bern,
North Carolina (about 2 miles from Nicholas Sparks)with her husband of twenty
years, two cats, three dogs, and two cockatiels (3 of her pets are named after
vampires, Klaus, Bella, and LeStat).
Goodreads Book Giveaway
Cry Me a River
by Devyn Dawson
Giveaway ends October 07, 2013.
See the giveaway details at Goodreads.
See the giveaway details at Goodreads.
Friday, May 31, 2013
Cover Reveal - Emma Hart - Playing for Keeps
From New York Times
and USA Today bestselling author,
Emma Hart, comes the second book in The Game series, and the story everyone
wanted after The Love Game…
She's in love with him.
He's trying not to love her.
One night changes everything.
He's trying not to love her.
One night changes everything.
Aston Banks never meant to get close to Megan Harper – not even
for that one night. Haunted by a childhood he refuses to face, he knew she
could break through every wall he’d ever built and tear them down without even
realising she was doing it.
Betraying Braden by starting a relationship with Aston wasn’t on
Megan’s to-do list, but the second she sees a glimpse of someone other than the
arrogant ass she’s come to know, she can’t walk away.
Aston’s childhood is worse than Megan ever guessed, but as he
tries and fails to push her away, it’s clear her love is stronger than the
demons that cling to him every day. And now, because of it, he finally has to
deal with what he’s buried deep down.
What he doesn’t want to face. What he’s fought against for so
long.
And they have to do it all without Braden finding out.
Keeping a relationship secret has never been harder.
**This book can be read as a standalone novel, but reading The
Love Game (The Game, #1) beforehand is advised.)
EXCERPT: Disclaimer: This is from the unedited
version of the book, and is therefore subject to change or removal before
publication.
MEGAN
“If
you’re trying to hide, babe, then you’re failing. I can see you.” Aston’s words
crawl over me in a smooth caress, making my throat dry up and my blood boil
simultaneously.
“Why
would I be hiding?” I sit up and look forward, determined not to meet his eyes.
He
shrugs a shoulder carelessly, twirling a pen between his fingers. I catch his
every movement from the corner of my eye. His eyes are burning into the side of
my head - they’re begging me to turn, begging me to look.
“Because
you want me so badly you can’t bear to see me,” he says in a dramatic tone with
a touch of arrogance.
My
back straightens. “Clearly someone has been feeding your ego again,” I reply
dryly. “Because I don’t remember ever telling you I want you.”
His
bicep brushes mine as he leans forward. “Is that so?” he asks, his voice low
and barely perceptible.
I
fight the urge to drop my eyes to the desk. “Damn right it is.”
A
fingertip trails down the back of my arm, the tingling feeling making me fight
against a shiver.
“I
think you’re wrong,” he whispers. “Because I’m pretty sure you said you wanted
me on Saturday night – right before you dug those nails of yours into my back
and wrapped your pretty little legs around my waist.”
My
head snaps round to him, and our faces are inches apart. His lips are curled in
a slightly smug smile, and I hate the fact that’s where my eyes fell first. I
drag them away from his mouth and across the sharp planes of his face until
they meet his smoky eyes.
I
remember why I didn’t want to look at him. His eyes have the power to entrance
me and to break me. Right now it’s the former – the silvery hint at the edge of
his iris pulling me in and holding me captive. I remember why, from the first
touch of his lips against mine on Saturday night, nothing could have stopped us
happening.
By day, New
York Times and USA Today
bestselling New Adult author Emma Hart dons a cape and calls herself Super Mum
to a terrible two year old and growing bump, due September 2013. By night, she
drops the cape, pours a glass of juice and writes books.
She likes to write about magic, kisses and whatever else she can fit into the story. Sarcastic, witty characters are a must. As are hot guys.
She likes to write about magic, kisses and whatever else she can fit into the story. Sarcastic, witty characters are a must. As are hot guys.
Emma is currently working too many books to
even count - including Playing for Keeps, the companion book to New York Times and USA Today bestselling novel, The Love Game. She likes to be busy -
unless busy involves doing the dishes, but that seems to when all the ideas
come to life.
Find Emma online at:
Blog: http://www.emmahart93.blogspot.com/
Facebook: www.facebook.com/YAAuthorEmmaHart
Twitter: @EmmaHartAuthor
Tuesday, May 28, 2013
Teaser Tuesday WIP Cry Me a River
I crush my mouth to hers, our tongues dance and mingle together. My hands take the hem of her shirt and lift it over her head. Her hair falls across her bare shoulders. I step back and take in her black lace bra and those damn sexy pants of hers. Like a young Olivia Newton John in Grease. She bends down and slides her heels off her feet, exposing her hooker-red painted toes. I love hooker-red toes. I love her hooker-red toes.
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