Advertisements

2017 Top Reads

It’s that time again! the end of the year is my favorite because it gives me a chance to look back on all of the reading I’ve done and the crazy adventures I’ve gotten to go on. Whether it was new authors, new series, or new avenues, this year held some of the most jaw-dropping and heart-wrenching books I’ve ever read! I’ve got some of my favorites and their reviews to share with you but here’s a quick look from my Year in Review on Goodreads.

p.s. GoodReads lovers, you can add me here!

GR17 a

GR17 b

Nalla.jpg


WIN.jpg What I Need – J. Daniels

There’s something to be said about a southern gentleman who’s not afraid to talk dirty. Daniel’s CJ Tully is the perfect mix of sweet talkin’ man who will do whatever it takes to win his woman. But don’t let the cop uniform fool you….he’s downright dirty. And sweet Riley has to rumble her way around his confident feet.

Check out my full review of Tully’s tequila filled kisses here!

 

tullys tequila kisses


 

The Deep End & The Farthest Edge – Kristen Ashley

You bet your sweet butt that KA is going to be on my list. Her latest dip into the dark erotic world of BDSM went live this year as she released two in the Honey Series. No stranger to strong men who aren’t afraid of what they like, our new heroes have a different tale to tell. With a switch up about alpha-subs and a delectable world of decadence and rules when it comes to sex, KA’s Honey Series either left you shocked or hanging on for more.

Read the full review for Olly and Amelie here and Branch & Evangeline here.

honey club


Salvaged-cover-1.jpg Salvaged – Jay Crownover

Talk about your heroes that need saving. I had been dying for Poppy and Wheeler’s romance as it was a chance for two battered broken hearts to find love. This tear-jerker romance was one hell of a way for Crownover to end her Saints of Denver series with a BANG!

Read my full thoughts here.

wheelers wheels


 

Checkmate: This is Dangerous & This is Beautiful – Kennedy Fox

Magical duo Brooke Cumberland & Lyra Parish revealed themselves as the elusive Kennedy Fox after releasing their final duet in the Checkmate series. And where the two previous duets were enemies and friends to lovers, the final pair was a heartbreaking tale of loss and what may never be. With a cliff ending for book 1 that left readers in shock, the duo closed the series with a one-two punch sure to make your top reads list.

Check out my reaction to Logan & Kayla’s tale here and their finale here.

dogs donuts logan knight


ALJackson-ShowMetheWayBookCover525x8_MEDIUM Show Me the Way – A.L. Jackson

My first A.L. Jackson novel and I AM HOOKED. In her new Fight For Me series, the first novel deals with single dad Rex fighting his attraction to his new neighbor Rynna. When dangers from their pasts their past threaten their lives and the life of his daughter…hold on.

Read my review of this heart-warming, coming home romance here.

rynnas pie


finalfight2.jpg

The Final Fight – J.B. Salsbury

If you’re looking for a tale that will break you apart emotionally then build you back up, then the dramatic final to Salsbury’s Fighting Series is the book for you. It’s somehow two tales in one; our hero Braden falls in love our heroine AJ but after going to war comes home a broken man who has to learn to love again.

Read the full review (with tears) here.

braes tags


IMG_2541 Hooking Up – Helena Hunting

Generally the queen of romcoms filled with slapstick humor, Hunting’s Hooking Up had readers wanting strangle our new heroine’s traitorous husband within minutes. Bit with Anarchy Amie taking charge, our sassy heroine takes charge of her life….with a new beau.

Read my (hero) spoiler-free review here.

anarchyamie


 

Ruthless King, Defiant, Queen & Sinful Empire – Meghan March

New to Meghan March these series completely blew me away with the dirtiest and darkest side of NOLA romance. Mount, the dark king of NOLA, claims our heroine Keira, body and soul, as a debt paid and the whole sordid tale spirals into madness from there. With cliff hangers and twist endings in each story, this trilogy was a journey straight to my favorite reads.

Read my initial reaction to Lachlan Mount here, to Keira standing her ground defiantly here, and the big finale of this sinful duo here.

Untitled design(7)


Honorable mentions: While I don’t review every book I read in the year, there are a few that still hit my top reads list.

 


Looking ahead…

With the close of 2017 comes the highly anticipated reads for 2018! Here’s some of my big wishes for the next 12 months:

BHISOPBROTHERSCOMING2.jpg

Dynamic duo Kennedy Fox blew us all away with their Checkmate series and as they come together for another series (technically two with the #BedtimeReads series!) we’ll get 4 novels based on the southern, country brothers of Courtney Bishop. Find out more about book one, Taming Him now.

BFY comingsoon (1)

J. Daniels returns to her Dirty Deeds series and is bring us the heartbreaking tale of Stitch and Shayla. I cannot express how excited I am for this story! I’m all for a heartbroken man who needs some cute little lady to love him and fight for him! (In my mind it’s me, because I am claiming him!). You can check out an exclusive excerpt from Bad For You here.

23668872._SX540_.jpg

For fans of the fantasy romance Fever Series, Moning dives in again with a focus on Dani O’Malley in High Voltage. With her world seemingly in shambles after an all-encompassing battle against the Fae, a new view point and a new hero is sure to have fans begging for more!

Built-to-Last-by-Julie-Ann-Walker-300.jpg

One of my all time favorites, Julie Ann Walker, closes out her beloved Black Knights Inc. series with Built to Last. Mysterious mercenary Angel may finally reveal his secrets as we say goodbye to this MC romance classic!

HH_GLC_PreOrder

Rom-com queen Helena Hunting teased a new book and new cover with Good Luck Charm. Her charming characters make for heartwarming, feel-good romance with no shortage of sexy times and hilarious moments. Find out more about this new standalone here.

9780399585098.jpg

Beloved school teacher Josie may finally find her prince charming in Jaci Burton’s next Hope novel, One Perfect Kiss. Burton’s sweet romances have never failed to leave readers sighing and swooning over her hunky heroes. I for one can’t wait for some more wholesome romance!

Advertisements

HOOKING UP – A Helena Hunting Review & Excerpt Reveal

img_3702

OMG…OMG Y’all I was not prepared for the amazingness that was Hooking Up! The follow up novel to Hunting’s Shacking Up is the perfect rollercoaster companion to her new romance series.

Where Ruby and Bane were fun times and cuteness overload, Anarchy Amie and her beau are sex on crack filled with drama, intrigue, and such a huge range of emotions. With a cluster of a wedding Anarchy Amie comes to life. Betrayed and enraged, she starts down a path that readers have been BEGGING FOR. As she escapes her world to find some peace she finally begins to let loose and remember how she used to have fun. But even a week in paradise can’t help her escape reality for long.

With the help of her friends and family that’s always had her back Amie has to piece together the life she thought she had with the life she’s always wanted. But having the one man she’s always wanted could also spell more disaster for Amie. How can she choose? Hunting doesn’t make it easy for our hero or heroine in this love story. There’s no quick fix to a tough situation. I loved EVERY second, even the tough ones that left my turning pages in anger.

I’m not going to spoil anything but let me take you on the rollercoaster that was my brain as I stayed up all one night to read Amie’s story: finally, UGH he’s such a DICK, OMG HE’S SUCH A DICK, YES girl get it, GAH such a sweetie, oh this place is lovely, AND paradise RUINED, YES PERFECT SHOT (I literally shot up in bed and was silently  fist pumping the air), oh my this is hot, OH MY this is HOT, OH MY GOD I NEED A MINUTE, you guys can DO THIS, *pushing the two of them together* just BE TOGETHER DAMMIT, YES pay for your sins, AW YEAH, oh my…sexy times!

Such a great read from start to finish that I couldn’t put it down and had be flipping pages faster and faster. Automatic 5 star and top read for this year!

img_3737


IMG_2541 Amalie Whitfield is the picture of a blushing bride during her wedding reception–but for all the wrong reasons. Instead of proclaiming his undying love, her husband can be heard, by Amalie and their guests, getting off with someone else. She has every reason to freak out, and in a moment of insanity, she throws herself at the first hot-blooded male she sees. But he’s not interested in becoming her revenge screw.

Mortified and desperate to escape the post-wedding drama, Amalie decides to go on her honeymoon alone, only to find the man who rejected her also heading to the same tiny island for work. But this time he isn’t holding back. She should know better than to sleep with someone she knows, but she can’t seem to resist him.

They might agree that what happens on the island should stay on the island, but neither one can deny that their attraction is more than just physical.

Filled with hilariously scandalous situations and enough sexual chemistry to power an airplane from New York City to the South Pacific, Hooking Up is the next standalone, laugh-out-loud romantic comedy from Helena Hunting, the New York Times bestselling author of the Pucked series and Shacking Up.

ORDER YOUR COPY

Amazon ➭ http://amzn.to/2py0mlj
CA ➭ http://amzn.to/2qzKFJb
iBooks ➭ http://apple.co/2pG28PL
B&N ➭ http://bit.ly/2pGbhrO
Kobo ➭ http://bit.ly/2qzOvBM
Google Play ➭ http://bit.ly/2pGhgwV

Add it to your Goodreads TBR ➭ http://bit.ly/2sExYNs

Excerpt-5.png

 “Did you honestly think that coming here and telling me you let Brittany, of all people, blow you during our wedding reception for my benefit was going to win me back? How delusional are you?”

“Amalie, you know how this works. I love you. You’re my wife. I hold you to a higher standard. Everyone needs a mistress or two. They’re what deep throating is for, and maybe anal.”

My mouth opens and closes a few times. I can’t even process what he’s telling me. “A mistress or two?”

“For variety.”

“What about the sanctity of marriage?” I’m starting to feel ill as this new, horrifying reality sets in.

Armstrong shakes his head and purses his lips as he struggles to find the right words. “It’s really just a guideline.”

I sink into the chair, my knees weak. I thought I’d moved past all the anger and sadness into some level of acceptance, but I’ve just been slingshotted back to ground zero. My head is swimming, it feels like I’m drunk, even though I haven’t even had my morning mimosa yet. “Were you ever faithful to me? At all?”

“I’ve never had sex with anyone but you since we’ve been together.” He adds, “I’ve never kissed anyone, either.”

“I don’t understand what that means.”

“It’s just a blow job, Amalie. That’s all. Nothing more.”

“Nothing more?” I echo. “You let someone who is not me blow you at our wedding. That’s not nothing, Armstrong, that’s cheating.”

“I think you’re working under an antiquated view of what constitutes infidelity. A blow job doesn’t qualify as cheating.”

My shock seems to be boundless. “In what world?”

He rests his palm against his chest. “Amalie, you have my heart. That’s the only thing that matters here. We can work this out. It’s an excellent partnership.”

I can’t listen to any more of this. If I do, there’s a good chance I’ll end up committing murder. I don’t know what Bora Bora’s prison system is like but I’d prefer not to find out. I point to the door. “Get the fuck out.”

“Amalie, you need to be reasonable.” He’s standing right in front of me. His crotch level with my face.

“Or what?” I wonder how many times Brittany has gotten on her knees for him. I wonder if she’s the only one. It seems unlikely based on what he’s just said.

“I’m being nice right now, Amalie. You’ve had a week to adjust your expectations. And people are talking. I don’t think you really want to push my buttons any more than you already have, do you?” His eyes are dark and angry as his fingers wrap tightly around my bicep, squeezing.

“Get your hands off me!” I try to shake free of him, but his grip tightens.

My reaction is instinctual, my years of self-defense kicking in. I cock my fist and punch him square in the nuts, bringing him to his knees.

His mouth drops open in shock as he cups himself and falls to his side on the floor, curled up in the fetal position. “Why?” he gasps.

My chair tips back as I push up to stand. “Because you’re a pussy, and a cheater, and you tried to threaten me with force.” I grab my phone with shaking hands and pull up my contact list, stepping over Armstrong as I scroll to the one and only person who can help me right now.


CONNECT WITH HELENA

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of PUCKED, Helena Hunting lives on the outskirts of Toronto with her incredibly tolerant family and two moderately intolerant cats. She’s writes contemporary romance ranging from new adult angst to romantic sports comedy.

HOOKING UP – A Helena Hunting Chapter Reveal

IMG_2541 Amalie Whitfield is the picture of a blushing bride during her wedding reception–but for all the wrong reasons. Instead of proclaiming his undying love, her husband can be heard, by Amalie and their guests, getting off with someone else. She has every reason to freak out, and in a moment of insanity, she throws herself at the first hot-blooded male she sees. But he’s not interested in becoming her revenge screw.

Mortified and desperate to escape the post-wedding drama, Amalie decides to go on her honeymoon alone, only to find the man who rejected her also heading to the same tiny island for work. But this time he isn’t holding back. She should know better than to sleep with someone she knows, but she can’t seem to resist him.

They might agree that what happens on the island should stay on the island, but neither one can deny that their attraction is more than just physical.

Filled with hilariously scandalous situations and enough sexual chemistry to power an airplane from New York City to the South Pacific, Hooking Up is the next standalone, laugh-out-loud romantic comedy from Helena Hunting, the New York Times bestselling author of the Pucked series and Shacking Up.

PRE-ORDER YOUR COPY

Amazon ➭ http://amzn.to/2py0mlj
CA ➭ http://amzn.to/2qzKFJb
iBooks ➭ http://apple.co/2pG28PL
B&N ➭ http://bit.ly/2pGbhrO
Kobo ➭ http://bit.ly/2qzOvBM
Google Play ➭ http://bit.ly/2pGhgwV

Add it to your Goodreads TBR ➭ http://bit.ly/2sExYNs


Chapter.png

One

Wedding Unbliss

Amie

This is the happiest day of my life. I allow that thought to roll around in my head, trying to figure out why it doesn’t seem to resonate the way it should. This should be the happiest day of my life. So I’m not exactly certain why the uneasy feeling I associate with cold feet is getting worse rather than dissipating. I’ve already done the hard part; walked down the aisle and said “I do.”

My husband excused himself to go to the bathroom several minutes ago and, based on Armstrong’s itinerary for the day, speeches are supposed to begin promptly at eight-thirty. According to my phone, that’s less than two minutes from now, and he’s not here. The emcee for the evening is awaiting Armstrong’s return before he begins. And then the real party can start. The one where we get to celebrate our commitment to each other as partners for life. As in the rest of my breathing days. Dear God, why does that make my stomach twist?

I sip my white wine. Armstrong pointed out that red is not a good idea with my dress, even though it’s my preference. Besides, I don’t want it to stain my teeth. That would make for bad pictures.

I glance around the hall and see my parents, who are probably celebrating the fact that I didn’t walk down the aisle with a convicted felon. And frankly, so am I. My dating history pre-Armstrong wasn’t fabulous.

The sheer number of people in attendance spikes my anxiety. Speaking in front of all of these people makes me want to drink more, which is a bad idea. Tipsy speeches could lead to saying the wrong thing. I check my phone under the table again. It’s after eight-thirty. The longer Armstrong takes to return, the further behind we’ll get. The music playlist, devised by Armstrong with painstaking efficiency, leaves no room for tardiness. If we don’t start on time I’ll have to take out a song, or possibly two, to compensate for his delay and he’s selected the order in such a way as to make that difficult and that will annoy him. I just want today to be perfect. I want it to be reflective of my decision to marry Armstrong. That I, Amalie Whitfield, can make good choices and am not a disgrace to my family.

“Where the hell is he?” I scan the room and take another small sip of my wine. I should switch to water soon so I don’t end up drunk, especially later, when all of this is over and we can celebrate our lifelong commitment to each other without clothes on. I’m hopeful it will last more than five minutes.

Ruby, my maid of honor and best friend for the past decade, puts a hand on my shoulder. “Would you like Bancroft to find Armstrong?”

Bancroft, or Bane for short, is Ruby’s boyfriend who she’s been living with for several months. Recently I find myself getting a little jealous of how affectionate they still are with each other, even after all this time. Cohabitation hasn’t slowed them down on the sex or their PDA. I have hope that Armstrong and I will be more like Bane and Ruby now that we’ll be sharing the same bed every night.

I’m about to tell Ruby to give him another minute when a low buzz suddenly fills the hall. It sounds like a school PA system. I start to panic—they can’t start the speeches without Armstrong at my side. What’s the point of speeches if the groom isn’t present?

I’m halfway out of my seat, ready to tell the deejay, or whoever is behind the mic, he needs to wait, when a very loud moan echoes through the room. The acoustics are phenomenal in here, it’s why we chose this venue.

I glance at Ruby to make sure I’m not hearing things. Her eyes are wide. The kind of wide associated with shock. The same shock I’m feeling.

Another moan reverberates through the sound system, followed by the words, “Oh, fuuuck.”

A collective gasp ripples through the now-silent crowd. While the words themselves are scandalous among these guests, it’s the voice groaning them that makes me sit up straighter, and simultaneously consider hiding under the table.

“Fuck yeah. Ah, suck it. That’s it. Deep throat it like a good little slut. Fuuuuuccckkkkk.”

My mouth drops and I look to Ruby to ensure I have not completely lost my mind. “Is that—” I don’t finish the sentence. I already know the answer to the question, so it’s pointless to ask. Besides, I’m cut off by yet another loud groan. I clap a hand over my mouth because I’m not sure I’m able to close it, my disbelief is as vast as the ocean.

Ruby’s expression mirrors mine, except hers is incredibly animated since she’s an actress. “Oh my God. Is that Armstrong?” Her words are no more than a whisper, but they sound very much like a scream. Oh no, wait, that’s just Armstrong on the verge of an orgasm. But these sounds are nothing like the ones he makes when he’s in the throes of passion with me.

I clutch Ruby’s hand. The next sound that comes from him is a hybrid between a hyena laugh and a wolf baying at the moon. And every guest at our wedding is hearing the same thing I am. Our wedding. Someone other than me is blowing my husband at my own wedding. My mortification knows no end.

I grab the closest bottle of wine and dump the contents into my glass. Some of it sloshes over the edge and onto the crisp white tablecloth. It doesn’t matter. There’s plenty more where it came from. I chug the glass, then grab Ruby’s.

People lean in and whisper to each other, eyes lift to the speakers. A few people, the ones who are probably just here for the social-ladder-climbing potential, question who it is.

“Is the deejay watching porn?” That comment comes from a table full of mostly drunk singles in their early twenties.

Several eyes shift my way as I carelessly down Ruby’s wine and someone asks where the groom has disappeared to.

The grunts and groans grow terrifyingly louder. This is nothing like what I’m used to in bed with Armstrong. The dirty words aren’t something he ever uses with me, mostly it’s just noises and sometimes a “Right there” or “I’m close,” but that’s about it. He’s never talked to me like he is to the woman currently providing oral pleasure. And I’m very adept at oral. Although with Armstrong it’s very polite, neat oral, with no sounds other than the occasional hum. Slurping is uncivilized and a definite no-no.

I reach past Ruby for the bottle of red since I don’t really give a flying fuck about purple teeth right now. As I sink low in my seat I pour another glass of wine, surveying the people in the ballroom from behind the cover of the centerpiece. The centerpieces are huge and excessive and I don’t like them at all, but at least provides a protective barrier between the guests and my disgust, which I’m certain they must share. He sounds like a wild animal rutting. It is entirely unsexy. I have no idea who he’s getting intimate with, but I’m suddenly very glad it’s not me.

And doesn’t that tell me more about our relationship than it should.

It’s only been about thirty seconds—the most humiliating thirty seconds of my life—before Armstrong comes. How do I know this? Because he says, very clearly, “Keep sucking, baby, I’m coming.”

And “baby,” whoever she is, makes these horrific gurgling noises. It sounds like some form of alien communication. It’s way over the top, and apparently Armstrong is loving it, based on the string of vile profanity that spews from his asshole mouth.

“Holy crap. Is this for real? That was really fast,” Ruby mutters.

I guzzle my glass of wine. Then decide the glass is unnecessary and take a long swig from the bottle before Ruby snatches it away. Wine dribbles down my chin and onto my chest, staining the white satin purple. My dress is ruined. I should be freaking out. But I really don’t care.

“Come on,” Ruby tugs on my hand. “We need to get you out of here while people are still distracted.”

My older brother Pierce and the emcee are standing in the middle of the hall, gesturing wildly to the speakers above us. My other brother, Lawson, is on his way toward the podium in an attempt to do something. I don’t think there’s anything he can do to stop this train wreck from there.

Ruby tugs again, but I’m frozen, still trying to figure out what exactly just happened. Well, I know what’s happened. I just can’t believe it.

The sound of a zipper and the rustle of clothes follows. “Thanks for that, now I’ll be able to last later tonight,” Armstrong says.

“What about me?” A female asks. Her voice is nasally and whiny.

“What about you?”

“Well I helped you, aren’t you going to help me?”

“Didn’t you come with a date?”

“Well, yes, but—” God her voice is familiar. I just can’t figure out where I know it from.

“My cousin, right? He loves my sloppy seconds. Speeches are starting. I gotta get back to my ball and chain.”

Gasps of horror ripple through the room, followed by a few giggles. These people really are assholes.

I think I’m going to throw up. I can’t believe he’s going to come out here and pretend nothing just happened. Like some other woman didn’t just have her lips around his cock. His distinctly average cock. Maybe even slightly below average in length, if I’m being one hundred percent honest.

A door opens and closes.

Lawson turns on the mic behind the podium and taps it, sending screeching feedback through the room, making people cringe. Too bad no one did that a minute ago.

Murmuring grows louder and glances flicker to the head table and then away as Brittany Thorton, a seriously skanky debutante, comes strutting through the doors, using a compact to check her lipstick. She’s made it her mission to attempt to get into the pants of half the eligible men in this room. She’s followed, not five seconds later, by a very smug-looking Armstrong.

“I’m going to kill him.” I grab the closest steak knife, but it appears my hasty, and possibly felonious, plan is unnecessary. My brothers leave their respective posts and stalk toward him. Across the room my mother is gripping my father’s arm, whispering furiously in his ear. Great. Just what I need, additional family drama.

“Oh shit,” Ruby gasps.

I follow her gaze to find Bane converging on Armstrong with my brothers. Bancroft is a tank and he used to play professional rugby. I’ve seen him with his shirt off, he’s built like a superhero and he’ll probably crush Armstrong, or at least break something. Possibly multiple somethings.

For a second I consider that Ruby should probably stop Bane from destroying Armstrong’s pretty, regal face, but then I realize I don’t actually care. In fact, the possibility that he might break Armstrong’s perfectly straight nose fills me with glee. Armstrong’s wellbeing is no longer my concern, it’s more about Bane ending up in prison for murder.

“I hope Armstrong has a good plastic surgeon, he’s going to need it once Bane is done with him.” Ruby echoes my internal hopes and her chair tips as she jumps up. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.” She nods to the right.

I notice my mother and father engaged in a heated discussion with Armstrong’s parents. I really don’t need this right now. Not the drama. Not the humiliation. All I wanted was a nice wedding. Instead I end up with a husband who gets a blow job during our reception—and it’s broadcast to everyone attending.

Ruby urges me into action. “Don’t worry about them. Get your stuff and we’ll get you the hell out of here. I’ll have the limo meet you by the entrance near your bridal suite as soon as I can.”

I nod and stumble unsteadily to my feet, thanks to having consumed the better part of a bottle of wine in the last minute and a half. It’s amazing how ninety seconds can change a person’s entire life.

All hell breaks loose as more men jump in to either pummel or extract Armstrong from the pummeling. I grab my clutch and phone from the table, gather up my stupid, too puffy gown, and head for the bridal suite, where I had prepared for what was supposed to be the most amazing day of my life. And now it’s likely the worst, at least I hope the mortification level I’m experiencing can’t exceed this. I feel like the foulest version of Cinderella ever.

I rush down the empty hall and grab the doorknob as I fumble around in my clutch for the key. I’m surprised when it turns. I thought I’d locked it before we left for the ceremony. Regardless, I need to get away from everyone before I either lose it or commit a felony. Maybe both. Murder in the first. Armstrong will be my victim. And maybe that horrible skank, Brittany.

I thrust the door open and slam it closed behind me, locking it from the inside. Tears threaten to spill over and ruin my makeup. Not that it matters since there’s no way I’m going out there again. I can’t believe my forever lasted less than twelve hours. I can’t believe the man I’m supposed to spend the rest of my life loving couldn’t be faithful to me for even one day. What the hell is wrong with me? With him? I’m as devastated as I am angry and embarrassed. Once I annul this farce of a marriage I’ll become a spinster. I should probably go ahead and adopt six or seven cats tonight.

“I need to get out of this dress,” I say to myself. I reach behind me and pull the bow at the base of my spine. Instead of unfurling, it knots and I only succeed in pulling it tighter. Of course my dress has to be difficult. I growl my annoyance and rush over to my dressing table where my makeup and perfume are scattered from earlier today. Half a mimosa sits unconsumed beside the vase of red roses Armstrong had delivered.

The card read: I can’t wait to spend forever loving you.

What a load of bullshit. I drain the contents of the champagne flute, not caring that the drink is warm and flat. Then I throw the glass, because it feels good and the sound of shattering crystal is satisfying. Next I heave the vase of roses, which explodes impressively against the wall, splattering water and shards of glass across the floor.

I yank out a couple of the drawers and find a pair of scissors. They actually look more like gardening shears and seem rather out of place, but I don’t question it. Instead I reach behind me with my back to the mirror and awkwardly try to cut myself free. It’s not easy with the way I have to crane my neck.

“Goddammit! I need to get out of this stupid dress!” I yell at my reflection. I think I might actually be losing it just a touch now. I stop messing around with the laces in the back and shove the scissors down the front. I nearly nick myself with the blade—they’re a lot sharper than I realized—but that doesn’t slow me down. I start hacking my way through the bodice; layers of satin, lace, and intricate beading sliced apart with every vicious snip.

I just want out of this nightmare.

 


CONNECT WITH HELENA

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of PUCKED, Helena Hunting lives on the outskirts of Toronto with her incredibly tolerant family and two moderately intolerant cats. She’s writes contemporary romance ranging from new adult angst to romantic sports comedy.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: