Ryley's Revenge (Gloves Off #2)(74)
Standalone (Romantic Suspense)
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EXTRAORDINARY AUTHORS & BOOKS:
Alivia Anders ~ Illumine
Cambria Hebert ~ Recalled
Angela Orlowski Peart ~ Forged by Greed
Julia Crane ~ Freak of Nature
J.A. Huss ~ Tragic
Cameo Renae ~ Hidden Wings
A.J. Bennett ~ Now or Never
Tabatha Vargo ~ Playing Patience
Beth Balmanno ~ Set in Stone
Ella James ~ Selling Scarlett
Tara West ~ Visions of the Witch
Heidi McLaughlin ~ Forever Your Girl
Melissa Andrea ~ The Edge of Darkness
Komal Kant ~ Falling for Hadie
Melissa Pearl ~ Golden Blood
Alexia Purdy ~ Breathe Me
Sarah M. Ross ~ Inhale, Exhale
Brina Courtney ~ Reveal
Amber Garza ~ Falling to Pieces
Anna Cruise ~ Maverick
Also, keep reading to get a sneak peek at
Forever My Girl by Heidi McLaughlin and
Resist Me by A.O. Peart.
Forever My Girl
The Beaumont Series #1
By Heidi McLaughlin
I was never supposed to be a rock star. I had my life all planned out for me. Play football in college. Go to the NFL. Marry my high school sweetheart and live happily ever after.
I broke both our hearts that day when I told her I was leaving. I was young. I made the right decision for me, but the wrong decision for us. I’ve poured my soul into my music, but I’ve never forgotten her. Her smell, her smile.
And now I’m going back.
After ten years.
I hope I can explain that after all this time.
I still want her to be my forever girl.
CHAPTER 1
LIAM
A light snore reminds me that I’m not alone. The heaviness of a body sprawled out, sets me off immediately. The stale smell of day old perfume lingers in the air and on my sheets.
The curtains are pulled back, the sun shining through the large window which affords me the best view and privacy.
Rolling over, there’s a face I don’t remember. A face that holds no name in my recollection or any vivid memory of how she ended up in my hotel room let alone my bed.
The bed part I can probably figure out.
The blonde hair tells me that I didn’t bother to get her name or ask her what her favorite drink was. Guaranteed our conversation was eyes, hands and lips only. There is one hair color that can make my heart beat and blonde isn’t it.
Neither is red.
Eyes too.
Never blue.
They have to be brown or green, never blue.
This isn’t a downward spiral or some drug induced moment. I don’t do drugs, never have, but I may drink excessively on occasions like last night. This is me coping with my mistakes and failures. I may be successful when I’m on stage, but at night I’m alone.
And so freaking scared of dying alone.
I reach for my phone to check the time. Instead I pull up the gallery that holds her image, my thumb hovering over her face. I’ll see her when I go home and I don’t know what I’ll say.
I know she hates me.
I hate me.
I ruined her life. That is what her voice message said. The one I’ve saved for the past ten years. The one I’ve transferred from phone to phone just so I could hear her voice when I’m at my lowest. I can recite every hateful word she said to me when I was too busy to answer and never found the time to call her back.
Never found one second to call and explain to her what I had done to us. She was my best friend and I let her slip through my fingers just to save myself from the heartache of hearing she didn’t want me anymore.
I had dreams too.
And my dreams included her, but she would never have gone for it. I’m not living her American Dream. I'm living my own.
My decision destroyed everything.
My nameless bed cohabitant reaches out and strokes my arm. I move away quickly. Now that I’m sober, I have no desire to be anything to this person.
“Liam,” she says through her seductive tone that sounds like a baby. It makes my skin crawl when women talk like this. Don’t they see that it makes them sound ridiculous? No man worth his nuts likes this sort of thing. It’s not sexy.
Wrapping the sheet around my waist I sit up and swing my legs over the edge, away from her and her wandering hand. My back tenses when I feel the bed shift. Standing, I pull the sheet tighter to keep myself somewhat covered. I shouldn’t care, but I do. She’s seen me in the dark, but I’m not affording her or her camera another look.
“I’m busy.” My voice is strict, a well-practiced monotone. “Jorge, the concierge, will make sure you get a cab home.”
I sleep purposefully facing the bathroom so I never have to look at them when I tell them to leave. It’s easier that way, no emotions. I don’t have to look at their faces and see the hope fade. Each one hopes they will be the one to tame me, to make me commit.
I haven’t had a steady girlfriend since I entered the industry and a one night stand isn’t about to change that. These girls don’t mean anything and never will. I could change. I could settle down and marry.
Have a kid or two.