Genres: Military Romance
overseas with guns and tanks, but one that wreaks havoc in the homeland with
harshly spoken words and misguided beliefs.”
strangers. Yet you became so much more.
thought it meant we couldn’t get along, that there was no chance we’d work out.
But when it came time for me to leave, you know what I figured out?
roar of thunder. It was you calling me, hoping I’d hear you and find my way out
of the dark that I had lost myself in when I shut off to survive.
The story of Cammie and Duke is everything, the story is gripping, thought provoking and has a passion that is hard to describe if I am honest. The connection is instant and you can tell that these 2 broken souls are ment to be. The story isn’t complicated or have a harsh fight. It’s book about fate. This is a story I feel needs to be read. It’s therapy in a great story.
This story has all I hope for in my life. It gives you hope that through the darkness and pain. That things are hopeful, to never say never. And that although at the moment I am deaf I will eventually find my peace and hear my echo.
This book is a must read and I will be recommending this amazing storu from and author whom I feel isn’t afraid to be a little different. Here’s to us all hearing our echo eventually.
home to. I close my eyes and focus on my breathing, trapped in the naïve
thought that maybe, just maybe, if I wish him away hard enough, it could truly
some way toward helping me find my zen. Three years on, and the sheer sight of
him still pisses me off the same as it did when he told me “I don’t think I
could ever love you again.”
my fault, and he refuses to believe that.
promptly cut Blondie off mid-sentence as the crisp evening air rushes into my
safe haven. With my leather tote snatched in my other hand, I rise and plaster
on as natural of a smile as I can manage when my back aches and my feet throb
under the veranda as though he had hoped to blend into the shadows and catch me
first dip in a hot bath.
“Did you think I’d be that easy to brush off?”
under ‘Cockroach’. “I’ve been busy.”
the house behind me. “But then again, you never did understand that concept,
long this wee conversation lasts if that’s the way you’re going to steer it.”
quick.” For a fleeting second, I see the vulnerable man I fell in love with ten
years ago. “I want you to sell the house.”
the property to have increased substantially in value. So it was decided when
we split that I’d stay in it, paying the mortgage on my own, and the little
that he had put in over the course of our relationship would be repaid when I
slump against the hallway wall. “I need to cut ties from you, Cam.”
my eye over his carefully put together outfit.
don’t even know where he lives now, just that it’s in the city, and judging by
the threads he’s got on he’s doing well for himself.
anything from me. Makes sense then, that he wants me to sell to ensure he has
no reason ever to see me, let alone talk to me, again.
yours the settlement amount when and if I sell in the future. You don’t have to
deal with me.”
of my mind every time I have to list assets, Cam. Or if Kell and I want to
apply for another mortgage—it’s still in my name, too.”
whore who stole him away. “Make a time at the bank, and I’ll meet you there.”
reason for this conversation. I push off the wall with the flat of my hand and
take a couple of steps toward the lounge room.
with both hands on the cushion. “You’ve got to give me longer.”
reluctant to get too close to me. “You’ve had three years to get what you need
out of being here. Staying in the house won’t change anything.”
the memories the house held could ever ease the pain. I didn’t stay to heal. I
stayed to keep the wound open and festering, to never forget.
reminded every day of what I did and why I don’t ever deserve to have that kind
of love again.
steps toward the door. “It’s not healthy, Cam.”
resting his shoulder against the edge as he drives the nail home a little
with her family in beautiful and sunny Queensland, Australia. Life with two young children can be hectic at times, and
although she may not write as often as she would like, Max wouldn’t change a
brain-storming through a session with the weights. If not, she’s probably out
drooling over one of many classic cars on show that she wishes she owned.