My Thoughts
Dig and Grace's story just slayed me. I fell hard for Dig. He was tormented by his past, but loved Grace so well. He had such a good heart. And damn if the man wasn't an ace at the naughty talk. From the moment Grace claimed him, she owned him and he her. She made him a better man, but always felt like he was just out of her reach because of the demons he fought from his past. Those nightmares of his tore me up especially when she begged for him to open up to her. That past caused him to make decisions that effected their future.
Then there's Miller who I so love. Grace and Miller suffer a loss that buckles her and he is right there picking her up and loving her through it. He also doesn't hesitate to give her a kick in the ass and some steamy to bring her back to him. I love that about their relationship. Then Dig's past invades their present and will forever change their future. I loved that everything came full circle. The words of Dig at the end made my heart ache. I so loved this story and Cat wrenched every possible emotion out of me from the first to the last page. Well done, Cat. Well done.
I give Random & Rare 5 hearts!
Then there's Miller who I so love. Grace and Miller suffer a loss that buckles her and he is right there picking her up and loving her through it. He also doesn't hesitate to give her a kick in the ass and some steamy to bring her back to him. I love that about their relationship. Then Dig's past invades their present and will forever change their future. I loved that everything came full circle. The words of Dig at the end made my heart ache. I so loved this story and Cat wrenched every possible emotion out of me from the first to the last page. Well done, Cat. Well done.
I give Random & Rare 5 hearts!
About the Book
I am that gash in her soul.
Once I loved Grace, really loved her.
And she loved me, and it was so fucking beautiful.
Once.
That pendulum swings to and fro.
We’re here,
and then we’re—
No.
How can that rare beautiful be rendered irrelevant, intangible
when I still feel so damn much?
Does all that energy, that glory, that significance simply
dissolve?
Turn to smoke?
To nothing?
It can’t. It just can’t.
Are the moments that shape us absolutely random?
Is time not fluid?
I made promises to them, to her.
Especially to her.
Promises I still burn to keep.
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Excerpt
“Hey you.” Lissa’s voice piped up behind me stopping me in
my tracks.
Ah, fuck.
“Hey.”
“Haven’t seen you around in a while.”
“Busy. Got married. Life.”
Glasses thunked on the bar top, and stools shuffled behind
me.
Lissa’s thin eyebrows shot up for a second. “Oh. Right.”
“Yep.”
She punched out a hip and smirked. “And how’s that going?”
“Who wants to know?” Grace suddenly stood next to me, her
eyes piercing Lissa.
“Uh…”
Grace inclined her head. “Who are you?” she slowly uttered
the words.
Oh, she wasn’t asking for Lissa’s name. She was asking a
deeper metaphysical question.
“I’m Li—”
“And I don’t care,” Grace practically snarled. “This is my
old man. He’s not yours. Not yours to touch, kiss, lick, suck, strip for, dance
for, tease, nor does he light your fucking cigarettes or buy you a drink.
Ever.”
Lissa gulped, her eyes wide, her body motionless.
Grace turned to her BFFs standing on my other side. “Did I
miss anything?”
“No, honey,” Dee replied. “You got it.”
Grace turned back to Lissa. “Did that register, or should I
go over that one more time for you to make sure?”
Speechless.
I was transfixed.
“No, I-I got it,” Lissa mumbled.
“Let me know if you need a review of these basics because
you cross those lines again, any of them, in any fucking way, large or
small—ever—there will be serious repercussions for you.” Grace leaned into
Lissa. Her stance wide, my old lady looked larger than life. My cock stiffened
against my jeans.
“Did you hear that, bitch?” Alicia said, her face twisting
in a nasty sneer.
“Got it. Yeah, sorry.” Lissa glanced at me.
Mistake.
Grace leaned in closer, her hand gripping Lissa’s chin.
“Honey, I get that bikers do it for you. But this particular biker is mine. All
fucking mine, head to toe, inside and out. So fuck off. Got that?”
Grace released Lissa’s chin, and Lissa stiffly and slowly
nodded her head, like a toy robot on its last charge of battery power.
“Yeah, that’s right.” Dee let out a throaty dark laugh.
“I know you’ve been trying your damnedest for the longest
time. I’ve been watching. But he is not going to be tapping that ass of yours.
Not ever. Get the fuck out of my bar, and do not come back.” Grace was still,
focused like a stealthy cobra calmly waiting in between strikes.
“Okay,” Lissa mumbled as she teetered away.
“Tommy!” Grace shouted to one of her bouncers at the door.
Tommy’s bodybuilding bulk towered before Lissa. His eyes
flicked over her. “What’s up, Mrs. Q?”
“This girl needs to be escorted out of our bar, and she’s
not allowed back in. Got that?”
“Got it.” He glared at Lissa. “Let’s go.”
Lissa plodded after Tommy toward the front door.
“Lissa?” Two girls screeched and bustled at the other end of
the bar. “Lissa? What’s going on? Where are you going? Wait up!”
Grace scowled at me, her hands digging into her waist.
“Sprite!” she snapped.
I nodded as I rounded the bar top. She grabbed my arm as I
brushed past her.
Her big greenish eyes flashed at me. “My office when you’re
done, and be prepared to get on your knees.”
My breath stalled.
I fixed that soda gun within four minutes, strode into the
office, and made sure the door behind me was locked.
About the Author
Cat Porter was born and raised in New York City, but also
spent a few years in Europe and Texas along the way. As an introverted, only
child, she had very big, but very secret dreams for herself. She graduated from
Vassar College, was a struggling actress, an art gallery girl, special events
planner, freelance writer, restaurant hostess and had all sorts of other crazy
jobs all hours of the day and night to help make her dreams come true. She has
two children’s books traditionally published under her maiden name. She now
lives in Athens, Greece with her husband and three children, and freaks out
regularly and still daydreams way too much. She is addicted to the History
Channel, her iPad, her husband’s homemade red wine, really dark chocolate, and
her Nespresso coffee machine. Writing keeps her somewhat sane, extremely happy,
and a productive member of society.
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