She Hearts Books: Blog Tour - From Dust by Freya Barker

My Thoughts

From Dust is a beautiful heart wrenching story of loss and love that drew me in slowly and hooked me until the very last page. I so wanted to know what had happened in Syd's past to have brought her to living in a shed and eating out of dumpsters. When Viv took her under her wing to give her a meal and a job, my heart ached for Syd and made me fall a little in love with Viv. When Syd and Gunner meet there is an instant chemistry that can't be denied. Syd is scared that once Gunner learns about her past that he won't want to be with her, but she couldn't be more wrong. He is that man to stand beside her through everything. I so loved how supportive and thoughtful he was with her. The blindfold moment he gave her was heart wrenching and made me cry right along with them. I so enjoyed watching them fall in love and embracing their second chance.

I give From Dust 5 hearts!

About the Book

Pain punished her.

The bottle numbed her.

Guilt kept her trapped.

In the dark alley of a pub, the words “Please don’t” take hold of her heart and break the silence she seeks. Thinking herself beyond redemption, she tentatively grabs on to the slim thread of hope that unfolds inside of her.

Holding her secrets close, she can’t resist the comforting draw coming from The Skipper. The unconditional friendships it offers, the protective roof it provides, and the spark that its owner ignites in her—melting the frost off her heart, and slowly stripping away her resistance.

His life flows from one crisis to the next. Under the pressure of competition crowding him out of his family’s pub and the need to protect his children from the ruins of a bad marriage, he barely breathes. That is until a mane of strawberry-blonde hair and a set of big, pale blue eyes, shake him up.

He never expected the shadow of a woman he finds on the floor of his washroom to bring him the air―the balance and the light he’s been missing.

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Excerpt

“Please don’t.” The soft plea freezes me with a French fry halfway to my mouth. So preoccupied with stuffing my empty stomach, I didn’t hear anyone approach. My hand drops the fry and I scramble to the far corner of the dumpster, looking up from under my eyebrows at the woman peeking over the side of the dumpster. I’ve seen her before; a tall blonde, about my age, with blue streaks through her hair. I’ve seen her go in the backdoor of ‘The Skipper’ before and guessed she was an employee. The soft eyes and half-smile fill me with shame. Pity is devastating when it’s directed at you, and I’ve never felt it as strongly as I do now. Wrapping my arms around my waist against the chills running through my body, I turn my eyes away so I can avoid looking at myself through her eyes. “I’ll make you something fresh. Do you want to come in out of the cold?” My eyes flick to the backdoor before returning her steady gaze and I shake my head. The thought of being exposed to more pitying eyes would surely undo me. Tempting as it is to walk through that door behind her and be able to sit down to a plate of food, I’m scared that I won’t be able to return to this bleak existence I’ve resigned myself to afterward. “I’m the only one here. We’ve closed up for the night and I was just putting the last of the garbage out.” She winces at her own words, probably realizing the implication of her garbage referral. “Please...” When she reaches her hand out to me I can’t resist stretching my own to touch it. It’s been so very long since I’ve had any direct human contact that the moment our fingers touch, tears I thought had dried up long ago, start rolling down my face. A craving to bask in her warmth some more has me following her gentle pull on my hand and I find myself cluttering over the side of the dumpster. Meekly I follow behind as she leads the way through the backdoor without a word, only stopping briefly at the threshold. The warmth rolling out of the open door is so inviting, I hesitate, wondering if I step through this door—if I allow myself this comfort—I’ll ever be able to turn back again. My heart pounds in my chest as I force myself to follow the woman inside the dark hallway, letting the door fall shut behind me.

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About the Author

Freya Barker craved reading about 'real' people, those who are perhaps less than perfect, but just as deserving of romance, hot monkey sex and some thrills and chills in their lives – So she decided to write about them. Always creative, from an early age on she danced and sang, doodled, created, cooked, baked, quilted and crafted. Her latest creative outlets were influenced by an ever-present love for reading. First through blogging, then cover art and design, and finally writing. Born and raised in the Netherlands, she packed her two toddlers, and eight suitcases filled with toys to move to Canada. No stranger to new beginnings, she thrives on them. With the kids grown and out in the world, Freya is at the ‘prime’ of her life. The body might be a bit ramshackle, but the spirit is high and as adventurous as ever. Something you may see reflected here and there in some of her heroines.... none of who will likely be wilting flowers.

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