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New Adult Contemporary Romance
Release June 2, 2014
About The Book
Fall to You is the second book in the Here and Now series. It is not a stand-alone and is intended to be read following Lost in Me. Hanna’s story concludes in book three, All for This.
Torn between two men…
When I woke up after the accident, I couldn’t remember anything from the last year—including my relationship with Max Hallowell or anything about Nate Crane. Now my memories are returning, but instead of answering my questions, they’re leaving me with more.
The man who broke my heart and wants to be my future…
Max is all I ever wanted, and now he wants to marry me. He’ll do everything he can to fill my life with love, family, and security. I need those things now more than ever. But can I trust him?
The man who stole my heart and wants to let me go…
Nate never made me promises, and I never asked him to. I’d been on the rebound, looking for a distraction, and he made me feel beautiful and wanted when I needed to feel those things most. He says he has to let me go, but what if I can’t let go of him?
With every revelation and every passing day, I feel more like Alice down the rabbit hole. I’m falling. Who will catch me?
Excerpt
Three Months
before Hanna’s Accident
“I want to introduce you to Nate Crane.”
I lift my head and suddenly I’m sucking in air
because my eyes are connected with the man who flirted with me earlier. He’d
had a hat and sunglasses on in the bar, and I hadn’t recognized him, but this
time his identity is clear.
“Hanna, this is Nate Crane. Nate, this is Hanna,
my sister.”
His eyes sweep over me the way a guy’s eyes are
supposed to sweep over a girl. The way Asher’s eyes sweep over Maggie every
time she enters a room. The way William’s eyes sweep over Cally when he doesn’t
think she’s looking. It sends a little buzz through me that’s not quite a chill
but not quite electric either. Just a nice, warm shimmy of sensation that
starts at my core and radiates out through my limbs.
Then I check behind me because I’m sure I’m
mistaken. He was just playing around at the bar, right? I mean, guys don’t look
at me like that. They look at my sisters like that; they look at my best
friends like that.
“Maggie never told me her sister was so gorgeous,”
Nate says, putting an end to any debate over his attraction to me.
My cheeks warm with a flush I can feel all the way
from my chest to my hairline.
“Maggie, I did tell you I have a thing for sweet
girls who blush, didn’t I? Is she my birthday present? I’d say you shouldn’t
have, but I’d be lying.” He says all this without taking his eyes off me. His
gaze drifts over me again, slower this time, lingering at my waist, my hips, my
feet in strappy, heeled sandals. “I was a good boy this year. I deserve her.”
Maggie thumps him in the chest with the back of her
hand. “She’s a woman, not some trinket or object that can be given.”
“Oh,” he says, his voice so low I can barely make
it out, “I noticed she’s a woman.”
“We met earlier,” I say quickly. “In the bar. He’s
just teasing.”
Maggie huffs. “Deserve or not, you can’t have her.
Hanna has a boyfriend.”
Oh, no. No,
Hanna doesn’t. But I didn’t tell Maggie about Max. It hurt too much to
share what I’d learned. I’m too proud to share it. And if I want to keep our
split a secret, I couldn’t really tell her if I wanted to. I can’t risk telling
anyone.
Nate takes my hand, clearly undeterred by the
mention of competition. “Tell me she’s lying. Please? It’s my birthday
tomorrow.”
“And you wanted me to jump out of a cake for you?”
I retort, but I let him play with my fingers and try to keep my breathing
steady. His touch brings back something I didn’t think anyone but Max could
make me feel.
“I wouldn’t complain.”
I’m fresh out of spunk, and stare stupidly. Nate
Crane is six feet some-odd inches of deliciously tatted, freshly showered
rocker. In ripped-up jeans and a Star
Wars tee, he exudes a geekiness that’s only amplified by the tattoos
peeking out from under the sleeves. The rest of him is essentially a catalogue
of every woman’s fantasy. Broad shoulders, narrow hips, shaggy, dark hair still
wet from his shower and curling slightly at the ends. Those intense eyes that
seem to be smiling at me as he follows the lines of my palm with his calloused
fingertips. He hadn’t really been on my radar until this year, when he started
performing with Asher at a lot of his tour stops. They’re old friends,
apparently.
“You didn’t tell me you were a rock star,” I
murmur.
“You didn’t tell me you have a boyfriend,” he
counters.
About the Author
Once a college English professor, I now write full time. I live in rural Indiana, where, when I'm not writing, I get to hang out with my husband and two kids--a six-year-old boy and a two-year-old hellion, er, girl. Not surprisingly, reading and writing remain my favorite activities, though both come in bits and pieces these days, not the big hunks of time I enjoyed before I had children. When I'm feeling virtuous, I like to go running (I use that word liberally. I'm really, really slow) or do yoga. Don't worry, I'm always careful to balance out such activities with a hearty serving of ice cream or a chocolate martini.
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