What do you do when your boyfriend of five years is sleeping with your best friend and you’re in a dead-end job, breaking your back for mere pennies? I’ll tell you what I did. I did the one thing I’ve been dreading for the last thirteen years, I finally went home. I needed to get back on my feet and I needed my Grams. As much as I wanted to pretend life was working for me, it wasn’t.
The problem with home though is that everywhere I turn, her ghosts were haunting me.
Crazy, crazy, crazy, just like her, just like my momma.
I wanted to pretend that crazy didn't exist, but it was all around me, trying to do its best to pull me under.
There’s one problem with that, Keenan Rys. He’s determined not to let it. And I’m determined to keep him away.
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About the Author:
Abby McCarthy is reader and a lover of words. She is a blogger turned author and released her first novel in May 2014. She is a mother of three, a wife and a dog person. She has always written, sometimes poetry, sometimes just to vent about failed relationships, however in parenthood she has found her voice to help keep her sanity. Words have flowed from her, to review and with the support of amazing friends in the Indie community she has decided to pursue her dream of writing! She loves to write and read romance, because isn't that something we all yearn for? Whether it be flowers and hand holding or just the right tug on your hair. Isn't that what life is about? The human connection?
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“Whoa, there!” Strong arms wrapped around my waist pulling me back up and into him, saving me from utter disaster. Warm coffee sloshed on the back of my leg, but I didn’t care because I was pressed up against him. His hard body was up against mine and my hand with a mind of its own was touching his chest. My heart rate accelerated. He held me in his arms last night, but somehow being pressed into him right then felt like the first time any man had held me in his arms. It felt powerful. I could feel his heart beating and with each thump I felt stronger; bolder. He set his coffee down behind him on the table and then returned his arm around me. I could feel his jeans against my legs, and I suddenly wished it was his skin I felt. It was a second, maybe two, that I just stayed immobile in his arms, feeling him against me. He inched a tad closer and an almost inaudible gasp left my lips. He heard it though. His eyes darkened and I swore I saw a look of lust. My breasts swelled and I stared up at him, wondering what he would do. Would he kiss me?
To hell with any rational thoughts. I wanted his lips on me. This no longer felt like “just friends” anything.
I looked at his lips. They were soft. Pink. Full. They were moving. He was talking to me. l blinked at him. “I’m sorry what did you say?” I asked and knew I sounded breathy.
He licked his lips and slid his teeth over his bottom lip. “I said careful. Are you alright?” Was I alright! Was I alright! That’s what he asked me. I knew I should answer. I knew I was staring at him dumbfounded because I wasn't alright. Not at all. I was still pressed tight to him, and his grip wasn't loosening. I wasn't okay because all I could think about was those beautiful lips, and how they might feel against mine.
“Keenan,” I whispered his name, it came out like a plea. My eyes moved to his, then to his lips, his beautiful throat and to where my hand splayed against his nipple. I devoured him. Saying his name was all the invitation he needed to move even closer. His dark hair hung over his forehead. His eyes locked on mine. His mouth moved closer and then his lips were on me. Goosebumps erupted over my entire body. His lips were everything I imagined. They were soft at first and then demanding as the tip of his tongue guided my mouth open. The warmth of the kiss spread through me. He gave me everything in that kiss. My toes curled. My hands gripped him tighter. I wanted everything he was offering and more. My leg hooked around his and he lifted me by my bottom. It was a silent command to wrap my legs around his waist and I took it. I’d follow any order his body demanded of me. He turned us and pressed me against the wall. I gripped his hair and he gripped mine back. I felt frantic. Passion was a word I thought I understood. I thought passion was that spark, but no this was an inferno. We blazed.
His lips broke from mine. I lifted my head back and he trailed kisses along my neck and then against my collarbone.
“You drive me fucking crazy,” he said as his hand swept over the swell of my breast. Crazy. Crazy. Crazy.
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