Title: Blue
Author: S.M. West
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: July 12, 2017
Blurb
Blue. The color of
devotion.
devotion.
CARYS WOLFE is my
heart.
heart.
Mine, always.
Leaving her nearly killed me.
Leaving her nearly killed me.
I thought it was the
only way to keep her safe.
only way to keep her safe.
She’s moved on, and I
want her back.
want her back.
***
EVAN HART is my
heart.
heart.
Loving him is my
destiny. I waited my entire life for our time,
destiny. I waited my entire life for our time,
for us to finally be
together, only to have him leave.
together, only to have him leave.
Now he’s back.
Though my mind can’t
forgive him, my heart can’t forget.
forgive him, my heart can’t forget.
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Excerpt
“Evan, I want to know what happened, but I have a life now and you need to know…” She trails off, her eyes darting away from mine.
“What?”
Gazing up at me, she continues, “Whatever you have to say, it’s not going to change a thing. We’re over.”
My heart twists and breathing becomes difficult. Mother fuck, her words cut deep, hurting even though they aren’t true. Sure, she believes them on some level—she had to, in order to get through what I did. Yet, along with the hurt and disappointment swimming in her eyes, there’s also tenderness and love.
“Tell me you’re happy and I’ll walk away.”
We always pushed each other, challenged the other to face our fears, to be honest with ourselves, with each other. I need to hear her say it. I don’t believe it, but if she is over me, I need to hear it in her voice and see it in her face—not because I want to, but because it’s the only way I can even begin to accept that we’re over. Even then, it’s not possible.
“I’m happy.” Her tone is laden with bravado, but no true emotion. Even her gaze, which never wavers from mine, is flat.
Shaking my head, I briefly cast my eyes downward to suppress my smile. “No, you’re not.”
“Van.” I flinch at that fucking name.
As a child, I thought it was so fucking cool to have a nickname that only my best friends would call me. Now, hearing “Van” from her pretty lips, I want to obliterate the word from her vocabulary, fucking kiss the word out of her.
“You can call me asshole for all I care, you’re not happy,” I retort in frustration. Catching my tone, I breathe deeply and loosen my fists to relax. “Don’t lie to me, and most of all, don’t lie to yourself.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about. You want to see what you want. I’m with Greg, and we’re happy.”
She grimaces infinitesimally, then averts her eyes from me. Unable to read her, I’m not sure if it’s because she means it and doesn’t want to hurt my feelings or if the lie tastes nasty in her mouth.
“What?”
Gazing up at me, she continues, “Whatever you have to say, it’s not going to change a thing. We’re over.”
My heart twists and breathing becomes difficult. Mother fuck, her words cut deep, hurting even though they aren’t true. Sure, she believes them on some level—she had to, in order to get through what I did. Yet, along with the hurt and disappointment swimming in her eyes, there’s also tenderness and love.
“Tell me you’re happy and I’ll walk away.”
We always pushed each other, challenged the other to face our fears, to be honest with ourselves, with each other. I need to hear her say it. I don’t believe it, but if she is over me, I need to hear it in her voice and see it in her face—not because I want to, but because it’s the only way I can even begin to accept that we’re over. Even then, it’s not possible.
“I’m happy.” Her tone is laden with bravado, but no true emotion. Even her gaze, which never wavers from mine, is flat.
Shaking my head, I briefly cast my eyes downward to suppress my smile. “No, you’re not.”
“Van.” I flinch at that fucking name.
As a child, I thought it was so fucking cool to have a nickname that only my best friends would call me. Now, hearing “Van” from her pretty lips, I want to obliterate the word from her vocabulary, fucking kiss the word out of her.
“You can call me asshole for all I care, you’re not happy,” I retort in frustration. Catching my tone, I breathe deeply and loosen my fists to relax. “Don’t lie to me, and most of all, don’t lie to yourself.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about. You want to see what you want. I’m with Greg, and we’re happy.”
She grimaces infinitesimally, then averts her eyes from me. Unable to read her, I’m not sure if it’s because she means it and doesn’t want to hurt my feelings or if the lie tastes nasty in her mouth.
“Sweetness, I know everything there is to know about you, without apology. You can’t lie to me.”
S.M. West is an
indie author who writes contemporary romance, romantic suspense, erotica and
whatever her heart desires.
indie author who writes contemporary romance, romantic suspense, erotica and
whatever her heart desires.
She spends her time
juggling ay day job, being a mom and wife, and writing. On top of that, she's a
self-professed junkie of many things including a voracious fan of music, a
born wanderer, a wine aficionado and chocolate connoisseur.
juggling ay day job, being a mom and wife, and writing. On top of that, she's a
self-professed junkie of many things including a voracious fan of music, a
born wanderer, a wine aficionado and chocolate connoisseur.
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