Sono le di


sabato 16 settembre 2017

BLOG TOUR: "Forever with you" by Beverley Kendall

Forever With You

An Unforgettable You Novel by Beverley Kendall Publication Date: September 12, 2017 Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

Purchase: Amazon | Google Play | iBooks | Kobo

I’d never fallen harder for anyone than I did for Graham Prescott. The British hottie was like no other guy I’d ever met. And the attraction between us was mutual and red-hot. I would have done and said almost anything to be with him. So I’d told him one harmless, little lie… But it hadn’t been. Harmless or little. That lie nearly destroyed his life. Seeing him again after four years stirs up feelings I have no right to feel. So I tell myself the only thing I want from him is his forgiveness. But first I have to earn his trust—something easier said than done. Especially when he makes it clear there’s only one thing he wants from me. To stay the hell out of his life.


I muster up more courage. “Please, I just want a couple minutes of your time and then I’ll leave. Promise.”
Turning, he puts more distance between us and grasps the stool on the bar by its rungs, flips it so it’s right side up and sets it on the floor. “Your promises mean nothing. Now, I going to give you ten seconds to leave.” The most hurtful part of his dismissal is his refusal to look at me, the words tossed callously over his shoulder as he resumes his work.
After what I put him through, I can’t blame him for the way he’s acting. I deserve this. But he deserves and is owed what I have to say to him. “I tried to get in touch with you after—after everything happened.”
He goes motionless, then slowly turns to me. His glare could melt stone. “You can’t even say it, can you? What you did. You can’t even say the damn words. Is that how you were able to sleep at night whilst I was locked up in that cage?”
Stricken, I furiously shake my head, turning my ponytail into a whip that nearly comes close to taking my eye out. “No. That’s not it at all. I hate what I did to you.”
“You didn’t once think about anyone but yourself,” he continues as if I hadn’t spoken. “You were so used to wiggling your arse and jiggling your tits to get whatever you wanted. Well, congratulations, it worked. You really pulled the wool over my eyes. I can’t believe I actually fell for your whole act.”
Act? What? “No, no, I wasn’t pretending. I honestly lo-cared about you.” I pray he didn’t catch my stumble. He probably doesn’t believe I knew a thing about love back then despite the fact I’d told him I loved him.
“Not enough to tell me the truth.”
My throat constricts. I hate that nothing I can say will dispute that. Nothing. More guilt piles onto the mountain’s worth I’ve acquired over the years.
He wearily shakes his head and stares at me. “You don’t get it, do you? What you did to my life.”
If I ever thought I couldn’t hurt any more, that my sense of guilt could not possibly be greater, Graham just proved me wrong.
“I know there’s nothing I can say—”
“No there’s not. Now get out,” he bites out, his jaw tight and his eyes frigid.


“My coming back to New York had nothing to do with you.”
He shrugs and hitches his backpack higher on his shoulder, his stance relaxed. “If you say so.”
Pompous ass.
“You know, Graham, I don’t understand you. Why are you even here? Why did you wait for me? Why are you even talking to me now if you’re so sick of seeing me?”
Suddenly, it’s not all fun and games and his smirk disappears. “Because I have to deal with you at work, and now I’m going to have to deal with you here.”
Deal with me? Like I’m some horrible rash or something equally odious. I’ve done nothing but try with him. Show him how sorry I am in every way I can think of. All to no avail. He’s not having it.
“Actually, you don’t have to deal with me. If you’re offended that I have a class in the same building as you, then I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I can do about it. But don’t worry, the most that might happen is that you’ll see me from a distance, and if that happens, you can simply look the other way.”
“And what about work?” he asks with a lift of his eyebrow.
If I had the same ego I did when I met him, it’d be stomped to the ground by now. My feelings, however, are a whole other matter. “What do you want, Graham? You want me to quit?”
His expression becomes fierce. “I didn’t want you to take the bloody job in the first place.”
“Do you want me to quit?” I’m at the point where I’m prepared to do just that. I’ve finally come to my emotional tipping point.
“Right, and leave John high and dry,” he scoffs.
There’s no pleasing him. In his book, nothing I do is right.
“God, Graham, why are you being like this?”
Something akin to surprise flashes in his eyes. As if my question catches him off guard. Then he laughs and it’s this low, dark sound that cracks around the edges. Not from amusement at all.
“Being like what? Wishing you were a thousand miles away?” he asks with the sardonic lift of an eyebrow.
If there’s one thing I can say about Graham it’s that he doesn’t feign a blow. He goes right for the exposed nerve, of which—when it comes to him—I have many.
“Trying to hurt me.”
He shakes his head, his laugh now a rumble in his throat. “This may come as a shock to you, Emily, but I’d have to care enough about you to want to hurt you…and I don’t.”


He nods slowly as if contemplating my answer. “So you never thought of us getting back together?”
Crap. Now I can’t breathe. How on earth am I supposed to answer that? How far does he want me to go back? I can’t tell him how I’d celebrated my eighteenth birthday. I’d gone out dancing with my friends but had gone home early and cried myself to sleep railing at the gods that I’d met him one year and two months too early.
If only if only if only, had been the mantra on that day and in the months that followed.
“Do you mean before or after I saw you at the mall with your girlfriend?” I ask lightly.
His eyes darken and if possible, his gaze grows more intense. “Either.”
I wonder if he’s asking to have the satisfaction of getting me to admit that I’m still hung up on him so he can turn me down? Is this payback cloaked in smoldering stares meant to inspire damp panties and lust-induced palpitations? That would be fiendishly cruel of him.
“Well, since the only time you answered my call was to tell me to get lost, I can safely say, I never thought we’d ever get back together.”
He shakes his head. You didn’t answer the question, his expression scolds. “You know that’s not what I meant.”
My nipples perk up at the quiet rumble of his voice. I cross my arms over my chest to hide my body’s reaction.
“I used to, you know, before I saw you again. I mean I didn’t stop lo—having feelings for you just because you hated me. It took time, and during that time, yes, I used to think about you. About us.”
“How long? How long did it take you to get over me?”
Dear God, this must be his new form of torture.
“Why does any of that matter now? Would it make you happy to know what a mess I was for an entire year after you left? That my grades dropped and I stopped modeling? That my parents sent me to a shrink? That I’ve been eaten up with guilt for the last four years?”
He takes a step, bringing us that much closer.
“Okay, I’ll ask it a different way. Are you over me now?”

Other books in the Series

About Beverley Kendall

Beverley left her IT career in 2012 to write sexy historical, new adult and contemporary romances full-time. As the mother of one too-bright and mischievous young boy, she pulls full-time duty on all fronts. When she’s not writing, running Smitten by Books Reviews website or mothering, she’s either reading or dreaming of a time when she’ll have time for my favorite hobbies: knitting, crocheting and sewing. Beverley discovered her love of books while growing up in a small city in Ontario Canada. She’s lived on two continents, in three countries, two provinces, and four states. She’s stopped her nomadic existence and settled in the southeast. All things artistic feed her creative passion, but none more than writing. She’s currently being represented by Kevan Lyon at Marsal & Lyon Literary Agency.

Nessun commento:

Posta un commento