Deux maisons, se différenciant par leur dignité, dans la Cité des Anges où se déroule notre scène…
London Sinclair était le garçon dont ma mère avait dit de me méfier depuis tout le temps que je puisse m'en souvenir. Son seul nom n'a rien apporté d'autre à la famille que de la honte et de la souffrance. C'est donc sans surprise que nous sommes des ennemis jurés depuis le moment où nous nous sommes rencontrés.
Avec son regard langoureux et son sourire arrogant , il avait toutes les filles sous son charme. Il ne me reste qu'une seule année d'école et puis je suis libérée de la maison car je garde un secret, que j'ai honte de garder.
Le garçon qui est complètement hors limites est celui qui me fait aller de l'avant, Holland Brooks, il est sauvage. Je désire London, et je pense ... qu'il me désire aussi.
Certains pourraient comparer cela à une tragédie à la Shakespeare, car nos noms de familles ont impacté le des tin et notre future, mais quand une nuit change ma vie pour toujours, je ne peux pas quitter assez rapidement la Cité des Anges.
Dix ans plus tard, j'ai expié mes pêchés et je reviens à Los Angeles en tant que nouvelle femme. Je reviens pour me marier. Mais au moment où London revient dans ma vie , une chose est sûre. Dix années ne peuvent pas effacer cette nuit - cette unique nuit pécheresse quand j'ai cédé à la tentation - car je veux la revivre à nouveau.
Date de sortie : 14 mai 2018
Editeur: Monica James
Prix: 2.99 ou 11.13 euros
Pages : 412 pages
Pour commander ce roman , cliquez ci dessous
EXCERPT
Before I get a chance to scold him, he presses his chest to mine and slowly reaches behind me. We’re caught in a deadlock. I’m barely breathing while he licks his bowed upper lip, unaffected. I shuffle backward, uncaring that I’ll probably fall off the edge because that alternative is far better than burying my nose into the length of his neck. He smells so good. I just want to take a bite.
But up goes my guard as I refuse to succumb to this insanity a second longer. “This is a new low, even for you. Manhandling a defenseless, injured woman.”
He has the gall to laugh. “You? Defenseless? That is one word I would never associate with you, Princess.” When that momentous nickname slips past his lips, we both freeze, him gingerly meeting my eyes.
A thousand emotions are reflected deep within those shadowy depths, transporting us both back to being seventeen. And just like that, my walls crumble. He clears his throat while I avert my eyes, focusing on a lone beer bottle cap on the floor.
There are bottles clinking and some sort of rustling happening behind me, but I don’t dare turn around to see what the commotion is. When he finally pulls away, I take a breath, but it’s in vain because he drops to his knees before me.
I have no idea what he’s doing until he lifts my injured ankle and presses a dishcloth filled with ice to the swollen flesh. The relief is instant, so I don’t fight it. I watch as he tends to me, on his knees, as it’s a sight I never thought I’d see. I envisioned London on his knees, begging for forgiveness more times than I care to admit, but this is different.
Something is selfless, almost repentant about his actions, and I can’t take pleasure in seeing him this way.
“Here.” He breaks the silence when he offers me his cell from his back pocket. My brain short-circuits. Not only is he tending to my wounds, but he’s now giving me a lifeline to get the hell out of here. But now that it’s within reach, I don’t want it as desperately as I thought I did.
Regardless, I accept the offering. The screen lights up with a picture of an adorable black Labrador. I don’t know why, but it throws me.
This is a part of London’s life, and I begin to wonder what else he holds close to his heart.
Over the past ten years, I exorcised London from every crevice of my mind and body, never allowing myself to slip back into the past. But being here now, I can’t help but be curious, especially because he looks different…he looks happy.
About the author
Monica James spent her youth devouring the works of Anne Rice, William Shakespeare, and Emily Dickinson.
When she is not writing, Monica is busy running her own business, but she always finds a balance between the two. She enjoys writing honest, heartfelt, and turbulent stories, hoping to leave an imprint on her readers. She draws her inspiration from life.
She is a bestselling author in the U.S., Australia, Canada, France, Germany, Israel, and the U.K.
Monica James resides in Melbourne, Australia, with her wonderful family, and menagerie of animals. She is slightly obsessed with cats, chucks, and lip gloss, and secretly wishes she was a ninja on the weekends.
Keep in touch with Monica
http://www.facebook.com/authormonicaj...
Twitter: @monicajames81
http://monicajamesbooks.blogspot.com.au/
Pour commander ce roman , cliquez ci dessous
EXCERPT
Before I get a chance to scold him, he presses his chest to mine and slowly reaches behind me. We’re caught in a deadlock. I’m barely breathing while he licks his bowed upper lip, unaffected. I shuffle backward, uncaring that I’ll probably fall off the edge because that alternative is far better than burying my nose into the length of his neck. He smells so good. I just want to take a bite.
But up goes my guard as I refuse to succumb to this insanity a second longer. “This is a new low, even for you. Manhandling a defenseless, injured woman.”
He has the gall to laugh. “You? Defenseless? That is one word I would never associate with you, Princess.” When that momentous nickname slips past his lips, we both freeze, him gingerly meeting my eyes.
A thousand emotions are reflected deep within those shadowy depths, transporting us both back to being seventeen. And just like that, my walls crumble. He clears his throat while I avert my eyes, focusing on a lone beer bottle cap on the floor.
There are bottles clinking and some sort of rustling happening behind me, but I don’t dare turn around to see what the commotion is. When he finally pulls away, I take a breath, but it’s in vain because he drops to his knees before me.
I have no idea what he’s doing until he lifts my injured ankle and presses a dishcloth filled with ice to the swollen flesh. The relief is instant, so I don’t fight it. I watch as he tends to me, on his knees, as it’s a sight I never thought I’d see. I envisioned London on his knees, begging for forgiveness more times than I care to admit, but this is different.
Something is selfless, almost repentant about his actions, and I can’t take pleasure in seeing him this way.
“Here.” He breaks the silence when he offers me his cell from his back pocket. My brain short-circuits. Not only is he tending to my wounds, but he’s now giving me a lifeline to get the hell out of here. But now that it’s within reach, I don’t want it as desperately as I thought I did.
Regardless, I accept the offering. The screen lights up with a picture of an adorable black Labrador. I don’t know why, but it throws me.
This is a part of London’s life, and I begin to wonder what else he holds close to his heart.
Over the past ten years, I exorcised London from every crevice of my mind and body, never allowing myself to slip back into the past. But being here now, I can’t help but be curious, especially because he looks different…he looks happy.
About the author
Monica James spent her youth devouring the works of Anne Rice, William Shakespeare, and Emily Dickinson.
When she is not writing, Monica is busy running her own business, but she always finds a balance between the two. She enjoys writing honest, heartfelt, and turbulent stories, hoping to leave an imprint on her readers. She draws her inspiration from life.
She is a bestselling author in the U.S., Australia, Canada, France, Germany, Israel, and the U.K.
Monica James resides in Melbourne, Australia, with her wonderful family, and menagerie of animals. She is slightly obsessed with cats, chucks, and lip gloss, and secretly wishes she was a ninja on the weekends.
Keep in touch with Monica
http://www.facebook.com/authormonicaj...
Twitter: @monicajames81
http://monicajamesbooks.blogspot.com.au/
Aucun commentaire:
Enregistrer un commentaire
Merci pour votre commentaire. Je le validerai après l'avoir lu . Belle journée et merci pour votre fidélité