Title: Blue
Author: S.M. West
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: July 12, 2017
Blurb
Blue. The color of
devotion.
CARYS WOLFE is my
heart.
Mine, always.
Leaving her nearly killed me.
I thought it was the
only way to keep her safe.
She’s moved on, and I
want her back.
***
EVAN HART is my
heart.
Loving him is my
destiny. I waited my entire life for our time,
for us to finally be
together, only to have him leave.
Now he’s back.
Though my mind can’t
forgive him, my heart can’t forget.
Review
Rating: ☆☆☆☆
Evan and Carys are destined to be together, finding each other at an early age. When Evan finds out something about his father's death, he disappears into the shadows to protect Carys. But when it looks like he could lose Carys forever, he returns to fight for her.
Danger is never far away as his father's actions impact on all of them and they become pawns in a much bigger game.
There was an arrogance to Evan that jarred a little, with his expectation that he could walk back in to Carys' life with no repercussions. It was great to see Carys wasn't having any of it and made him work for the right to be in her life again. The blend between the past and the present enabled you to see how special their relationship is and that they genuinely belong together. It brought a sweetness to an otherwise suspenseful and fast moving story. I am very interested to see where this series takes us next.
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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.
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.
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