I just ran into the girl who got away.
Holding a hate letter addressed to me.
And now we’re stranded.
Last time we kissed, I broke her.
My best friend’s little sister worshiped me.
She teased. She provoked. She goaded.
Rubbed forbidden in my face till I went off the chain.
Making her beg was inevitable.
So was my sacrifice.
Last time we kissed, she demolished me.
Her rich family thought I was perfect.
I took Amy Kay under their noses.
And then I kept taking.
I promised too much. Loved her too hard. Left too soon.
Last time we kissed, he betrayed me.
Her backstabbing brother. My ex-best friend.
I never saw it coming.
He’ll pay for his sins ten times over.
Last time we kissed, it was final.
I wasn’t supposed to see her again.
Not in this city. On this elevator.
The moment it craps out, stranding us overnight with animal cravings and fencing lies.
Last time we kissed, how could we know our next might truly, madly, beautifully restore us"
From Wall Street Journal bestselling author Nicole Snow " a twisted second chance romance. Watch an alpha male on a mission fight like hell to win his woman back. Full length stand alone with a swoon-worthy Happily Ever After.Books by Author:Nicole Snow Books
Times Left Behind (Amy Kay)
Words from a letter I never sent, and still want to every damn day:
I hope you go to hell, Trent Usher.
Buy yourself a nice long ticket and enjoy your stay.
I won’t be waiting when you get back.
The worst thing you did wasn’t leaving my father on his knees, screaming in tears. Or the fact that you left me flattened against the wall with my heart pounding, watching the color drain from Jace’s face.
It wasn’t even the things you whispered to me the morning after our night. Our first and last and only.
The last night I’ll ever be this young, this stupid and this trusting. I believed in you too much.
It wasn’t the promises you made, or how you strung me along with the magic and mystery I’d always wanted to hold, if just for an instant, in your bottomless blue eyes.
The worst thing you did was leaving without a word. Without an explanation. Without an apology.
I waited, Trent.
I waited so fucking long.
I thought you’d drop me a goodbye. Even if you had to in secret, just to say I want you, or I’m sorry, or there’s some deep screwed up part of me that never meant for any of this to happen.
Now, I wonder if you meant it all along. Maybe a sick, deranged part of you enjoyed what you did to us, what you’re STILL doing to me.
We opened our home and gave you the world. My parents treated you like another son. Jace loved you like a brother. But nothing like I did, drunk on your toxic promises and sadistically enchanting smirks.
I loved you, asshole.
You loved making me a fool.
I found your address in Portland. You wouldn’t be reading this if I didn’t. Don’t worry " I’m not turning you in.
Even after everything that happened, you’re safe. Even with every shred of common sense I have left screaming ‘do it,’ I can’t.
So, I’m going to make sure you read this, and then I’m doing the next best thing to driving down there and kicking your crazy ass: forget you ever existed.
Move on. I suggest you do the same. Whatever dirty, evil stuff you’ve gotten into will play itself out. That’s not my problem. Not anymore. I’ve wasted too many tears.
But if I’m able to make you think twice before doing this to another girl, leaving her heart a battered wreck, I’ll have done my job.
If I find a conscience somewhere behind those beautiful blue eyes and hard body, I hope I stab its heart.
This isn’t some guilt trip. It’s the bleeding truth. Plus a nice big dose of ‘fuck you,’ written on my hundredth night in tears since you left, after I’ve spent too many hours alone in dad’s wine cellar.
Stay in hell, Trent.
This lifetime and the next.
Don’t come calling.
Fuck you very much,
It’s three hours since I stepped off the plane, checked into my rental, and I’m right back in la-la land. Downtown Seattle is as dreary and bustling as I remember. It’s separated from my aching eyes by a sheet of thick glass. The orange lit lobby of this huge tower is like a second home, as it should be for any daughter who grew up in the shadow of a powerful law firm.
I rub my eyes, still trying to forget that stupid letter. I found it just yesterday, digging through my things, taking a break from packing to pick through old trinkets I haven’t seen since college.
Six years ago, I penned a Fuck You letter to the man who once meant the world. I never sent it.
For some ungodly reason, I tucked it in my purse. I read it three more times at the airport and once since I landed, like some strange homecoming ritual to this city where life showed me love and promises are fairy tales. Nothing more.
Tucking the long green straw from my iced coffee into the corner of my lip, I suck angrily, draining the last third of watered down coffee.
This isn’t a freaking mud run, Ames. Let’s pull ourselves together and get this done.
If only it were that easy. I’m feeling my jet lag as the building goes quiet for the day, employees scurrying out the door by the dozen. The guy at the front desk is the last to go, throwing his computer in his case, giving me a weak, unsure grin.
I turn to the man in the leather chair across from me and "
And my heart damn near stops.
My eyes go wide. The anxious electric hum prickling my blood has nothing to do with the caffeine hit.
Deep freaking breath.
This isn’t happening.
It’s totally not him. Totally not sitting there in a magnificent suit, navy blue to match his eyes, his strong jaw covered in a delicious bristle of five o’clock shadow. Totally not staring me down, pinning me to my seat, locking my body, mind, and soul to the leather with the same uncanny ease he did when we were kids.