Synopsis~
After witnessing Makenna’s journey to find herself again, Callie is reminded of her own struggles with love. No, Wes wasn’t always the easy going guy that he is today. He was moody and unpredictable in the worst of ways, and she was certain to call him out on it every chance she got. Looking back, she’s amazed at how much their lives have changed since they met.Before tragedy shook them to the very core of their lives. Before her dream career began. And before Wes wasn’t a broody jerk with a closet full of personalities.
Yes, just four years ago, everything was different…
Makenna and Shane are just a couple of lovesick college students, and Callie is doing her best to keep up with the demands of her junior year. Life is boring, and she is totally fine with that. But boring flies right out the window the day Makenna cons Callie into helping with Shane’s brother’s birthday party. She expects a gangly pimple-faced teenager, but Wes is far from it. He is temperamental and opinionated, but he is also incredibly hot and thoroughly enjoys pushing her buttons. And she pushes his right back.
Even though their undeniable attraction draws them to one another, Wes is clear with Callie about one thing. Relationships are off limits. Friendship is all he has to offer, unless of course, Callie is willing to add a few benefits to that. He works hard to keep the reasons for his aversion hidden, but secrets have a way of making themselves known sometimes, no matter how deep you bury them.
Two of those secrets hold the key to unlocking Wes’ fears of the ultimate betrayal. And the other secret has Callie falling even deeper than she ever dreamed.
But she’s unsure of one thing . . . is she enough to save him from himself?
Social Media Links:
Amy's Thoughts ~
When I read Every Breath, I really was in BHO mode for a day or two. I absolutely Loved it, and I knew that Tasha Ivey was a gem. As I finished Every Kiss I felt the exact same way I did with the first book.
I.Love.Wes.Baxter.
He.Is.Amazing.
Amazing.
They tried so hard to deny the attraction they felt for one another. An innocent kiss here, an innocent kiss there. They tried to stay away from each other. Their friends and family had other ideas. Armed with the information she needs, Callie sets off to prove to Wes that she's not going to abandon him. That he can run all he wants, she will eventually catch him.
Callie and Wes were a couple that captured my attention in the first book, and I am so glad we got to explore more of their relationship together in this one. I did love getting an inside look at Makenna's relationship with Shane. It allowed me to understand her frame of mind and the turn of events that destroyed her with Shane's death. I love Sawyer and I really think he was the key to healing Makenna.
Tasha Ivey has once again written an amazing, flawless novel. I read it in one 5 hour setting. Every Kiss matches up with the exceptional work in Every Breath in this blogger's eye. Tasha will always an author who's new release I one-click in a heartbeat. <3
About the Author ~
Tasha Ivey is a literature fanatic, whose love for the written word fostered her development into the writer she has become. A lover of an extremely erratic mixture of literature, she has been influenced by authors from Jane Austen and E.M. Forster to Charlaine Harris and Alyson Noel. But her biggest influence and literary hero? Nicholas Sparks. Aside from writing, since she doesn't have anything other than a shriveled up prune on the left side of her brain, she prefers to spend her time being creative in other ways like painting, cake decorating, and various types of crafts. That is, if the constant voices streaming through her head allow her to stop making up stories for a while. Lucky for her, she has a huge supportive family, including her amazing husband and two kids, who doesn't complain too much when she hangs out with her characters more than she does with them. Sophie, the dog, however . . . she does complain. A lot.Excerpt ~
Oh, what kind of hell is this?
The light streaming through the windows only amplifies the pounding in my temples, and each footstep going down the stairs sounds more like a sledge hammer connecting with the wall over my head. I want to crawl under a rock somewhere and die. I knew it would be like this, but I continued to drink anyway, like a great big idiot. And then, I only made things worse by drinking whiskey with Wes.
Oh, yeah. Almost forgot about that. That’s probably why I have this funky taste in my mouth. Deciding I’ll feel better if I clean myself up a bit, I grab my bag and carefully head into the bathroom, lazily stripping out of my clothes and laughing at myself when I notice I’m still wearing my bikini.
Not caring to fight for the perfect temperature, I just aim for somewhere in the neighborhood of boiling hot and step in, squealing as it stings my skin and then groaning because it actually feels good. I lather my hair and body and rinse until I’m clear of not only soap, but tension, too. Even though my head is still pounding, I feel refreshed when I step out and pull on my clean clothes—a pair of black running shorts and my slightly wrinkled Breaking Benjamin t-shirt.
It takes a while to get my long hair free of tangles, but in the end, I opt to pile it all on top of my head in a messy bun. I don’t have the heart or motivation to deal with it today. And instead of putting my contacts back in, I slip on my glasses. The lenses are narrow rectangles, thickly framed in glossy espresso. I rarely wear them, but I always appreciate how well they match the low lights in the bottom layers of my blonde hair.
After brushing my teeth—twice—I begin shoving everything back into my bag, but I freeze when I see movement at my right. I turn toward the open door, and the realization that it’s been open the entire time I’ve been in here makes my head pound even more. Wes is in his bed. And looking right at me.
After brushing my teeth—twice—I begin shoving everything back into my bag, but I freeze when I see movement at my right. I turn toward the open door, and the realization that it’s been open the entire time I’ve been in here makes my head pound even more. Wes is in his bed. And looking right at me.
“How long have you been awake?” I ask, praying to all that is holy that it was after I got dressed.
“A while.” His sleepy voice is gravelly. Deep.
“A while.” His sleepy voice is gravelly. Deep.
All I can do is stand here with my hands on my hips and gape at him. What do I say to that?
“You know,” he begins, seemingly unfazed by my embarrassment. “You looked nice yesterday, but I like this look better.”
“Now is not the time to joke around with me.”
“You know,” he begins, seemingly unfazed by my embarrassment. “You looked nice yesterday, but I like this look better.”
“Now is not the time to joke around with me.”
He rolls his eyes. “Not joking. I’m dead serious. Your wild hair, the glasses, the band shirt, bare feet . . . it looks good on you. I’m not the type to say shit I don’t mean.”
If I didn’t know what to say before, I certainly don’t now. And this is totally not like me at all. I’m never speechless. I never blush. Why in the hell does he affect me like that?
“You’re a little testy this morning. Hangover?” He rolls onto his back and rests his hands behind his head, leaving his chest exposed and causing a little flutter in my stomach.
“You’re a little testy this morning. Hangover?” He rolls onto his back and rests his hands behind his head, leaving his chest exposed and causing a little flutter in my stomach.
“Yes.” Finally, the real me decides to break out. “I have to know. Did you see the whole show or did you wake up after I was dressed?”
He huffs out a little laugh and rolls back to his side, folding the blankets back and standing. Inside my head, I’m screaming and bouncing around like a psycho cheerleader. He’s a nude sleeper apparently. Wes stands and walks into his closet, bare-assed and completely gorgeous, and he yanks some jersey knit pants from the shelf and steps into them before walking into the bathroom like it’s no big deal.
“Now we’re even, sweetheart.”
He huffs out a little laugh and rolls back to his side, folding the blankets back and standing. Inside my head, I’m screaming and bouncing around like a psycho cheerleader. He’s a nude sleeper apparently. Wes stands and walks into his closet, bare-assed and completely gorgeous, and he yanks some jersey knit pants from the shelf and steps into them before walking into the bathroom like it’s no big deal.
“Now we’re even, sweetheart.”
No comments:
Post a Comment