Release Date: 10/01/13
Harlequin Teen
Summary from Goodreads:
Cami Broussard
has her future all figured out. She'll finish her senior year of high school,
then go to work full-time as an apprentice chef in her father's French
restaurant, alongside her boyfriend, Luke. But then twenty-year-old ex-Marine
Julian Wyatt comes to live with Cami's family while recovering from serious
injuries. And suddenly Cami finds herself questioning everything she thought
she wanted.
Julian's all attitude, challenges and intense green-brown eyes. But beneath that abrasive exterior is a man who just might be as lost as Cami's starting to feel. And Cami can't stop thinking about him. Talking to him. Wanting to kiss him. He's got her seriously stirred up. Her senior year has just gotten a lot more complicated….
Julian's all attitude, challenges and intense green-brown eyes. But beneath that abrasive exterior is a man who just might be as lost as Cami's starting to feel. And Cami can't stop thinking about him. Talking to him. Wanting to kiss him. He's got her seriously stirred up. Her senior year has just gotten a lot more complicated….
Available from:
Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo
Excerpt
Julian’s in cutoff sweats and no shirt and he’s trying to reach from the weight bench where he’s seated to the door handle of the small fridge, which is just a few inches too far away from him. From my hiding spot by the doorway, I can see his surprisingly V-shaped bare back, and the rise of muscle that runs from his shoulders to his neck, and the cut of his arms. I clear my throat and he turns.
Okay, there are guys who are utterly ripped, like bodybuilders. That’s not Julian. He’s not stacked like a bodybuilder. He’s just… buff, in this way, in this utterly sensual way. Like his pecs aren’t huge and bulging, they’re just pronounced enough. His chest, like his back, is broad and his body tapers in at the waist, leading to another hint of a V-shape pointing down from his hip bones, and above this the shadowy lines of a six-pack. He sees me. “Hello.”
My insides clench. Suddenly, I can’t look at him. “Can’t sleep?”
“No. I figured I might as well do something useful.”
“But now you’ll have to get your wheelchair all the way back up to the house.”
I glance at him and catch him studying me. “Yeah, I guess I will.”
Probably on account of his injuries, Julian is stretching out his left leg and leaning back on the bench instead of just bending the leg and sitting normally. This is what’s giving me such an amazing view. Of his sweatiness. The sweat has dampened his hair, it’s filming his skin. There are a handful of scars on his chest, and with his head back a little like it is, my eye can trace the line up those scars in a kind of zigzag pattern. I gulp down some air and hope he can’t hear it. But he must, because that curve at the corner of his mouth deepens a little.
“Can you come here a minute?”
Julian’s in cutoff sweats and no shirt and he’s trying to reach from the weight bench where he’s seated to the door handle of the small fridge, which is just a few inches too far away from him. From my hiding spot by the doorway, I can see his surprisingly V-shaped bare back, and the rise of muscle that runs from his shoulders to his neck, and the cut of his arms. I clear my throat and he turns.
Okay, there are guys who are utterly ripped, like bodybuilders. That’s not Julian. He’s not stacked like a bodybuilder. He’s just… buff, in this way, in this utterly sensual way. Like his pecs aren’t huge and bulging, they’re just pronounced enough. His chest, like his back, is broad and his body tapers in at the waist, leading to another hint of a V-shape pointing down from his hip bones, and above this the shadowy lines of a six-pack. He sees me. “Hello.”
My insides clench. Suddenly, I can’t look at him. “Can’t sleep?”
“No. I figured I might as well do something useful.”
“But now you’ll have to get your wheelchair all the way back up to the house.”
I glance at him and catch him studying me. “Yeah, I guess I will.”
Probably on account of his injuries, Julian is stretching out his left leg and leaning back on the bench instead of just bending the leg and sitting normally. This is what’s giving me such an amazing view. Of his sweatiness. The sweat has dampened his hair, it’s filming his skin. There are a handful of scars on his chest, and with his head back a little like it is, my eye can trace the line up those scars in a kind of zigzag pattern. I gulp down some air and hope he can’t hear it. But he must, because that curve at the corner of his mouth deepens a little.
“Can you come here a minute?”
About the Author
Sabrina loves hearing from her readers, and encourages
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