Two years ago, with shaking hands and knots in my stomach, I sent a book out into the world that I called Unbreak Me. It wasn't an easy book to write, but it was one I had to write. Unbreak Me was a story that had hooked its claws into my heart years prior and wouldn't let go until I got it right. The first book I ever set in New Hope, it began a whole new world for my stories.
I'm grateful that Maggie wouldn't leave me alone and insisted I tell her story, and I'm even more grateful that readers connected with her and wanted to read more about the characters in New Hope.
That's why I'm so excited that for a limited time, you can read Unbreak Me--a stand-alone, full-length novel-- for free from the following retailers:
I’m only twenty-one and already damaged goods. A slut. A failure. A disappointment to my picture-perfect family as long as I can remember. I called off my wedding to William Bailey, the only man who thought I was worth fixing. A year later and he’s marrying my sister. Unless I ask him not to…
“If you shatter, I’ll find you…”
But now there’s Asher Logan, a broken man who sees the fractures in my façade and doesn’t want to fix me at all. Asher wants me to stop hiding, to stop pretending. Asher wants to break down my walls. But that means letting him see my ugly secrets and forgiving him for his.
With my past weighing down on me, do I want the man who holds me together or the man who gives me permission to break?
“I’m intimidating? You’re the freaking rock star at the table.”
Some of the humor drains from Asher’s face, but he keeps his smile in place. “You know about that, huh?”
“My sisters told me. You could have mentioned you’re in a band.”
“I was in a band.” He wipes his hands on his napkin and shrugs. “Past tense.”
With a dreamy sigh, I prop my chin on my fists. “Who knew that one day I’d be on a date with the lead singer from a famous boy band?”
He scowls. “Infinite Gray was not a boy band.”
“Were there any girls in the band?”
“No.”
“That makes you a boy band.”
“It made us an all-male rock group.”
I bite back my smile. He’s so cute when he’s irritated. “Right, like ’N Sync.”
He winces. “Not like ’N Sync. Jesus, watch where you hurl those things. Words hurt, Maggie.”
I giggle.
He glowers. “You need a musical intervention.”
I perk up. “Ooh! Are you going to make me a playlist?”
“Maybe.”
I laugh again, but this time a little snort pops out, making me laugh harder.
He narrows his eyes. “You’re playing me, aren’t you?”
“Sorry. I couldn’t resist.”
“So you don’t need that playlist?”
“Says who? No boy has ever made a playlist especially for me before. Please?”
“Not even in high school?”
That takes some of the wind out of my sails. “I wasn’t that kind of girl.”
He studies me for a minute and just when I think he’s going to dig, he drops it. “Okay. It’s your turn. Ask me anything.”
I study him for a moment. The ice-blue eyes that keep dropping to my mouth. The stubble I can still feel against my neck. When I finally speak, it’s to ask, “What do you have against a perfectly good shower?”
He releases a burst of laughter. “If I’d let you have your way with me, you wouldn’t be sitting here with me tonight.”
“Oh, you think I would have moved on to another rock star in my long line of rock stars?”
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