venerdì 8 luglio 2016

Blog tour for SEARED ON MY SOUL by Cole Gibsen

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 Seared on My Soul

by Cole Gibsen  
Publication Date: June 27, 2016  
Genres: New Adult, Entangled Embrace, Contemporary Romance

Purchase: Amazon | Amazon UK | Amazon CA | B&N | Kobo | iBooks

 

Seared on My Soul Cover 

Synopsis: She’s so young, so full of life…
I couldn’t let her die… Even if she made the world’s worst coffee. Emily Garret never asked to be rescued, let alone by a walking JCrew ad whose idea of fun is probably managing his stock portfolio and watching the nightly news. Then again, she never thought she would wind upside-down in a ditch after a night having a little too much fun. Reece Montgomery never planned on being anyone’s hero, especially the foul-mouthed, bleach-blonde barista from the local coffee shop. He thinks there’s more to Emily than her tattoos, and lip ring, but getting close means letting her into his past and meeting his ghosts. And he’s not sure she’s ready for that battlefield.


 

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Excerpts: 


Excerpt #1

My world becomes nothing but pain.
Every breath is a mixture of blood, smoke, and gasoline.
From far away, I hear sirens and muf ed voices that can’t quite penetrate the darkness I’ve fallen into. Blood, tasting of copper, trickles down my throat. A searing ache, like barbed wire, rips into every inch of my body.
Am I dying?
Terror coils around my gut and I ail in the darkness inside my mind, desperate for anything to hold onto, an object to keep me grounded so I won’t fall away. My ngers brush against something soft and I grab hold, twisting the fabric into my st.
It doesn’t take me long to realize the fabric is attached to something—or rather someone—because seconds later a pair of muscular arms snake around my shoulders and press
me against an equally rm chest.
It doesn’t make sense. I haven’t been held this way since
Daddy died nearly a decade ago.
“Can you hear me?” The unfamiliar voice sounds
distant, echoing inside my head like a cavern.
I try to answer, but my throat is tight and blood coats my
tongue. Instead, I hold tighter, pressing my knotted ngers against his chest. His warmth bleeds into my skin, loosening the fear twisted around my ribs just enough for me to breathe— only it comes as a gasp. “I don’t want to die.” The words are a surprise, but I realize they’re the truest words I’ve ever spoken.
Unconsciousness tugs at me with velvety ngers, pulling me deeper inside myself. I clutch the fabric in my hands, suddenly terri ed that if I’m pulled away, I might not be able to nd my way back.
The darkness presses against me, smashing me beneath a wall of endless satin. My ngers lose their grip on the man’s shirt, and I can feel myself slipping. Fear rises inside my throat, a jagged lump I can barely breathe around. “Don’t,” I manage to choke. My voice sounds far away—almost as if it were coming from outside my body. Or maybe I’m the one outside my body.
The thought sends an icy wave of terror crashing over me.
“Don’t what?” the man asks, sounding farther away than before. Even so, the panic in his voice is unmistakable.
The darkness grows heavier, and I am too weak to ght. Even my fear ebbs under the crushing weight of exhaustion. It takes all my remaining strength, but I manage to breathe life into the words tangled on my tongue before
unconsciousness consumes me.
“Don’t let me go.”

Excerpt #2

“You know, Reece, you’re not as stuffy and uptight as I thought you were.”
I chuckle. “Thanks? You’re not as loud and obnoxious as I thought you were.”
She laughs before falling quiet. After a brief silence she says, “I’m glad we did this. It was bizarre, awkward, and I thought we might be going to jail for a minute there. Still, I had fun.”
“Me, too.” Though, I’m not sure fun is the right word to describe it. Last night, when I held her in my arms, a piece of myself I thought was dead and gone returned to life.
“Promise me one thing, Reece?” She tilts her head to the side.
“What’s that?”
“Don’t be a stranger, okay? Maybe we can exchange numbers?”
I nod, even as I study every line of her body, trying to commit it to memory. I want to remember how she is in this moment—messy hair, no makeup, and smelling of sugar. I want to remember her, because I, the Boy Scout, lied. I won’t be dropping by her apartment, and I won’t be calling. As amazing as she is, she’s too dangerous to be around.
In the military, we’re trained to survive. Last night, this woman found a way through to my humanity, but I’ll be damned if I let her into my heart—whatever little there is left of it.

Excerpt #3

I hate the power he has over me, but at the same time it gives me a rush. “What the hell do you want from me, Reece?”
“I don’t know. Do you?”
I thought I did. I thought I was only after fun, until our night together. That was before he got inside my head. It wasn’t fun after that. “I’m going to be totally honest. It hurt when you stopped coming around.”
His jaw tightens. “That wasn’t my intention. I thought I was doing you a favor.”
“I don’t need you to take care of me.”
“Em, you don’t understand how fucked up I am. You have no idea what you’d be getting into with me.”
He drops his head into his hands and sinks into a chair, looking very much broken. Seeing him this way pulls at my heart. I make my way to him, stopping when my knees bump his.
He looks up, lines of confusion wrinkling his brow.“What—”
“I might not know what I’m getting myself into,” I say, settling onto his lap and twining my fingers around his neck, “but don’t I deserve the chance to decide for myself if you’re worth it or not?”
“I’m not,” he says flatly.
“Again, you don’t get to decide that for me.”
“I don’t have the strength to keep pushing you away.”
He traces the ink down my arms. A delicious trail of shivers follow his touch. I arch my back and his eyes darken with hunger. “The war didn’t destroy me. But you, Emily Garrett, you just might.”
I kiss him, urgently, desperate to swallow his words as well as my own. Because the truth is, given my rapidly crumbling walls, he could just as easily do the same to me.


 

ABOUT COLE GIBSEN

Cole Gibsen 
At seventeen Cole found herself homeless with only a beat-up Volkswagen Jetta and a bag of Goodwill clothing to her name. The only things that got her through the nights she spent parked in truck stops and cornfields were the stacks of books she checked out from the library along with her trusty flashlight. Because of the reprieve these books gave her from her troubles, Cole vowed to become a writer so she could provide the same escape to readers who needed a break the reality of their own lives.

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