A Marine never says die. Neither does his princess ➱ Losing My Breath a steamy, emotionally gripping new-adult romantic dramedy by J Rose Black Book Release with Giveaway
Losing My Breath
by J Rose Black
Genre: Contemporary Romance
A
Marine never says die.
Neither does his princess.
Battle lines are drawn when sheltered debutante Meridian Daly moves across the hall from grumpy former special forces Marine Callan Brand. Situated a bit closer than advertised to 'crime alley', Meridian’s neighbor finds himself grudgingly guarding the pampered princess out of habit. But with her sharp wit and killer curves, he can’t help but surrender to temptation…
When their relationship evolves from casual courtship to something more, Callan finds that Meridian's already discovered his closely-guarded secret. But can he let go of his pride, and tell her the whole truth of who he is and what he’s done—in the name of honor and country?
As Callan’s scars start to reveal themselves, his life spirals beyond the careful control that's helped him survive—and kept those he cares about safe.
From him.
But this tough-in-a-tiara princess won't back down, even in Callan’s darkest hours. And Meridian just might prove to be more tenacious than a never-say-die Marine!
“You’re following me.” Callan placed
the dumbbells on the mat and straightened.
His neighbor rolled her eyes as she
stood. “I happen to work out every Tuesday and Thursday at this time.” She
flipped her long ponytail over her shoulder. “This is the first time I’ve seen you here.” She pointed at him with her
water bottle.
Nice of her to offer. He grabbed the beverage, uncapped
it, and took a nice long drink. “Thanks,” he said, and handed it back.
She glared. “Are you this big of a
jerk to everyone here, or do I get some special treatment for living across the
hall from you?”
“I thought you were offering it to
me. It’s bad manners to point,” he said with a chuckle.
“You’re lecturing me on manners? The
guy who can’t even introduce himself?” The frown on her face wasn’t even close
to cross. She was clearly too good-natured for her own sake, and—if their interactions were any
indication—she was also far too naïve. She
shouldn’t be in a place like this. Maybe locked in some ivory princess tower,
guarded by a monster.
Prissy Neighbor huffed as she
stepped around him. She bent down, in those short running shorts with the open
sides—to whip a pair of fifteen-pound dumbbells off the rack.
He sighed. Yet another one I’ll need to keep an eye on. Trouble will find her. I
have zero doubts about that. The only question is: How bad will it be when it
does?
He grimaced. It’s like she doesn’t even live in the same world. Where dark and
twisted people exist, killing and preying on the weak. Innocents. She
hefted one weight up to her shoulder, turning the grip as she went. But she
slung the other dumbbell—engaging back muscles and using momentum to help
propel the heavy weight.
She’s mad at me. So she’ll end up injuring herself. He shook his head and crossed his
arms over his chest. “Your form is wrong.”
She met his gaze in the mirror.
Sweat dripping from her temples like the rain on that day . . .
His eyes drifted to his own
reflection. A hard-assed former Marine glared back. She turned her back to him
and repeated the awkward movement.
He sighed. “You should lower the
weight and go slower. You’re slinging the dumbbell and not getting the full
benefit of the effort.”
Prissy Neighbor pivoted and faced
the mirror again. He could see her brain processing the information. Her first
instinct, the stubborn side of her, stuck out her chin and glared, again, at
his reflection. But her more reasonable side must have won out. She put the
dumbbell back on the rack—with a loud clatter. Then she repeated the
hammer-curl movement with the lower weight.
“You’ll get better results if—”
“What now?” She planted her free
hand on her hip. Her lip curled into a snarl.
What do you know? She has some fight in her after all. “I can show you,” he offered.
She flipped the weight to her free
hand, then met his gaze. One light-colored eyebrow rose. Another wave of heat
flared in his abdomen.
He moved behind her, sliding his
fingers along her tricep toward her forearm. He lifted the weight from her hand
and set it beside her, then held her wrist in a straight line out from her
shoulder. “Hold, right there.”
Warmth radiated from her skin in
waves. Her pulse beneath his fingertips. The telltale flutter in her neck.
Life. It mattered, was precious. And could be taken away in an instant. The
urge to remain there, connected to another human being, stirred an ache in his
chest. Her hair smells like strawberries
and coconuts.
He fitted one palm against the back
of her hand; the other held on to her elbow. “This isolates the bicep.” He
helped her complete the movement without a weight.
“One one thousand, two one thousand,
three one thousand.” Her knuckles tapped her shoulder. “Now down in one fluid
movement.”
He helped her repeat it once more
before retrieving the weight at her feet. She performed eight full reps, then
switched hands. She met his gaze in the mirror as she executed the same
movement—working the other bicep. He gave her a slight nod, and his reflection
added an even smaller smile.
After finishing sixteen reps, she
lifted one side of her mouth. “Thanks, Umbrella Guy.”
Excerpt 2
Callan
opened the door to his apartment. Quick reflexes. He brought both arms up to
fend off his latest assailant: Meridian Daly, aka his drunk but prissy
neighbor.
Her
lethal weapon: two strappy high-heeled shoes. Seriously? He deflected another blow. Ow. Is she trying to use them like nunchucks? Jesus.
“What
the hell is your problem? Why can’t you just leave me alone?”
“You
want me to leave you alone with an armed miscreant? I could go call him back
here.”
“What
are you—wait. Huh?”
“I
told you to be careful. To stay alert. This place isn’t princess-fairytale
land. You need to think, be on your guard.”
“Wh-what
miscreant?”
“Did
you completely miss that you’d been followed home?”
She
stared at him, still a bit unsteady on her feet, her eyes glazed over. He ran a
hand over his face. This one. I don’t
know how much of her I can take. “Just—”
“There
was s-someone following me?”
“Yeah.
Recognized his photo. He’d been seen with a knife.” Callan placed the thing on
his counter. “I assume it was this one.”
She
stood with her back against his kitchen counter, arms crossed, face pale; the
heavy makeup around the eyes gave her an older, smoky look.
“Is
he—” She trembled as she grabbed his arm. “Is he gone? Did he see—?” Prissy
Neighbor Meridian must have lost her balance, or something else. She collapsed
against him—her head on his shoulder, her body pinning one arm against his
side. He touched the back of her head in an awkward attempt to hold her.
Her
breath on his collarbone. The warm softness of her chest. The scent of
raspberries in her hair.
She should definitely
sleep in my bed. But not when she’s drunk. And scared. Callan
sighed. “Take my room. I’ll stay on the couch.” He brushed a tear from her
cheek. “You’re safe here.”
She
smiled, and she was beautiful. “Thank you.”
Excerpt 3
Callan sat at her kitchen table and
stared at his hands. Calloused, bumpy, coarse.
Thwack. A pack of brightly colored
cards landed in the center of the tablecloth. He stared. “Uno? That’s the best
you could do?”
“I couldn’t find regular playing
cards. Suck it up and deal.” Meridian sat down across from him, palms flat on
the table; her fingers trembled. She laced them together, tapped her thumbs.
She sat still for a grand total of two seconds, and then was up again.
He sighed and reached for the pack
of cards. She’s still anxious he’ll come
back.
“Want something to drink?”
“Water’s fine.” Callan sorted out
the instructions and flipped through the deck. One round. Help her settle down. I can’t stay. I shouldn’t stay.
“Do you remember how to play?”
“Sure, we played Uno all the time on
base.”
“Really? Odd. Doesn’t seem like a
hardcore Marine kinda game. But I have heard—” She met his gaze as she set the
water bottle in front of him. “You’re—that was sarcasm.”
He swallowed a grin. “We didn’t play
Uno. We played the craziest poker rules we could find. CHORSE, guts, blind
man’s bluff.”
“Uno was too intimidating, huh?”
“Yeah. That reverse card, it’s a
killer.” He dealt fourteen cards between them, then stacked the remainder in
the center of the table.
Meridian studied her hand, moving
cards into some kind of order. She flipped over the top card from the stack to
begin the discard pile. He glanced at his, then laid them face down.
“Oh come on, admit it. This is the
most fun you’ve had on a Thursday night in . . . how long?”
“Fun. Yeah.” He shook his head. “Not
really.”
“You got in a fight. You won. And
now you’re playing your new favorite card game.”
“My idea was better.” He grinned
around the mouth of his water bottle.
“Strip poker? No. I’m not the kind
of girl who gets naked on a first date.”
Callan almost spit out his drink. “I
told you. You could keep your clothes on. If I lost, I’d strip. Hell, if I won,
I’d strip. You’d win and win.”
J. Rose Black weaves stories about obsession, redemption, and the transcendental power of love. From her early days writing fanfiction for a passionate following of international readers, to crafting novels with her own characters, Rose has always been drawn to broody protectors and plucky, nononsense women ready to fight for what they believe in.
When Rose isn’t deeply immersed in her latest manuscript, she’s working in cyber security and thwarting the next generation of internet bad guys. Out of the office, she’s #Shipping with friends over her favorite, swoon-worthy couples, heading to the gym to battle the great evil that is Unmovable Baby Weight, or complaining about her husband’s addiction to 3D printing. Also: nagging her children to eat something other than cheese.
To learn more about Rose’s stories and the characters and worlds visited in this book, check out her website: jroseblack.com
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ReplyDeleteThank you for posting about Losing My Breath, this sounds like a story that I will enjoy reading
ReplyDeleteSounds like a great story. I like the cover.
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