Read Undeniably Asher (The Colloway Brothers Book 2) Online
Authors: K.L. Kreig
Undeniably Asher (The Colloway Brothers Book 2) (43 page)
His penetrating gaze makes me even more nervous than I already am, and I start to squirm. I never intended to run into anyone I knew here, let alone him. I would have never let Kam talk me into this stupid fundraiser otherwise.
Shit. Shit. Shit
. This is so not good.
“I took over my father’s company, and we moved the headquarters from Detroit to Chicago last year.”
He lives here? In Chicago? My mind is spinning. I’m trying to process the fact that my ex-fiancé lives in the same city as I do, and that he took over his father’s company already. I didn’t remember Frank being that old. I shouldn’t be engaging him in conversation, but I can’t help but ask, “Did he retire?”
“No. He died.” I gasp and my heart sinks.
“God, I’m sorry Gray, I had no idea. Your dad was a wonderful man.” He was like a father to me, more so than my own, who’d essentially sold me to save his own life. I loved that family. They were like my own until they weren’t anymore.
“Of course not, Livvy. How could you possibly when you fucking disappeared over five years ago, without a trace, without a call, without a forwarding goddamn phone number?” His retort was ripe with barbs, and it stung in the way it was meant to. I deserved some of his ire yes, but not all of it.
Gray has no clue the living nightmare I’ve endured. What I had done for my family or for him. And it would stay that way. I have to get away from him before I do something stupid, like spill my guts. He is my past, and as much as it deeply pains me, he has to stay that way. Too much has happened in the last five years that I simply can’t overcome. I am damaged goods now, and Gray would never want me if he knew the truth. I need to get the hell out of here before I break down. I can’t keep the tears back much longer.
“I have to go. It was nice to see you again, Gray.” I need to get out of here before I throw myself at him and beg for his forgiveness. Because even though I don’t quite deserve it, a small part of me desperately craves it. Gray is my first love. The only man I will ever love. And that young, naive woman now buried deep inside me will hold tightly to the memory of her first love with her last dying breath. It’s all that has gotten me through the worst days of my life.
And it’s all I have left.
I spin to leave when a strong hand pulls me back once again. Every time this man puts his hands on me, I bend to his will, and right now I feel like a torch has been set to my bones and they are far too pliable. My eyes flit between it and his ever so handsome face. He gets the gist and lets go.
Although his voice has softened, his annoyance clearly rings loud when uttering his next words. “How can I get ahold of you, angel? I’d like to have dinner. Catch up.”
My heart skips a beat. I haven’t heard that endearment in so long, I have to blink back the tears threatening to fall. I
want
to agree. I nearly do. But then common sense slams back into my frontal lobe at a hundred miles per hour. If I spend time with Gray, he’ll pepper me with questions. Questions he has
every
right to have answered. But those are answers I won’t give. I can’t. He can never know.
Gone is the young, naïve, rosy-colored glasses woman he fell in love with. Gone is the carefree, idealistic woman he’d asked to be his wife. What stands in her place, instead, is a cynical, horribly used and hopeless one. Shattered beyond all repair.
“I can’t,” I whisper. Then I do turn and flee. Luckily, there are several cabs waiting out front and I hop in the first one, yelling at him just to drive. As I turn around, I see Gray standing on the sidewalk, breathing hard, watching me drive away. Deja vu cuts me like a sharp knife and I begin to sob silently. These are the first tears I’ve allowed myself to shed in four and a half years.
Once again, I am leaving the only man to ever make my stomach flutter and my heart race. The man who pursued me relentlessly for that first date by returning for six straight nights to the pizzeria I worked at until I said yes. The man I’d dreamed of having children with. Growing old with. The only man I have, and ever will love.
All because of
him
. Always because of
him
. As with every day for the past five years, I curse the day Peter Wilder set foot into my life. And I curse my father for bringing him there.
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Babbles…
I was doing my final proofread of
Undeniably Asher
and decided to completely blow up this section. This is off the cuff and unedited, so forgive any missing or misspelled words, or punctuation errors. I suck at commas.
This is my fifth full-length novel released, but I’ve actually penned seven now, and have already started on my eighth and ninth (which will all be releasing in 2016). The thing that’s different about this book, though, is it’s personal for many reasons.
There is a lot of me between these pages. A lot of truth mixed in with fiction. I leave a little bit of myself behind in every novel I write. For example, the bike story Alyse told Asher in Chapter 18? True story. It happened. As was the lie that my sister and I told our mother about crashing into each other on swings. Uninventive, but we were like ten, so cut me some slack. And last year, our family went bowling and played laser tag on Thanksgiving Day. It was my first time (not bowling, but I do suck at that, too) and I had no idea how to put on the vest or work the gun. And yes I hid in the corner for a while because I was getting smoked by my son and husband anytime I moved. It was a complete blast so guess what we’ll be doing next Thanksgiving?
I put a little of myself in all my female characters. My sass. My independence. My strength. My humor. But the thing about this book in particular is that Alyse is probably the closest character to myself that I’ve written so far. Alyse’s mother abandoned her.
My father did.
Alyse has a hard time letting people in. Really in.
Ditto
. Not many people see my damaged murky depths, because I show them only what I want them to see. Just like Alyse. But unlike Alyse, I loathe math. I’m more of an English gal myself. I didn’t have a Magic 8 ball growing up, my daughter did. I loved that thing. But the feelings of wanting to be loved unconditionally by someone? Needing your gravity? Those were mine. I was lucky enough to find an Asher. Oh, he’s not overly possessive and we don’t frequent sex clubs (exhibitionism isn’t my thang), but he’s
my
gravity. And I’m his.
Why are you telling me this?
you’re asking yourself. Because until I started writing, I never really thought about these things when I read. I never understood how much of themselves an author leaves behind on each page. I’m not talking about their blood, sweat, tears, frustrations, Cheetos and wine stains. I’m taking about how many real tidbits they tell us if we’d only listen. And sometimes how shallow the well is they need to dig into to capture the right emotions for their story. We show little glimpses into our soul. You just need to look hard enough to find them. I read every book with a different set of lenses now (okay, so they’re readers. Don’t judge).
Finally, I need to address the dedication of this book in case you missed it. My brother, Rodney, committed suicide several years ago. It devastated our family and that never goes away, no matter how much time passes. If my mother is reading this, she’ll probably not make it through to the end. He left behind a wife, a child, shattered parents, siblings and countless other friends and family. In the book I talk about Alyse struggling with severe depression and attempting suicide not once but twice. I haven’t personally hit this low but I will admit to thinking about it a long time ago when I was also young and didn’t understand life better, so that’s where I pulled those emotions from (if you’ve made it this far, you have a glimpse into me most people do not). There are a lot of people that struggle with depression and thoughts of suicide. They affect so many people, not just the victim. It’s a shame this isn’t discussed more. It’s something that
should
be talked about, needs to be talked about, not held inside. If you’re at this low, or you know someone who is, there
is
help. In the U.S. please call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at
1-800-273-8255
. I’m sure there are similar other resources in other countries that can be found through a quick Google search.
Now onto my thanks and gratitude. This time I’m not going to name every person who’s had a hand in this book, because, let’s face it, this section has already gotten
waaaay
out of hand. Friends, family, bloggers, authors, editors, formatters, proofreaders, pimpers, etc: if you had a hand in this, you know who you are and you know I thank you from the bottom of my heart. I am nothing but grateful for your belief in me.
I loved writing this story. It turned out better than I thought it would when I started. I hope you enjoyed reading it. I love these brothers more and more with each book I write. Thanks for taking this journey with me, for buying my book and supporting an author you love. Whether that’s me or not, your support of your favorite authors cannot be overstated.
If you like this book,
please
tell your friends, your neighbors, shout it from the rooftops. Hell, tell people you don’t even like! The best thing you can do to support an author you love is word of mouth and LEAVE A REVIEW on Goodreads, Amazon or wherever. Even one or two sentences or simply rating the book is helpful for other readers. Reviews are critical to getting a book exposure.
About the Author
This is the hardest part…talking about myself.
I’m just a regular ol’ Midwest girl who likes
Game of Thrones
and is obsessed with
Modern Family
and
The Goldbergs
. I run, I eat, I run, I eat. It’s a vicious cycle. I love carbs, but there’s a love-hate relationship with my ass and thighs. Mostly hate. I like a good cocktail (oh hell…who am I kidding? I love
any
cocktail). I’m a huge creature of habit, but I’ll tell you I’m flexible. I read every single day and if I don’t get a chance…watch the hell out, I’m a raving bitch. My iPad and I: BFFs. I’m direct and I make no apologies for it. I swear too much. I love alternative music and in my next life I want to be a badass female rocker. I hate, hate, hate spiders, telemarketers, liver, acne, winter, and loose hairs that fall down my shirt (don’t ask, it’s a thing).
I have a great job (no…truly it is) outside of writing. My kids and my husband are my entire world and I’d never have made it this far without them. My soul mate husband of nearly twenty-eight years provides unwavering support and my two grown children know the types of books I write and they don’t judge their mom anyway (and my daughter is a beta reader even…yes, that can be awkward…very).
I’m
sincerely
humbled by each and every like on my Facebook page or sign-up for my newsletter or outreach from someone who has read and loved my books. I still can’t get over the great support. The romance book community is a wonderful and supportive one. I’ve made more friends in the last year than I’ve made in my life and I’m a pretty affable person. It’s surreal. I’m pretty sure it always will be.
In short, I am blessed…and I know it.
If you’re a stalker, the first step is to admit it. After that, you can find me in a lot of places, all of which I use with irregular frequency.
Kreig’s Babes private fan FB page
I have a newsletter and/or blog you can sign up for on my website if you’re interested in getting updates on projects and new releases. Promise no spamming. I hardly even keep that damn thing updated.
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