Tasty Book Tours Presents....
DEAR AGONY
Georgia Cates
Releasing March 1st, 2017
Dear Agony,
You've been
my shadow, following me through childhood—filling my days and nights with
terror and uncertainty. You cleverly disguised yourself as some form of pain or
suffering as I grew into a young woman. We were unwavering companions … until I
severed our ties.
I traded homelessness on the streets of New Orleans for a luxurious bed covered by the finest linens.
I traded
dumpster diving for dinner in the finest restaurants.
I traded
myself to a stranger—Bastien Pascal.
I have a
good life within my platonic and mutually beneficial companionship with Bash.
He’s my
friend. My mentor. My roommate.
Until
everything changes.
I’m not
supposed to get goosebumps when his hand brushes my skin.
I’m not
supposed to be eager for his soothing touch following one of my nightmares.
I’m not
supposed to think about what might happen if I reached out to him in the
darkness.
Falling in
love with him? Preposterous . . . unavoidable.
Agony, why
are you back with a vengeance to rob me of this life I’ve come to love so
dearly?
I’m finally
happy. Don’t ruin this for me.
Always
yours,
Rose
Rose
In this
epic love story, Dear Agony forges a connection between an unlikely pair—a
beautiful rose entwined in barbed wire and a shipwreck sinking into the darkest
depths of the ocean. This agonizing romantic novel poses some gut-wrenching
questions: What does a woman do when the man she loves is planning his own
demise? And how far will she go to give him something to live for?
EXCERPT
Bastien wasn’t lying. The man snores. Loudly.
I was awake for hours after he came to my bed. I had far too many
thoughts whirling around in my head to doze off.
I’m proprietor of a sadness I hold so tightly, it’s penetrated my very
being. It has wrapped itself around my heart in the form of barbed vines,
warning people away. I’m buried chest deep in filth—the filth of my vile past.
I’m the captain and my pain is forever my first mate.
I wake to find myself held by his strong arms. Encased in his comforting
touch. Strangely, even though I’m clinging tightly to the arm wrapped around my
waist, I feel . . . safe in the arms of a man. This man. It’s a first for me.
Bastien is still sleeping, his snoring proof he is unaware of our
entanglement. I’m glad. I want to savor this close encounter for a while longer
before I pull away.
I steal this moment like a thief, permitting myself to study his face
and body without his knowledge.
His chest under my head is hard, as is his stomach beneath my hand.
There’s sparse hair between his pec muscles but he has a small patch on his
abdomen trailing down into the front of his pants.
I gently lift my head so I can see his face. Long, thick, dark lashes
rest against his lower lids. Strong, square jawline—covered in dark whiskers,
and a few sparse silver here and there, a little thicker this morning than last
night. A tiny dimple in the center of his chin. Full, pink lips with a deep
cupid’s bow. Straight nose, slightly asymmetrical to the right side of his
face. Hmm … I haven’t noticed that until now. I bet it’s been broken. Probably
playing football.
Even in sleep, Bastien’s face doesn’t completely relax. His brow remains
wrinkled, the shallow crowfeet around his eyes slightly crinkled.
Lines and all, he’s handsome. Extremely
so.
And stirring.
I quickly pull away and roll onto my side, my back turned to him before
he fully awakens. I don’t want that awkward moment of waking and coming to face
to face, forced to discuss what led him to my bed last night.
Minutes later, there’s a brief dip in the mattress and then I hear the
soft click of my bedroom door closing.
He’s gone without a word.
I roll to my back and run my hand along the spot where he was lying.
Still warm. Scooting closer, I press my nose into his pillow. Mmm. Woodsy.
Earthy spice. Masculine.
Savoring the warmth and smell that remains in my bed after Bastien’s
departure is something I shouldn’t enjoy … but I do. Very much.
Liking these things isn’t part of our agreement.
Bastien has clearly stated he doesn’t want a romantic relationship. In
fact, he’s very much against it, especially with someone my age. And I refuse
to ruin what we have. I like him. I think we can be very good friends.
When she’s not writing, she’s thinking about writing. When she’s being domestic, she’s listening to her music and visualizing scenes for her current work in progress. Every story coming from her always has a song to inspire it.
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