Excerpt: Thrive - Vilma Iris | Lifestyle Blogger

When I was nineteen years old, I was faced with a choice that changed my life.
Keep the safety of what I already knew or risk losing everything with the young, hotheaded soldier who stole my heart.

I chose the wrong man, and for seventeen years, I paid in tears, blood, and shattered dreams for that decision.

Now, there’s a man in my house, holding a gun to my head on the order of my ex-husband—given from his prison cell.

That hotheaded soldier I was too afraid to choose? He’s now a six-foot-three wall of muscle who works at the country’s most premier bodyguard agency. I’ve always wanted him, but now, I’ve never needed him more.

It’s the call I’m terrified to make.
I’m sure he still hates me… Even though I’ve never stopped loving him.

Book Type:

Contemporary Romance

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Excerpt: Thrive
By Aly Martinez

Excerpt: Thrive

I love Aly Martinez’s books and her latest, THRIVE, sounds like the kind of story I’ll devour. Out today, this is a tale of a woman picking the wrong man, facing the horrible consequences and then coming face-to-face with the one she should have chosen… she’s never needed him more. Read an excerpt below and enter to win a signed paperback and $25 gift card!!! DETAILS HERE

I woke when the sound of a glass breaking permeated my slumber.  I was on my feet before my eyes opened.

“Mira!” I yelled, snatching the bedroom door open.

“I’m okay!” she yelled back. “Ouch. Shit. Fuck.”

Jogging down the stairs, I repeated, “Mira?”

“Never mind. Not okay. Nooooot okay.”

I rounded the corner and found her standing in the kitchen—or, more accurately, hopping in my kitchen.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

Her head snapped up and then her mouth fell open as her gaze landed on my bare chest. “Oh, wow,” she breathed.

I ignored that too.

I only made it one step into the kitchen before she threw an arm up to stop me. “Don’t come in here!”

She was wearing one of my plain, black tees, which damn near swallowed her, and a pair of gray sweats that somehow managed to mask even her roundest curves. She looked absolutely ridiculous and yet, somehow, absolutely gorgeous. She was holding her left foot. Blood was dripping onto the travertine, her every hop bringing her closer and closer to the broken remnants of what had to be the majority of my coffee cups.

“Shit. Stay still,” I ordered, hurrying to the hall closet. After sliding a pair of running shoes on, I waded into the mess after her. “What the hell did you do?”

She draped her arm around my neck as I hooked her under the knees and swept her off the floor. “I was trying to get a mug, but I didn’t realize I needed to be outfitted to climb Mount Everest to reach one.”

I snagged a roll of paper towels off the counter and then carried her around to one of the barstools. “I’m not exactly short, Mira.”

“No. But the top shelf? Assuming a person is not properly caffeinated, that is a highly dangerous location to store the coffee cups.”

“I’m seeing this,” I replied, crouching to get a better look at her foot.

She winced as I put pressure on it. “How bad is it?”

“Well…I don’t think it needs to be amputated.”

She glared and it stirred a smile to my lips.

“It’s not too deep. Let me grab some Band-Aids.” Still grinning, I stood from my crouch and walked to the first-floor bathroom to retrieve the first aid kit Melissa had purposely left behind when she and the girls had moved to be closer to her job. “All right. I’ve got My Little Pony or Dora. Pick your poison.”

She laughed. “Definitely My Little Pony.”

“Excellent choice,” I replied. With the bleeding mostly stopped, I tore the plastic off the bandage and sealed it over her cut.  “I personally have never been a fan of Dora’s belly shirt. The child’s, like, four, for God’s sake. Put some damn clothes on her.”

She rewarded me with a laugh that felt like the breath of life to a dying soul. Not even I, King of Denial City, could ignore the way my body came alive. And then I made the grave mistake of looking up at her. Her blinding, white smile was aimed down at me, the pure beauty radiating out of it enough to destroy a man’s life and still leave him thanking her for it.

That was the exact moment I knew I was fucked.

Because I felt it—that magical spark that turned into a wildfire and melded people together. Time wasn’t a factor. It didn’t deteriorate or fade. Nor was it a physical thing you could break or a feeling you could get over. I’d found it—whatever the fuck it was—with Mira York when I was twenty-three years old. It didn’t matter that our half-ass relationship had only lasted six months. It didn’t even matter that she’d never felt that spark for me. It was still fucking inside me, taunting and tormenting me, craving her in any and every possible way I could have her.

And I didn’t really want to ignore it at all.

“Are you okay?” she whispered, staring down at me.

“Not at all,” I replied more honestly than I’d ever been even with myself.

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2 Comments:


  1. lea said:

    can`t wait to read it!

    Reply

  2. Jackie said:

    Love Aly, can’t wait to read!

    Reply

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