New Book Release & #Giveaway ~ The One for You (The Ones Who Got Away, Book 4) by Roni Loren ~ @SourcebooksCasa #HappyNewYear @RoniLoren

The One for You
The Ones Who Got Away Book 4

Roni Loren

Publication Date: 12/31/2019

The highly-anticipated fourth book in Roni Loren’s unforgettable The Ones Who Got Away series.

About the Book:

She got a second chance at life. Will she take a second chance at love?

Kincaid Breslin wasn’t supposed to survive that fateful night at Long Acre when so many died, including her boyfriend—but survive she did. She doesn’t know why she got that chance, but now she takes life by the horns and doesn’t let anybody stand in her way.

Ashton Isaacs was her best friend when disaster struck all those years ago, but he chose to run as far away as he could. Now fate has brought him back to town, and Ash doesn’t know how to cope with his feelings for Kincaid and his grief over their lost friendship. For Ash has been carrying secrets, and he knows that once Kincaid learns the truth, he’ll lose any chance he might have had with the only woman he’s ever loved.

Meet the Author:

Roni Loren wrote her first romance novel at age fifteen when she discovered writing about boys was way easier than actually talking to them. Since then, her flirting skills haven’t improved, but she likes to think her storytelling ability has. She holds a master’s degree in social work and spent years as a mental health counselor, but now she writes full time from her cozy office in Dallas, Texas where she puts her characters on the therapy couch instead. She is a two-time RITA Award winner and a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author. Visit her online at roniloren.com.

Purchase Links:

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2sjGcjz

B&N: http://bit.ly/2qEGIaZ

Apple: https://apple.co/2QVnUPi

Kobo: http://bit.ly/34QgQrx

IndieBound: http://bit.ly/35FDzXg

BAM: http://bit.ly/2rS5Fjs

Read an Excerpt:

A sleepy voice came through the door. “Come in.”

Kincaid opened the door and found Ash shifting to sit up in bed, shirtless, tattooed, and with full-on bedhead. Every womanly cell in her body gave a cheer of appreciation, and she had the sudden annoying urge to tilt her head and twirl her hair like a smitten schoolgirl. Luckily, she stopped herself from that embarrassment. She wasn’t there to ogle.

“Everything all right?” Ash asked, swiping a hand across his face and trying to wake up.

Kincaid lifted the phone. “Your ex has been burning up your phone. I got aggravated and answered. Sorry. She’s still calling herself your fiancée, and I believe she wants to yell at you about something.”

Ash groaned. “Hell no. I’m not starting my day off with that. Tell her I’ll call her later or just hang up.”

“I could. Or,” Kincaid said conspiratorially, “we could have a little fun and piss her off in the process. You game?”

His eyebrows lifted, mischief in the tilt of his lips. “I could possibly be game.”

Kincaid grinned and unmuted the phone so they could be heard. “Hey there, sleepyhead,” she said in a flirty voice to Ash. “Rise and shine.”

Ash cocked his head in confusion, but when he saw the look on her face, he caught on fast. “Morning, gorgeous.”

Kincaid put a knee on the bed, knowing the guest bed squeaked and that Melanie would be able to hear and draw her own conclusions. “I know you wanted to sleep in after last night, but that Melanie woman has some sort of emergency and just couldn’t wait.”

Ash smirked, a deliciously evil look on his face. “Baby, you know you shouldn’t be answering my phone this early. We have better things to do right now.” Ash grabbed Kincaid’s wrist and tugged her forward, making her tumble onto the bed and inadvertently laugh. She landed next to him, and he lifted her arm to his mouth, kissing the tender skin of her wrist with an audible sound. On the phone, that kiss could be imagined anywhere.

Kincaid’s skin heated despite the fact that this was a farce. “You probably should take it or she’ll keep calling. I don’t want to be interrupted in the middle of anything, you know?”

Ash chuckled softly, this deep, private laugh, a lover’s laugh. It sent hot shivers through Kincaid, waking up sensations that had been dormant as of late. “Of course not. Wouldn’t want that. Give me just a minute.” He took the phone, the smile dropping from his face. “Melanie.”

Kincaid could hear the rapid-fire voice through the line and remained next to Ash on the bed. Melanie was saying something about him leaving the apartment messy when he moved out. About the landlord keeping the deposit.

Ash grunted, his tone and entire demeanor bored. “I wasn’t paying for a cleaning service to clean up after you. Just because you moved out first doesn’t mean it was my mess. You made this mess.”

More yelling on her end, the volume notching up.

“Melanie,” Ash said patiently, “clearly you feel passionately about this. I can’t say I give a shit, so that puts us at an impasse. How about you send me back your ring, and I’ll consider sending you half the deposit? Otherwise, I’ve got better things to do right now.”

Melanie’s next words were clear as a bell. “Right. You probably can’t even afford the deposit. Are you back to the living-on-ramen plan, Ash? Don’t have your woman’s money to use up now? Or did you just find a new one to pay the rent?”

Ash’s teeth clenched, his skin flushing red from the neck up—the words a match to a fuse. Kincaid saw what was happening, the fire racing up through him. She’d been there. That moment when an ex or a bully gets the best of you, and you stoop to their level. You lose your shit and end up looking like the dumb one or the hysterical one or the one who still cares too much. No way was she letting Melanie win this round. Without thinking, she scrambled to sit up and then swung her leg over Ash’s middle, straddling him.

Ash’s lips, which had been parted to yell, froze in almost comic silence. His shocked gaze jumped up to Kincaid’s, her ambush plan working to stop him in his tracks. She took the phone from him and put it to her ear. “Hey, sugar, time’s up. And I can promise you, neither of us are here for each other’s money. Don’t call again. Bye now.”

Melanie gasped. “Kincaid.”

Kincaid bit her lip, not sure if it was good for Melanie to know her identity and to think she and Ash were together, but that cat was already bolting away from the bag, too far to catch.

“Ugh,” Melanie said into the phone. “I should’ve known. He always had a taste for the cheap stuff.”

Kincaid smiled, almost entertained. Oh, sweet, misguided Melanie. If Melanie were here, she’d pat her on the hand and shake her head at the lame attempt. The woman was going to have to do better than that to get under her skin. “Oh, bless your heart. It’s so cute when women try to throw other women under the bus just because a guy’s involved—or in your case, two guys. Really moves that feminist needle forward, don’t you think? You should burn a bra.”

“You—”

“Enjoy your new relationship, sugar,” Kincaid said, cutting her off. “I hope you two are made for each other in every way.”

Melanie was silent, and Kincaid took the opportunity to hang up.

She tossed the phone to the side and braced her hands on either side of Ash on the bed. “Well, if you needed a sign that things aren’t going so well with her new guy, that was a clear one. If she were happy, she wouldn’t give a damn about a couple hundred dollars of a deposit, especially when she has money. And she certainly wouldn’t care if you were sleeping with me—”

“Kincaid.”

“And I know I probably shouldn’t have answered. But she wouldn’t let up, and I just couldn’t help it and—”

“Kincaid—” Ash said more urgently.

“What?”

“You need to—” He grabbed her by the waist, shifting to hoist her off him, but before he could, she sucked in a breath as she became all too aware of the distinct firmness beneath her.

“Oh shit,” she said, rolling herself off him as if he’d caught fire.

Ash made a pained sound and fell back against the pillow. “Yeah, that.”

“I…uh.” Her cheeks burned as she sat up.

Ash pulled the covers higher and shifted onto his side so the blanket wouldn’t reveal his current condition. He gave her a droll look as he propped his head on his hand. “I really appreciate the effort to irritate my ex, I do. But maybe don’t straddle a guy first thing in the morning. Little hard to control things.”

Kincaid couldn’t stop a snort from escaping. “Did you just say a little hard?”

Ash gave her a you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me look and then hit her with a pillow.

She laughed as she defended herself from the blow and then couldn’t stop, the laughter bubbling up from deep in her belly. “A little hard,” she said between laughs. “Maybe more than a little. I mean, give yourself some credit.”

***

Excerpted from The One for You by Roni Loren. © 2019 by Roni Loren. Used with permission of the publisher, Sourcebooks Casablanca, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc. All rights reserved.

Enter the Giveaway:

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Read an Excerpt from New Book Release ~ The One You Fight For (The Ones Who Got Away Book 3) by Roni Loren #Giveaway @SourcebooksCasa

About the Book:

How hard would you fight for the one you love?

Taryn Landry was there that awful night fourteen years ago when Long Acre changed from the name of a town to the title of a national tragedy. Everyone knows she lost her younger sister. No one knows it was her fault. Since then, psychology professor Taryn has dedicated her life’s work to preventing something like that from ever happening again. Falling in love was never part of the plan…

Shaw Miller has spent more than a decade dealing with the fallout of his brother’s horrific actions. After losing everything—his chance at Olympic gold, his family, almost his sanity—he’s changed his name, his look, and he’s finally starting a new life. As long as he keeps a low profile and his identity secret, everything will be okay, right?

When the world and everyone you know defines you by one catastrophic tragedy…

How do you find your happy ending?

Book Details:

Print Length: 384 pages
Publisher: Sourcebooks Casablanca
Publication Date: January 1, 2019
ASIN: B07DD1D9LJ

Read an Excerpt:

“This does not look like an establishment that serves cake,” Kincaid said as Taryn stopped in front of the Tipsy Hound bar. “And if it did, I wouldn’t want to eat their cake.”

“After that workout, I need something stronger than cake,” Taryn said, feeling grumpy after the grueling session that Kaya, the perky female trainer who was definitely not Lucas, had put her through. Taryn had not been feeling in the mood for a workout already, but when she’d found out Lucas was no longer going to be her trainer because he’d decided to take some night classes, her attitude had plummeted further. Kaya’s unending enthusiasm had not helped. If she’d said You can do it! one more damn time, Taryn might’ve pushed her in the pool.

Kincaid glanced at the chipped paint on the sign by the door. “This place looks like a dive.”

“It is,” Taryn agreed. “It’s perfect.”

Kincaid gave her a skeptical look. “And it’s eighties open mic night. Are we really going to subject ourselves to that?”

“You signed me up for something that involved trapeze and falling into swimming pools. I have earned the right to choose the next activity.”

Kincaid relented and waved a hand. “Yep, you’re right. Lead on, and I shall follow.”

“Thank you.” Taryn pushed open the door and was hit with the smell of beer and the sound of a Phil Collins song being murdered mercilessly by the woman onstage. “I’ve been here before. It’s got…some charm.”

Honestly, Taryn had no idea why she’d decided to come back to the Tipsy Hound. There were plenty of other places in Austin where she and Kincaid could’ve grabbed a drink. Better lit places. Places where their shoes wouldn’t stick to the floor. But something about this bar had called to her again when they’d driven past. Maybe after watching her life’s work get flushed down the toilet the night before, she needed to remind herself that at least she hadn’t taken the path she’d originally planned and tried to be a songwriter. This would’ve probably been her future. Sticky-floored dive bars. She was still doing better than that, right?

Kincaid fluffed her hair, somehow managing to look completely put together with just a five-minute gym shower and some quickly applied makeup. Taryn had done her best to look presentable, but all she’d packed in her gym bag were hair products, lipstick, and some mascara. Maybe it was good the place was dark.

“Let’s grab a table and see if this joint can make a decent margarita,” Kincaid said, eyeing the possible places to sit.

Taryn pointed. “The one in the back over there looks good. And it won’t be as loud.”

“Hey, Jamez with a z!” a voice called from somewhere off to Taryn’s left.

Taryn winced. She hadn’t considered that someone might remember her from the other night. This place seemed to do open mics every evening. She was just one of many who’d gotten on that stage, but the owner apparently had a good memory. She gave Kaleb a discreet wave, hoping Kincaid didn’t notice.

But he didn’t take the hint. He stepped closer and flicked his bar towel over his shoulder. “Hey, do you do eighties, too? I hope so because, goddamn, we could use a good song tonight. The offerings have been bleak. This has been worse than karaoke night. And karaoke night makes me want to drink the hard stuff.”

Kincaid turned around at that, doubling back. “Excuse me?”

Kaleb smiled affably. “Oh, you brought a friend. Right on.” He put out his hand to Kincaid. “I’m Kaleb, co-owner of the place. I was just telling Jamez here that we could use her onstage tonight.”

Kincaid cocked her head as she shook his hand, no doubt remembering the name Lucas had first called her at the race. Kincaid didn’t forget anything. “Right. Jamez. Onstage.”

“Have you seen her play?” he asked, jabbing a thumb toward the front. The singer ended her tortuous rendition of “Sussudio,” and a smattering of lackluster applause followed.

Taryn put her hands up as if there was a way to stuff that cat back into the bag, but of course, there wasn’t. Kincaid’s attention flicked to Taryn, her eyebrows arching. “Play. Like an instrument. On a stage?”

“Yeah, man. Good guitar player and has some pipes on her, too.” Kaleb grabbed his phone out of his back pocket. “What song you wanna do, Jamez? You can pick anything that hasn’t already been sung tonight.”

“Oh, no, no,” Taryn said, waving her hand. “I’m just here to listen and have a drink tonight. I’m not up for performing.”

Kaleb’s face fell. “Really? You sure? Could I entice you with free drinks for both of you in exchange for a song?”

Kincaid perked up. “Yes, do you have marg—”

“No,” Taryn said quickly. “Not tonight. Eighties really aren’t in my wheelhouse. But thanks.”

Kaleb shrugged and his affable smile returned. “Ah, nineties to the end… I get it. Well, let me know if y’all need anything. And first drink’s on me anyway.”

Kincaid put her hand to her chest. “Well, thanks, sweet thing.” She waited until he walked off and then looked at Taryn with a wicked light in her eyes. “For the drink and the information. Jamez with a z.”

“Don’t look at me like that,” Taryn warned.

“Like what?” Kincaid asked innocently.

“Like I’m now the cake you were looking for. Can we just ignore that this conversation happened?” Taryn asked, stepping past her friend and heading to the table.

“Um, no, we cannot, missy,” Kincaid replied, following closely behind, her high heels clicking on the floor. She waited until Taryn had taken her seat and then slid into the chair next to her. “That is not a conversation I can just forget. You play guitar and sing? Since when?”

Taryn ignored her for a moment and ordered two margaritas on the rocks from the waitress. When they were alone again, she relented. “Since middle school, but I don’t do it anymore. The other night—the night after that bad date—I had a lapse in judgment, gave Kaleb a fake name, and ended up getting onstage here.”

Kincaid’s lips parted on a gasp. “That’s why Lucas called you Jamez! You met him here? He saw you sing?”

She shrugged. “He saw me freak out onstage and bail. Yeah.”

Kincaid set her chin in her hand, a look of wonder and delight on her face. “It’s like I don’t know you at all. I need to see this singing Taryn. I need that in my life right this minute.”

“Not happening. I’m retired.” Taryn accepted a complimentary bowl of homemade barbecue chips and her drink from the waitress and took a long sip, the sweet and salty liquid cooling her dry throat. “It was a stupid thing to do that night. It brings back…too much crap. That was the person I was in high school, before everything. It just brought back painful memories.”

Kincaid frowned. “Oh, I’m sorry, honey. Is that why you freaked out onstage?”

“Pretty much.”

“Ugh,” Kincaid said, leaning back in her chair and grabbing a few of the chips. “Trauma sucks.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Taryn said wryly. “But at least we can sit here and listen to a sure-to-be-stellar rendition of ‘Billie Jean’ by that guy.”

Kincaid looked to the stage where a very paunchy white dude with a biker vest was gearing up for some Michael Jackson. She groaned. “Oh Lordy, I’m going to need a lot of liquor for this.”

However, to their surprise, when the biker actually started singing, he turned out to be pretty damn good. Good voice and much higher-pitched than anyone could’ve guessed. He was hitting every hee-hee with perfect pitch. Taryn found herself bopping her head to the music and enjoying the performance. But when he turned to the side, beer belly on full display beneath his T-shirt, and busted out his moonwalk, she and Kincaid almost lost it. Taryn put her hand over her mouth to stanch her laugh. “Oh my God, he’s so nailing it.”

“I take everything I said back. I love this place,” Kincaid said, clapping and letting out a whoop. “It’s my new favorite.”

 Purchase Links:

Amazon

B&N

iBooks

Indiebound

Books-A-Million

Google Play

Enter the Giveaway:

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Read an Excerpt from The One You Can't Forget (The Ones Who Got Away, Book2) by Roni Loren ~ #Giveaway ~ @SourcebooksCasa

Most days Rebecca Lindt feels like an imposter…

The world admires her as a survivor. But that impression would crumble if people knew her secret. She didn’t deserve to be the one who got away. But nothing can change the past, so she’s thrown herself into her work. She can’t dwell if she never slows down.

Wes Garrett is trying to get back on his feet after losing his dream restaurant, his money, and half his damn mind in a vicious divorce. But when he intervenes in a mugging and saves Rebecca—the attorney who helped his ex ruin him—his simple life gets complicated.

Their attraction is inconvenient and neither wants more than a fling. But when Rebecca’s secret is put at risk, both discover they could lose everything, including what they never realized they needed: each other.

She laughed and kissed him. This morning she'd melted down. But somehow this man had her laughing and turned on only a few hours later. Everything inside her felt buoyed.
She felt…light.

She'd forgotten what that felt like.

Title: The One You Can't Forget

Author: Roni Loren 

Print Length: 416 pages
Publisher: Sourcebooks Casablanca
Publication Date: June 5, 2018
ASIN: B076BWSBXM

Read an Excerpt:

Wes parked the van in front of the house and cut the engine. “Well, I’ll take it as a good sign that your car is still here. If those guys showed up with your keys, they would’ve taken your ride.”

Rebecca frowned. “No. I didn’t have my car keys with me since I walked today, but at least everything looks the same as how I left it. Plus, my car keys are hanging on a peg in the kitchen. They wouldn’t be hard to find.”

Wesley eyed her. Her voice was confident, but she kept smoothing the leg of her scrubs, her hands like nervous birds not knowing where to settle. He had the weirdest urge to hug her and tell her it was going to be all right, to take that fear from her. But a sure way to freak her out even further would be for some strange dude she’d just met to hug her. He was freaked out enough for both of them that he even had that urge. “Hey, why don’t you tell me where your spare key is hidden, and I’ll go in and check the house for you first.”

There. That was a reasonable, not weird way to help.

She glanced his way, frowning. “If the alarm’s on, I need to turn it off, and I don’t want to sit out here. That’ll stress me out more than going in with you. I’m the only one who will be able to tell if anything’s been moved anyway.”

“Fair enough. Whatever makes you feel most comfortable is fine. But the minute something seems off or out of place, we bail and call the cops. Pinch my arm or something to signal me.”

Her frown deepened, a little line appearing between her brows, as if she couldn’t quite figure him out.

He couldn’t stop his smile. “What’s wrong? You look like you’re trying to figure out a really hard math problem.”

“I wouldn’t make this face for math. I’m good at math.” She let out a breath. “I guess I’m just trying to figure out why you’re being so nice to me. You don’t…know me.”

“Does that matter? If I knew you, would I not want to help you out?”

She stiffened. “What?”

He tilted his head. “I mean, are you secretly some evil comic-book villain who’s about to take over the city? Or do you have plans to kill me and store my body in your basement when we get inside?”

Her pinched expression flattened into something droll. “Austin houses don’t have basements.”

“Whew.” He wiped his brow. “I’m safe.”

She snorted and then covered her nose and mouth like she was surprised the sound had escaped. “You’re kind of strange, Wesley Garrett.”

He shrugged. “I get that a lot.” And that was a helluva lot better than what most people probably called him these days. “Now, are we going to bravely search your house like two TV detectives? Because I am so down for that right now. I need to bang open doors and yell, ‘Clear!’”

She laughed, the soft, husky sound filling the space between them and sending a pleasant ripple through him. The feeling was so unfamiliar that it stalled his breath for a second. How long had it been since he’d been around someone he could simply joke with and relax around? Someone who wasn’t looking at him like he was damaged goods? Or who wasn’t checking him for signs of a backslide?

He didn’t get clean-slate conversations like this anymore. Not with his family. Not with friends. Not even with himself. Rebecca felt like a gulp of clean, fresh air. He wanted to close his eyes and inhale. In this moment, he could be a man with no past. He could be whoever he wanted to be. And right now, he wanted to be the guy who was making this woman laugh.

She cocked her head. “You say that like you’ve been planning to do this TV detective routine for a while.”

“It’s a life goal,” he said solemnly. “I mean, I’ve done it at home alone, but that really isn’t as fun. Plus, it pisses off the neighbors. All those banging doors.”

She laughed again, and he felt like he’d won some kind of prize. She seemed like someone who didn’t give those laughs away easily.

“Now all we need are weapons,” he declared.

She reached into the bag of takeout and pulled out the eco-friendly cornstarch forks Dev used in place of plastic cutlery. “How’s this?”

“Perfect. We can go for the eyes.” He took his fork and grabbed the keys. “Let’s do this.”

“I’m ready.” Some of their playing around must’ve distracted her from her nerves because when Rebecca got out of the van, her shoulders seemed looser and there was a tentative smile on her face. She nodded toward the house and set her fork on the hood. He followed suit, since if he really had to take action, he’d need his hands free. “My extra key is by the back door.”

They headed around the house and into the small backyard. She hunched near an overgrown herb garden and fished around, finally coming up with one of those fake rocks. She flipped it over and keyed in a three-digit code on a spinner combination lock.

Wes snapped a leaf off one of her plants and inhaled the scent. “Mmm, lemon thyme. You’ve got quite a collection out here. Cilantro. Oregano. Italian parsley. I’m a little jealous.”

She glanced over her shoulder at him. “I honestly have no idea what most of them are or what to do with all of them. I had the house landscaped when I moved in, and I guess the gardeners picked the perfect spot because they grow like crazy. Except the basil, which was the one I actually knew how to use. That one was a goner during the first hundred-degree day of summer.”

“Basil is a sensitive soul.” It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her he could show her how to use the herbs, but he held the offer back. His brother had been right. Making her laugh was like some weird sort of drug to his starved system, but she didn’t need a guy flirting with her right now. It couldn’t go anywhere anyway. He didn’t date, for one. And even if he was doing the casual hookup thing these days, she didn’t strike him as the type who’d be down for that, especially with someone like him. He had nothing to offer her besides garden-care tips.

B&N: http://bit.ly/2s4KoQT

iBooks: https://apple.co/2s4KNCT

Indiebound: http://bit.ly/2rYtDGZ

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2INUwrw

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Book Spotlight, Excerpt, and #Giveaway for Upcoming Release ~ The Ones Who Got Away by Roni Loren @RoniLoren @SourcebooksCasa

“Phenomenal. Gets my highest recommendation!”
—LORELEI JAMES, New York Times and USA Today bestselling author

Print Length: 386 pages
Publisher: Sourcebooks Casablanca

Publication Date: January 2, 2018
ASIN: B06XRH7DBC

About the Book:

It's been twelve years since tragedy struck the senior class of Long Acre High School. Only a few students survived that fateful night—a group the media dubbed The Ones Who Got Away.

Liv Arias thought she'd never return to Long Acre—until a documentary brings her and the other survivors back home. Suddenly her old flame, Finn Dorsey, is closer than ever, and their attraction is still white-hot. When a searing kiss reignites their passion, Liv realizes this rough-around-the-edges cop might be exactly what she needs…

Liv's words cut off as Finn got closer. The man approaching was nothing like the boy she'd known. The bulky football muscles had streamlined into a harder, leaner package and the look in his deep green eyes held no trace of boyish innocence.

Read an Excerpt:

The boards of the restaurant’s back deck creaked somewhere behind Liv. She didn’t need to turn and look to know it was him. Her senses seemed attuned to his presence. She kept her eyes on the water, letting her greeting drift between them. “Hello, Finn.”

“Liv.”

The quiet tenor of his voice hit her harder than she’d expected, the volume too close to how it used to sound against her ear in those stolen make-out sessions. Funny how even after all the years and the men who’d cruised through her life since, that voice still sounded so bone-deep familiar. She didn’t turn to face him, not trusting her expression to stay neutral. “I guess it turns out I have time for that drink after all.” She lifted her glass. “But I’ll warn you, I’m a few drinks in and all out of energy for polite chitchat.”

“Good. I don’t chitchat.”

He stepped a little closer, his scent drifting her way—some combination of cedar and mint. Like a man who chewed gum while chopping wood. The thought made her want to giggle.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

Liv scrunched her nose. “You mean, am I drunk?”

She wasn’t sure what the answer was on that one. Probably a little. She doubted she could be this close to him without anxiety bubbling up otherwise.

“No. You ran out of the gym today. I mean, are you okay?”

Okay.

Was she? She hated that question. That was the question she’d probably heard most since that night—and then again when her mom passed from cancer two months later. That was what everyone always wanted to know. Are you okay?

But people asked, wanting her to say, Yes, I’m fine. I’m going to pull up my bootstraps and not make you uncomfortable with my messy feelings. No one wanted the real answer. But she got the sense Finn did. After all, he’d probably gotten asked that question just as much as she had. She released a breath. “Today sucked.”

“Yeah.”

She took a sip of her drink, the sweet liquid cool on her dry throat. “Being in the school got to me, but I’m okay now. Just a little panic attack—shitty but brief. Drinks and friends helped distract me.”

She could hear him shift behind her, skin against fabric, maybe tucking his hands in his pockets or crossing his arms. “Distraction’s good.”

She finally stole a glance at him, but he was shrouded in shadows, just a broad-shouldered silhouette. “You could’ve joined us. You didn’t have to eat alone.”

“Y’all looked involved in something,” he said, the gruff drawl in his voice making her think of steamy-windowed moments in the back of his car. She used to tease him that the more turned on he got, the more his country-boy accent showed. “You were reading papers. Seemed kind of intense.”

“Oh, that.” She turned back to the water, her shoulders curving inward and the sexy memories icing over. “We were opening this time capsule thing we did a long time ago. It’s probably good you didn’t come over and hear that part.”

“Time capsule?”

She picked at a splinter in the wood railing. “Just something we did that summer after everything happened—promises we made to the Class of 2005 about our futures. Kincaid decided we should open the letters inside tonight to see what our teenage selves hoped we’d become. I decided we should get drunk after.”

He made a throaty sound—like a laugh that didn’t quite make it out—and moved closer. He settled next to her along the wooden rail, his gaze fixed on the dark water. “Sounds like a solid plan to me.”

“I thought so.” She rattled the ice cubes in her glass and dared a peek at him. But all she got was his familiar profile, the slight bump in his nose from when he’d broken it sophomore year, and the unfamiliar scruff as he took a sip from his drink. It was hard for her not to stare and catalog all the little differences, all the changes time and experience had given him. The harder angles. The dark mess of hair that looked at least two haircuts past neat. Expression that didn’t reveal a thing. He was still Finn somewhere in there, but gone was the boy with the wide smile and the playful attitude. There was a sharpness to him now, jagged edges. Like if she met him in a dark alley, she’d have trouble determining if he was friend or foe.

He lifted his drink in agreement and turned, his green eyes gray in the darkness. “That was my plan, too. Minus the time-capsule part.”

“Ha. Lucky you.” She shifted her stance and accidentally bumped her shoulder against his, sending a tendril of awareness down her arm. She wet her lips, ignoring the shiver. “Now you’ll never know if you lived up to teen Finn’s expectations.”

He was quiet for a moment, and she wondered if he was having the same push and pull inside as she was. On one hand, this felt comfortable. They’d always talked easily with each other. But at the same time, they were strangers now. Strangers who had this big, breathing beast between them.

He took a long swig from his drink. “Teen Finn didn’t have expectations. He just wanted to play football, not work for his dad, and get the hell away from here.”

“Guess you lived up to that last part at least. I was convinced you’d changed your name and moved to a foreign country.”

His jaw flexed. “Something like that.”

Purchase Links:

Amazon

Sourcebooks

Enter the Giveaway:

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Enter for a Chance to Win a Paperback Copy of The Ones Who Got Away by @RoniLoren @SourcebooksCasa

About the Book:

It's been twelve years since tragedy struck the senior class of Long Acre High School. Only a few students survived that fateful night—a group the media dubbed The Ones Who Got Away.

Liv Arias thought she'd never return to Long Acre—until a documentary brings her and the other survivors back home. Suddenly her old flame, Finn Dorsey, is closer than ever, and their attraction is still white-hot. When a searing kiss reignites their passion, Liv realizes this rough-around-the-edges cop might be exactly what she needs…

Liv's words cut off as Finn got closer. The man approaching was nothing like the boy she'd known. The bulky football muscles had streamlined into a harder, leaner package and the look in his deep green eyes held no trace of boyish innocence.

Read an Excerpt from The Ones Who Got Away:

She bit her lip. Of course with his authoritative tone, her mind put him in a uniform and some aviators. She’d never had a particular fetish for men in uniform, especially after her own run-in with the police. But the thought of Finn wearing one and manhandling her a bit had her reconsidering. She would definitely get out of the vehicle. Maybe even let him cuff her. And as inappropriate as the thought was, considering the circumstances, it was a welcome respite from her nightmare. She cleared her throat. “I think you pull it off just fine.”

His dimple appeared beneath the stubble. “You’re blushing, Arias.”

“I am not.” She tipped up her chin. “I’m just…still flushed from all the adrenaline.”

“Uh-huh. Or you’ve got a secret cop fetish.”

“Stop flirting.” She pointed a finger at him.

“Am I flirting?” he asked innocently.

“Yes. And that’s not allowed. You yourself said that kiss was a mistake. So don’t come prancing around here half-dressed with your Batman abs and talking about where to put my hands. No one likes a tease, Dorsey.”

His grin turned roguish. “I said that kiss was a mistake, not a regret.”

“Finn.”

“And Batman abs?” He grabbed the lapels of the robe like he was going to open it and check. “These old things?”

She stretched out her leg and kicked his thigh. “Stop it. You’re terrible.”

He lifted his palms in surrender and laughed. “At least you’re smiling now.”

“Yeah, well, there’s that.”

It seemed even after all the years had passed, Finn still had the ability to get her mind off things. When her mom was going through chemo and everything was doom and gloom at home, Finn could somehow figure out ways not just to make her laugh, but to do so in a way that didn’t make her feel guilty for feeling a moment of happiness.

She leaned forward, bracing herself on one hand, and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

She looked up, meeting his gaze, and realized how close she still was. Close enough to see the flecks of gray in his green eyes, close enough to kiss him. She wet her lips. “Being you. I’ve missed that guy.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed, his gaze flicking to her mouth before sliding upward again. Her heart picked up speed, and his hand closed around her upper arm. “Liv…”

“I…” Whatever she was going to say died on her lips because the way he was looking at her made her forget her words. There was want there in those green depths—lust—but there was something else. Something that made her breath stall. Need mixed with something more dangerous. A wildness.

A curl of heat went up her spine, twining with unease. So much of her wanted to give into it, to see what exactly was simmering there between them. Just grab him and say to hell with it all and make the sheets even sweatier than they already were. But as much as he was drawing her in with that look, he was also warning her off. She didn’t know how she got that sense, but it was there, loud and clear. Push me away. Run. He wanted her to stop this.

He’d told her outside what he had to offer—nothing but a one night stand. And though right now that sounded all kinds of enticing, she wasn’t going to go there. He didn’t want this. Plus, even sober, it would be too close to how she’d handled her anxiety in college. She didn’t need to chase away her nightmare with a hook-up she’d regret in the morning. She wasn’t that girl anymore.

“Finn.” The word was strained.

“Yes?”

She swallowed past the dryness in her throat. “We should get my stuff moved. It’s late.”

He stared at her for a moment and then his grip on her arm softened, his breath tickled her hair. “Right. Of course.”

He released her and she climbed off the bed with shaky limbs. She wouldn’t let herself look at him. She needed a task—something, anything, to get her mind off the man sitting on her bed. She packed up in record time, and Finn retrieved his gun from the drawer, tucking it in the pocket of the robe. No words were exchanged. When she was done gathering her things, he helped her roll her bag down the hallway to his room.

He let her inside and quickly rounded up his own stuff. He moved with quiet efficiency, awkwardness creeping into the silence between them and spreading into every corner of the room.

She leaned against the dresser, watching him, hating the growing divide. “Hey, Finn.”

He looked up, his hands full of computer wires.

“I know the kiss was a mistake and things have gotten a little weird and a lot personal tonight. But this—you and I having some time to talk—it was good. I think that’s what I missed the most when everything happened. Losing you as a friend.”

His stance relaxed. “Yeah?”

She crossed her arms and shrugged. “Yeah. We were good at the kissing, but we were better at the talking. I never had to fake stuff with you.”

His eyebrow arched.

She laughed. “That’s not what I mean, Mr. Mind-In-the-Gutter. I mean that things were easy between us. That’s hard to find with people. I’m realizing that now. I don’t…have that.”

He tucked the computer cords in his bag and straightened, his watchful gaze making her fidgety.

 “And that’s not your problem, obviously.” She was rambling now but couldn’t bring herself to stop. “But I opened that stupid time capsule tonight and got to see a big long list of things I wanted to accomplish in life and haven’t. I was supposed to this. I was supposed to that.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m going to name my freaking autobiography Supposed To by Olivia Arias.”

He frowned. “Liv.”

She shook her head. “It’s fine. It is what it is. But all I’m saying is that I don’t want another regret added to the list. So I just thought you should know that you meant—mean—something to me. And maybe you could give a flying flip about me. I have no clue what your life looks like now, but I would rather not leave Long Acre later today and go back to being strangers. Because people you don’t have to fake it for are hard to find. So…yeah, that’s all I wanted to say. I’d like us to stay in touch.”

The corners of his mouth twitched. “That’s all you had to say?”

“Hey, I’m a photographer not an editor.”

“I thought you were a web designer.”

Her lips parted, closed.

He smiled. “Maybe you’re already making more changes than you think.”

She let out a breath. “Maybe I’m just tired.”

Finn stepped around the bed and held out his hand. “Give me your phone.”

She was confused for a second, her brain running on too much adrenaline and too little sleep, but eventually his request registered. She reached into her bag to pull out her cell.

He took it from her and typed a few things and then handed it back to her. “You can always call me, Liv. For anything.”

She took her phone back, her hope sinking a bit. “Right. Thanks.”

He kissed the top of her head and then grabbed his stuff. “I’m going to get out of your way so you can shower and rest. If you need anything before breakfast, give me holler.”

“Thanks.”

He stepped out into the hallway without a backward glance and headed to the room they’d left, obviously more than a little eager to get the hell away from her. She didn’t blame him. She’d apparently become the queen of awkward conversation tonight.

With a sigh, she locked her door and made her way over to the bed and collapsed onto it. Spent. Exhausted. And a little frustrated.

Finn had taken her words like she wanted someone to call when she needed help, but she wasn’t in the market for a therapist or a savior. She was in the market for a friend.

But maybe she was grasping for something that didn’t exist with Finn anymore. Maybe she was just being nostalgic. They weren’t in high school. They didn’t live in the same place. They couldn’t just hang out. The time for that had past. She needed to be okay with that.

If he wasn’t interested in keeping in touch, she wasn’t going to chase him.

She checked the time on her phone to see how many hours she needed to kill before breakfast. But instead of seeing the time, she saw the address book entry Finn had made.

His phone number.

Filed under Batman.

And a note beneath: You will never be a stranger to me.

Enter the Giveaway:

a Rafflecopter giveaway