Series: Standalone Novel
Published by Self Published on 3/14/19
Genres: Contemporary Romance
“Save me and have me, fix me and I’m yours.”
What do you do when you catch your fiancé grinding on another woman? Well, if you’re me, you run off with a sexy, ink-covered tattoo artist who goes by the name Wrong.
Then you marry him after a week.
This isn’t a story of love at first sight—love didn’t come into play until after I had ruined it all. It’s the reality of what is right and what is wrong when it comes to soulmates.
Leddy Harper has a new release coming soon and I can’t wait to get my hands on it. I love the way this author tells a story. Her writing is gorgeous, her characters have strong personalities, and there’s always angst and steam that bring everything together. The blurb on The Reality of Wright and Wrong sounds so good. Coming March 19th! You can read an excerpt below and add it to your TBR!
Silence drifted through the doorway like a heavy fog, suffocating me. And if that wasn’t bad enough, nighttime cloaked the house, the darkness blinding me until I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see. Couldn’t think straight. I just prayed that Brogan hadn’t gone to sleep in the twenty minutes since saying goodnight.
The distance between the room I stayed in and his wasn’t that much. But at night, in a pitch-black house—an unfamiliar house, at that—it seemed to be miles away. Every creak in the wood was a muted scream. A quiet confession that I didn’t belong. I was an intruder. And once I stood in front of his bedroom door, I contemplated turning around and making the long journey back to my bed.
Except I couldn’t.
Because I was weak and afraid, too tempted by the unwelcome darkness to unblock Jordan’s number or listen to the numerous voicemails he’d left on my cell. My heart ached, and I craved a distraction. Something tangible and real. Anything to get my mind off the lump in my throat and weight on my chest. I couldn’t be sure, but I had a feeling that Brogan wouldn’t turn me away—especially after he’d kissed me underneath the waterfall yesterday.
I tapped on his door, just light enough that he’d hear it if he were awake but wouldn’t alert him if he’d fallen asleep. And then I held my breath, unsure if I truly wanted him to answer or if I wanted to slip back into bed unnoticed.
A few seconds later, when I hadn’t heard him respond, I put one foot behind the other. Only to freeze in place with a gasp when the door opened. Brogan stood in front of me, looming in the doorway like a da Vinci painting.
“Is everything okay?” he asked without an ounce of sleep in his tone.
The level of concern in his husky voice melted my panties and soothed my erratic heart. But when he stepped toward me, bringing his face closer to mine, nothing eased my trepidation quite like the interest that flashed in his dark eyes. It swathed me in peace and coddled me, lulling me into a state of comfort—the security it bathed me in was as real as the air I breathed.
“I’m sorry…I wasn’t sure if you were awake or not.”
“I’m awake, babe. What happened? Are you all right?”
In one second, we went from standing at least six inches apart to his palms cradling my cheeks. His fingers stretched and splayed around the sides of my head and along my neck. He may have only touched my face, yet I could feel him everywhere. As if he’d crawled into my chest and took up residence. And if I knew what was best, I would’ve evicted him.
Instead, I pressed my hands against his chest and allowed the heat of his skin to subdue my doubt. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just couldn’t sleep. I can’t stop thinking about… You know.”
“Has anything changed? Have you talked to him?”
I shook my head, hoping that would be enough of an answer for him.
“Do you want to sit on the couch and watch a movie?”
Again, I shook my head. Though this time, it wasn’t even enough of an answer for me. I didn’t know what I wanted from him, other than making this ache go away. I needed the anxiety to vacate the pit of my stomach and the voices in my head asking a thousand what-ifs to quiet. Watching a movie on the couch should’ve been able to do all those things.
But the thought of his mouth and hands consumed me.
The way his lips had frozen time beneath his waterfall.
His tongue against mine had eradicated all the evil in the world.
He’d kissed me only one time, yet my heart had become a junkie. My soul craved him as if we’d somehow known each other in the past, and the thought of losing him again was too much to bear. He might’ve only kissed me once, but there wasn’t a single part of me that believed he hadn’t touched every ounce of my being a thousand times over again.
Throwing caution to the wind, I lifted myself onto my tiptoes and pressed my lips to his. He didn’t resist—not that I expected him to, but the fear was always there. He quickly dropped his hands to my hips and turned me to the side, pressing my back against the wall right outside of his room. And the instant I felt his desire press along my lower stomach, I moaned into his mouth.
The last thing I expected of him was to pull away. Yet he did. He broke the kiss and pressed his temple to mine, panting in my ear as though he’d just finished a marathon. “I’m not right for you, Mercy.”
“Maybe I don’t want what’s right for me, Brogan.” I raked my nails down his abdomen and hooked my fingers into the waistband of his track pants. “Maybe, just this once—this one time, this one night—I want wrong. Right fucked me over. Now I just want to fuck Wrong.”