Friday, January 31, 2014

*RELEASE DAY* "All Good Things" by Jodie Beau

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All Good Things by Jodie Beau is LIVE!! You can now download from Amazon UK || Amazon US
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All Good Things… are wild and free. This is going to be the best summer ever! Bonfires, pool parties, trips to the beach, throwing her arms in the air while riding down the open road in a convertible – she’s going to do it all. Roxie has plans. It’s the last summer before college graduation. By this time next year she’ll be living in the “real” world; ie: paying bills, searching for a job that doesn’t require an apron, and maybe even sleeping on a bed that doesn’t turn into a couch. If there’s ever a time to be fun, irresponsible and reckless, it’s now. But things don’t always go as planned. Before the summer has even started, Roxie makes a discovery that breaks her heart and shatters her confidence. Her hopes of having the Best Summer Ever go straight in the trash. Forget the beach. Forget the bonfires. Forget summer altogether. If only her childhood friend, Jake, would let her be. His contagious smile keeps popping up and dragging her to every social event in Ann Arbor. Reluctant at first, his happy-go-lucky attitude becomes an addiction. It isn’t long before Roxie starts to wonder if her longtime friend might be the perfect cure for her heartbreak. This summer might be good after all. But All Good Things… must come to an end. **All Good Things is an NA prequel to the contemporary 2013 release The Good Life. The books can be read in either order, or as stand-alones.**

ABOUT JODIE BEAU

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I'm a wife, mom, waitress, book nerd, Chapstick addict, and a really bad driver who still believes in happy endings and can't walk in high heels. Writing is what I do when I'm avoiding other things...like cleaning. I once had big dreams of being a Hollywood screenwriter. But then I met a boy and got distracted. Three years later we met another boy, this one even cuter. The three of us are now living happily ever after in the Detroit area. All Good Things is my second novel. And our house is kind of a mess!


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*PROMO* "Blood Red Rage" by Morgan Kelley


Book Description:
Blood Red Rage
Book 1 in the Littlemoon Investigation Series.


They're starting anew.
Julian and Tori Littlemoon are venturing out and are now their own bosses. It's a blessing and a curse at the same time.
As they struggle to build up a business and make a name for themselves, they have other problems facing them down.
Someone is collecting women.
It's a new dangerous game, and since they no longer have the power of the FBI to back them up, they’re learning on the fly.
And it isn't easy!
They've been hired to bring home one missing girl, and no one believes that it’ll be anything more than a simple open and shut case. Unfortunately for the team, it leads them deep into the bowels of something far more sinister.
Dark.
Twisted.
Evil.
With the help of the family, and an unexpected ally with a 'gift', they begin to unravel the mystery of who is taking these women to create the ultimate collection.
The truth will be set free, but can they live with the consequences of what is to come?
The chaos is the least of their worries. Now, the team has a far bigger concern.
It's the Blood Red Rage, and maniac with an appetite to own them all…
Warning: Graphic sex and adult situations. 





Morgan Kelley lives in the beautiful Pocono Mountains with her husband and two children. After attending college at Penn State University and studying Criminal Justice, Morgan knew here only true passion in life would be murder and books. She put them both together and began her career as a writer. Other than books and writing, you can find Morgan hanging out in her garden and digging in the dirt. Everyone thinks she’s planting, but she’s actually searching for places to bury the bodies.
Her other works include: The Junction, Serial Sins, The Blood Betrayal, The Blood Redemption, The Blood Vengeance, The Blood Retribution, The Killing Times (1), Sacred Burial Grounds (2), True Love Lost (3), Deep Dark Mire (4), Fire Burns Hot (5), Darkness of Truth (6), Celestia is Falling (1) and coming soon Vegas is Dying (2)

Please feel free to visit Morgan at her website: www.morgankelley.com, or drop her an email at author.m.kelley@gmail.com


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*RELEASE DAY* "Destiny's Detour" by Mari Brown


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Synopsis

Heading off to her first year of college, Destiny is ready to take on the world. On the college dance team with her best friend, Amy, all Destiny wants is to have fun, enjoy her college years, and spend time with her older brother, David.
Troy is captain of the football team, sexy, sweet and her brother's best friend. Practically a member of the family, Troy has always been off limits...until now.
One night together changes everything...
A childhood crush turns into more and Destiny has no choice but to grow up sooner than she planned. Will life’s unexpected detours derail her forever? Is there a happily ever after in the cards for Destiny and Troy?
Only time will tell.

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Excerpt

As we run around the track, I give into my frustration. “Guys, you know that I love you both, but this is going to be just like high school. I am going to have to put up with bitchy girls because the star football players talk to us.” Both guys give me knowing smirks. “You assholes are doing this shit on purpose, aren’t you?” They don’t say anything, just look at each other with a huge grin. That just irritates the shit out of me so I pick up my pace. Troy soon catches up with me. “Please don’t be mad, Destiny.” I sigh in defeat. Troy and David know I can’t stay mad at them. They have always been there for me when I’ve needed them and heaven help me, but they make me laugh like no one else. I am screwed. They have me right where they want me. I realize too, in this moment, they are sending a message to anyone who might be watching. Son of a bitch. They did this for more than one reason. They aren’t just doing it for kicks. They want guys to know I am off limits. I get why my brother is sending that message, but what is Troy’s motivation for it? “Troy, you know I’m not mad. It’s just gets annoying. Do you even realize how bitchy girls are?” He gives me a small laugh, and as Amy and David catch up to us, I notice Ryan and Chase are not far behind. “So, how do we handle the Buffy situation?” I look over at Amy. She ponders this for a moment, and then grins. “I say we just go ahead and knock out the bitches who say something.” This causes all of us to laugh. Coach blows the whistle, letting us know our 30 minutes are up. Thank God. The guys stop to talk to Amy and me while Buffy continues sending dirty looks our way. We turn to walk away and I’m not surprised when Troy yells, “Destiny, Baby! I’ll see you at home tonight.” I stop in my tracks, look back, and shoot him a dirty look. He smirks at me. Jerk. He would say or do something stupid. He always does. Leaning into him, I place my hand on his chest seductively. My hand slowly slides down to lightly brush his dick and as it pulsates, I say, “You know, Baby, payback’s a bitch.” His arm slips around my waist, tucking me into him. I go up on my tiptoes to give him a kiss on the mouth before I saunter off, putting an extra shake in my hips to make him really sweat. I hear two groans for two different reasons. One comes from David, who does not like the little show I just put on. The other is Troy, who is probably suffering and trying to hide the serious semi he is sporting.
 

About the Author

I have always loved reading and writing. When I was in the fifth grade I became a published writer (okay so it was the school newspaper). I spent the better part of my teen years writing stories for my friends. Sometime between ages of 16 and 35 life happened and I stopped writing but I never stopped reading. It was only after my grandfather passed away in early 2012 that I decided to go for my dreams and write a novel and self-publish it.
I write under the pen name Mari Brown, which is just a play on my real name. I am happily married to my own alpha/ former bad boy male, we have been together for 18 years. We have a 17 year old daughter and two sons ages 15 and 14. We have 3 dogs and 2 cats. There is never a dull moment around my house. We live on the beautiful Gulf Coast of Alabama.
In addition to writing I am also co-owner of Keepin’ It Real Book Blog, where I share my love of reading other Indie Authors.
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/maribrownauthor
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5447758.Mari_Brown
Website: http://marismusings.weebly.com/
Twitter: @MariBrownAuthor
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Thursday, January 30, 2014

*BLOG TOUR* + Review - "One Ride" by Chelsea Camaron


Title: One Ride (The Hellions Ride)
Author: Chelsea Camaron
Genre: Erotica
Publication Date: December 19, 2013


Delilah “Doll” Reklinger never imagined her life with anyone that wasn’t a Hellion. She never imagined a Hellion would come along and prove himself worthy enough to her father, Roundman, Hellions Club President. Content in living in the bubble of safety the motorcycle club family has always provided, Doll never thought that danger surrounded her.

Roundman has kept the Hellions contained for the last thirty years by controlling the chaos surrounding their lifestyle. When the dangerous side to their business comes knocking on his door, he realizes his precious Doll isn’t safe. The Hellions code may be that women and children are off limits in any altercation or dispute, but that doesn’t mean their enemies follow that same moral compass.

His only child, now in danger from the association to him and his club, Roundman makes a decision. He sends her away to a charter club, in hopes that the trouble won’t follow.

One ride across the country. One simple ride. Talon “Tripp” Crews has been ordered to take Doll on one ride away and to keep her safe. She’s off limits, his head knows this, but his body can’t deny the sparks between them. She’s feisty, fierce, and fearless. Constantly in close confines together, can they deny the chemistry? Will they give into the attraction between them? Can one ride turn lust into love?

Goodreads Link:


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"One ride together. Go across the country and back. One ride to get her our of my system for good. One ride to keep her save. Our one ride begins now."
I'm going to label this your "not-so-typical-MC-novel", because it IS, an MC novel, but it added in the romance, and the sexiness of a road-trip-romance, and it was amazing!! 

Doll knows nothing other than the Club life. She was born into, and raised in the Club. But she is content with that, 99% of the time. However, she also knows her place in the club, and knowing that, means that Tripp is completely off limits.
"My heart beats to the same steady tick of a Harley Davidson V-twin engine."
But, Doll's life is about to change when she is basically thrown on the back of Tripp's bike, and sent out of town with him. His task is clear, him and Rex are to take Doll and Sass as far away from home as possible, and stay away for a while, until the issues blow over. Since Doll and Tripp have both been drawn to each other since the second they met, there are a million mixed signals, and it takes all she has (and all he has), for the two of them to stay away from each other. 
"For Me, this task feels like so much more, I can't explain it, but on a deeper level, this ride feels like it's everything."
But when emotions get in the way of how they are both supposed to act in their roles in the MC, the decision to not act on it may come harder than they think.
"Tomorrow, I'll be man enough to walk away."
"One Ride" took the typical biker book, and made it even better. I connected very quickly with each character in this book, which is rare for me to connect so quick, and I loved it. There are quite a few characters to meet, and it didn't feel at all rushed or incomplete. Each person in this book plays a vital role, and every one of them gets their own part. I cannot wait for the rest of this series. At the end of "One Ride", there are still open questions, and it paves the perfect way to a second book. 

Favorite Quote:
"They have this one moment, where they have a connection, and later make a commitment. All to live for that one moment, one connection, one commitment, and one ride."
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Chelsea Camaron was born and raised in Coastal North Carolina. She currently resides in Southern Louisiana with her husband and two children but her heart is always Carolina day dreaming.

Chelsea always wanted to be a writer, but like most of us, let fear of the unknown grab a hold of her dream; she realized that if she was going to tell her daughter to go for her dreams, that it was time to follow her own advice.

Chelsea grew up turning wrenches alongside her father, and from that grew her love for old muscle cars and Harley Davidson motorcycles, which just so happened to inspired her ‘Daddy’s Girls’ series. Her love for reading has sparked a new love for writing and she currently has a few more projects in the works.

When she is not spending her days writing you can find her playing with her kids, attending car shows, going on motorcycle rides on the back of her husband’s Harley, snuggling down with her new favorite book or watching any movie that Vin Diesel might happen to be in.

She hates being serious and is still a big kid at heart. She is a small town country girl enjoying life and, Chelsea hopes that her readers remember not to take life too seriously and to embrace your inner five year old, because five year olds know how to enjoy the simple things in life and how to always have fun.



Email chelseacamaron@gmail.com

Twitter @chelseacamaron













Copyright © Chelsea Camaron 2013


Tripp


Kissing Doll was a mistake. Shaking off the thoughts of her body molding to mine, I focus. Knowing the fuckers are following us, I’ve got to keep my shit straight. The downfall to being followed while you’re on a bike, it’s hard to watch the bastards following you without making it obvious. Bike mirrors are small and full of blind spots anything more than a car length away. It’s a game of where the hell’s Waldo. I never have liked games.

Peek-a- mother- fuckin’- boo. I see you Cadillac SVT. Same bastards from before, they have no idea who they’re fucking with. Extending my left arm out straight, palm flat to the ground, I make a slight up and down motion to let Rex know to slow down and back off a little. Turning my hand, I single three fingers then four. Throwing my arm up, bending at the elbow to a ninety degree angle while balling my fist, then with my index finger only extending I make a circle motion. Rex knows in three quarters of a mile, I’ll make a hard right exit, no signal. He’s to keep going, let the caddy follow me, while he gets Sass to send the text to the boys to circle around, and back my ass up.

Pulling off, sure enough, the car follows. Hopefully, they took the bait thinking we were riding the two of us and only sent one car to tail. My boys have been following a half hour or so behind us the entire ride making sure to stay out of sight. If there are too many of them, we’re fucked. I’ll do anything before they get Doll though.

We’re on a two lane road that makes a loop. I feel the vibration of my phone cueing me that Rex and crew are heading to the gas station. Officially in BFE (Bum Fuck, Egypt) I pull into the seedy gas station. As soon as Doll realizes Rex doesn’t follow the turn off, she holds on tighter. I drop my left hand to squeeze her thigh reassuringly. Hang tight until the cavalry arrives. None of these fuckers are gonna get to her to use as a pawn in some sick game. Not one hair on that pretty little head will be touched as long as I’m fucking breathing.

Pulling in, Doll climbs off. Before I climb off, I grab her hand and swing her to me, snaking my hand around the back of her neck, I pull her in for a kiss. Raw, rough, and real passion flow freely between us as the kiss becomes a tangle of tongues, lips, and teeth. When I pull away, her eyes are glassed over in desire.

“Stay close, and follow my lead, Doll.” I whisper to her before kissing her forehead and releasing her.

Climbing off the bike, I remove my helmet. Storing both our helmets on the bike, I make a point not to touch any of the saddlebags. Knowing we’re being watched, I need to make this believable. They may or may not know the real purposes behind this trip. If Delatorre hasn’t been taken down yet, they will want Doll to keep him breathing. If Delatorre has been handled, this could be retaliation. Either way Doll is their target. Time to keep up appearances I smile at Doll to ease her fears.

Walking up behind Doll, I wrap my arms loosely around her waist. Turning her, I keep my body between her and the car. Dropping my head, I lightly bite at the sweet spot where her neck and shoulder meet. She softens beneath me. Running my nose up her neck as I inhale her scent, reaching her ear, I whisper to her.

“Stay close, do exactly as I say, we’ve been followed.” She nods her head in agreement. “At the bathroom door, I’m going to kiss you. When I do, my body will be blocking their vision. You need to reach in the waist band of my jeans and grab the pistol and tuck it into your jeans. Then you go in the bathroom and lock yourself inside a stall. You don’t come out until Sass arrives to get you. If anyone comes inside that isn’t me, Rex, or Sass, you shoot them. Hellions cut or not, shoot first ask questions later. My boys are coming for backup but they won’t come in here to get you, only me, Sass, or Rex. Got it?” I say, needing her to understand that these men could kill us and get a Hellions cut so she can only answer for people she can recognize.

Once again she nods. I feel her shudder beneath me. I begin pushing us forward, walking behind her, still wrapped around her. The embrace is close like lovers. Under other circumstances it would be intimate, but in this moment, it’s about her safety.

At the bathroom door, I lean down and kiss her wrapping my hands around her head. Adrenaline mixes with an unknown emotion as I sweep my tongue inside her mouth. I don’t want to ever stop kissing her, but right now I’ve got to get rid of our problem. I feel the gun being pulled away as she tucks it against her own waist. When she starts to pull away, I pull her head back to me. I kiss her with everything I have in me. If I die right now, I die a happy mother fucker to have shared my last kiss with this woman. Finally, I pull away.

“Be safe, Doll. Remember, no one, but me, Sass, or Rex.” I kiss her forehead as I release her. Pausing for a moment as I watch her disappear in the restroom, I can hear her lock the bathroom door.

Turning around, I’m greeted by none other than the same fucker from the truck stop.

“Don Juan Mother Fuckin’ Pablo. What can I do for you Chico?”



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*RELEASE DAY* "My Last Resolution" by Whitney G.

Release Day Banner - My Last Resolution

My boyfriend is an asshole.
A pure, one of a kind, I-wish-I-was-making-this-up asshole.
Every year, I write "Dump his ass" as my most important resolution, but I've never done it.
Until now.
Well, kind of...
Instead of showing up to our "secret" engagement party, I've shown up to the airport--ready and willing to go wherever the next flight is bound. Determined to keep and fulfill all of my resolutions, I'm proud of myself for finally striking out on my own.
Until I never make it to my final destination. Until the sexy stranger who sat next to me on the plane changes everything. Until my "last resolution" is fulfilled a lot earlier than I thought...

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Prologue
Eleven.
Not ten. Not twenty. Eleven.
Ever since I was a little girl, my mom would force me and my sister to list our resolutions at the end of the year. She’d tell us to fold them up and carry them in our pockets as a reminder, and to make sure that the last one (“lucky number eleven”) was the most important one of all.
I never understood the purpose behind those resolutions, and in the early years I’d do it just to make her shut up. I’d write things like, “Stop telling Mom that she gets on my nerves,” “Learn how to dropkick the boy who always pops my bra straps,” “Steal better snacks from the cafeteria at lunchtime.”
Yet, as the years passed and I entered high school, I started to take them a little more seriously: “Lose lots and lots of weight by the summer.” “Try to work on my writing every day.” “Stop trying to fit in so much and just be myself.” And I always looked forward to writing that number eleven. Although it was supposed to be a goal, mine was more like a dream: “Find a real life bad boy, make him fall in love with me, and live wild and carefree together for the rest of our lives.”
Unfortunately, I didn’t find him in high school—that “lots and lots of weight” took way too long to lose, and the lames that came shortly after were only interested in having sex.
Very, very bad sex.
My real life bad boy stormed into my life during my senior year of college, in the form of a sweet-talking, former womanizing, ultimate-alpha-male-sweetheart named Adrian Smith III. After preventing me from nearly walking into a moving bus, he told me I was “the sexiest woman [he’d] ever seen,” and the rest was history.
Our love affair was fast and frantic, uncontrollable and overwhelming; it was so reckless and volatile that it almost became an obsession.
I fell in love with him after only a few weeks, but I knew he was the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.
He was my dream.
My number eleven.
After we graduated college—when things began to slow down and settle, we decided to stay together for the long haul. We had separate goals and aspirations, so we promised to strive for them while still hanging on to each other.
Unfortunately, that’s where the nice version of my story ended.
My life with Mr. Bad Boy became more of a tragedy than a love story, and at the end of last year I did something I hadn’t done in years…
I changed my number eleven.


A self diagnosed candy addict, travel junkie, and hypochondriac, Whitney Gracia Williams LOVES to write about characters that make you laugh, cry, and want to (in the case of Selena Ross) reach through your Kindle and slap them.
She is the "imaginary bestselling" author of the Jilted Bride Series, Mid Life Love, Wasted Love, and Captain of My Soul. When she's not locked inside her room, feverishly typing away on her laptop, she can be found here: http://www.whitneygracia.com She also loves getting emails from her readers, so if you want to tell her how much you loved (or hated) her stories, email her at whitgracia@gmail.com.


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*COVER REVAMP* "Beautiful Failure" by Mariah Cole

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If you're looking for a heartwarming story about a girl who falls deeply in love with a troubled boy who changes her life--a sob story with pretty metaphors and a million ways that'll tell you how "broken" she is, STOP. Don't read another word of this.
I'm not that type of girl.
My name is Emerald Anderson and I'm not going to bullshit you: I flunked out of college after my sophomore year, I've been fired from every job I've ever taken, and I've never had a fully functioning relationship in my life.
I wish I could say that I had a cheerleader in my corner, someone who says, "No, Emerald--You're great and you are good at something!" but I don't. My grandparents are completely oblivious to my life, and my mother's dying words to me were "You're going to end up just like me one day. A beautiful nothing."
She was right.
As I decide to start my life over and take two jobs that will forever change me--one from the inside, and one from the outside, I keep my mother's words close to my heart so I can keep the sexy and mysterious Carter Black away.
He's the first man who's ever pursued me, the first man who seems bent on finding out why I am the way I am, but he's wasting his time.
I'm not broken. I don't need to be fixed. I'm perfectly fine being a beautiful failure...


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My mother was a whore. Her name was Leah Isabelle Anderson—“Leah Belle” for short, and she was one of New Jersey’s most sought after escorts. With deep green eyes that could take any man’s breath away, and skin so porcelain and smooth that it looked too perfect to touch, she was breathtakingly beautiful. Often compared to a supermodel, her raven black hair fell past her shoulders, and her naturally long eyelashes were always coifed to perfection. Growing up, I had no idea what she did with the men who picked her up in their shiny and expensive cars—the men who wore thousand dollar suits and patted me on the head while saying, “Your mom is really something special.” In a way, these strangers became the closest thing I had to a family since I never knew my father: Her regulars, Christian and William, sent me gifts every Christmas. Arnie bought me my first bike, Steve taught me how to change a tire, and her most ruthless suitor—Vincent, took me shopping for designer clothes once a month. Leah Belle—she never ever let me call her “mom,” wasn’t exactly a mother to me; she was more like an older friend. An older ‘I’ll-be-there-when-it’s-convenient’ friend. She missed every elementary school play, every middle school writing competition, and never gave a damn about my grades. At first, the involuntary loneliness bothered me, but after I created an army of invisible friends and easily accessible fantasies, I came to terms with her neglect and happily accepted any attention she was willing to give me. When I became a teenager, she started to hang around me more often—promising that she would do better, promising that she would make sure that “from here on out, [we’d] be best friends.” Since she’d run away from her parents after having me at sixteen, she made a point to never lecture or discipline me. She did however, teach me three very important lessons: 1.) “Always put tons of effort into the way you look. You need to be beautiful on the outside, no matter how fucked up you are on the inside. If you ever feel sad or depressed, suck that shit up and add more mascara.” 2.) “Don’t make friends. Make sponsors. If you can’t get anything out of someone or use them for a specific purpose, kick that person out of your life ASAP.” 3.) “Beauty wins over brains every time. Your body will always be your most important asset. Remember that.” For my fourteenth birthday, she poured me my first shot and offered me a short line of coke, saying, “Welcome to life, Em!” I shook my head at the coke—I’d read about the effects, but I happily took the red shot glass from her hand. “To the best fuckin’ daughter in the world!” She lifted her glass in the air, waiting for me to do the same, and then she ordered me to toss it back. The initial burning sensation was painful—disgusting, but in the years to come, that bitterness tasted better and better, and I looked forward to the two of us drinking together. It was the only time that she gave me her undivided attention. In those moments, I would tell her about another writing competition I’d won or how I’d received more early college scholarships. When it was her turn, she would tell me about “turning tricks” like other parents told their kids about a day at the office. “I can’t tell you how weak Ben’s dick was today,” she’d say. “I mean, I feel like I should be charging him double for the weak ass fucks he puts me through.” “You don’t enjoy it with him? Ever?” I’d ask. “No. Never with him. But he’s a sponsor, I’m getting his money, and that’s all that matters. I just lie there, scratch his back, and say ‘HarderHarder’ to make him think I’m into it until—” “Until he cums?” “Yep.” She’d pass me a cigarette before sighing. “With him and a few others, I usually have to take a few shots beforehand to numb my mind. With the really good ones, all I have to do is relax. Sex can be fucking incredible when it’s done right…” One particular Friday, after she let one of her regulars take me shopping for a Chanel bag, I unlocked the door to our home and saw droplets of blood all over the floor. “Leah?” I set my shopping bag down. “Did you get another nose bleed?” No answer. I headed into the kitchen, looking for her usual remedies—hot tea and Q tips, but she wasn’t there. “You here?” I walked around our living room and checked all the rooms upstairs. Confused, I pulled out my cell phone and called her. No answer again. I shrugged and opened a bottle of vodka, tossing back a few shots. I figured she’d left with one of her sponsors for a quickie and would be back by the time our favorite show started. I decided to take a shower before it came on and headed into the downstairs bathroom. The second I hit the lights, my heart fell out of my chest. I wanted to believe that what I was seeing was simply a sick joke by my imagination—a twisted fantasy I’d snap out of in seconds. Pale and blue, Leah’s body lay lifeless in our tub. Her left arm was dangling over the edge, and the small velvet bag where she kept her cocaine was dangling from her fingertips. Scattered across the floor were hundreds of prescription pills and empty orange bottles that bore the names of strangers. On the vanity, there was an empty syringe and a folded note that read “For my Em…” Trembling, I rushed to her side and pressed my finger against her neck, hoping for a pulse. Nothing. I tilted her head back and tried to breathe life into her—pressing her chest with my hands every few seconds, but it was no use. She was gone. I sank down to the floor in tears—cursing her, hating her, for doing this to me. To us. I had no friends to call, no family either, so in my numb and dazed state I somehow managed to call 9-1-1. While the operator attempted to calm me down by asking me to take deep breaths, I walked over to the vanity and unfolded Leah’s last note:
Em,
I know you’re confused right now, but I want you to know that I love you. I love you so fucking much… You were the only thing that made my life worth living, and I wish I was strong enough to keep that in mind…
I’m not.
I’m tired of living a lie and I haven’t been happy in a very long time… I just can’t take it anymore…
I’ve fucked up a lot of things in my life, but the biggest regret I have is the way I raised you…I’m so sorry… This is going to be hard for you to believe—especially since I’m gone, but I need you to forget all that shit I taught you. Right now.
Fuck using your looks to get what you want. Go to college and do some good shit with your life, like write or something. You’re a good writer, you’re very smart, and you need to use your brain to get ahead. Can you promise to do that for me, Em?
Then again…It’s probably too late and I’m willing to bet that you’ll end up just like me: A beautiful nothing…
It won’t be your fault though. It’ll be—
I stopped reading and flushed that note down the toilet. Her last words were clearly written out of sadness and they were only compounding my pain. As far as I was concerned, Leah had raised me the best she could and she was far from a “beautiful nothing” in my eyes. In fact, I cherished every single thing she’d taught me. Even though I was beyond hurt that she’d selfishly left me all alone, I was determined to remember her at her best and for everything she was to me: My mother. My best friend. My role model.  


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Mariah Cole is a Starbucks addict (hazelnut shots, please!), New Adult author, and an incessant daydreamer. Known for pushing the envelope, she's an avid reader of indie books and is always looking to chat with readers and authors alike.


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