Synopsis
MEMORY
Casualties.
That’s how I refer to the guys who’ve had the bad fortune to fall for me. They only see long legs that they wish were wrapped around them, a cat-like smile, and the reckless abandon to take on any wild dare. It’s all a game to me. Show me a bridge, and I’ll leap over the side. Give me a car, and I’ll race it. Give me a heart, and I’ll break it. I always win. I even showed Death who was boss a long time ago.
Or so I thought.
Now, time is running out, and I’m losing fast…and big. I met someone. Jace Beaumont. He’s smart, and good, and I dream about spending days exploring the summit of his perfect lips. But, I’m a grenade. I know I should leave him be. I can’t.
JACE
Study, class, work, repeat. That’s all I have time for. At twenty-five years old, I have a bit more mileage on me than the average college freshman. But, that’s what happens when you spend your youth drinking, partying, and bagging girls like it’s a full-time job. Now, I have goals. There’s just one kink in my plans. Her name is Memory. She’s every guy’s dream girl. She’s intoxicating. She’s trouble. I want to stay away. I can’t.
Excerpt
I couldn’t stop my face from smiling. Why was it the sight of Jace Beaumont, pushing a cart in the grocery store, tickled me so? I wasted no time in hurrying toward him, in the event he tried to escape, and by the time I’d pulled up next to him I was almost ready to laugh out loud. God bless, he was cute as hell.
“Hey, ca vien! Fancy bumping into you here,” I said.
Jace smiled. “What are you doing here?” he asked.
“Makin’ groceries, same as you,” I answered, and stepped closer to him. “I’ve got to see what lies in the cart of Jace The Tow Truck Guy Beaumont.” I took a quick inventory of his items, then lifted my surprised gaze to his. “You cook?”
A sheepish grin sat crooked on his beautiful mouth, and he shrugged. “I survival cook. Nothing fancy. Cowboy basics, my mom calls it.” He cocked a brow. “Ca Vien? Makin’ the groceries?”
I laughed. “Ca vien: how’s it goin? And, you know—makin’ the groceries? Getting the groceries?” I shrugged. “Acadian, boy. You’ll get used to it.” I lifted the whole cut-up chicken. “Whatcha doin’ with this?”
“Chicken pot pie,” he answered. Then, he moved to inspect my items, and he reached for the frozen lasagna and a bag of Skittles. He said nothing, just cocked one dark brow. “Do you eat these together?”
I chuckled. Checked myself and made sure not to snort. “That, my dear man, is dinner and dessert. I actually put the lasagna on a plate. You know. So I trick myself into thinking it’s home cooked.”
“Hmm.” He set them down and then lifted the six-pack of Yoo-hoos! His smile was lazy. Amused. “This is fake milk, Memory.”
“I don’t care,” I insisted, and smiled. “It’s super good and it’s…very much like milk.” I inclined my head to his giant jug. “I see you’re a fan.”
Again, he gave a casual shrug that for some reason was about as sexy a move as he could make. Well, almost. “Guess you could say that.”
Just then, the sweet old woman I’d spoken to earlier came strolling by, and she stopped, gave us both a once-over, and smiled. “Well, don’t you two make the cutest couple! Thank you again, sweetie,” she said to me. “Bye, now.”
We both watched her toddle on by. “Friend of yours?” Jace asked.
I looked up at him and gave a slight shrug. “She is now.”
A soft smile settled against the gruff stubble of his face. “Is that so?” He studied me for a moment then, all smoky and subtle, and I noticed the dark rim of color that encircled the faded sage of his eyes. Fascinating, how eyeballs could entrance…
“Yep. Well, Jace Beaumont,” I quickly said, glancing at the watch on my wrist. “Although I’d love to talk groceries more with you, I see you are finished and I’m just starting. Plus, I have an order to fill, so”—I moved back to my cart—“see ya later?”
“An order to fill?” he inquired.
He wasn’t running away. Which kind of shocked me. And thrilled me at the same time.
“Yes,” I answered, and pushed my hair behind my ear. “Calypso Designs? Remember?” I rolled my eyes. “Sheesh. I told you to Google it.” I started to walk away. Unfortunately, I really did have to go. I’d turned down pizza with Claire and the girls to finish my order. I looked over my shoulder. “Bye, Jace Beaumont.”
He stood there, watching me leave, and I have to admit, a shiver of excitement crept over my skin. Kicked up those silly butterflies going crazy in my stomach.
“Bye, Memory Thibodeaux,” he said. In That Voice. Which caused more shivers.
Other Books in the Series
About the Author
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