Title: Make Me Forget
Author: Brandy Lynn
Genre: New Adult, Romance
Release Date: February 23, 2015
Cover Photographer: Toski Covey
Cover Design: Shoutlines DesignsSummary:
*Inspired by true events*
Where do you turn when the ones who are supposed to love you most, hurt you?
When is enough, enough?
That is the exact question Chloe Evans had when she escaped her own personal hell that terrifying night. Even though the road to rebuilding her life has been tough, she's spent the last few years trying to mend her battered soul. Doubting that all her efforts are even worth it, she begins to feel she will forever be tied to the man who took everything away from her.
Ryder Matthews is the epitome of what most girls associate with perfection. With his good looks, bad boy persona, multiple tattoos and piercings he is every girl’s fantasy; every girl except Chloe Evans that is. Ryder sees Chloe as a challenge...one that he's more than confident he will win.
Drew Nichols is every girls dream guy. He’s sweet, sincere, trusting, and most of all patient. He’s exactly what Chloe needs in her life, but is he who she wants?
We all have things in life we'd like to forget about. Some bigger than others. When Chloe uses college as her diversion to escape the memories, will either of them be able to make her forget?
#1: Chloe and Drew(Drew's POV)
“I told you!” I sing, putting down the utensils and glancing around the room. It has gotten busier in here since we sat down. My eyes fall on the pool table behind the glass doors that lead into the adjacent bar, where a couple is just leaving. “Ever play?”
She glances around to where I'm staring and shakes her head. “No, can’t say that I have.”
“We could use a little bit of fun to break up the seriousness.” I eagerly get up and grab her hand. Pulling her to her feet, we walk toward the table.
“I am going to look ridiculous,” she argues.
I laugh. “Does it matter? Just focus on us and I promise…I won’t laugh.”
“I’m gonna hold you to that,” she replies sarcastically, as I hand her a pool stick. She watches me chalk it up and then follows suit.
I start to rack the balls, and she is intently watching me. “The key to this game is to keep your eyes on the subject.”
She raises her eyebrows, and I laugh. “Don’t worry, you’ll catch on.”
“You go first,” she replies, eyeing the table.
I grab the cue ball and place it on the table then slowly I move the stick and connect with the ball. It hits the balls and they all scatter, but none of them land in a pocket. I groan. “The object is to get the ball in the holes.”
She laughs. “Really? What a concept.”
“Now, it’s your turn.”
She stands behind the cue ball, looking awkward but sexy as hell. As she slides the stick between her fingers, she seems to wait for the perfect time. Once she lets go, she misses the cue ball altogether. I try to contain my laughter as I walk behind her. I wrap my arms around her, cradling her, showing her how to shoot. She glances up and our eyes meet. If I knew that she wouldn’t slap me, I would kiss her. Instead, I look back down to the balls and slowly move her arm with the pool stick.
“Nice and easy,” I whisper. Her eyes turn back to the ball, and I can hear her raspy breathing. I wonder if it is because of our close proximity with one another. I feel my dick harden from the close proximity of having her bent over the table, as images run through my mind of taking her on the table slow and steady. The stick hits the cue ball and it connects with one of the stripes, landing it in the corner pocket. I pull back slightly readjusting myself before she notices that I'm sporting a semi from our brief contact.“Great job!” I yell excitedly, sadly pulling away from her body.
She turns around and winks, causing me to take notice of the way that she is suddenly flirting with me. “I had a good teacher.” She walks back around the table and shoots another ball into a pocket.
I stare at her, as she connects the cue ball with another and then another.
“Really?” I quip, placing my hands on the table staring at her. “Did you just hustle me?”
She shrugs. “At least we didn’t play for money.” Then she runs the rest of the stripes into the pockets and finally pockets the eight ball. She puts her pool stick back in the rack and crosses her arms. “That was fun. Have any other ideas?”
I shake my head. This girl hustled me, and I will never live it down. I am thankful that the guys aren’t here to witness this shit, but I know that she will find a way to tell everyone. For some reason, I don’t even care. I'm just amazed at how the evening took a turn for the better.
There’s a huge banner hanging above the entrance that says, Welcome Freshmen. Distracted with reading it, I almost collide with my resident adviser.
Popping her gum she sticks out her hand and says “Hey, I’m Erin, the RA for your floor and you are?”
Wiping my clammy hands on my jeans I stick out my hand, “Chloe Evans.”
She shakes it, then untucks a clipboard from under her arm and flips through the attached stack of papers. “Okay...” she runs her fingers over the pages. “Evans, Chloe... let me see. Here you are. You are in room 306. Third floor,” she replies cheerily.
“Great. Thank you,” I say. Time to unpack. I head back to my car to grab a couple of boxes. Heaving two boxes and a bag out of my trunk, I turn to head up to my dorm when suddenly I lose my grip, my toe hitches on the curb and just before I face-plant on the concrete, I'm caught by two strong arms that pull me back to my feet.
For a moment, all I can see are muscular arms covered in tattoos. I catch a glimpse of the name Matthews written in black Celtic script running the length of his forearm from below his elbow to his wrist. When I look up, his striking cobalt blue eyes distract me from my embarrassment. His jet-black hair looks just long enough for me to run my fingers through it and I'll be damned if that's not exactly what I want to do. His thick lips are spread wide in a charming smile. His features are strong and his jaw line is chiseled, softened only by a day's worth of stubble. He's the paragon of masculine beauty.
Dumbstruck, I flush with embarrassment. I'm staring but who wouldn’t stare at him? He's amused; I can see it in his eyes.
“Tha –Than – Thank you,” I stutter. Geez, Chloe could you sound anymore ridiculous, I scold myself. Get your shit together. Despite the cautioning voices in my head, I hesitate to detach myself from his arms. Somehow I find the strength to step back just a bit.
“No problem, sweetheart. Next time watch those curbs. I may not always be around.” He winks and at first I'm speechless, then almost immediately indignant.
“I am not your sweetheart.” I've never been a fan of nicknames which is why I’m so upset at his callous use of one. Just hearing the word 'sweetheart' makes me cringe. That term is not a term of endearment for me. It brings back memories. Memories that I don’t want unleashed and demons that I don’t want chasing me. I’ve spent years ridding myself of those dark times and I do not want to go backwards.
“Not yet,” he replies. Those two words threaten to make me weak in the knees. His voice is a dark rich baritone, like an audible dessert. He is definitely confident and arrogant, I think to myself. Either way, I am ready to give it back to him.
“Yet? I stare at him questioning with large doe-eyes. I cannot believe the audacity this guy has. “You’re awful confident for just meeting me,” I balk.
"I enjoy a challenge princess," he winks, walking away. Who the fuck was that? And, what the hell just happened to me?
Stepping into the building, I carefully maneuver myself through the throngs of people towards the elevator. As I step in, one of the boxes starts to fall from my arms and I quickly lean forward to try to catch it, when all of a sudden the entire contents in my arms start tumbling down. “FUCK.MY.LIFE,” I yell. Can this day get any worse? I have been here for less than an hour and already I’ve made an ass out of myself in front of people I don’t know.
“Here, let me help you,” a sweet sexy voice says. I peek around the boxes and notice a gorgeous guy picking up the contents that are spread out all over the elevator. He’s got dirty-blonde shaggy hair that hangs in a sexy mused manner, blazing brown eyes that remind me of my favorite mocha chocolate latte, tan skin that looks like he should be on a beach in Cali, and a straight angular jaw line that’s clean cut. He is definitely a pretty boy. Wow, who would have known that little old Radford could breed em’ like this, I think to myself. I’m taken aback by that thought just a bit. I mean I haven’t thought about guys in a long time. It’s strange and exciting all at the same time. I really have made a lot of progress these past few years.
“Thanks so much. I’m not sure why I thought I could make it upstairs with all these boxes without an incident. I am so clumsy. I really do appreciate your help. I’m sorry if I inconvenienced you in anyway,” I ramble. What the hell is wrong with me today? It must be the new environment. I typically don’t talk to men I don’t know and I definitely don’t ramble on about nonsense.
Mr. Sweet and Sexy cocks an eyebrow and I see the tilt of a smirk on his lips when he says “Really, it’s fine. I’m glad I was able to help out. Which floor were you headed too? I can help you take up this load to prevent any more accidents” Yep, kill me now. Immediately, I feel my neck start to warm from the flush. I’m sure my skin is glowing crimson red.
“Um, third floor, Room 306, I believe.” Oh. My. God. I just blurted out where I will be living to some random dude because he’s hot, sexy, or showed me a little kindness. What the hell is happening to me? After everything I’ve been through you would think I know not to give out personal tidbits about my life, such as where the hell to find me. I quickly duck my head trying to hide the fact that I feel exposed, because this guy, who I have no idea who he is, now knows where I will lay my head down at night.
“Cool. My cousin is actually in 306, Alexis Nichols. That’s where I was headed. “Actually,” he chuckles “She called me over to help her and her new roommate unload boxes and shit. You must be Chloe?” Sticking out his hand, he smiles a genuine smile with a slight glimmer in his eye. Introducing himself, he says “Drew Nichols.”
Reluctantly, I place my hand in his and introduce myself; “Yes, I’m Chloe; Chloe Evans. It’s good to meet you. So much for a good first impression,” I giggle softly. Did I just giggle? I am way outside of my comfort zone. This has to be my subconscious talking because I, Chloe Evans, do not do shit like this.
I will not look up. I will not look up. I will not look up. I repeat the mantra in my head hoping that I can avoid that intense stare of his. Those eyes are like a beacon looking in. I could get lost in those cobalt blue eyes for days. It’s a powerful feeling that makes me almost uncomfortable; like he can see my scars, pain, and the numbness inside. I shift uncomfortably; I still haven’t answered him when I feel him tilt my chin up with his index finger. Instinctively I pull away looking at him like he has two heads. I hear him chuckle softly.
“What no answer, princess?”
“Sorry. I’m just…surprised that’s all,” I shift uncomfortably in my seat, looking down picking an invisible piece of lint from the hem of my shirt.
“Surprised that I could sing?” he asks with mock hurt.
Throwing my head back, I laugh at his cockiness. “No, I was just surprised to see you here, and that you can sing so…well,” I mumble slightly embarrassed by my admission.
“So you do think I’m good, huh?” I see the laugh in his eyes and can tell he enjoys this banter.
“Yes! Alright, I do. I thought you guys were pretty badass. The entire show was phenomenal.”
“Ahh, see that’s all I wanted you to do. Just admit that you liked it. I could see you bobbing your head all the way from the stage,” he laughs, and when he does a deep throaty sound resonates from his windpipe. It’s so sensual. I swear I want to bottle that sound up so I can pop the top and listen to it anytime that I want.
“Well I did. You guys are great and if your fan club is any indication they think so too. I point over his shoulder and he turns his head in the direction I’m pointing in. I hear him let out a low hiss but not low enough that I didn’t catch it.
Brandy Lynn resides in Richmond, Virginia with her husband, teenage son, and furry friend. She's a retired blogger, chocoholic, aspiring writer, wine lover, avid reader, procrastinator, animal lover, and a craft fanatic. Her debut novel, Make Me Forget is scheduled to release on February 23, 2015.
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