Wicked Reunion by Michelle A. Valentine Published by Montlake Romance on December 15th 2015
Genres: Romance
Purchase links: Amazon
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Source: InkSlinger PR
College sweethearts London Uphill and Jared Kraft were inseparable. He was a rising baseball star with a promising future, and she seemed destined to become “Mrs. Kraft.” Then a tragic night and a series of devastating mistakes caused Jared to walk away from his life, leaving London without any explanation and tearing the couple apart.
Five years later, Jared has reinvented himself by putting down the bat and picking up a guitar to play for the red-hot band Wicked White. In all that time, London hasn’t gotten over her forever love—or the pain—despite seeking solace in the arms of the one man no one dreamed she’d run to.
When Wicked White’s lead singer goes MIA, Jared finds the time—and courage—to return to his hometown and face the mess he made. He’s shocked at how London’s life has changed, yet he’s determined to prove their love is worth fighting for. Is this breakup too big for any hope of a reunion tour? Or can London open her heart to Jared once again?
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My mouth drops open and I can’t do anything but stare. It’s like seeing a ghost—something you never in your life ever expected to see—and I just can’t look away. I resist the urge to reach down and pinch myself to make sure this moment is real.
Is this his idea of some twisted joke? I mean, there’s no way in hell that Jared Kraft is standing in my doorway with a dozen yellow roses after five years without a single word.
Shit like that only happens in movies, and my life for damn sure isn’t some glamorous fairy tale.
I stand there, staring like an idiot, while my brain tries to work out exactly what’s going on here. I furrow my brow. This has to be a dream. No way this man has the nerve to just show up here like this—not after all this time.
I step back and take a long moment to study his face. He looks exactly the same as the last time I saw him, only his hair is longer—more shaggy and unkempt—the style I’ve seen him wear whenever I see pictures of him with his band, Wicked White. To prove to myself that this really is a dream, I reach down and bunch some skin up on my arm and then pinch with all my might.
“Ouch!” I yelp as I inspect the flesh my nails dug into.
My breath catches the moment I realize that the man who used to be my everything—the man who took off five years ago, leaving me and his family behind without so much as a good-bye or piss off—is standing on my porch.
When my eyes meet his, so many questions rage through my mind, but before I can open my mouth to ask a single one, anger begins to boil over inside me. How dare he just come waltzing into my life after all this time?
My body reacts of its own accord and my hand darts out to snatch the flowers out of his hand. His eyes grow wider when I slam them down onto my porch and then smack his face as hard as I can.
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