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408 pages, Kindle Edition
First published September 20, 2016







Take one shot if Stryker makes you hot.I highly advise not really participating in this drinking game because you'll die from alcohol poisoning. I had to add a new category for shots when I hit seventy percent: Take zero shots whenever you fall madly-irrevocably- in love with the characters. This is what my shots taken would have looked like if I participated, there's a slash where seventy percent is:
Take two shots whenever Gina makes you cry.
Take three shots whenever you laugh.
When you have about seventy percent left of the book put the bottle down.
"Ready," she calls.**5 Facts**
She wasn't ready, and neither was I.
Not for the ride I was about to take her on or the one she was about to take me on.
"You know what happens when you walk away from a bomb? he asks with a strained voice.2. Despite the grit of this book it was hilarious. I laughed. Then I laughed some more. These characters are a riot. They show you the beautiful in the world. They show you the reason we continue to move on day after day.
I shake my head because words fail me when he takes two steps closer and reaches out to touch my cheek.
"You search for a sign you're alive," he says simply, bringing his other hand to my cheek and cups my face. Blowing out a breath, he leans his forehead against mine and his eyes search mine.
"Found my sign, pretty girl," he whispers as I wrap my arms around him and squeeze him tight.
"That was-" his sentence trails off as he takes a deep breath and lifts his head from my shoulder.3. Fire. Holy mother of everything good. This book was smoking hot. You'll need the fire department on speed dial while reading. Stryker is a man full of dirty promises. I'm not going to elaborate any more than that because you just have to meet Stryker and see for yourself.
"Quick," I finish, swallowing the embarrassment. "I've been kind of having a dry spell," I blurt, slamming my eyes shut. "Not that I'm dry like you know... down there, but dry as in... of fuck this," I hiss, sighing heavily as I open my eyes and stare back at his amused face.
"You wont be needing clothes for the rest of the night, pretty girl," he whispers against my ear.4. This book will rip your heart out. Not just rip it out, but it will tear it into tiny pieces. Then run it over. For good measure it'll take those battered pieces and douse them in gasoline and grab a pack of matches. I haven't felt a book like this in a long time. It hurt.
I lifted the gun to my temple a total of thirty-six times, and every time I closed my eyes I saw her face. Her green eyes pleaded with me every damn time, begging me to stay and suffer, not to give up and be a statistic.5. The book never lights that pack of matches. It takes your battered gasoline soaked piece and washes them clean and slowly stitches them back together. The cuts are fresh, but over time they will scar, you'll have reminders of this book, you'll never fully forget, but in the end it does put you back together. It gives you hope, love, and beauty.
There are things ordinary people don't realize are precious gifts. Sometimes it takes the ugly in the world to remind us of those gifts.

