Say Yes by Tara West Book Blitz
Synopsis: Say Yes - Book #2 Something More Series - Tara West - October 2013
Andrés, why can’t it be
enough that I love you? That I want to spend forever with you. Why must
you expect so much more? I’m not ready for marriage and a family. I
don’t know if I ever will be.
Christina, I need to know that what I’m putting into this relationship isn’t all for nothing. To me, you mean everything. But I won’t be your stepping stone. Because as much as it would kill me, if you refuse to commit to something more, I will walk away.
Will Christina ever be ready? Will Andrés stay or walk? Will their love endure or is it doomed before they even have a chance?
Christina, I need to know that what I’m putting into this relationship isn’t all for nothing. To me, you mean everything. But I won’t be your stepping stone. Because as much as it would kill me, if you refuse to commit to something more, I will walk away.
Will Christina ever be ready? Will Andrés stay or walk? Will their love endure or is it doomed before they even have a chance?
Goodreads Link: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18586124-say-yes?from_search=true
After the roadside bomb had flipped our
truck and killed my best friend in Afghanistan, I couldn’t escape the
nightmares that plagued me. Although the occurrence of those dreams slowed
after I met Christina, they completely stopped three months ago, after my best
friend’s wife, Letty, contacted me on Facebook. She’d written me a long letter
apologizing for blaming me for James’s death. She’d even invited me to San
Antonio for her youngest son’s birthday party. It seems I just needed Letty’s
forgiveness for the nightmares to stop.
“That’s
great news.” The doctor smiles wider this time.
I
can tell this smile is genuine, and I release a pent-up breath of air.
Then
the doctor hits me with the next question. “Are you adjusting to life as a
civilian?”
“Oh,
yeah.” I nod before sticking one clammy hand in my pants pocket. The little
velvet pouch is still there, and though it takes up no more room than a
wadded-up tissue, it feels heavy. The weight of it presses into my thigh.
What’s worse is, the strain is somehow tethered to an invisible noose that is
wrapped around my neck. Each day the pouch feels heavier, and the noose feels
tighter, so tight I feel I may suffocate from the pressure. “I’m learning how
to take over my uncle’s businesses.” I say the words I rehearsed on the drive
over. “Working out and….” I pause and finger the pouch again. “I met a girl.”
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