I could love the monster or leave the man.
Out of Love by Jewel E. Ann is now live!
Conspiracies. Corruption. Serial killers.
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4 Heart Review by Ashley
Talk about intense reading. The wild and twisty ride that is Out of Love kept me glued to my kindle.
I liked Livy A LOT. She was bold and smart. A fighter. Sassy, unapologetically herself and fearless. Case in point, the way she meddled herself right into her mysterious new neighbors house and life. For as outgoing and open and Livy was, Slade was the complete opposite. A man of very few words and broody. On a mission. Completely closed off and lethal.
Hats off to Jewel E Ann for keeping me guessing at every turn. I can honestly say I did not see this book going the way it did. Holy geez! There was danger and steam, mystery and humor and wrapped in the middle of it all were all these feelings that neither Slade or Livy quite knew what to do with. And that ending...just what?! I don't even know how to put it into words- it was that good!
Out of Love - Excerpt
After their kissy-huggy greeting ended, they walked toward the house with Jericho in tow. I waited for him to glance back at me. He saw me. There was no way he passed me a few seconds earlier on the street and didn’t see me. Yet, he made no attempt to acknowledge me.
My boy Jerry stopped abruptly and turned like he caught whiff of my scent. All the warm fuzzies filled my chest. A dog gave me more feels than any man had given me in a long time. Maybe ever.
Jericho liked me. Hell, maybe he loved me.
He protected me.
He smiled when he saw me—tongue out, tail in a low wag. I continued my way up the sidewalk, feigning surprise when he trotted toward me in spite of Slade barking his own command.
“Hey, Jerry.” I squatted down to give him double the love Miss Sophisticated gave him … and I had a treat in my pocket because part of me anticipated—hoped for—a chance encounter. “Oh, buddy … I love you too.” I closed my eyes and turned my face side to side while he showered me with kisses.
Slade cleared his throat.
I opened my eyes—noticing his friend must have gone inside. “Sorry.” I stood, sliding a treat into Jericho’s mouth along the way. “I know it’s hard for you to know he likes me more.” On a shrug, I bit my lips together to keep my shit-eating grin under control.
“Inside,” he said to Jericho while looking at me.
Jericho turned and headed to the back door.
“If you have a job to do … Jerry can hang with me tonight. I’m alone this evening.”
“Jericho. And he doesn’t need a babysitter.”
“Maybe I do.”
His brow tensed a fraction, contemplation settling into a slight frown for a few seconds, before he whistled and Jericho came running. “Send him home when your friends get back.”
Why was the only word that sat on the tip of my idle tongue? Why protect me?
“What are you going to do?” Okay, apparently “why” wasn’t the only word on the tip of my tongue after all. Six other words were in line first.
“Does it matter?”
Letting my gaze settle over his shoulder to the firehouse and images of Miss Sophisticated waiting for him, I lifted a single shoulder. “No. Just curious. Is she your girlfriend?”
“Does it matter?”
“I hate you.” I rolled my eyes. “Worst communication skills ever.”
“Good. Hate me. I prefer it.”
I recoiled. I didn’t really hate anyone. It wasn’t my personality to be hateful, vengeful, or hold grudges. Why did Slade Wylder want me to hate him? It was a joke. I hated his lack of sharing information.
“If you’re selling her some shit that will ruin her life, may I suggest you rethink that? Not cool, Wylder.”
Tipping my chin up, I gave him several tiny nods. “Okay then. I’ll take Jerry to my house and spoil him. Maybe he comes back to you … maybe he doesn’t.”
Slade let his gaze slide down my body, a slow and easy trip. He didn’t do that when we met. Somewhere along the way, he decided it was okay. I wasn’t sure what reaction he desired from me.
Maybe he did it out of pure selfish desire.
“I’m only allowing this because I love Jerry.”
Curious eyes met mine, slightly squinted.
I smirked. “Stripping me with those eyes of yours.”
I collected moments in my mind, my heart, my soul, like Aubrey collected rare coins—my mom dying, my dad spending a few years thoroughly drunk. Mostly bad moments—permanent scars.
That moment I tucked into my memory forever as one of the first truly great moments.
The corners of his mouth quirked into pure sin. If Satan was hot as fuck, his name would have been Slade Wylder, and I would have been in a whole helluva lot of trouble.
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