5 Stars!! But I’d give The Reason For Me six stars if I could! It is a beautiful deeply emotional story that really made me feel all of the pain, loss, and heartbreak. But also it is a beautifully romantic story and I felt myself falling in love with these two flawed and scarred characters.
“But I’ve learned the heart is flexible. It breaks, it bends, it skips beats, and thunders in your chest, but it goes on —waiting and hoping and fighting.
So for everyone whose heart is hurting… Remember, the heart is flexible. When you think, I could never survive that, love that person, or forgive, that’s when your heart bends and stretches. It might be dangerous, but who doesn’t need a little danger every now and again?”
Annalyse has been traveling the world trying to outrun the pain of her past, her loss. She decides to stop running and get on with living, but she is still hesitant to jump right in. She meets the handsome neighbor, Holt while house-sitting for her sister. They both are dealing with painful pasts and are not ready for any kind of relationship.
“Every time Holt kisses me, it’s like he’s kissing me for the last time. It’s incredibly sexy and scary at the same time. It’s like he’s planning for us to end, or perhaps just doesn’t have any faith in things lasting. I know the feeling. And I know the feeling of holding on to the last time you kissed someone. He pulls back, looking into my eyes. “What the hell are you doing to me?” he whispers.
“I’m just kissing you,” I say.
“No, you’re bringing me back to life.”
This story kept me in enthralled and invested, so much so that at one pivotal moment I needed friends to hold my hand to get through the pages as parts of the past were unraveled. Prescott Lane has become a one-click, must read, favorite author for me!!!
The kind of kiss that starts on the lips and ends up on her neck while she moans, her body limp in your hands. The kind of kiss that lets you know what’s happening is serious in the best kind of way. The kind of kiss that makes your heart beat wildly, your mind go blank, and your d*ck throb all at the same time. The kind of kiss that makes you never want to kiss another woman again. That kiss. The kiss that starts it all.”
Release Blitz – The Reason for Me by Prescott Lane
She likes it quick and dirty.
I like orders and rules.
She hates small talk.
I hate to share.
She’s an open book.
I’m a closed dresser drawer.
She rides a Harley.
And that drives me f’ing nuts.
Annalyse and I have both lived in our own personal hells for half a decade. She’s learned to love the warmth, and I’m still consumed. But my new neighbor is stoking more than my libido these days. We agreed on only pleasure. But she changed the rules.
And now I’m not even sure what they are.
Maybe there’s a reason she found me that night, maybe there’s a reason I can’t stop thinking about her, maybe there’s a reason for the pain. Maybe not.
We all look for reasons in life. Reasons for death, love, pain. Why one thing happens and not another? It’s human nature. We’ve been looking for the meaning of life since the beginning of time. But maybe the reason for all of it — life, love, loss, heartache — is the curvy brunette living next door.
I can see the questions in her eyes. Naked, I get on my knees in the bed, helping her up, her body pressing into mine, and lift her shirt over her head. I can’t help but grin that she’s borrowed one of mine. My hands slide down the curve of her waist and under the cotton of her panties, removing them. Her hand softly strokes my cheek, and like an asshole, I jerk my head back, her soft touch doing damage to the hard defenses I’ve built. How is that? How can something so soft, so sweet, be my undoing? And damn, the way she looks at me. I can’t have her looking at me like that right now. In one move, I flip her over and yank her ass in the air.
Her breath catches. Dammit, sometimes I wish I could be one of those guys that only think about themselves during sex, but I’m not built that way. Annalyse’s pleasure will always be more important than my own, and that’s just one small fucking step away from all her needs coming before my own. It’s a slippery slope I’m on.
Using the tip of my cock, I outline her folds, feeling her open, drawing me in. Running my finger down the curve of her back, her body rolls, her ass pushing against me. She’s got the best ass, pure white, smooth skin, firm, but enough to hold onto.
“Holt,” she begs softly.
She’s very impatient when it comes to her orgasms. That’s a great quality in a woman; she wants what she wants and doesn’t apologize for it. As I slip myself inside her, she lets out a breathless moan. It’s amazing how well I know her sounds, her body already. Holding her hips, I slide in and out, slowly. Grinning, I know she’s going to hate and love that at the same time. She likes to come quickly. It’s almost like she’s afraid there’s not enough time. She starts to move faster, wanting me deeper, and harder. And I’m powerless to resist her, incapable of not giving her exactly what she wants.
And when she screams out my name, I follow right behind her. My body covers hers as we lay collapsed in our orgasmic hangover. Moving her hair off her face, I look down at her closed eyes, missing seeing the way she looks when she comes. “Every night,” I say quietly, “I want you in my bed, naked, waiting.”
She doesn’t open her eyes, but a little smirk crosses her lips. “Orders, orders.”
Kissing her neck, I nibble her earlobe. “Say you’ll be here.” She rolls over, her eyes meeting mine for the first time. A subtle guilt rises in my chest; I just fucked her to feel better, to forget. And I want to do it again.
about the author
Prescott Lane is the Amazon best-selling author of Stripped Raw. She’s got five other books under her belt including: First Position, Perfectly Broken, Quiet Angel, and Wrapped in Lace, and her new release, Layers of Her. She is originally from Little Rock, Arkansas, and holds a degree in sociology and a MSW from Tulane University. She married her college sweetheart, and they currently live in New Orleans with their two children and two crazy dogs. Prescott started writing at the age of five, and sold her first story about a talking turtle to her father for a quarter. She later turned to writing romance novels because there aren’t enough happily ever afters in real life.