Where The Heart Is

The One Series

Book 2
Jasinda Wilder
4
Free sample

shouldn’t be in love, but baby I am

I know it’s crazy, but I don’t give a damn

shouldn’t want you near me

but you’re inside me, can you hear me

I’m praying you need me, baby say you do

I’m laying in bed, dreaming of you

cuz I remember you moving, gliding

can’t get over you, baby I’m trying

why can’t I have you, why’s it have to be so complicated

the love I feel hasn’t faded


I wrote those lyrics for Jonny after he walked away. 


It was never meant to be between us; I knew it, he knew it, we talked about it. 


The trouble is, love never listens to logic. And for two people who have never really had a home or known love, logic is all that keeps us going: be smart, survive, do what has to be done. And, in my case, take care of my son. Forget my dreams, forget love…nothing matters but making it day by day. 


But then I met Jonny, and everything changed.


*   *   *


I’m a vagabond. I’ve lived my whole life out on the ocean, surviving by my wits and my knowledge of the sea. I’ve never needed anyone, never stayed in one place long enough to let something like that happen. 


Christian, the only person I’ve ever really cared about, goes missing and gives me a box of letters and makes me promise to take it to his wife, Ava. Problem is, when I get to her, Ava is missing too, and their condo is ruined by the same hurricane that claimed Christian. And then I meet Delta, Ava’s sister, Christian’s sister-in-law, and she changes everything. 


It wasn’t supposed to be anything. Nothing was supposed to happen. We helped dig out survivors of the hurricane together, and that was it. Only…that wasn’t it. Something happened. And now I can’t get her out of my head, or out of my heart. 


Even when I walk away, I can’t escape her. Especially when I hear her voice on the radio, singing a song meant for me:


You walked into my life, with your dark skin and brown eyes

I tried to resist you, tried not to kiss you

you speak soft and you move slow

you’ve got strong hands and few words

but I hear it anyway, everything you don’t say

I tried to resist you, tried not to kiss you

but god, your lips, the way you moved your hips

the way you said my name

and said you felt the same

the way you took my hand

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About the author

 NEW YORK TIMES, USA TODAY, WALL STREET JOURNAL and international bestselling author Jasinda Wilder is a Michigan native with a penchant for titillating tales about sexy men and strong women. Her bestselling titles include ALPHA, STRIPPED, WOUNDED, and the #1 Amazon and international bestseller FALLING INTO YOU. You can find her on her farm in Northern Michigan with her husband, author Jack Wilder, her six children and menagerie of animals. 


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Additional Information

Publisher
Jasinda Wilder
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Published on
Sep 14, 2017
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Pages
285
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ISBN
9781941098912
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Language
English
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Genres
Fiction / Romance / Contemporary
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Content Protection
This content is DRM protected.
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Read Aloud
Available on Android devices
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See entire series

 I see us in a million montages—you and me, Ava, in a million vignettes. Visions of us. 

You are beneath me. You stare up at me. You gaze, lovingly, into my eyes, and you do not look away as you come apart. I see this moment, over and over and over again…


You whisper something, as the shudders wrack you, yet the words you whisper are lost to me. I want those words—they mean everything. 

What is it you whisper in the moment of our most intimate completion? 


My name, surely.


What is it you whisper, Ava?


Please, tell me. Whisper those sounds to me again, even just once, I beg you. 


Come to me, and come for me, and come with me: I will hear those sweet, dulcet syllables blooming from your lips and I will know myself, and I will know I am home.



*   *   *


Memory is a harsh mistress: she embellishes the beautiful and serene, yet she also sharpens the edges of pain.


All I have left of my husband, Christian, is memory. Everything else is gone. Our son, Henry, conceived and cherished and born and grown in the fertile soil of our love…he is dead. He molders six feet under the black loam of a Florida cemetery. The home we created for ourselves, in Ft. Lauderdale, is a pile of rubble, demolished by a hurricane. That home, and everything in it, is utterly gone. Even the rubble, by now, is likely cleared away.


And all I know is, right now…I’m scared of letting myself grieve for Henry. 


I’m scared I’ll never find Christian. And if I never find Christian, what will I do? 


Who will I be? 

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