Triskell Edizioni – Acquistabile qui

Violet Moore è innamorata di un uomo che la odia. Beh, a dire il vero, in qualche modo se lo merita. Il giorno del suo diciottesimo compleanno si è ubriacata e si è gettata tra le sue braccia, provocando uno scandalo enorme nella sonnolenta cittadina di periferia in cui vivono. Ora tutti pensano che lei sia una sgualdrina, mentre lui è sparito. Gira voce che sia andato a vivere tra le montagne del Colorado, lontano da tutto e tutti. Ma Violet sistemerà tutto. Lo troverà e lo riporterà a casa. Non importa quanto lui sia stato vile e crudele, quanto l’abbia ferita con i suoi modi bruschi e il cuore di ghiaccio. Lei non si arrenderà. Né penserà a quelle labbra provocanti, ai muscoli scolpiti o alle mani forti. Quelle mani che desidera sentire sul suo corpo mentre la accarezzano, le sfiorano la pelle… Quelle mani che le fanno venire voglia di dimenticare tutto e baciare un’altra volta Graham Edwards, il signor Edwards per la precisione. Perché non te ne vai in giro a baciare il padre del tuo migliore amico, giusto? Anche se è tutto ciò che sogni.

Sedici anni, un vero colpo di fulmine che si trasforma in un’ossessione per quell’uomo che è venuto ad abitare nella casa vicino.

È bastato uno sguardo e niente è stato più lo stesso.

Peccato che quell’uomo abbia diciotto anni più di lei, sia il padre del suo migliore amico e insegni nel suo liceo.

Lei lo spia ogni notte quando si allena, ma soprattutto quando coltiva le sue rose. Lui, un uomo alto e forte, diventa delicato quando tocca quei petali profumati.

Lo spia per due anni, notte dopo notte, lei Violet, la figlia non desiderata, l’invisibile di casa si sente viva, si sente esistere quando lo guarda.

E arriva quel giorno, quel giorno che nessuno mai ricorda, quel compleanno che a suo giudizio la rende donna. Ha diciotto anni, ora può. Può commettere lo sbaglio più grande. Guardare non le basta più e Violet bacia, bacia quell’uomo che non ricambia, rigido, lontano. Ma c’è chi vede, e in poco tempo tutti sanno. E tu ragazzina diventi puttana, lui sparisce travolto da uno scandalo che brucia ogni cosa.

Puttana e pedofilo.

Le conseguenze però non finiscono qui. La cattiveria spinge Violet  tra le braccia delle crisi di panico, dell’ansia, della paura del mondo esterno.

La cattiveria spinge lui, il signor Edwards Graham, verso il Colorado, verso un passato che voleva dimenticare, verso l’alcolismo.

La cattiveria spinge Billy, il figlio del sig Edwards, lontano da tutti, lontano dal padre, lontano da Violet, schiacciato dalla rabbia e dall’odio. Odio, perché lui ama Violet.

Un terribile incrocio che la ragazza con determinazione vuole sistemare. Senza mai arrendersi.

Graham, il sig Edward, il coach, l’uomo tutto d’un pezzo che ripeteva a Violet di andare via è un uomo distrutto, annientato dal senso di colpa perché anche lui la spiava notte dopo notte, lui vicino alle rose, lei a scrivere il diario sul tetto di casa sotto la luna.

Senso di colpa , dolore, schifo per se stesso, per aver desiderato una ragazza così giovane. L’alcool è tutto quello che gli rimane.

Ma l’amore, quello vero, può tutto.

Non ci sono più limiti, nessuna legge che può tenerli lontani, solo i loro sensi di colpa.

Dolore, speranza, amore e odio, cuori spezzati, logica che schiaccia i sentimenti, sentimenti che schiacciano la logica

Un susseguirsi di  emozioni per una storia che prende il cuore, perché l’età non li separa, li avvicina. Li avvicina al mondo e alla vita.

Leggetelo senza timore, è una storia d’amore vero.

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To everyone in town, Abel Adams was the devil’s spawn, a boy who never should have been born. A monster.

To twelve year-old Evie Hart, he was just a boy with golden hair, soft t-shirts and a camera. A boy who loved taking her picture and sneaking her chocolates before dinner. A boy who made her feel special.

Despite her family’s warnings, she loved him in secret for six years. They met in empty classrooms and kissed in darkened church closets. Until they couldn’t.

Until the time came to choose between love and family, and Evie chose Abel.

Because their love was worth the risk. Their love was the stuff of legend.

But the thing about legends is that they are cautionary tales. They are made of choices and mistakes. And for Abel and Evie, the artist and the muse, those mistakes come in the form of lights, camera, sex.

NOTE: This is NOT a paranormal or a priest romance.

Saffron is a big believer in love (obviously). She believes in happily ever after, the butterflies and the tingling. But she also believes in edgy, rough and gutsy kind of love. She believes in pushing the boundaries, darker (sometimes morally ambiguous) emotions and imperfections.

The kind of love she writes about is flawed just like her characters. And she hopes by the end of it, you’ll come to root for them just as much as she does. Because love, no matter where it comes from, is always pure and beautiful.

She is represented by Meire Dias of Bookcase Agency

He was an artist. She was his muse.

To everyone in town, Abel Adams was the devil’s spawn, a boy who never should have been born. A monster.

To twelve year-old Evie Hart, he was just a boy with golden hair, soft t-shirts and a camera. A boy who loved taking her picture and sneaking her chocolates before dinner. A boy who made her feel special.

Despite her family’s warnings, she loved him in secret for six years. They met in empty classrooms and kissed in darkened church closets. Until they couldn’t.

Until the time came to choose between love and family, and Evie chose Abel.

Because their love was worth the risk. Their love was the stuff of legend.

But the thing about legends is that they are cautionary tales. They are made of choices and mistakes. And for Abel and Evie, the artist and the muse, those mistakes come in the form of lights, camera, sex.

NOTE: This is NOT a paranormal or a priest romance.

Abel drops his head on my shoulder with a sigh and places soft but wet kisses on my collarbone.

“The minute you turn eighteen, I’m picking you up, throwing you over my shoulder and driving you down to the nearest courthouse so you can say I do,” he rumbles, still kissing me, tattooing those words on my skin.

My hands bury themselves in his hair as my back arches toward him, craving the rough terrain of his chest against my soft, rounded breasts, shooting sparks all over.

“You haven’t even asked me n-nicely, yet,” I whimper, baring my throat to his exploring mouth. He hasn’t. It’s been over a year since he brought it up at the treehouse and I told him no. Since then, he likes to joke about it but he’s yet to ask me formally.

“I don’t have to. I already know the answer.”

“A little too cocky, aren’t you?”

“Oh yeah, that’s definitely what I am.” He chuckles, sucking in the skin of my neck, making me shiver and blush. Oops. Double entendre.

The way he’s tugging on my skin is translating into a melty tugging down below. “Abel, no. That’s gonna leave a mark.”

He growls and looks up. The brown of his eyes is completely gone, a drop of honey drowned by a black lake of desire. “One day I’m gonna kiss you in the front of the whole world and if they don’t like it then fuck them.”

I read the frustration in his tone, the suppressed anger, and it hurts my heart. No one should be made to hide their love. No one. It’s too pure, too beautiful to ever keep hidden. I caress his pulsing jaw. “Okay. Kiss me at our wedding, then. In front of the whole world.”

A slow smile spreads over his lips and I want to fill my mouth with it. “So, you saying yes?”

I shake my head at him and give him a smirk. “Maybe.”

He plants a hard kiss on my mouth. “Kidnapping you it is, then.”

“Oh my God, you’re crazy.” I laugh.

But he swallows it up with his mouth. He’s kissing me, really kissing me. Like, he’s lost all patience with me and he can’t be a good guy anymore. He needs to be bad. He needs to suck both my lips into his mouth and drink my flavor straight from the tap. He needs to bite into my flesh to get to it, dig his way inside the pores and fuse us together.

Author Bio

Writer of bad romances. Aspiring Lana Del Rey of the Book World. 

Saffron is a big believer in love (obviously). She believes in happily ever after, the butterflies and the tingling. But she also believes in edgy, rough and gutsy kind of love. She believes in pushing the boundaries, darker (sometimes morally ambiguous) emotions and imperfections.

The kind of love she writes about is flawed just like her characters. And she hopes by the end of it, you’ll come to root for them just as much as she does. Because love, no matter where it comes from, is always pure and beautiful.

She is represented by Meire Dias of Bookcase Agency