Series: Off the Map #2
Author: Lia Riley
Publisher: Grand Central/Forever, 384 Pages (October 7th, 2014)
Genre: New Adult, Contemporary Romance
Add to: Goodreads
Order Online: Amazon US, Amazon UK, Amazon CA, Amazon AU, B&N, iBooks, Kobo
NOTE: This is a "New Adult" novel. Due to mature content this title is recommended for ages 17+
Synopsis: It was only meant to last the summer . . .
Talia Stolfi has seen more than her share of loss in her twenty-one years. But then fate brought her Bran Lockhart, and her dark world was suddenly and spectacularly illuminated. So if being with Bran means leaving her colorless NorCal life for rugged and wild Australia, then that’s what she’ll do. But as much as Talia longs to give herself over completely to a new beginning, the fears of her past are still lurking in the shadows.
Bran Lockhart knows that living without the beautiful girl who stole his heart will be torment, so he’ll take whatever time with her he can. But even though she has packed up her life in California and is back in his arms for the time being, she can’t stay forever. And the remaining time they have together is ticking by way too fast. Though fate seems determined to tear them apart, they won’t give up without a fight—because while time may have limits, their love is infinite . . .
Gosh, I love these books!!! Just finished this one a couple days ago and I NEED THE NEXT BOOK ASAP!!! I almost wanted to throw my Kindle when I came to the end of Sideswiped. Oh Bran... Talia... what the heck is going on?!?!?! Inside Out can't come quick enough. I'll be counting down the days until December 2nd. BRING IT Lia!!!
I complete another tour around the baggage carousel and recheck the time. Hobart International Airport needs to review its name. The last overseas flights were canceled years ago.
The wall clock taunts me. Surely more than three minutes have elapsed since the last time I checked. The distant engine drone cuts through the terminal chatter, growing steadily louder. My scalp prickles. God, I despise air travel. Only a few more minutes and she’ll be safe on the ground, here in Tasmania, crossing the tarmac. Breath bottles in my chest. I rub my palms on my jeans and pull down my hat.
A thousand images strike my brain like sudden lightning. Her sexy lips quirking when she’s privately amused or ragging on me. Those bright eyes and wild hand gesticulations. The way my whole body simultaneously revs and calms from her touch.
Muscles fire down my body’s length, concentrating a heated flare in one particular region.
Fucking hell, I’m nervous.
A typical bogan, red-faced and outfitted in a faded rugby shirt, jostles against me beside the arrival door. He fails to subdue the supersize rose bouquet exploding out of his beefy arms. “How ya goin’, mate?” he asks with a proud shrug, proceeding to mistake my aggravation for polite interest. “Got to treat the missus right, ’ey?”
I avoid humoring this blokey conversation by giving a curt nod.
Talia isn’t expecting flowers, is she?
The thought never occurred to me. I yank a retractable pen from my back pocket and click the button.
Tick, tick, tick.
The bogan peers through the lifeless blooms; his thick lips frown in my direction.
Tick, tick, tick.
Never understood the big attraction in giving a girl dead blossoms as a symbol of affection.
Tick, tick, tick.
The bogan grumbles under his breath and moves away.
I can’t help irritating dudes like him. It’s a gift.
Outside the terminal, a thunderous engine roar signals touchdown. The din dials to a high whining hum as the plane taxis. It’s been two months since I flew halfway around the world and begged Talia for a second chance. Despite everything, a miracle happened. She took my dumb ass back. I wondered if she’d wise up, reconsider. Moving to Australia is a big deal. Takes effort, commitment. Would have been easy to back out.
Will she ever know—truly grasp—that I died a little every day waiting for her?
The first passengers trickle in, becoming a flood. I dismiss the unknown faces.
You don’t matter.
Don’t care about you either.
The crowd shifts.
Familiar copper eyes lock with mine and doubt evaporates. In three steps—four if you count me sidestepping the human rosebush—Talia is in my arms.
“Hey, you,” she whispers.
I spin her around and the whole world blurs like a piece of abstract art, our lips the only concrete entities. She tastes exactly the same—warm, salty, with a hint of mint. This is a kiss of victory. Talia and I, we pulled off an impossible stunt.
About the Author:
Lia Riley writes offbeat New Adult Romance. After studying at the University of Montana-Missoula, she scoured the world armed only with a backpack, overconfidence and a terrible sense of direction. She counts shooting vodka with a Ukranian mechanic in Antarctica, sipping yerba mate with gauchos in Chile and swilling XXXX with stationhands in Outback Australia among her accomplishments. When not torturing heroes (because c'mon, who doesn't love a good tortured hero?), Lia herds unruly chickens, camps, beach combs, daydreams about as-of-yet unwritten books, wades through a mile-high TBR pile and schemes yet another trip. She and her family live in Northern California.
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