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What happens next? The Brightest SUNSET by Aly Martinez (July 27th)

7/25/2017

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The Brightest Sunset is the exciting conclusion to Aly Martinez's newest duet!  We LOVED The Darkest Sunrise with it's EXPLOSIVE and heart-wrenching ending and were on pins & needles waiting for the story to continue.   Aly Martinez is one of our GO-TO Authors, and we recommend you pick up this series IMMEDIATELY!   To celebrate, this highly anticipated release we have an EXCLUSIVE Excerpt that will take your breath away!   Happy Reading!  

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After sucking in a lung full of air, I went under water. The river was murky and I could only make out shapes rather than details, but I managed to find the front door of that sinking car. Hooking my fingers over the top of the glass, I pulled as hard as I possibly could, using my feet to add leverage. It shattered in my hands, the bite of the glass not even registering amongst the adrenaline. 
After climbing inside, I headed straight up to the air pocket. 
“Get out of here!” I yelled at Catherine, shoving her and Travis toward the window.
Panic ricocheted through my system when I saw Hannah’s car seat completely submerged. Frantic, I went straight to her and began the tedious task of getting her out with shaking fingers. Each strap and buckle becoming a victory all of its own.
When I got back to the pocket, I pushed Hannah into the air. She wasn’t conscious, but I prayed that air would miraculously fill her lungs. My stomach dropped when Catherine was still there, Travis kicking and flailing in her arms, his face almost completely under water. 
“Come on!” I ordered, grabbing the front of her shirt and pulling her with me as I swam out as fast as I could with my unmoving daughter tucked in the crook of my arm.
When I breached the surface, I lifted Hannah’s tiny body high, treading water while I spun in a circle, waiting to see the tops of Catherine’s and Travis’s heads emerge. 
For those seconds, everything stopped. 
Nothing around me mattered. 
Not the freezing water. 
Not the sirens blaring in the distance. 
Not the bile clawing up the back of my throat. 
Nothing but those two dark heads I so desperately needed to pop up.  
“Come on, come on, come on,” I prayed as I swam to the bank with what I feared was my baby girl’s lifeless body. 
I didn’t even look at the person I handed her off to before I started swimming back toward that car, my heart in my throat, the weight of a thousand ships on my chest. 
Only the bumper was sticking out of the water, and it felt as though my life were slipping away with that car.
Where the fuck were they? 
Diving back down, I swam back into the car. 
And then, all at once, every single question I never wanted answered became clear when I once again found them inside that car. 
I couldn’t make out much, but I saw her arms wrapped around his shoulders, his arms floating at his sides. I grabbed him first, shoving hard off the seat of the car, but he was suddenly snatched from my grip. My lungs were on fire, but getting them out wasn’t an option. I was going to die in that car before I gave up on them. 
And as I struggled against her hold on him, I feared that was exactly what was going to happen.
There was no more air pocket, just a sinking car trying to take my wife and son to a watery grave.
It took a second for me to realize what was happening. At first, I thought she had to have been disoriented, maybe injured from the wreck. 
But, with every passing second, the truth became unmistakable.
Her hands clawing at mine.
Her feet kicking me in the stomach. 
Her hold on him fierce and visceral. 
It wasn’t an accident; every move she made was strategic to keep him with her—and to keep them both in that car. The final straw was when I felt the seat belt wrapped around the two of them anchoring them in place. She hadn’t been in that seat belt the first time I’d pulled them out. There was no possible way that could be mistaken as anything except a deliberate and calculated move.
I froze. The day I met her at the local farmers market flashed on the backs of my eyelids. I’d gone to buy tomatoes and come home with a family.  
 My vision tunneled, darkness surrounding me, my body screaming for oxygen. But what had once been an attempt to save them both became a brawl of epic proportions. 
My hands were no longer shaking, and my fears morphed into anger. I cursed and screamed that I hated her, nothing but a few bubbles carrying the message. But I didn’t stop until I was able to pry my son from her arms. 
I didn’t look back as I headed for oxygen, leaving her there to die. 
Only she wasn’t alone. Porter Reese, the man who’d vowed to love her in sickness and health, the man who’d held her when she’d cried and smiled at her when she’d laughed, the man who had promised her forever, died in that river beside her.
And it took three dark, twisted, and hate-filled years before he was ever found.

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MORE ABOUT THE BRIGHTEST SUNSET 

Sticks and stones will break my bones, but words will never harm me.
Lies.
Words destroyed me. 
“I’m sorry. She didn’t make it.”
“Daddy, he can’t breathe!” 
“There’s nothing more we can do for your son.”
Sticks and stones will break my bones, but words will never harm me.
More lies.
Those syllables and letters became my executioner. I told myself that, if I didn’t acknowledge the pain and the fear, they would have no power over me. But, as the years passed, the hate and the anger left behind began to control me.
Two words—that was all it took to plunge my life into darkness.
“He’s gone.” 
In the end, it was four soft, silky words that gave me hope of another sunrise. 
“Hi. I’m Charlotte Mills.”

NOW AVAILABLE!!! 

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Haven't read this series yet?

The Darkest SUNRISE (Book One) is AVAILABLE
​for FREE with Kindle Unlimited!
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​Sticks and stones will break my bones, but words will never harm me.
Whoever coined that phrase is a bald-faced liar. Words are often the sharpest weapon of all, triggering some of the most powerful emotions a human can experience.
“You’re pregnant.”
“It’s a boy.” 
“Your son needs a heart transplant.”
Sticks and stones will break my bones, but words will never harm me.
Lies.
Syllables and letters may not be tangible, but they can still destroy your entire life faster than a bullet from a gun.
Two words—that was all it took to extinguish the sun from my sky.
“He’s gone.” 
For ten years, the darkness consumed me.
In the end, it was four deep, gravelly words that gave me hope of another sunrise. 
“Hi. I’m Porter Reese.”

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Born and raised in Savannah, Georgia, Aly Martinez is a stay-at-home mom to four crazy kids under the age of five, including a set of twins. Currently living in South Carolina, she passes what little free time she has reading anything and everything she can get her hands on, preferably with a glass of wine at her side.
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After some encouragement from her friends, Aly decided to add “Author” to her ever-growing list of job titles. Five books later, she shows no signs of slowing. So grab a glass of Chardonnay, or a bottle if you’re hanging out with Aly, and join her aboard the crazy train she calls life..

 Stalk Aly Martinez on her Rock Star Author Page I Facebook I Twitter I Instagram I Website I 

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Sneak Peek: Singe by Aly Martinez

1/25/2017

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SINGE is the first book in an ALL NEW smokin-hot standalone series
by Aly Martinez coming to an e-reader near you on February 6th!

Read CHAPTER ONE of this highly anticipated release!  
​You will not be disappointed

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                                      Chapter One
                                   Jude 

“Tomorrow, it’s on me,” I said, standing up off the barstool.
Behind the bar, Carmen waggled her eyebrows, seductively calling out, “Funny, I could be on you tonight if you stayed awhile longer.” 
I laughed at her innuendo and tossed her a wink. “I gotta get home, babe. Seven a.m. comes way too early.”
“Well, offer’s on the table,” she purred. 
It always was with her. And, if I wasn’t careful, I’d eventually take her up on it. 
Not that sleeping with Carmen wouldn’t have been good. But, when you find a cheap bar only five minutes from your house, you don’t fuck that up by dipping your cock into the bartender. 
“Later, Carmen,” I called, pushing the door open and heading to my car. 
I wasn’t out of the parking lot before I heard, “Officer Levitt? We’ve got an alarm going off in Park Hill. You mind taking a look on your way home?” 
Banging my head back against the headrest, I groaned to myself. Park Hill was about as “on my way home” as swinging past California on the way to Maine. 
Switching my radio to my other hand, I complained, “I’m off the clock, Jocelyn.” I had been for several hours, even if I hadn’t made it home yet.
 She laughed. “I’m sorry, but you’re the only one remotely close. I had to send two cars out to the Laslows’ to break up another argument between Cam and his old man.”
“They at it again?” I asked.
“Apparently, Cam told Lindsey he didn’t want the baby. Lindsey told his dad. Old Man Laslow lost his mind.”
I chuckled, putting my blinker on and then doing a U-turn in the middle of the empty road. “Christ. I bet he did. I know the man’s seventy-five, but I sure as hell wouldn’t want to go toe-to-toe with him.” 
“I’m with you on that. So…you gonna head out to Park Hill?” she asked in a sugary-sweet tone.
I grumbled deep in my chest. “You’re gonna owe me some of that banana bread for this. I missed it the other day when you brought it up to the station.”
“I don’t owe you anything.” She giggled. “However, as a personal thank-you from the state of Illinois, Park County, and the owners of Park Hill, I’ll bring you in a loaf on Friday. Deal?” 
“Deal. I’m en route now.” 
“Stay safe, and radio in with your report.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I replied, knowing exactly how much thirty-year-old Jocelyn loved being called ma’am by a twenty-five-year-old man.
“Don’t you—”
“Gotta go.” I turned the volume down to mute her, grinning to myself as I flipped my lights and siren on. 
I’d been a cop for two years. And, in that time, I’d been out to the privately owned Park Hill estate at least a dozen times. It wasn’t unusual for the alarm on the mansion to get triggered. It never amounted to anything. The expansive estate was on the very edge of the county, and trouble didn’t usually travel that far out. More often than not, a bird at a window or a bumbling new member of the grounds crew would accidentally trip the alarm. Truth was, no one actually lived in Park Hill. The owners visited sporadically. But, for the majority of the time, it remained empty. 
Some minutes later, I cut my siren as I pulled up to the entrance. The cold air assaulted me as I stepped out of my patrol car with my flashlight in hand and aimed at the keypad on the massive security gate that blocked the driveway off. That damn thing alone had to have cost more than I’d make in a lifetime. Forget about the house inside. 
The smell of wood burning in a fireplace wafted through the night air. I guessed someone was home for a visit. 
I typed in the emergency code on the gate panel and then climbed back in my car and made my way down the tree-lined driveway. I’d spent the day on patrol, and, with the exception of some minor vandalism across town, it had been a slow one. 
Though, in the blink of an eye, that would change. 
Along with my entire life. 
“Oh fuck,” I breathed as the main house came into view on the top of the hill. 
After throwing my car in park, I jumped on the radio at my shoulder. I could barely get the words out as I slung my door open and took off at a dead sprint. 
“This is Officer Levitt! I need fire support at Park Hill immediately!” 
And then I froze as a wave of adrenaline crashed into me like a tsunami. 
An inferno roared in the night sky, but it was the small silhouette of a woman perched outside a third-floor window, smoke pouring out all around her, that knocked the breath out of me. My heart stopped, but my feet continued to pound against the pavement. 
Jocelyn’s voice caught me. “What’s going on?” 
“I need medical too!” I barked as I got closer. “The whole damn place is in flames and there’s a woman trapped!” 
The woman’s long, black hair blew out behind her like a battered flag whipping in a storm. I couldn’t make out her face or her skin color or even guess at her age for the black soot covering her, but her fear was unmistakable.
And unforgettable. 
“Hang on!” I yelled up to her.
“Oh my God!” she screamed before it turned into a fit of coughing. “Help me!”
“Hang on! Don’t let go!” 
Frantically, I searched the perimeter for a way in, but it wasn’t only her house that was on fire. Flames were encompassing her. The yard and all the surrounding flowerbeds. Top to bottom. The first and second floors were completely engulfed, and if the sound of shattering windows was any indication, it was quickly making its way up to the third floor—to her. 
“No! Don’t leave me!” she screamed, panic thick in her garbled voice, as I started around the side of the house. 
A wall of heat stopped me in my tracks. Throwing an arm up, I did my best to block my face while scanning the building for any possible entry—or, in her case, exit. 
But there wasn’t a surface of that house that wasn’t ablaze.
Except the roof. 
Son of a bitch.
I spoke into the radio. “I need an ETA on fire.” 
Jocelyn replied, “They’re on their way. Five minutes out.” 
I didn’t have one minute, much less five. 
Fuck. 
My pulse quickened, sending blood thundering in my ears. I was a cop. I’d trained for chaos. I should have been able to come up with a solution for a situation like this, but they didn’t teach you how to conquer the impossible at the Academy.
And, as I took inventory of the flames dancing beneath her, I knew that was exactly what I was up against. 
My gut wrenched as I helplessly sped back around the house. She appeared almost childlike, hovering barefoot on that narrow brick ledge, but her long-sleeve top and her loose-fitting pants clung to the body of a woman. 
Jesus Christ! Where was that fucking fire truck?
“Is anyone else in the house?” I yelled up to her. 
Not that I could have helped them, either. Short of running into a burning building, on what would surely be a suicide mission, there was not one thing I could do. And didn’t that little reality feel like a wrecking ball to the chest. 
“No!” she cried, a loud sob lodging in her throat. It turned into more coughing, her body shaking violently with every heave. 
I fisted my hands at my sides as my anxiety spiraled higher.
“Please. Do something!” she begged.
I ground my teeth together and once again glanced around as if a water hose and a ladder were going to suddenly appear out of nowhere. “Hang tight, okay? Fire trucks are on their way.” 
“I can’t hold on much longer!” she cried.
“Yes, you can,” I demanded.
“I…I think I need to jump,” she coughed out.
I assessed the massive fire below her. I’d never be able to reach her before it swallowed her. But there was no way I’d be able to stand by and watch her burn. 
No. If she jumped off that ledge, she was going to get us both killed.  
“Don’t you dare,” I barked. “Don’t even think about it. Two minutes. They’ll be here.”
“I…I can’t.” 
“Two minutes,” I repeated. “Hold—”
Suddenly, a window to her left exploded, shooting glass and flames in all directions.
I covered my face as she screamed in a paralyzing mixture of fear and agony. It cut me so deep that I knew I’d bear the scars for the rest of my life, and that had nothing to do with the glass and everything to do with the heavy weight of my failure already lingering in the smoke-filled air.
When I opened my eyes again, I caught a glimpse of orange flickering in the window behind her. Panic built in my chest.
“You need to move!” I yelled. 
She shook her head and continued to cough and cry. 
But it wasn’t an option. I couldn’t help her. Though I damn sure refused to watch her die. 
“Please. Just listen to me.” I swallowed hard. “You can’t stay there.” I looked to the roof. 
Sending her higher seemed wrong and went against everything I’d learned in my limited fire training. But fuck, my options were having her jump into a conflagration or scale up the side of a building in hopes of buying us the precious minutes needed for the fire department to arrive. 
Drawing in a smoke-filled breath, I made a decision that would haunt me for the rest of my life. “You need to climb up to the roof.”
“I can’t!” she shrieked. 
My stomach twisted, but I gentled my voice. “Look, I know you’re scared. But I’m right here. I’ll help guide you up, but, sweetheart, it’s bearing down on you. You gotta move, and I mean now.” 
She choked on a mouthful of smoke as she attempted to look over her shoulder. 
“You’re going to be fine. I swear to you,” I lied. “But you have to move.”
“I’m not going to make it!” She had to have yelled it in order for me to hear her, but I felt her defeat slither over my skin like a whispered goodbye. 
I took a long step forward, too focused on her to feel the heat singeing my skin. “Yes, you are!” I declared. “Move your ass up to the roof and we’ll both be out of here in time for breakfast.” 
Her gaze landed on mine, tears forging paths down her soot-covered cheeks, her disbelief obvious even from yards away. “Are you sure?” 
It was a ridiculous question. It wasn’t like I could make any guarantees. It was fire, for God’s sake. But that didn’t stop me from covering my heart with my palm and vowing, “I swear on my life you’re going to make it through this.” 
Her hesitation was evident, but with one last sob, she inched her small body farther out onto the narrow ledge, reaching the tips of her shaking fingers out for the windowsill above her. 
“Good girl,” I praised, a fraction of relief washing over me. 
And then I sucked in a sharp breath as one of her shaking legs slipped out from under her.
“No!” I yelled. 
On instinct, I rushed toward the flames, my arms stretched out in the air as though I could catch her. 
A scalding heat blistered my face and forced me to stop, but the real pain was in my chest. I watched in horror for what felt like a lifetime as she fought to right herself, her dainty arms flailing like a wounded butterfly frantically trying to catch the wind. 
But there was none to be found. 
My heart lurched into my throat, and my breath seized in my lungs.
And then a deep, guttural sound tore through me, shredding me from the inside out, as I watched her fall. 

I woke up in a cold sweat. It wasn’t exactly something new. I’d been dreaming of Butterfly for over four years. She always flew directly into the flames, screaming as I stood helpless to save her. 
Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I cradled my head in my hands and tried to pretend I was okay. That wasn’t exactly something new, either. I could still feel the heat on the back of my neck. My lungs were still thick with smoke. The pressure in my chest never left me. 
The distance while I was living in LA had helped. But, in the week since I’d been back in Illinois, I’d woken up every morning at that blazing house. I didn’t even have to be asleep for the memories to assault me. 
I should have gone back to sleep. It was my first day at my new job, and the last thing I needed was to show up haggard and sleep-deprived. But, as I’d learned over the years, another fiery butterfly awaited me on the other side of REM. No way I was volunteering for that.  
I pushed myself off the bed and tugged a T-shirt on, preparing to head down to the hotel gym with hopes that I could outrun the mental fog that had been hovering over me since I’d returned. There was a reason I’d thrown all of my shit in my car and driven as far as I could all those years ago. 
Yet, somehow, I’d come full circle. 
But I’d come back a different man. 
At least that’s what I’d told myself as the deafening roar of doubt had overwhelmed me the moment I’d driven across the state line. 
Regardless, it had been time to go home. 
I’d been gone too long.
Or, as I’d decided as I’d passed the exit to Park County, not nearly long enough.

☆☆☆☆☆☆

MORE About Singe 

She was my nightmare. Every time I closed my eyes, I watched her fall into that inferno. Over and over,
​I failed to save her.

I hadn’t been able to reach her, and the guilt only burned hotter over time. Four years later, I was the unreachable one.

Heroes aren’t always saints. Sometimes, we’re nothing more than jaded sinners driven by sleepless nights and hearts full of darkness.

And then I met her. She was a dreamer who managed to soothe my scars and heal my wounds.

But, as the flames closed in around us, I feared I wasn’t the right man to save her. That is until I realized she was the one woman I’d burn the world down to protect.

ADD TO YOUR TBR HERE

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Born and raised in Savannah, Georgia, Aly Martinez is a stay-at-home mom to four crazy kids under the age of five- including a set of twins. Currently living in South Carolina, she passes what little free time she has reading anything and everything she can get her hands on, preferably with a glass of wine at her side.

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ONE STORY. TWO COUPLES:  TRANSFER by Aly Martinez is NOW LIVE! 

9/25/2016

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ONE STORY. TWO COUPLES.

The Retrieval Duet by Aly Martinez is a two part series. 

TRANSFER (Part Two) will is NOW AVAILABLE!

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Transfer
NOW LIVE! 

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Retrieval 
(Book One)

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Book Summary
Transfer (Book Two)

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One story. Two couples.

I fell in love with a man who didn’t exist.

What started out as romance ended in hell.
His words turned to razor blades.
His kisses converted to fists.
His embrace became my cage.
His body transformed into a weapon, stealing parts of me until ultimately….
I broke.

I hated him.
My sole job in life became to protect our daughter.

I wasn’t sure I’d ever escape the prison he’d skillfully crafted from my fears.
Until the day our savior arrived.

This is the story of how I escaped the man who thought he owned me.
The transfer of my life and my family.


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Meet Aly Martinez

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Born and raised in Savannah, Georgia, Aly Martinez is a stay-at-home mom to four crazy kids under the age of five, including a set of twins. Currently living in South Carolina, she passes what little free time she has reading anything and everything she can get her hands on, preferably with a glass of wine at her side.
After some encouragement from her friends, Aly decided to add “Author” to her ever-growing list of job titles. Five books later, she shows no signs of slowing. So grab a glass of Chardonnay, or a bottle if you’re hanging out with Aly, and join her aboard the crazy train she calls life.


STALK HER: Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads

GIVEAWAY

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New M/M Romance by Aly Martinez: The Spiral Down 

5/17/2016

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Henry Alexander's story in The Spiral Down
by Aly Martinez is NOW LIVE!  

Read excerpts & download
​your copy of this M/M Standalone TODAY!
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The Spiral Down
HENRY

“How about you and one of your girls come out to my show in L.A. next week? My treat. Dinner, drinks, the whole deal. Evan and I would love to take you two beautiful ladies out for an evening.”
“Excuse me?” he exclaimed, cocking his head to catch my gaze.
I leaned back into my seat and lifted a hand to massage his shoulder. I was barely able to suppress a moan when the angle of his firm trap muscle met my palm.
Fuck, this guy was built like a brick wall. And I was going to love every second of watching him crumble for me.
“Oh, come on, Evan. It’s the least we can do. Double date.” I winked at Jessica. “You can fly them out! My plane should be ready by then.”
Jessica’s eyes jumped to Evan’s. “You’re a pilot?” Her smile spread irritatingly wide.
Back off, Ginger Spice.
Snapping my fingers in her direction, I corrected, “He’s my pilot.”
Subtlety was not a virtue I possessed. Was subtlety a virtue at all?
“Your temporary pilot,” he amended before shaking his head and then tipping his beer to his lips for a long pull.
“Anyway. Do we have a date?” And, by date, I meant feeding her dinner while I attempted to work my way into Evan’s pants.
She pressed one finger to her lips and then nervously flashed her eyes around the cabin.
“Oops. Sorry.” I shrugged sheepishly. Lifting my drink to my mouth, I discreetly passed her my cocktail napkin and then not-so-discreetly brushed my forearm against Evan’s chest as I pulled away.
He offered her a tight smile just before she disappeared.
I grinned proudly.
“What the fucking hell was that?” he whisper-yelled at me.
“That was me getting a woman’s number.”
He arched an eyebrow. “A woman. Really?”
“What? Is that not allowed?” I feigned innocence.
He clenched his fist in his lap, and it made me suddenly aware that my own hands had stopped trembling—and in record time, I should note. Evan seemed to be quite useful in the art of distraction.
He leaned closer. “Don’t bullshit me. I looked you up. You’re…” He stopped, unwilling to say the big, bad “G” word.
“I’m what?” I taunted.
He rolled his eyes and chugged the rest of his beer.
We went back to silence until Jessica came back by with another drink, complete with her phone number written on the napkin.
“I’m not going on a double date,” Evan said as I tucked the napkin into my pocket. “You want me to fly them out? Not a problem. Schedule it with Jackson. But that’s the extent of my professional responsibilities. And, since I’m off the clock right now, I’d also like to mention that I think whatever play you’re planning to run on that woman is fucked up.”
My head snapped to his. “I’m sorry. Play?” I asked with more attitude than I had originally planned.
“Yes. Play,” he sneered.
I stirred my drink. “Let me get this straight. I’m offering to fly her out in a private jet, feed her dinner at one of the best restaurants in the city, and put her front row at a concert that has been sold out for over a year. That doesn’t seem like a play to me. It sounds like I’m trying to do something nice for a woman I was rude to earlier.” I casually leaned back in my seat. “My conscience doesn’t ‘play’ when it comes to apologies.”
“Right. Well, maybe you should have a chat with your conscience, because she looks like she just won the date of a lifetime. Meanwhile, you don’t even like women.” He stalled, no doubt looking for just the right word to express his disgust without sounding like a bigot. Judging by his gentleness when we’d taken off, he wasn’t the type of guy to go for the fag bomb.
I watched him intently, excited to see how he was going to handle this.
“You’re gay.”
I frowned at his lack of creativity. “Not that it’s any of your damn business. But I’ll have you know I love women.”
It wasn’t a lie. I adored women. Especially Levee and Robin.
I just didn’t like pussy. Meh. Semantics.
He gaped. “You’re bi?”
“And I’ll repeat: None of your damn business. But yeah. Do you have a problem with that?”
Again, it wasn’t necessarily a lie.
Was I bisexual? Fuck no. My cock was in no way an equal opportunity employer.
I was somewhat bilingual though. I knew how to ask for a blow job in English and Spanish. I pretended that was what he meant.
Chupame la verga.

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Book Summary 

I was afraid to fly.
He made me soar.

After years of climbing the ladder of success in the music industry, I finally had everything I could want.
Yet I still found myself wandering through life alone.

Captain Evan Roth was the one man I never saw coming.
Tall, dark, mysterious… Straight.

We were both damaged beyond repair and searching for something so elusive we weren’t sure it even existed.

But, when two broken souls collide in midair, falling is a given.

I just never expected to crave the spiral down.


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More The Spiral Down...
Chapter One

Rain fell from the sky in sheets. It’d only been drizzling when I’d boarded my private jet not even a half hour earlier.  Now, I could barely see the airport outside my window.

“No, babe, it’s not a big deal. I just would have liked to see you while I was in town. It’s been a while. That’s all,” I said, shifting the phone to my other hand.
Dipping my finger into the empty glass that had once been the home of gin and tonic number three, I stared at the melting ice as I stirred it in a circle.
Her raspy, sleep-filled voice no longer sounded anything like that of the little girl I’d met when she was only five. But, after sixteen years, Robin Clark no longer resembled that child, either.
“I swear I thought the shower was next weekend. I got my dates mixed up. I’m so sorry,” she lied. She did that a lot.
“Don’t worry about it. It’s cool,” I said, pretending to believe her.  I did that a lot.
And it killed us both a little more every time I did.
“I love you, Cookie,” she whispered.
I wasn’t sure if that was a lie or not anymore.
But I knew one thing was true. “I love you too, kid.”
We sat in silence for several seconds, neither of us willing to hang up. However, neither of us knew what else to say.  A million words hung between us, but none of them would solve anything. God knows I’d said them all over the last five years. Still, she’d never heard any of them. Not really.
With my heart physically aching, I swallowed hard and bit the bullet. “Listen, I’m about to take off. I’ll be in L.A. for a show next week. Why don’t you come and we’ll hang out for a few days?” It was an honest invitation.
I didn’t receive an honest response.
“I’ll be there!”
“I’ll have Carter set it up. I’ll come by tomorrow afternoon and give you the details. I can’t stay long, but maybe a quick dinner or something.”
“Perfect.”
We didn’t linger with drawn-out goodbyes. A few seconds later, my phone was off and I was once again gazing out at the pouring rain, wishing I were anywhere but on a plane.
Carter, my head of security, settled in the seat beside me and opened the latest issue of Sports Illustrated magazine.
My stomach clenched when the plane jerked as we backed away from the gate.
“Tell Levee I love her, okay?” I said to Carter without dragging my eyes off the terminal disappearing in the distance.
“Here we go,” he mumbled, closing his magazine and turning his attention my way.  
“Can you do me a huge favor? If I don’t survive, make sure it’s open casket and I’m wearing—”
“Blue. It makes your eyes pop,” he finished for me.
“Right, but—”
“But your eyes will be closed, so you should wear green instead. It looks better with your complexion.”
“Yes, but—”
“But your complexion will be ashy since you’re dead and all. So let’s just go with a sleek, black suit. It’s timeless.” He arched an incredulous eyebrow.
Lifting my glass in the air, I rattled the ice at Susan, my personal flight attendant. She was busy buckling herself in for takeoff, but she flashed me a warm, motherly smile in acknowledgement that she had seen me.
“So maybe we’ve had this conversation before,” I told Carter.
He rolled his eyes. “Every time we fly.”
I huffed but didn’t bother explaining. He knew exactly how terrified of flying I was. He’d been there the day it’d all begun.
You would have thought that, after having traveled the globe for years, a simple two-hour flight wouldn’t have been a problem. My racing heart and sweating palms argued otherwise.
In the eight years since my career had taken off, I’d gone from a somewhat-popular YouTube personality to the king of the music industry when Levee and I’d released our self-produced debut album, Dichotomy. Filled with half of her tracks and half of mine, it had soared to the top of the charts. There hadn’t been a radio station in the country not playing our music. In a matter of weeks, our careers had exploded, which had forced the whole world to take notice.
The following years had been a whirlwind. Grammys, record deals, fame, fortune, security. I could have retired six months after I’d started and never wanted for anything again. Well, that’s not totally true. The one thing I really wanted could never be bought.
I wasn’t even sure it could be earned.
It was something so rare that I feared it didn’t actually exist.
Love. Unconditional. Unwavering. Eternal. Love.
I gave that to exactly two people in my life.
I only received it in return from one.
I’d been born a gay man. There had never been a moment in my life when I’d been remotely sexually attracted to women. If I had been, I would have married Levee Williams the second I’d laid eyes on her. Because I’d known, just that fast, that she was going to be the best thing that ever happened to me.
And she had been.
Riding the state’s dime to college, I’d branched out on my own at eighteen, armed with nothing more than a guitar and a headful of mediocre lyrics.
In a lot of ways, alone felt better.
In most, it felt worse.
Luckily, within weeks of starting my new adventure, I met Levee at a local bar on amateur night.  She wouldn’t admit it, but she’d been attempting to hit on me when she’d first strutted over after her set. I understood how she’d misinterpreted my intense stare while she’d performed. But, when her kind, brown eyes lit as our gazes met, I knew, straight or gay, I needed to meet that woman. That night, over beers and more laughs than I had ever experienced, we bonded over music. Less than two weeks later, I moved in with her. Part of my heart bound to hers in a way I had never felt before. With no parents, no siblings, not even a foster mother who’d taken a liking to me, I’d spent most of my life searching for the sense of belonging she gave me only minutes after we’d met.
I fiercely loved that crazy woman. And it amplified as the years passed when I realized the feeling was mutual.
Levee was more than my best friend. Outside of Robin, she was the only family I’d ever had.
Which really meant she was the only true family I’d ever had.
I’d heard that God wasn’t exactly stoked about homosexuality, but come on. What kind of a masochist sends a gay man his soul mate with boobs and a vagina?
Especially considering she was now married to Sam Rivers and six months pregnant with his baby girl.
I’d tried dating over the years, but the few men I’d found interesting had found me temporary. I was good for a night of fulfilling their secret fantasies. But that’s where it ended. I guess that’s what I got for having a thing for straight men. I couldn’t stop myself though. It wasn’t the sex. As a celebrity, I had plenty of men vying for my attention. Ass was easy to come by. But the high that came from being with a straight man, knowing he was going against his own genetic coding just for one night with me, made every minute of the pain worth it. 
Those forbidden encounters were a drug.
And I was a junkie.
The hunt of finding that perfect blend of brute masculinity and subtle curiosity.
The chase of teasing and taunting, ramping them up until they were unable to get my clothes off fast enough.
The victory as they finally broke, giving in to the one desire they had never considered before they’d landed in my crosshairs.
That was the high.
But it was always followed by the crash.
Including the inevitable spiral down when they realized what they had done.
Some freaked, slinging insults and threats at me as if I had somehow magically cast a spell and charmed their dick into my mouth. Some wore their shame on their faces, gathering their clothes and rushing from the room without a backward glance. Some felt the high too and came back for seconds, desperate for more.
But they all left, one way or another.
Always.
Once I’d accepted that those encounters were nothing more than a fix, it’d stopped gutting me when they walked away.
While I’d had my fair share of partners, I was far from a whore. I didn’t launch my expert skills of seduction on any straight man who crossed my path. That would have been a wasted effort. I was good; don’t doubt that. But men didn’t just fall naked into my bed, begging for me to take their bodies in ways they would never forget. At least, not the men I wanted. It took patience and dedication to achieve my high.
I spent two years working my way into a certain NFL quarterback’s bedroom.
Worth every single second.
Or so I’d told myself as I’d felt another piece of my soul break away when he’d dismissed me from his life the very next day. 
Maybe I was a whore after all.
But I’d tried the relationship thing and it just didn’t work.
I’d given my heart to a man once. He’d given it back a month later.
I was devastated when he left. I was ruined when, two months later, I watched him marry a woman I knew he didn’t love.
No. That’s not true. It was me he didn’t love.
That was a common theme in my life and exactly why I was so successful as a singer-songwriter. It was hard to be all “woe is me” with millions of adoring fans acting as if you were a god who’d returned to Earth.
While Levee struggled with the weight of her fame, I flourished under the spotlight. I was alive on stage. And, with no one waiting for me at home, I’d devoted years to touring. The roar of the crowd fueled my happiness to the point I feared the day when I would have to settle down.
And, right then, I was white-knuckle gripping the armrest as the jet accelerated down the runway before lifting into the sky.
“Shit. Shit. Shit,” I mumbled as my stomach dropped when the landing gear loudly locked into place. 
“You’re fine,” Carter said absently.
I was absolutely not fine.
“I’m gonna puke,” I groaned.
His eyes never lifted from the pages of his magazine as he shook a vomit bag open and passed it my way.
“Thanks,” I replied, disingenuous.
“No problem. Now, take a deep breath and try to relax. We’ll be there in no time.”
As the plane leveled out, so did my stomach.
Blowing out a loud breath, I dropped my head back against the headrest. “We should’ve taken the bus.”
“There wasn’t time for the bus. Your ass is supposed to be on stage in four hours. What we shouldn’t have done is drive to San Francisco in the first place.”
“We’ve been over this. I wasn’t missing her baby shower.”
He grumbled, adjusting in his seat. “I think Levee and Sam would’ve understood.”
I narrowed my eyes and turned to glare at him. “Don’t even start with me. They would have understood perfectly. But that doesn’t change the fact that I wanted to be there.”
My tour had been scheduled over a year in advance. Tickets had sold out in less than five minutes. But none of that had mattered when I’d found out that Sam’s mom was planning a baby shower for Levee. I had very few priorities in life. However, being there for her was always one of them.
Susan approached my seat. “Can I get you another drink, Mr. Alexander?”
“Thank God. Yes!” I lifted my glass in her direction.
“No problem.” Her eyes nervously shifted to Carter. “A word?”
Carter unbuckled his seat belt and moved past me. They huddled together behind the small bar in the front, but my focus was on the mini bottle of gin she was emptying in my glass. I was well aware that I needed to slow down. Drunk on stage wasn’t exactly a novelty in my business, but slurring my words and stumbling over lyrics was a deal breaker for me.
Just as I was about to tell her to hold off on the drink, the plane suddenly jerked and my nerves skyrocketed all over again. I sucked in a sharp breath, and both sets of their concerned eyes jumped to mine.
Yep. I can sober up later.
Snapping my fingers, I ordered, “Drink.”
Susan smiled compassionately before shooting an impatient glare at Carter. I would have cared what they were whispering about if I hadn’t been about to pull an Incredible Hulk and peel out of my own skin.
“I’ll tell him,” Carter relented with a sigh, tagging the drink from her hand and then moving in my direction.
With shaking hands, I took the glass and tipped it back for a sip, relishing in the distracting burn in my chest.
“Tell me what?” I asked, settling the glass in a cup holder.
He motioned his chin at my drink. “Why don’t you finish that first?”
The clear liquid sloshed as the plane suddenly banked to the left.
“Excellent idea,” I said. 
Carter’s gaze once again lifted to Susan’s in a silent conversation.
Her lips thinned.
Throwing the rest of my drink back, I bounced my attention back and forth between the two of them. Susan looked downright nervous, and Carter appeared more than a little annoyed.
“Okay, what the hell is going on with you two?” I demanded.
“The pilot is having some chest pains,” he announced.
Suddenly, there wasn’t enough gin in the world.
Fighting to make my seat belt tighter, I gasped, “Did he pass out? Are we going down?”
Carter’s expression remained impassive.
“Of course not!” Susan cut in.
Her reassurance did little to comfort me, because whatever magical mechanism kept the cabin pressurized suddenly failed. If the pain in my lungs was any indication, there was absolutely no oxygen left on that plane. We were all going to die.
Carter’s heavy paw landed on my back, pushing my torso down so my head was between my knees.
“Calm down and breathe. We aren’t going down. The copilot is taking us back to San Francisco. We’ll be on the ground in no time.”
The vise on my lungs didn’t loosen.
Still hunched over, I nodded, having heard his words but finding no relief in them.
Susan kneeled beside me. “It’s okay, Henry. Co-captain Baez is an amazing pilot. You won’t even know the difference.” She rubbed my back.
Embarrassment mingled with the worthlessness I felt in that moment. But I was helpless to reel it in. My body was out of control. I was left as nothing more than a marionette being held captive by my fear.
Reaching out, I gripped Carter’s thigh desperately searching for a way to ground myself.
The man was a beast. At six-five and well over three hundred pounds, with short, black hair and nearly black eyes, he looked every bit of the scary bodyguard I’d hired him to be. There wasn’t anything soft or gentle about him. However, he’d been with me for almost a decade. He knew how I worked, even if he didn’t like it.
He patted my hand, and then I heard the crinkle of his magazine opening.
“You’ll be fine,” he said.

I wasn’t sure he was right.

Meet Aly Martinez

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Born and raised in Savannah, Georgia, Aly Martinez is a stay-at-home mom to four crazy kids under the age of five, including a set of twins. Currently living in South Carolina, she passes what little free time she has reading anything and everything she can get her hands on, preferably with a glass of wine at her side.
After some encouragement from her friends, Aly decided to add “Author” to her ever-growing list of job titles. Five books later, she shows no signs of slowing. So grab a glass of Chardonnay, or a bottle if you’re hanging out with Aly, and join her aboard the crazy train she calls life.

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads

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COVER REVEAL: The Spiral Down by Aly Martinez

4/18/2016

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Aly Martinez has revealed the cover to The Spiral Down!
​Henry Alexander's story is a M/M romance releasing on May 17th!

The Spiral Down Cover

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I was afraid to fly.
He made me soar.
After years of climbing the ladder of success in the music industry, I finally had 
everything I could want. 
Yet I still found myself wandering through life alone.
Captain Evan Roth was the one man I never saw coming. 
Tall, dark, mysterious… Straight. 
We were both damaged beyond repair and searching for something so elusive we 
weren’t sure it even existed.
But, when two broken souls collide in midair, falling is a given.
I just never expected to crave the spiral down.


ADD TO YOUR TBR HERE

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Quarry's highly anticipated story is now available:  Fighting Solitude by Aly Martinez

2/4/2016

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Fighting Solitude is Book Three in the On The Ropes Series by Aly Martinez and is Quarry’s highly anticipated story.

Now Available!

​Read an excerpt & enter to win a $50 Amazon Gift Card!

Prologue

“Mia!” I shouted.
It was worthless. She’d been deaf since the day I met her.
She’d never once heard my voice.
She’d never heard the deep rumble of my laugh when she was excited, signing so fast I could barely keep up.
She’d never heard my content sigh when she barged into the locker room after a fight—just her presence soothed the lingering madness brewing within me.
She’d never heard me whispering my deepest fears into her ear as she fell asleep on top of me.
She’d never heard the reverence in which I cried her name each and every time I took her body.
And she’d never once heard the ease in which the words I love you tumbled from my lips as I stared into her deep, jade green eyes.  
But as I screamed her name while watching her petite body seizing in the passenger seat beside me, I’d never needed her to hear me more.
“Mia. Oh God. I’ve got you, baby.”
She was still thrashing violently as I made my way around to her door, yanking it open while pleading with whatever god was willing to help.
When she stilled, a whole new level of silence filled the air around us. It wasn’t the absence of sound.
It was the absence of life.
“Mia, breathe!” I roared as her chest remained agonizingly still. “Help me!” I screamed at the closed emergency room doors, but no medical savior rushed out with the miracle I so desperately needed.
My hands shook wildly as I released her lifeless body from the seatbelt.
“I’ve got you, just hang on. Please just hang on, Mia,” I whispered lifting her into my arms and sprinting through the sliding doors. “I need a doctor! She’s not breathing!”
Nurses rushed towards me in slow motion as the seconds without air in her lungs passed at a terrifying speed.
Breathe.
A doctor appeared with a gurney and quickly took her from my arms.
The immediate loss was staggering.  
Hope became my only solace.
She needed help that I wasn’t capable of giving her, but that didn’t stop me from following close behind as they rolled her away. I was on the verge of self-destructing; letting her out of my sight wasn’t an option.
I stood motionless in the doorway while doctors and nurses swarmed around her. Their mouths moved frantically, but without my hearing aids I was worthless to make out the words their faint voices carried.
I never wore my hearing aids when I was with Mia. There was no point. She rarely spoke with her voice.
We’d spent four years building a relationship with our hands.
Those hands had told me animated stories that made me laugh until my face hurt from smiling.
They’d fought with me relentlessly, but always ended the night raking down my back in silent ecstasy.
Her fingers had fluidly signed I love you more times than I could ever count—or forget.
But as I felt the nurse attempting to physically remove me from the room, my eyes became fixated on her limp hand dangling off the side of the bed. It was the only sight more frightening than watching her flail mid-seizure.
It ripped the heart straight from my chest.
That hand was supposed to be full of life.
It was the very essence of Mia.
Pale.
White.
Still.
Oh God.
Sucking in a deep breath, I held it until the room began to spin.
It provided me no relief even as it forced me to my knees.
There would be no distraction from this.
I was going to lose her.
Yet another woman I couldn’t save.  
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Book Summary & Purchase link

I was born a fighter. Abandoned by my parents, I spent my life forging my own path--
​one guided by my fists and paved with pain.

Untouchable in the ring, I destroyed everyone who faced me, but that’s where my victories ended. Outside the ropes, I repeatedly failed the few people who loved me. Including my best friend, Liv James—the one person I’d die to protect.
Even though I didn’t deserve her, Liv never stopped believing in me. Never gave up. Never let go. After all, she understood what I’d lost, because she’d lost it too.
Liv was everything to me, but she was never truly mine.
That was going to change.
I lost my first love, but I refused to lose my soulmate.
Now, I’m on the ropes during the toughest battles of my life.
Fighting to be the man she deserves.
Fighting the solitude of our pasts.
Fighting for her.

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Teasers 
​(click on image for full view)

On the Ropes Reading Order

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Fighting Silence (Book One) 
ONLY $0.99

Fighting Shadows (Book Two) 
Now Available

Fighting Solitude (Book Three) 
​Now Availabe

MeetAly Martinez

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Born and raised in Savannah, Georgia, Aly Martinez is a stay-at-home mom to four crazy kids under the age of five, including a set of twins. Currently living in South Carolina, she passes what little free time she has reading anything and everything she can get her hands on, preferably with a glass of wine at her side.
After some encouragement from her friends, Aly decided to add “Author” to her ever-growing list of job titles. Five books later, she shows no signs of slowing. So grab a glass of Chardonnay, or a bottle if you’re hanging out with Aly, and join her aboard the crazy train she calls life.

​Stalk Aly on her Rock Star Page

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Fighting Solitude by Aly Martinez - Meet Quarry in two excerpts!

1/21/2016

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Fighting Solitude is Book Three (stand alone) in the On The Ropes Series by Aly Martinez and is Quarry’s highly anticipated story releasing February 2nd!  
Read two excerpts and don't forget to pre-order your copy of this AMAZING Fighter Romance! 


Excerpt:  Meet Quarry

“Jesus Christ, Quarry! Calm down. You’re making it worse.” Till pointed toward the building where the woman I loved lay dead in a coffin.
Oh, God.
My eyes, tunneled by rage, flashed around the mob of reporters before landing on the front steps of the funeral home, where an even bigger crowd of Mia’s friends and family were watching me violently break down—again.
“I need to get out of here,” I mumbled, straightening my shirt.
“Good idea,” he replied, shoving me toward my car. “I’ll drive.”
“No. I want to be alone.”
“You can’t drive right now, Q.”
“Watch me.”
“You cannot be behind the wheel…” He carried on with some explanation, but I was more than done listening. The silence had never sounded so good.
Looking up at the sky, I sucked in a breath so deep that it caused my lungs to ache. I refused to release it though.
Don’t exhale.
Ignoring Till’s protests, I dug my keys from my pocket and folded into my car. Barely managing to squeeze around the relentless reporters, I started toward the exit.
This is not happening.
Don’t breathe.
My lungs were on fire, but it felt a hell of a lot better than what was going on in my heart, so I bit my lip and let it blaze—praying that it would eventually engulf me.
Glancing in my review mirror, I saw the cops rolling into the parking lot, but that wasn’t what made me stop. My breath left me on a rush as I slammed on the brakes the moment she came into view.
Liv was standing in the middle of the road, staring at my taillights.
Her big, brown eyes were as empty as I felt, and her face was painted with absolute anguish. Without out a single second of hesitation, I leaned over and pushed the passenger’s side door open in invitation. In a pair of heels and a short, black dress, she sprinted forward, not slowing until her ass hit my leather seat. Her door hadn’t even shut before I was off again.
After turning her cell phone off, she tossed it in the glove box. Mine quickly followed. She didn’t ask any questions as I pulled onto the highway in the exact opposite direction of both of our apartments. She didn’t want to go home any more than I did.
Our destination was unknown, and that alone made it infinitely better than the one we’d just left.  
I drove.
And drove.
Then, when I was sick and tired of aimlessly driving, I drove some more.
With the exception of Liv flipping the radio on when the sun went down, we sat in absolute silence for over four hours.
Alone, yet still together.
Finally, around ten p.m., with an empty tank of gas and sleepy eyes, I slipped into a parking space in front of the apartment Liv and Mia shared. Liv didn’t delay in pushing the door open, but that’s the only effort she put into getting out.
Dropping her head against the headrest, she whispered at the windshield, “Her parents told me she left letters for us. We can pick them up whenever we’re ready.”
“I don’t want a fucking letter. She lied. She’s sorry. I got it. Nothing left to say.”
“Maybe it will explain stuff though. It might help.”
My angry gaze jumped to her, but she was still staring out the window.
“Will it bring her back?” I asked. “No? Then I don’t need a goddamn letter. Fuck that. Fuck her parents too. I don’t want shit from them.”
“They didn’t kill her, Quarry.”
“How can you say that?”
Her eyes finally met mine. “It was what Mia wanted. She signed the Do Not Resuscitate order, not them.”
“What the fuck are you doing here? Please, God, tell me you are not actually siding with them? Because, if I recall correctly, we both begged them not to give up on her. They didn’t give a shit about anyone. Liv, they didn’t even get a second opinion.”
“I’m not siding with anyone but Mia. She made a choice. We have to respect it.” Her expression was emotionless, even though her voice trembled.
“Respect it? Fuck her shitty choice. She should have respected me enough to let me have a say.”
She laughed without humor. “You never would have let her go, Q.”
I slammed the heel of my palm against the steering wheel. “You’re goddamn right I wouldn’t have!”
“She had brain cancer. It was going to happen one way or another. She knew it. And she made a decision. We don’t get to be mad about that.”
“Get the fuck out of my car.”
“No. Listen to me—”
“I’ll start listening the moment you stop spouting the bullshit her parents shoved down your throat tonight.”
She raised her voice for the first time all day. “It’s the truth!”
“It’s bullshit! All of it. How am I supposed to respect the fact that she lied to me for six months? Six fucking months that I could have used to prepare for this.”
“Oh my God, Quarry!” she yelled, exasperated. “Do you seriously think six months could have ever prepared you for this? I could have known since the day I met her and I still wouldn’t have been ready to lose her.”
“I could have tried! I could have spent that time devoted to being with her instead of traveling to fights. Jesus Christ, Liv, last weekend, I went out with the guys from the gym to play pool. The last fucking Saturday night of her life on this Earth and I was shooting pool with a bunch of assholes I can barely stand. Six months she kept the fact that she was dying a secret. Six. Fucking. Months. You’re right. I wouldn’t have been ready to let her go, but at least I could have figured out how to say goodbye. Instead, all I got was to squeeze her hand, say, ‘I love you,’ and then be escorted out of the hospital by security. Fuck!”
“That’s because you were acting like a fool and threatening her family! That was your choice!”
“Get the fuck out of my car. Now!”
“And it’s also the reason you got thrown out of the visitation tonight. Get your shit together or you won’t be allowed at the funeral tomorrow.”
“I don’t want to go to the funeral!” I shouted at the top of my lungs, making her flinch. “I don’t want there to be a funeral at all. Now, I’m serious. Get. The fuck. Out. Of my car.”
Through gritted teeth, she seethed, “You know what I’ll never understand? How you claim to be so in love with her, but in this entire conversation, I haven’t heard you say a single word that wasn’t about you. How this affects you. How this hurt you. Last time I checked, you aren’t the one being buried tomorrow.”
“I wish I were!”
“Fuck you! The world doesn’t revolve around Quarry Page!” With that, she jumped out and slammed the door.
I didn’t even wait for her to make it to the sidewalk before I was peeling out of the parking lot.
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Book Summary & Pre-order link

**Special Pre-order Pricing!**

I was born a fighter. Abandoned by my parents, I spent my life forging my own path—one guided by my fists and paved with pain.
Untouchable in the ring, I destroyed everyone who faced me, but that’s where my victories ended. Outside the ropes, I repeatedly failed the few people who loved me. Including my best friend, Liv James—the one person I’d die to protect.
Even though I didn’t deserve her, Liv never stopped believing in me. Never gave up. Never let go. After all, she understood what I’d lost, because she’d lost it too.
Liv was everything to me, but she was never truly mine.
That was going to change.
I lost my first love, but I refused to lose my soulmate.
Now, I’m on the ropes during the toughest battles of my life.
Fighting to be the man she deserves.
Fighting the solitude of our pasts.
Fighting for her.

Teasers 
​(click on image for full view)

More...Fighting Solitude

Her eyes grew wide. “They scheduled a rematch?” she breathed.
I’d spent the night lusting over her as she’d pranced around the ballroom. Thoughts of taking her on every horizontal surface had filled my mind for the majority of the evening. But right then, as she stared up at me with a mixture of surprise and elation, all because I was going to get something I truly wanted in life, a warmth I hadn’t felt in years washed over me.
“No, Liv. We’re getting a rematch.”
Her eyes flashed between mine as she silently held my gaze. Pride and affirmation filled my chest from her unspoken praise.
God. This woman.
She was so fucking beautiful.
Guiding her injured hand to my chest, I fought the urge to kiss her.
She was close. It wouldn’t have taken much.
I could have gripped her neck and tilted her head back. Leaning down, I could have brushed my lips against hers. She would have gasped, unsure of what to make of it. But, even in her confusion, her nipples would have swelled. Her breathing would have sped in what she would claim was nerves, but we’d both know that it was pure and erotic desire. Her feet would shuffle forward until those round breasts were compressed against my abs. Her hands would immediately snake around my waist for balance just before her eyes fluttered shut in invitation.
I wouldn’t kiss her yet. No. I’d simply watch her face soften and her lips part in anticipation. Sliding my free hand up her side, I’d whisper my breath across her mouth, denying us both the contact we so desperately needed. Goose bumps would pebble her otherwise smooth skin as I made my way up to cup her jaw. Then I’d graze my thumb over her plump bottom lip until her tongue peeked out to dampen it. With a deep breath, I’d fill my lungs with the intoxicating mixture of champagne and Liv James—holding it impossibly long for no other reason than it had once been hers. I’d continue to ghost my lips over hers, torturing us both, until her eyes finally opened, dark with need. She would whisper my name as a question, and then and only then, when I was positive she was drenched, primed, and ablaze, would I crush my mouth over hers for the first time.
Deep.
Languid.
Hard.
Reverent.
Liv.
“Oh my God!” she yelled, snapping me back to reality. Throwing her arms around my neck, she pulled me in for a tight celebratory hug.
Meanwhile, the warmth in my chest disappeared as I mourned the loss of a moment that had never truly been mine to claim.
I had to get over this bullshit with her.
Or...figure out a way to get her on the same page as me.
Both seemed equally as impossible.

Series Reading Order:  On the Ropes

Fighting Silence, On the Ropes, Fighter Romance, Aly Martinez
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Fighting Silence
 ON SALE NOW: $0.99 

Fighting Shadows

Fighting Solitude

Meet Aly Martinez

Aly Martinez, On the Ropes
Born and raised in Savannah, Georgia, Aly Martinez is a stay-at-home mom to four crazy kids under the age of five, including a set of twins. Currently living in South Carolina, she passes what little free time she has reading anything and everything she can get her hands on, preferably with a glass of wine at her side.
After some encouragement from her friends, Aly decided to add “Author” to her ever-growing list of job titles. Five books later, she shows no signs of slowing. So grab a glass of Chardonnay, or a bottle if you’re hanging out with Aly, and join her aboard the crazy train she calls life.

​Stalk Aly Martinez on her Rock Star Author Page



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Fighting Solitude by Aly Martinez is Quarry's On The Ropes Story! 

12/10/2015

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Fighting Solitude is Book Three in the On The Ropes Series by
​Aly Martinez and is Quarry’s highly anticipated story releasing February 2nd!
Read the prologue and be sure to pre-order your copy while the special pre-order price lasts!  

Prologue:  Fighting Solitude
Quarry Paige

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“Mia!” I shouted.
It was worthless. She’d been deaf since the day I met her.
She’d never once heard my voice.
She’d never heard the deep rumble of my laugh when she was excited, signing so fast I could barely keep up.
She’d never heard my content sigh when she barged into the locker room after a fight—just her presence soothed the lingering madness brewing within me.
She’d never heard me whispering my deepest fears into her ear as she fell asleep on top of me.
She’d never heard the reverence in which I cried her name each and every time I took her body.
And she’d never once heard the ease in which the words I love you tumbled from my lips as I stared into her deep, jade green eyes.  
But as I screamed her name while watching her petite body seizing in the passenger seat beside me, I’d never needed her to hear me more.
“Mia. Oh God. I’ve got you, baby.”
She was still thrashing violently as I made my way around to her door, yanking it open while pleading with whatever god was willing to help.
When she stilled, a whole new level of silence filled the air around us. It wasn’t the absence of sound.
It was the absence of life.
“Mia, breathe!” I roared as her chest remained agonizingly still. “Help me!” I screamed at the closed emergency room doors, but no medical savior rushed out with the miracle I so desperately needed.
My hands shook wildly as I released her lifeless body from the seatbelt.
“I’ve got you, just hang on. Please just hang on, Mia,” I whispered lifting her into my arms and sprinting through the sliding doors. “I need a doctor! She’s not breathing!”
Nurses rushed towards me in slow motion as the seconds without air in her lungs passed at a terrifying speed.
Breathe.
A doctor appeared with a gurney and quickly took her from my arms.
The immediate loss was staggering.  
Hope became my only solace.
She needed help that I wasn’t capable of giving her, but that didn’t stop me from following close behind as they rolled her away. I was on the verge of self-destructing; letting her out of my sight wasn’t an option.
I stood motionless in the doorway while doctors and nurses swarmed around her. Their mouths moved frantically, but without my hearing aids I was worthless to make out the words their faint voices carried.
I never wore my hearing aids when I was with Mia. There was no point. She rarely spoke with her voice.
We’d spent four years building a relationship with our hands.
Those hands had told me animated stories that made me laugh until my face hurt from smiling.
They’d fought with me relentlessly, but always ended the night raking down my back in silent ecstasy.
Her fingers had fluidly signed I love you more times than I could ever count—or forget.
But as I felt the nurse attempting to physically remove me from the room, my eyes became fixated on her limp hand dangling off the side of the bed. It was the only sight more frightening than watching her flail mid-seizure.
It ripped the heart straight from my chest.
That hand was supposed to be full of life.
It was the very essence of Mia.
Pale.
White.
Still.
Oh God.
Sucking in a deep breath, I held it until the room began to spin.
It provided me no relief even as it forced me to my knees.
There would be no distraction from this.
I was going to lose her.
Yet another woman I couldn’t save.  ​

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Book Summary & Fighting Solitude Pre-order link
**special pricing**

I was born a fighter. Abandoned by my parents, I spent my life forging my own path--
one guided by my fists and paved with pain.

Untouchable in the ring, I destroyed everyone who faced me, but that’s where my victories ended. Outside the ropes, I repeatedly failed the few people who loved me. Including my best friend, Liv James--
the one person I’d die to protect.

Even though I didn’t deserve her, Liv never stopped believing in me. Never gave up. Never let go. After all, she understood what I’d lost, because she’d lost it too.
Liv was everything to me, but she was never truly mine.
That was going to change.
I lost my first love, but I refused to lose my soulmate.
Now, I’m on the ropes during the toughest battles of my life.
Fighting to be the man she deserves.
Fighting the solitude of our pasts.
Fighting for her.
Pre-order Fighting Solitude

Read the ENTIRE On the Ropes Series 

Meet Aly Martinez

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Born and raised in Savannah, Georgia, Aly Martinez is a stay-at-home mom to four crazy kids under the age of five, including a set of twins. Currently living in South Carolina, she passes what little free time she has reading anything and everything she can get her hands on, preferably with a glass of wine at her side.
After some encouragement from her friends, Aly decided to add “Author” to her ever-growing list of job titles. Five books later, she shows no signs of slowing. So grab a glass of Chardonnay, or a bottle if you’re hanging out with Aly, and join her aboard the crazy train she calls life.
Stalk Aly Martinez on her Rock Star Author Page

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