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♥ My Thoughts: I was speechless. This is my first time to read books from both authors, and I wasn’t disappointed. I finished this book in one sitting, because there was NOOOOOO way I was going to put this down without knowing what was happening. This was the kind of book you took a gamble on and end up winning so much than you have ever expected.
The words were perfect – it heartwarming, heartbreaking, inspiring and filled with so much emotions. My heart was overwhelmed by the rollercoaster of emotions, the surprising twist and turns and the heart-stopping ending of this book. I thought my heart stopped for a while there. I was ready for a different ending, only to be offered by another (which was a complete relief!)
Another second-chance romance that I am sure you will add on top of your favorite list, because it is already in mine. This is one of the most beautiful novels I have ever read this year. This second-chance story does not only pertain to love, but to life as well. This story was about forgiveness and moving on. And I must say, this will solidify your faith in fate. Because it really moves in mysterious ways. If you are meant to be, no matter what the distance is, or how long you have been apart – when you are meant to be, fate will always find a way to bring the person back to you.
Besides the characters, one of my favorite parts in this novel is the letters. I really appreciate it started with snail mail. I always love written letters, and what are the odds this will bring them back together, right? Every letter you read is filled with emotion: it can make you smile, touch your heart, and make you swoon. The letters have helped the both of them, not just connect with each other, but heal from every pain that life threw at them.
Lover’s Lament was more than just a great read. I can’t recommend this book enough, Five stars isn’t enough the way this book have moved and shook me.
♥ Recommended For: This is perfect for fans of Nicholas Sparks who loves (and is desperate for) an HEA.
Characters - 5
Plot - 5
Steam - 5
Cover - 5
Romance - 5
Pacing - 5
I wake before the sun has checked in for the day and scan the tent, noting my men still sleeping heavily. My morning ritual, at least the days I have time to do it, requires a bit of privacy, and I make certain I have it before I begin. Most of these clowns will just jerk it from their cots in the middle of the night with the rest of us passed out around them. There’s always been something odd about that to me. On a regular basis, I've woken up to the sounds of heavy breathing and skin slapping skin, and it pisses me the fuck off. If I’m not dog-tired, they’ll get a boot heaved in their direction, aimed straight for the dick and with the express purpose of putting them out of business for a while.
No, jackin’ the beanstalk in public isn’t for me. Unfortunately, that leaves only one other place to do it—the Drop Zone. Porta-shitters, as we like to call them, sit for weeks without being emptied and capture every bit of the sun’s heat. It’s like a fucking greenhouse in there, and one breath in that motherfucker while beating off and your dick is in full retreat.
So there’s a trick to doing this just right; you have to prep him first. You get him up and going, and then you quickly finish in the shitter. For most of these guys, the bikini-clad chicks above their cots or the porno mags stashed in their bags are a necessity for a proper jerk-off, but I'm an imaginative guy. I close my eyes and my mind becomes like a time machine of fuck. Marilyn Monroe in Some Like it Hot ... bam! … cum everywhere. Farrah Fawcett in her iconic red swimsuit bent over the counter ... set the time machine and go. This time my mind goes for none other than Jackie O. She’s spread-eagle, with my tongue lightly flicking her throbbing clit while she's begging for my dick. And, of course, I’m making her call me Mr. President. I laugh at the last thought but notice it's at least gotten the job started. Since my dick is half-mast and ticking its way to full form, I slink my way to the tent’s entrance.
Stepping out, I’m met by the sun creeping softly over the tops of the barriers, and I hurry toward the porta-shitters, positioned just past the Humvees in front of the eastern wall. This two-hundred-yard walk is the most important part of the process. You have to walk with speed but not urgency, in hopes that you don't attract attention from the few others also awake—all while the imagined porn still reels in your head.
I manage to make it into the shitter undetected and quickly go to work on my shaft while my left hand pinches my nose like a vise and my eyes squeeze tightly shut. Only this time it isn’t someone famous that I picture. It’s Katie.
Even as early as it is, the Drop Zone is like a sauna, and beads of sweat collect on my forehead. I try desperately to hold in my breath as the seconds tick down. Just as my lungs begin to demand air and my body stiffens, I toss my head back with a stifled groan. My body recovers from its high much quicker in this setting, but at least the job is done. Two weeks of combat stress gone, just like that.