Wednesday, November 30, 2016

RELEASE BLITZ AND REVIEW -- Michelle Irwin's PHOBIC!!!




Title: Phobic
Series: Phoebe Reede: The Untold Story #2
Author: Michelle Irwin
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: November 30, 2016



Blurb

Sometimes starting over is the only choice.

Broken-hearted and looking for revenge, Phoebe Reede heads back to the US to take up a new challenge. Only, when she discovers who her teammate and rival is, the challenge might prove too great.

While she knew life away from home wouldn’t be easy, she never expected to be faced with an unpleasant surprise from her ex-boyfriend, or to be as drawn to him as ever. She needs to remain professional and push aside her feelings for him, but will she let someone else steal her heart away instead?

What will it take to prove she’s not afraid to take the risk?






Purchase Links

AMAZON US / UK / AU
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Review
[Janet]
Amazon/Goodreads Rating:  5/5
In Patti's Imagination Rating: 10/10

Phobic is book two in the Phoebe Reede series and you will need to read book one prior to reading this book.  Also, be warned you will find spoilers from book one in this review.  Book one had ended in a slight cliffhanger and we pick up right where book one ended.  Be prepared, Phobic is not a light or quick read and will have you on a nonstop ride from page one and wanting more when you arrive at the end.
Phoebe had made her decision to still go to the US and to take on the racing contract her parents negotiated for her.  Life is not easy for Phoebe now that she is back in the US.  Things she thought, just are not what they are and the many different twists and turns will find yourself enjoying every corner.  She couldn’t let them down even though she is broken up over the break up with Beau, she needs to prove that she can do this.  Things are not easy for Phoebe; especially once she arrives and discovers who one of her teammate is.  Along with that fact, she has to deal with many of the other drivers who feel she doesn’t deserve her spot on the team and that daddy bought her way in.  So she not only is dealing with being away from her family, she has to deal with a team that doesn’t want her there.  Will Phoebe be able to stay professional in this male dominated business and prove herself while dealing with unexpected and unpleasant surprises or will she end up returning home?
The attention to detail is awesome and the author has really done her research with things for this book.  Plus, you get so involved in the characters that you feel like they are friends as you take part in what is happening.  There were plenty of times that I was yelling at Beau and even Phoebe for things they are doing.  Why can’t they just listen but then we wouldn’t have this wonderful book and series .  It was great catching up with some characters from the Declan series and not so great learning about others.  As like book one, this ends in a slight cliffhanger, too.  Now to try and patiently wait for the next book because I need to know.  



Excerpt

“I’m afraid my granddaughter has forgotten her manners,” Nana said, sticking out her hand. “You must be Beau.”

I clenched my jaw. Her casual mention of his name, as if his identity was the most obvious thing in the world, had to have made it clear I’d been talking about him. That was the last thing I wanted him to know. Still, it was too late to change it. “Sorry, Beau, this is my nana, uh, Kelly Reede.”

“Nice to meet you, Mrs Reede. I can see where Phoebe got her enchanting eyes.”

“It’s Ms actually. It has been ever since I left my husband for his constant cheating.”

I wanted the ground to tear apart and swallow me whole. For half a second, I debated trying to fake a sudden and unexpected emergency just to get out of the room. She’d stuck with Granddad for a long time after the first time he’d cheated, but with Dad’s help had eventually found the strength to leave. After that, her confidence had only blossomed and she’d grown more and more like Dad all the time. Now, she often said the thoughts that crossed her mind without thinking through all of the consequences.

Beau’s eyes narrowed. “Well, I guess it’s not just the eyes that run in the family,” he muttered under his breath. He shook off the mood an instant later. “It was lovely to meet you, Ms Reede. It’s always nice getting any insight into our Phoebe. She’s a bit of an enigma.”

It was Nana’s turn to frown as her gaze spun to me. “That’s odd, because we’ve always found her to be a straight shooter, just like her Dad.”

“Maybe it’s just us guys she likes to play ’round with.”

My hands found my hips. “Maybe she’s in the fucking room and you should both stop talking about her like she’s not.”

“Phoebe!” Nana exclaimed.

Beau’s gaze was fixed on me, his lips curled up into a snarl. He dropped the expression a second later when he turned back to Nana. “Don’t worry about it, Ms Reede. I’m used to her gutter mouth. She’s turned it on me often enough. Haven’t ya, darlin’?”

I wanted to turn it on him again. My fingers clenched and unclenched at my side. “If there’s nothing else you wanted, I think we’ll be going now.”

“Actually, I was hopin’ to have a word or two with ya alone.” Beau’s gaze turned from me back to my nana. “If ya don’t mind. It won’t take a minute.”

I could feel Nana’s gaze passing between Beau and me. “Not at all,” she said after a moment. “I’ll go sign myself out and wait in the car.”

It would have been so much easier if she’d said no. If she’d demanded my undivided attention while she was in the country. Instead, a minute later I was face-to-face with Beau.

Alone.





Also Available


Living in the shadow of a legend has its drawbacks.

Every aspect of Phoebe Reede’s life has been defined by her father. Caught halfway between being a teen and an adult, she yearns to break free from the weight of expectations surrounding the Reede name.

Her desire for freedom sends her overseas on her first solo journey. There, she finds herself having an unexpected adventure with an unlikely person.

How can she learn who she wants to be and what is nothing more than a phase?


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Purchase Links

AMAZON US / UK / AU
BOOKS2READ






Author Bio

Michelle Irwin has been many things in her life: a hobbit taking a precious item to a fiery mountain; a young child stepping through the back of a wardrobe into another land; the last human stranded not-quite-alone in space three million years in the future; a young girl willing to fight for the love of a vampire; and a time-travelling madman in a box. She achieved all of these feats and many more through her voracious reading habit. Eventually, so much reading had to have an effect and the cast of characters inside her mind took over and spilled out onto the page.

Michelle lives in sunny Queensland in the land down under with her surprisingly patient husband and ever-intriguing daughter, carving out precious moments of writing and reading time around her accounts-based day job. A lover of love and overcoming the odds, she primarily writes paranormal and fantasy romance.



Author Links





Giveaway

Tuesday, November 29, 2016

RELEASE BLITZ for J C Valentine's BURIED SECRETS

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Buried Secrets

by J.C. Valentine

Genres: Adult, New Adult, Mystery, Thriller, YA, Suspense

Publication Date: November 29, 2016

Synopsis:
 How do you live with yourself when you don’t even know who you are?
On a chill October night, a girl goes missing setting the small town of Oakridge on edge. James has spent the last five years running from a past that still haunts him to this day. Now he finds himself thrust back into a life he thought he left behind. Finding out his new home may be haunted and reconnecting with an old friend while being thrust into a murder mystery, James finds himself trying to figure out which end is up while questioning his own sanity.
**AUTHOR’S NOTE** 
Buried Secrets is a New Adult, mystery thriller with very little romance but heavy on the suspense.

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Paperback: 
Amazon CA: 
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EXCERPT

Blackness surrounded him, its endless pools of ink swallowing him whole. He couldn’t see his hand in front of his face, but he felt the terror seeping through his skin, past his bones and making its way down to his very soul.
James knew he was in the throes of one of his nightmares again. He could never make out a thing, just knew the feeling it left him with.
He tried to make himself wake up, but couldn’t find his way out. The feeling that someone was coming for him caused panic to swell and his heart to accelerate, threatening to break free from his chest.
Not knowing what was coming, fear lacerating his insides, James started to run blindly. In his bed, his feet kicked out wildly, tangling in the linens and ratcheting up his terror, because to James, he was trapped.
 His breathing labored and coming in short, sharp bursts, James cried out at the same time his body bolted upright in the bed. Sweat beaded on his brow and dampened his skin, his clothes suctioned to his body uncomfortably. He was clammy and winded, shaken, but he already felt better for knowing he was free from that awful feeling of suffocating terror that had threatened to overtake him just moments ago.   
Scrubbing his hands down his face, James breathed deeply, hanging his head to his chest while his body calmed. As his adrenalin levels normalized, and he began to feel more like himself, James gave a final sigh of relief. Stabbing his fingers through his hair, he was readying himself to try to go back to sleep when he looked up and choked on his breath. 
His entire body went rigid in an instant. His breathing, his heartbeat. Everything ceased to work. In the next instant James threw himself back against his headboard, fear gripping him once again. 
He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He would chance rubbing his eyes to be sure his vision was true, only he was too frightened of what he would find once he opened them again.
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ABOUT J.C. VALENTINE

JC Valentine
J.C. Valentine is the USA Today and International bestselling author of the Night Calls and Wayward Fighters Series and the Forbidden Series. Her vivid imagination and love of words and romance had her penning her own romance stories from an early age, which, despite being poorly edited and written longhand, she forced friends and family members to read. No, she isn’t sorry.
J.C. earned her own happily ever after when she married her high school sweetheart. Living in the Northwest, they have three amazing children and far too many pets and spend much of their free time together enjoying movies or the outdoors. Among the many hats she wears, J.C. is an entrepreneur. Having graduated with honors, she holds a Bachelor’s in English and when she isn’t writing, you can find her editing for fellow authors.
Sign up for J.C.’s newsletter and never miss a thing! http://bit.ly/1KxXWWB

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Monday, November 28, 2016

COVER REVEAL -- Molly McAdams' BLACKBIRD!!

Title: Blackbird
Author: Molly McAdams
Series: A Redemption Novel
Genre: Romantic Suspense
Releasing February 28th, 2017

Cover Design: r.b.a DESIGNS

“Consuming. Enthralling. Sexy. MIND-BLOWING. From the very first line to the very last page, Blackbird sank into me and didn’t let me go. This is Molly McAdams at her best! A must-read that will have you questioning all your emotions as you fall in love with this unforgettable story.” – New York Times bestselling author, AL Jackson

From New York Times bestselling author Molly McAdams comes a powerhouse romantic suspense that will have you questioning your morals and second guessing your view on love.
I live in a world few know exist. I’ve trained for this. I know what to say, what to do, and how to act. I’ve perfected the lethal calm required for this life.
Now it’s time to buy my first girl. But all it takes is one look at the brave girl who starts singing mid-auction for that calm to slip.
Briar Chapman is going to be the death of me, and I don’t care. I’ll take every day with her until that death comes, and I’ll welcome it when it does.
On the outside, Lucas Holt is what nightmares are made of. A man cloaked in darkness, with sin-filled eyes and an enticing grin. A devil so devastatingly beautiful and cruel that his very presence instills fear.
But beneath his terrifying, ever-calm exterior is an affectionate man haunted by a past that refuses to stay buried. And Lucas looks at me as though he’s finally found the only person who can make it all go away.
We’re a battle of the brightest day and the darkest night—and I want to lie in the wake of our war.

Exclusive iBooks Pre-Order

Read a SAMPLE of BLACKBIRD on iBooks!



Molly grew up in California but now lives in the oh-so-amazing state of Texas with her husband, daughter, and fur babies. When she’s not diving into the world of her characters, some of her hobbies include hiking, snowboarding, traveling, and long walks on the beach … which roughly translates to being a homebody with her hubby and dishing out movie quotes. She has a weakness for crude-humored movies and fried pickles, and loves curling up in a fluffy comforter during a thunderstorm … or under one in a bathtub if there are tornados. That way she can pretend they aren’t really happening.
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RELEASE DAY BLITZ AND EXCERPT -- Nicola Rendell's HAIL MARY!!


  



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At a boxing gym in Chicago, Mary Monahan accidentally knocks out the most handsome man she’s ever met. After she wakes him up with a few slaps and some smelling salts, the very first thing he does is ask her out for ribs and beer. His name is Jimmy. He looks like a Gillette model. And he’s just too hunky to resist.

Jimmy “The Falcon” Falconi is mystified that Mary has absolutely no idea who he is. Mystified and refreshed. He is, after all, not your everyday NFL quarterback. He shops at Costco, has a soft spot for Pinterest, and is in the midst of an epic losing streak.

Jimmy falls for Mary fast and hard, the way he does everything—balls out and like it’s fourth and long. And he realizes he’s finally met his match. That stamina he’s so proud of? Doesn’t stand a chance against her Kegels.

But what they don’t know is she’s also his new physical therapist, recently hired by the Bears to work on his rotator cuff…and groin injury. If she can’t help him, he’ll be traded faster than they can say “offensive penetration.”

In spite of the thousands of internet memes featuring Jimmy’s face with captions like: “HEY GIRL, WANT TO TOUCH MY BALLS?” Mary finds herself falling for him and his unrelenting desire to make her his.

Until a toddler shows up at Jimmy’s door.

And throws their lives into total chaos.

***

To the reader: Contents includes love, sweetness, naughtiness, honey, champagne, and an HEA. Safe.










Chapter 1
Jimmy


She’s got a hell of a left hook, and her jab is no joke either. It’s hard to tell what she really looks like, with the big blue rubber mouth guard between her teeth and the black padded headgear covering her jaw and cheeks. But I know this: I want to get my hands on that body. Her tight pink tee is low cut and skin tight, and across her breasts are the words: “NOBODY’S PUSSYCAT.”
A cold draft blows in from the window, making goosebumps ripple up her arms. A thin stream of sweat runs down into her cleavage, and then I watch her nipples tighten. Christ. With little bounces, she heads back to her corner and bends over for her water bottle. Stretchy black leggings and no panty line.
Fuuuuuck.
The buzzer dings and we square up. She holds her gloves up to her face, ready to go. They’re bubblegum pink with white cuffs; the girliest weapons I’ve ever seen.
But never mind the gloves. It’s those eyes that have me. Shit, those eyes. This crazy deep green. Packers’ green. Jets’ green. Green like cash. Green that could make a guy go right out of his mind.
​Pow goes a jab into my stomach and I double over, tasting my Gatorade from an hour ago. Before I can breathe, before I can even get up my gloves to slow her down, she pelts me hard with a cross to my sternum that knocks the wind straight out of me. I gasp for air and stagger back into the ropes.
​“Jesus Christ,” I moan. “Who are you?”
​Her eyes light up in this smile. This beautiful fucking smile that I feel way down inside. Then she bounces on her toes and smacks her gloves together out in front of her. Whap, whap. “I’m Mary!” she says around her mouth guard. “And you’re slow!”
Cute. But, yeah…no. Nobody talks to me like that. Nobody. I hurl myself off the ropes, colliding with her in the center of the ring, skin against skin now. I press into her sexy shoulder with my bicep, feeling the sweat between us. She nails me in the gut again; a solid, low-slung straight, and I think, I can’ t hit a girl, can I?
No. Fuck, no.
So I stretch my arm between us, the padding of my glove holding her steady right below her collarbone. She swings for me but I’m a foot taller and she doesn’t stand a chance. “Jerk!”
Obviously.
But on the upside, now I can really get a good look at her the way I want to; close up, but not so close that she’s pummeling me. Her legs are solid and I can even see that little curve of her hipbones barely showing through her leggings. I let my eyes follow the line of sweat to her inner thighs, to that wet, hot place where everything comes together. Fuck. I want my hands on that place. I want to feel the softness and the strength. I want to know the taste of that sweat. The way that softness gives under my tongue.
Ding goes the buzzer. I push her away, padded knuckles to her shoulder. She spins and gets into her corner, so I do the same.
I grab my water bottle and squirt it into my mouth, watching her all the time. She’s fucking beautiful, this one. Fucking gorgeous. The woman of dreams. Of fantasies.
From a pink Nalgene, she takes one big gulp, two, and a little water dribbles down her lips, rolling in drops down her throat. Her eyes stay right on mine. Her chest heaves. Her eyes flash. Her lips tighten. And that’s when it happens. She peels off her T-shirt and tosses it to the floor so that the only word showing is PUSSY.
Ding.
Her body is fucking perfect. I mean perfect. I moan into my mouth guard and I look her up and down. Lean but not thin. Sexy and strong. A fighter’s body. A woman’s body. A body strong enough to take everything I want to give it. And then some.
She turns to set down her water bottle, bending at the waist. And that’s when I see it. The tattoo. It’s a ribbon of black lace that runs in a beautiful, feminine line down her back from right shoulder to left hip, curving down into her pants. Tough as hell, pretty as can be. And with the sexiest tattoo I've ever seen in my life.
Stick a motherfucking fork in me. I’m done.
“Nice ink,” I tell her as we square up again.
“Thanks,” she says, leaning in to my shoulder.
“I’ve never seen one like it.” I hook my arm around her again and pull her in. I smell something familiar. I can’t place it. She slips free and moves behind me. For one second, all I can hear is her shoes on the mats.
“I rebelled when I turned 30. It was either this or a tramp stamp.”
“Of what?” I pivot so my face is close against hers.
“Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee.” She smiles tight around the mouth guard. Her glove comes through the air, cutting through the noise of the gym. Whooosh.
I get my right hand up just in time to block her with my glove. The impact rolls down my forearm like I’m nothing but Jell-O.
​She lets another jab fly but misses me—barely—and I slip around behind her. The hair at the nape of her neck is curly and wet, and a long dark braid runs down her back. That strip of wet fabric at the top of her pants, dark with sweat. “Why are we fighting?” I growl as I get closer. “Why aren’t we out drinking? Making trouble? Fucking around? Let me take you out.”
​She spins to face me, her eyes wide open, surprised. “You wanna drink with me?”
​“Hell yes, I do. And a lot of other things.”
“You want me? Fight me.” She fires her bubblegum pink cannons at my stomach with a one-two combination that makes me feel like I’m nothing but a 283-pound heavy bag.
​I try to get in a left cross, but she’s way faster than I am and comes up from under with a hook straight out of Manila.
That one got me in my brainpan, in my marrow. “Fuck that,” I snarl.
​“Atta boy!”
No way. Nobody atta boys me. I’m Jimmy Goddamned Falconi. I’m nobody’s boy. Never.
“Atta girl.” I nudge her in the shoulder with my chest.
​Around her guard, she says, “You fight like you’re in molasses. But you’re strong. You some kind of athlete?”
At first, I’m about to laugh. For about one second, I think I might be on Candid Camera or something. I mean, I can’t walk to the bathroom on an airplane without someone asking me to sign a cocktail napkin. I can’t get through Costco without someone asking me to sign their shopping list. Some kind of athlete?
​I’m Jimmy “The Falcon” Falconi. Quarterback for the Chicago Goddamned Bears. I’m somebody.
But there’s zero recognition in her eyes. No flicker of the fangirl. No sign she’s playing it cool either. To her, I’m just a guy getting his ass kicked by a girl in pink gloves.
​“Hello?” She presses into my chin with a slow uppercut from the right.
​I snap out of it. I don’t even know how to answer her. I play quarterback for the Bears. Ever heard of them? Or maybe, Ever heard of football? America’s Game? Fuck. I wouldn’t even know how to start. I’ve never had to explain it. People just know. “Yeah, I like to work out.”
​“Then act like it,” she says, all piss and vinegar, and puts her guard back in her mouth. Wham comes that jab into my gut. Pow goes the straight to my pecs. I loop one arm around her and pull her body in close, hooking the back of her neck with the crook of my elbow. I pull her closer, tighter, both arms around her, to get a feel for her…but also to give myself a goddamned break.
She struggles a little, trying to squirm free, but I see the smile on her face, the crinkle of the skin at her eyes.
I pull her head closer to mine. I must be twice her weight; no way is she going to get free now. We are the welterweight and the super heavyweight. Wrong class totally. But then she wedges her forehead in against my chest. I watch her wind up, her biceps flexing, and, boom-boom-boom.
Every time she connects, I lose a little more air and groan, “Fuck-fuck-fuck!”
“Atta boy!”
Fuck. That.
So I keep her pinned and she starts fighting harder, which makes me want to hang on to her more. I press my nose against her head. In her thick brown hair, I can smell her shampoo, her conditioner. Coconut.
​While I’m distracted by that smell, thinking of sunscreen and ukulele music and drinks with umbrellas and her on a beach, she slips out from under my arms and pops up in my face.
​Well, shit.
​“What, you chicken? Gonna hit me back? Or do you want to dance around for an hour or two? Because I can totally do that. I just have to go home to feed the dog.” Whap-whap go her padded fists.
​Oh no, no way. No way am I going to let a pretty little thing talk to me like that. I sniff hard and man up.
I give her a jab. A hook. A cross.
And she blocks me every damned time. Blocks me like she’s fought me before, or like she’s known all along what I’ll do when it comes down to it.
Fucking wax-on-wax off, one-two-three.
Pow-pow go her gloves into my side, and fuck. I think I feel those it in my spleen. Enough. Enough. Anger boils up through me like cheap vodka after a long night.
I’m Jimmy Falconi. And I’m gonna make this girl know my name.
​I crack my neck side to side and get serious. I suck air through the holes in my mouth guard and get my fists up. I edge her into the corner and those eyes flash at me. She’s sweating hard and her mascara is smudged. Her hair is mussed and her skin is slick. It makes her look dangerous. Angry. I’d like to smudge that mascara a little more. In bed. Immediately.
​But first, I’m going to show her who’s boss.
The more she works herself up, the hotter she gets. That’s when something catches my eye. There’s something written on the white cuffs of her gloves. All fuzzy, written in black marker:
On the right glove: HERE COMES…
On the left:…TROUBLE!
Whomp.
She nails me in the jaw with a haymaker, and my molars shake. “Come the fuck on,” I growl back at her, with my glove pressed to the side of my face.
​She smacks her gloves together, and lowers her chin. “Are we sparring or chatting? Hit me!” Bounce, bounce, bounce. Butterfly, bee. Whap, whap, whap. “I’m not going to break!”
​I work my jaw open and closed a few times thinking, Okay. Fine. Fine. I didn’t think it was going to go like this, but I can roll with a hostile defense, sure. Wouldn’t be the first time. I give her the old elevator stare—up, down, up again—and get stuck on her belly button for a little too long. But then I get a game plan together. I figure I can hit her in the stomach. Not too hard, not hard enough to hurt her, but hard enough to let her know who’s in charge here.
​Which would be me. Me, pussycat. Me.
​Nudging the edge of her shoulder with my glove, I drive her backwards. Our eyes lock and I get this…this…prickle all through me.
This woman.
This one. Right here.
I want her. So fucking bad.
The fucking gym with its ten phones playing mariachi goes silent. The guys by the cooler egging her on go silent. It’s just her and me and the sweat dripping between us. Soft skin, sparkling eyes. She smells like a summer day and she’s looking at me in a way that no woman has ever looked at me. Ever.
​Like she’s gonna own me and she knows it.
​Which is bullshit.
​She gives me a little lift of her chin and tightens her lips around the guard. She wipes her nose with her glove and then lowers her head. “Come on! You going to fight or are you just going to screw around?”
​With my left hand, I jab her softly in the stomach. With the right, a play-hook to the jaw. I raise her chin on my glove so her eyes come up to mine. Then I pull her close, my arm around the back of her neck again. “You wanna screw around?” I say into her ear.
​Bam, another hit to the stomach. “I haven’t even gotten started,” she answers.
​Fuck it.
​She wants to play? Fucking fine. I'll play. I'll play hard. I square up. But she gives me this eye. This champion eye. A winner’s eye. Cocky like no eyes I've ever seen before. Tom Brady doesn’t have anything on this kind of cocky right here. My luck, this girl’s some UFC champion. Christ.
​But I can take her. Yeah, I sure fucking can.
​Probably.
​I decide on a straight jab; a no-fail straight jab that I plan just hard enough to send her reeling but not hurt her, not actually injure her. I know the punch. It works in bar fights and brawls on the field. An all-American move. As I wind up, everything slows down. I’m 6’6”, 283 pounds, and I throw a football for a living. When I wind up, I wind up. As I do, she ducks, fast as fucking lightning. Greased. Elegant. Lethal. So as my arm is powering through the air, as my momentum gets caught behind 12-ounce training gloves, she pops back up like a goddamned whack-a-mole.
​Those eyes flash again and she smiles so hard I can see her dimples.
​Dimples. Oh, fuck.
I watch her shoulder tighten, her tricep pucker, and that’s when she lets me have it for real.
The punch comes from left to right, blocking out my view of everything. I don’t see the Mexican flag on the wall. I don’t see the graffiti mural over the windows. Nope. The universe turns bubblegum pink.
It doesn’t hurt, not at first, and as I’m flying backwards, airborne, I have just enough time to think to myself, I wonder if this is what a knockout punch feels like…
Before everything flickers to black.