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SYNOPSIS:
“So you fix broken hearts, do you?” I ask. “Seems a little
ironic.”
ironic.”
Noah Carter is
one of the best cardiothoracic doctors in the country. He’s incredibly
intelligent, funny, kind and he’s a beast in the bedroom. He has scars that
drizzle down his chest and painful memories of an unforgettable night that
plague his every waking hour.
one of the best cardiothoracic doctors in the country. He’s incredibly
intelligent, funny, kind and he’s a beast in the bedroom. He has scars that
drizzle down his chest and painful memories of an unforgettable night that
plague his every waking hour.
Seven years
ago, Noah stumbled upon me at the side of a grave and saved me in one of the
most compassionate ways another human being can save another. I will
always love him for that. Always.
ago, Noah stumbled upon me at the side of a grave and saved me in one of the
most compassionate ways another human being can save another. I will
always love him for that. Always.
He loved me in
a way that no man has ever loved me since, and I gave him everything. I gave
him it all until my secrets and lies tore us apart, forcing me to shatter his
heart into a thousand little pieces.
a way that no man has ever loved me since, and I gave him everything. I gave
him it all until my secrets and lies tore us apart, forcing me to shatter his
heart into a thousand little pieces.
Seven years ago
he loved me, but now he hates me. And I hate that he hates me. Leaving Noah is
my biggest regret in life - and I have a lot of things that I regret. A lot.
he loved me, but now he hates me. And I hate that he hates me. Leaving Noah is
my biggest regret in life - and I have a lot of things that I regret. A lot.
I’m Ariel
Miller and this is the story of Noah and Me.
Miller and this is the story of Noah and Me.
“I need to
shower,” he says.
shower,” he says.
I nod. “Me
too.”
too.”
“Let me go
first,” he says. “I know that’s not very gentlemanly of me, but I’m filthy and
I don’t like being dirty.”
first,” he says. “I know that’s not very gentlemanly of me, but I’m filthy and
I don’t like being dirty.”
He really
shouldn’t have a job as a gravedigger then. “Okay.”
shouldn’t have a job as a gravedigger then. “Okay.”
He turns
and walks out of the bedroom. I sit up, watching him go into the bathroom
that’s directly opposite and notice that he hasn’t shut the door properly. I
hear the shower switch on, and then without really thinking about what I’m
doing, I creep towards the bathroom. I peep through the opening and see a
modern-looking bathroom suite that looks kind of odd compared to the rest of
the house, which creaks like an old lady’s hip. All that I can see is the
mirror and sink, but the mirror shows me the rest of the room. And him.
and walks out of the bedroom. I sit up, watching him go into the bathroom
that’s directly opposite and notice that he hasn’t shut the door properly. I
hear the shower switch on, and then without really thinking about what I’m
doing, I creep towards the bathroom. I peep through the opening and see a
modern-looking bathroom suite that looks kind of odd compared to the rest of
the house, which creaks like an old lady’s hip. All that I can see is the
mirror and sink, but the mirror shows me the rest of the room. And him.
He grabs the
bottom of his black t-shirt and pulls it up to reveal a grid of muscles that
are splattered across his stomach and chest. My eyes want to devour each and
every single one of them but are stuck to his chest for a completely different
reason. From the top of his right shoulder, a stream of scars starts. As they
near his nipple, the stream becomes a river. Then, as it falls down his side,
it turns into a waterfall. I wonder what could have happened. They look like
burns and they look painful. I shake my head, trying to ignore the fact that I
care if he’s been hurt. Why do I care? He’s a complete stranger that I’ve only
just met. I don’t care. I’m just being curious.
bottom of his black t-shirt and pulls it up to reveal a grid of muscles that
are splattered across his stomach and chest. My eyes want to devour each and
every single one of them but are stuck to his chest for a completely different
reason. From the top of his right shoulder, a stream of scars starts. As they
near his nipple, the stream becomes a river. Then, as it falls down his side,
it turns into a waterfall. I wonder what could have happened. They look like
burns and they look painful. I shake my head, trying to ignore the fact that I
care if he’s been hurt. Why do I care? He’s a complete stranger that I’ve only
just met. I don’t care. I’m just being curious.
I look back
over his chest, ignoring the scars, and concentrate on his muscles. I’ve seen
pictures of men looking like that, but I didn’t think normal guys were capable
of getting so buff. He lets the t-shirt fall to the floor with a huff and then
his hands undo the button of his jeans before he slides them down his muscular
legs.
over his chest, ignoring the scars, and concentrate on his muscles. I’ve seen
pictures of men looking like that, but I didn’t think normal guys were capable
of getting so buff. He lets the t-shirt fall to the floor with a huff and then
his hands undo the button of his jeans before he slides them down his muscular
legs.
He looks
like a swimmer. His broad, round shoulders spread outwards before morphing down
into a narrow waist, complete with inner rib muscles. He must be good, I think.
You don’t get muscles in those sorts of places naturally without doing a lot of
sport. And you wouldn’t do that much sport if you weren’t good at it. Or maybe
it’s all the twisting he must do when he’s digging holes in the ground.
like a swimmer. His broad, round shoulders spread outwards before morphing down
into a narrow waist, complete with inner rib muscles. He must be good, I think.
You don’t get muscles in those sorts of places naturally without doing a lot of
sport. And you wouldn’t do that much sport if you weren’t good at it. Or maybe
it’s all the twisting he must do when he’s digging holes in the ground.
He rubs his
hands down his face as if he’s stressed and then pushes his boxers down his
legs.
hands down his face as if he’s stressed and then pushes his boxers down his
legs.
Oh.
My.
God.
AUTHOR
BIO:
Beckie's real name is Rebecca, but she get’s called (and
answers to) any of the following…Beckie, Bek, Becca, Rebecca, Pip, Pippy or
Stevo.
answers to) any of the following…Beckie, Bek, Becca, Rebecca, Pip, Pippy or
Stevo.
Beckie is the author of 'Sorrow Woods,' the 'Existing'
series and 'Noah and Me.'
series and 'Noah and Me.'
She is due to publish more YA and NA novels in 2015/16.
She lives in Staffordshire, England, with her partner
and two children.
and two children.
Beckie likes putting music
on in the house and dancing around like a mad woman.
on in the house and dancing around like a mad woman.
When she isn’t playing with
her children, doing housework, dancing around the house like a mad woman,
walking, cycling reading or writing, then she can be found working in an
investment bank. Or sleeping.
her children, doing housework, dancing around the house like a mad woman,
walking, cycling reading or writing, then she can be found working in an
investment bank. Or sleeping.
You can find Beckie here…
You can find Beckie here…
Twitter:
@BeckieStevenson
@BeckieStevenson
Facebook:
www.facebook.com/BeckieStevensonAuthor
www.facebook.com/BeckieStevensonAuthor
Instagram:
BeckieStevo
BeckieStevo
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