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Albert Camus

Don't walk behind me; I may not lead. Don't walk in front of me; I may not follow. Just walk beside me and be my friend.

Tuesday, November 4, 2014

They want her out of the way - SNAPPED (The Snapped Series, Part 1) by Ketley Allison

Published: November 1st, 2014

Description:

“We have someone who saw you struggling with the deceased before using that knife. Your best friend, and our eye witness.”

In nine weeks Charlie Miller’s life goes from high-rolling perfection to a crypt of sin. All it takes is one night, one blade, and her boyfriend, best friend and new friends all either end up as suspects or dead.

Nate Westcott, a pierced, tattooed, charismatic lawyer, is a man she can’t have—but a seductive danger she can’t ignore. He’s cocky, infuriating, brilliant and wrong, yet he makes her question whether she really is the good girl she wants to be or more like the selfish killer everyone thinks she is.

And her body wants him in ways she’s not supposed to crave.

As the weeks close in, cracks start forming in her everyday world of pro football golden boys, law school domination and New York City nightlife. Everyone she cares about is at risk because one of them doesn’t love Charlie back. In fact, they want her out of the way. Disposed of. Set up.

One more step, and all Charlie has to do is fall through.

Week 1 starts now.
WHO WILL SNAP?
Snapped is Ketley’s New Adult Contemporary series with all the romance you’d expect, but the killer—and lovers—that you don’t.

Famous boyfriend, penthouse on Park Avenue, full scholarship and best friend along for the ride?

Awesome.

A smartass drummer boy, dark obsession and a hint of betrayal? 
Unexpected.

Murder?
Inevitable.
Charlie Miller’s life in New York City is just getting started.

EXCERPT



I wrapped my hands around the railings, iron framing my view as I watched them. I rested my forehead between the cold columns, feeling like an inmate forced to see the world from the inside.

Neither Lara nor Slade said anything. Nor did they pause for a picture or even acknowledge the requests.

But, I thought, neither bothered to correct them.

The press believed Lara was me, that Slade was bringing his girlfriend with him even though players weren’t supposed to consort with their companions prior to a game.

But I shouldn’t rush to stupid thoughts—he probably offered her a ride, asked to drop her off somewhere rather than wasting money on a cab.

Yet the tug on my insides wasn’t regret or logic. It was, ever so slightly, jealousy. She was beautiful. She was with him. I was up here, curled up on the balcony and sporting terrycloth and stress pimples in the background.

I sagged against the bars, blowing out an annoyed, desolate sigh.

“Charlotte!”

I stiffened.

“I see you, girl! Down here!”

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

I flipped to all fours, squeezing my eyes shut as though I could scrunch out what was happening, and crawled to the balcony door.

Please don’t have zoom capabilities.

“Charlotte! Why aren’t you with your boyfriend! Who’s the lady with him?”

Door. Get to the damn door.

“Charlotte! Charlotte! Char—”

Slam.

I shut the French doors, transforming the sounds from below into muffled murmurs, almost nonexistent.

And if I were to be honest with myself, I felt pretty nonexistent right now, too.
*****
A sweaty, lean, very tall man sidled between Reagan and me, and my back flattened against Slade’s chest as I made room for him. His hair, sort of an ash brown, was all over the place, and with a jerk of his chin, he flicked it away from his eyes. They were a very disarming green, even in this hazy light. His gray T-shirt was soaked through, his forearms almost as shiny as the varnished wood of the bar. I could make out tattoos on both of them. Thick, tribal, and mostly black as they twisted up and disappeared under his T-shirt. They highlighted the tendons shifting underneath his skin, lines of toned muscles matching the marks, and a visceral, carnal part of me reacted to the glisten on his skin, the parched exhales of his breath, the way his chest moved as he sucked in air.

I cleared my throat, deciding to observe the rows of bottles behind the bar instead, as if I were searching for the perfect liquor for my second drink. It worked for maybe half a second.

About the author:
Ketley Allison began her career by writing books as birthday presents for her friends (with her friend as the main character and opposite a super sexy lead, of course) before ending it in order to walk down a path she thought she was supposed to follow.

The writing bug never left her--and, in fact, would often bleed into the official papers she was supposed to write--so now Ketley's putting down her suit and finally following her dream. While her friends are no longer the stars of her books, she still throws in bits and pieces of them into each and every one of her characters.

As a result, her books tend to focus a lot on friendships as well as love, because let's be honest, friends are what really get you through--especially when your epic love turns into epic heartbreak.

Learn more about Ketley by visiting her at:


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