Thrown Down
Made in Jersey, 2
Tessa Bailey
Entangled Brazen
April 4, 2016
Blurb:
He has one last chance to deserve the girl of his
dreams...
Overachiever River Purcell was never supposed to be a
struggling single mom, working double shifts just to make ends meet. Nor was
she supposed to be abandoned by her high school sweetheart, breaking her heart
into a thousand jagged pieces. Now Vaughn De Matteo is back in town, his sights
set on her...and River is in danger of drowning a second time.
No one believed Hook's resident bad boy was good enough
for River. Not even Vaughn himself. But he'll fight like hell to win back the
woman he never stopped loving, to keep the daughter he never expected, and
convince himself he's worth their love in the process––even if he has to rely
on their fierce and undeniable sexual chemistry.
But even as River's body arches under his hungered touch,
the demons of the past lurk in the shadows. Waiting for Vaughn to repeat his
mistakes one last time...
My Thoughts:
So, Vaughn and River were high school sweet hearts. He never thought he was good enough for her, and she saw there was more to him that what he presented. However, things got in the way and caused them to breakup. I could understand why Sarge intervene in Crashed Out, because it wasn't fair for both of them. I must say that River's father was a piece of work. Yeah, he never thought Vaughn was good enough for his little girl, but he did made him the ultimate dick.
Overall, I liked the story. I love the flashbacks, because it helped the reader understand both points of views. Adore Vaughn and River, I liked the fact that Vaughn was willing to work back into the good graces of River. He left in a crappy way, but it was out of love. While I was reading this I was thinking Trisha Yearwood's She's In Love With The Boy, which I felt was good fit with the story. Yes, we will find dirty goodness that you would normal find in Tessa's books.
Copy provided by Entangled via NetGalley.
EXCERPT:
Forty-nine months and three days.
That was how long it had been
since he’d seen her.
Vaughn swayed to the right, his
shoulder slamming up against the wall. Then he kind of just hung there,
counting forward and backward from one to ten. Not helping. Not helping. His
stomach pitched at the sight of River walking through the drunks, like a nurse
walking among the wounded on a battlefield. She could still knock his lights
out on sight. Not that he’d doubted it for a second. But God, if it were
possible, she’d grown even more beautiful over the last forty-nine months. Her
blond hair was tied up in a ponytail, a pencil stuck through the base, in a way
he remembered well enough to make his throat go raw. In a short black skirt and
fitted white T-shirt, River tried to look the part of indifferent barmaid, but
didn’t pull it off.
Not by a stretch.
Eyes Vaughn knew were just a
shade darker than cornflower blue flitted to each table, and her fingers tugged
on the skirt’s hem self-consciously every time she approached a new one. When
she fumbled with the notepad, recovering with a nervous laugh, a choked sound
left Vaughn. “Riv,” he whispered.
She looked up so fast, he might
as well have shouted. The sudden impact of having River’s focus on him after
such an extended period of time without it released a rushing sound between his
ears, blocking out the sad lounge act…and apparently someone asking if he
needed a table. Because when Vaughn snapped back to reality, a man he towered
over by at least a foot was in his face. Snapping his fingers.
“I wouldn’t…” Vaughn shook his
head to clear it, experiencing a resurgence of anger, this time for having his
attention diverted from where he needed it to be. On River.
“I wouldn’t advise snapping your
fingers in my face again.”
“Why’s that, huh?”
A toss of blond hair snagged
Vaughn’s gaze as his angelic ex-girlfriend zigzagged through the crowd, drawing
more than just his notice. Ah no, quite the opposite. She was putting on an
unwitting show for every man in the room, attracting lecherous looks by virtue
of being her beautiful self, light in a dark tunnel, same way she’d always
been.
Finger snapped in front of his
face. Again. “This is my place and I asked you a question.”
“This is your place?” Vaughn
asked. God, one hour back in Jersey and already his accent had thickened from
water to oil. “You hired River Purcell to clean up tables?”
“That’s right.”
Vaughn plowed a fist
into the underside of the man’s jaw, watching him fall backward onto the sticky
concrete floor with detachment that slowly morphed into satisfaction. So much
for calm, he thought, shaking out his right hand.
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About Tessa:
Tessa Bailey is originally from Carlsbad, California. The
day after high school graduation, she packed her yearbook, ripped jeans and
laptop, driving cross-country to New York City in under four days.
Her most valuable life experiences were learned
thereafter while waitressing at K-Dees, a Manhattan pub owned by her uncle.
Inside those four walls, she met her husband, best friend and discovered the
magic of classic rock, managing to put herself through Kingsborough Community
College and the English program at Pace University at the same time. Several
stunted attempts to enter the work force as a journalist followed, but romance
writing continued to demand her attention.
She now lives in Long Island, New York with her husband
of eight years and four-year-old daughter. Although she is severely
sleep-deprived, she is incredibly happy to be living her dream of writing about
people falling in love.
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