His past is full of heartbreak.
Yet he’s the one person that can remind her what it means to live.
Abbi Jenkins never thought she would leave the walls of the mental institution that’s housed her for the last year. Now she has, but that doesn’t mean she’s forgotten everything Pearce put her through.
She knows there’s only one way to deal with the depression that claws at her mind each day, and ballet becomes more than a hobby, a dream. Ballet – and Julliard – becomes a reason to live. Something to hold on for.
Blake Smith left London for one reason and one reason only. Running from the heartbreak of his past was never something he wanted to do, but with constant reminders everywhere he turned, it became his only option. When he arrives in New York City, he vows he’ll keep the promise he made to his sister and get into Juilliard.
But he doesn’t expect to be paired with Abbi in class, the girl whose eyes show a world of pain he’s seen before. Pain he knows too well. As each hour they spend together pulls them closer, Blake can’t fight his need to save her from herself.
Lines blur as their pasts are wrenched into the open, and they have to ask themselves whether they’re too broken to ever to be fixed, or if they’re the healing the other needs.
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She likes to write about magic, kisses and whatever else she can fit into the story. Sarcastic, witty characters are a must. As are hot guys. Emma is currently working too many books to even count - including Playing for Keeps, the companion book to the New York Times and USA Today bestselling novel, The Love Game. She likes to be busy - unless busy involves doing the dishes, but that seems to when all the ideas come to life.
I tap her on the shoulder. “Do you want to …”
A pair of startlingly light blue eyes crash into mine. Blue. That’s what color they
are. It’s the kind of blue that makes you stop dead and instantly makes you think of a
crisp summer’s day, complete with beer and a barbecue. It’s also the kind of blue that
shows everything – the hue too pale to hide shadows lurking beneath – it’s the flicker
of darkness that makes me pause and stare at her.
I’ve seen those shadows before.
I know how they linger, barely scratching the surface before pulling you under.
And I know the climb is always harder than the fall … If you’re lucky enough to get a
grip on the climb.
“Do I …?” she questions shyly, raising her hand to her face then dropping it
“Um.” I cough and scratch the back of my neck. Her hesitant smile reminds me
what I’ve actually approached her for. “Do you want to dance together? Since we
have to pair off. You know. Yeah.”
Shit. I sound like an awkward teen boy who has no idea how to speak to a girl.
Her smile stretches a little and her eyes flit around the dance hall. Everyone is
paired off and talking to each other quietly.
“I … Sure,” she replies.
“Great. I’m Blake. Blake Smith.”
“Abbi Jenkins.” Abbi’s hand slips into my outstretched one. My fingers curl
around her smaller ones, but my focus isn’t on the silky smooth skin against mine; it’s
on the gentleness of her tone and the way her lips moved when she said her name.
“Abbi,” I repeat. “Have you danced long?”
“Since I was eight.” She takes her hand from mine and clasps both of hers in
front of her stomach protectively. “We all need a little something to escape in, right?”