When life crashes down around us, how hard are we willing to fight for the one thing we can’t live without, each other?
Life is full of moments.
Big moments.
Little moments.
And none of them are inconsequential.
Every single moment prepares you for that one instance that defines your life. You must overcome all your fears, confront the demons that chase you, and cleanse the poison that clings to your soul or you risk the chance of losing everything.Mine started the minute Rylee fell out of that damn storage closet. She made me feel. Made me whole when all I thought I could ever be was incomplete. Became the lifeline I never knew I needed. Hell yes, she’s worth the fight…but how do you fight for someone you know you don’t deserve?
Love is full of ups and downs.
Heart stopping highs.
Soul shattering lows.
And none of them are insignificant.
Love is a racecourse of unexpected twists and turns that must be negotiated. You have to break down walls, learn to trust, and heal from your past in order to win. But sometimes it’s the expected that’s the hardest to hold on to.Colton has healed and completed me, stolen my heart, and made me realize our love’s not predictable nor perfect—it’s bent. And bent’s okay. But when outside factors put our relationship to the test, what lengths will I have to go to prove to him that he’s worth the fight?
Whoever said love is patient and love is kind, never met the two of us. We know our love is worth it—have acknowledged that we were meant to be—but when our pasts crash into our future, will the repercussions make us stronger or break us apart?
Fueled
Crashed
Driven Synopsis
Rylee Thomas is used to being in control. But she’s about to meet the one man that just might make her enjoy losing it…
I am the exception to the rule.
In a world full of willing women, I’m a challenge to the roguish and achingly handsome Colton Donavan. A man used to getting exactly what he wants in all aspects of life. He’s the reckless bad boy constantly skating that razor thin edge toward out of control, on and off of the track.
Colton crashes into my life like a tornado: sapping my control, testing my vulnerabilities beyond their limits, and unintentionally penetrating the protective wall around my healing heart. Tearing apart the world I rebuilt so carefully with structure, predictability, and discipline.I can’t give him what he wants and he can’t give me what I need. But after a glimpse beneath his refined exterior into the dark secrets of his damaged soul, can I bring myself to walk away?
Our sexual chemistry is undeniable. Our individual need for complete control is irrefutable. But when our worlds collide, is the chemistry enough to bring us together or will our untold secrets and battle of wills force us apart?
What happens when the one person you never expected suddenly happens to be the one you’ll fight the hardest to keep?
Colton stole my heart. He wasn't supposed to, and I sure as hell didn't want him to, but he crashed into my life, ignited feelings within me that I thought had died forever, and fueled a passion that I never knew could exist.Rylee fell out of that damn storage closet and into my life. Now I don't think I'll ever be the same. She's seen glimpses of the darkness within me, and yet she's still here. Still fighting for me. She is without a doubt the saint, and I am most definitely the sinner.
How is it the one thing neither of us wanted—neither of us anticipated that fateful night—has us fighting so hard to keep?
He steals my breath, stops my heart, and brings me back to life again all in a split second of time. But how can I love a man who won't let me in? Who continually pushes me away to prevent me from seeing the damaged secrets in his past? My heart has fallen, but patience and forgiveness can only go so far.
How can I desire a woman who unnerves me, defies me, and forces me to see that in the deep, black abyss of my soul there's someone worthy of her love? A place and person I swore I'd never be again. Her selfless heart and sexy body deserve so much more than I'll ever be capable of giving her. I know I can't be what she needs, so why can't I just let her go?
We are driven by need and fueled with desire, but is that enough for us to crash into love?
Excerpt
And the only thing I can focus on—can grasp onto as my heart races and body shakes with anger—is that I need a pit stop. I need to find Colton. I need to touch him, to see him, to quiet the turmoil in my soul.But I can’t.
He’s somewhere close, my rebellious rogue unable to let go of the damaged little boy within. The man who has just started healing is now broken, and it kills me that I won’t be able to fix him. That my murmured words of encouragement and patient nature won’t be able to repair the immobile and unresponsive body that was loaded onto that stretcher and rushed to somewhere within these walls—so close yet so very far away from me. That he has to rely on strangers to mend and heal him now. Strangers that have no idea of the invisible scar tissue that still lingers beneath the surface.
More hands reach out to touch and soothe me, Dorothea’s and Quinlan’s, but they’re not the ones I want. They’re not Colton’s.
And then a terrifying thought hits me. Every time Colton is near, I can feel that tingle—the buzz that tells me he’s just within reach—but I can’t feel anything. I know he’s physically close, but his spark is nonexistent.
“You can go now too.”
His gruff voice startles me. His unexpected words throw me. My temper simmers. I look over at him and can’t do anything other than shake my head in sputtering disbelief because his eyes are still closed. Everything over the past couple of days hits me like a kaleidoscope of memories. The distance and avoidance. This is about more than being irritated from being confined during his recovery. “Is there something you need to get off your chest?”
A lone seagull squawks overhead as I wait for the answer, trying to prepare for whatever he’s going to say to me. He’s gone from crying without explanation to telling me to leave—not a good sign at all.
“I don’t need your goddamn pity. Don’t you have a house full of little boys that need you to help fulfill that inherent trait of yours to hover and smother?”
He could’ve called me every horrible name in the book and it wouldn’t sting as much as those words he just slapped me with. I’m dumbfounded, mouth opening and closing as I stare at him, face angled to the sun, eyes still closed. “Excuse me?” It’s no match for what he’s just said, but it’s all I’ve got.
“You heard me.” He lifts his chin up almost in dismissal but still keeps his eyes closed. “You know where the door is, sweetheart.”
And then there is Rylee.
Motherfucking Rylee.
Little pieces of her everywhere. Sheets that still smell like her. A ponytail holder on the bathroom counter. The cans of her beloved Diet Coke lined perfectly in the refrigerator. Her Kindle on the nightstand. The strands of her hair on my shirt. Evidence that her perfection exists. Evidence that something so good—so pure—actually can want someone like me—tainted and fucked up with a capital F.I want, need, hate that I want, hate that I need her so fucking bad, but I can’t do it. I can’t pull her into this fucking rainstorm of bullshit surrounding me, don’t want her to deal with the fucked up me that even I hate until I can wrap my head around everything. Until I can control the emotions that are ruling my actions. My mom was fucking right. Fucking right and she only knew me for eight of my thirty two years … if that doesn’t say something, I’m not sure what else does. I can’t be loved. If someone loves me—if I let someone in too much—my own demons will start in on them too. Work their way through the cracks in me and find a way to ruin them.
“Neglecting me?”
“Yes, not treating you properly,” he says as he slaps my butt; the sting it leaves has nothing on the shock waves that ripple through the hypersensitive flesh between my thighs. “You’ve been taking care of me—of everyone else but yourself as usual—and I haven’t properly taken care of you.”
“I do believe you did just take care of me … and quite properly,” I tease, wiggling my naked body up against his and earning the hum that comes from deep within his throat. “If that’s considered not taking care of me—neglecting me—Ace, then please...” I nip at the skin on the underside of his jaw “...neglect me some more.”
“My God, woman, you test a man’s restraint,” he groans as his hands run down my spine and clasp together against my lower back. “But, that was just a minor sidetrack to—”
“Minor is not what I’d call it,” I quip with a raise of my eyes and another wiggle of my hips that causes him to laugh out loud. “I’ll take one of your sidetracks any day.”
“Bet your ass you will,” he teases with a quick squeeze of my hips
Author Bio:
K. Bromberg is that reserved woman sitting in the corner that has you all fooled about the wild child inside of her--the one she lets out every time her fingertips touch the computer keyboard. She’s a wife, mom, child rustler, toy pick-er-upper, chauffer, resident web-slinger, LaLaloopsy watching, American Girl doll dressing multi-tasker of all things domestic and otherwise. She likes her diet cokes with rum, her music loud, and her pantry stocked with a cache of chocolate.
K. lives in Southern California with her husband and three children. When she needs a break from the daily chaos of her life, you can most likely find her on the
treadmill or with Kindle in hand, devouring the pages of a good, saucy book.Fueled is K. Bromberg’s second published novel and is the highly anticipated second book of “The Driven Trilogy.” Driven was her well-received debut novel and Book #1 of the series.
@KBrombergDriven
@ColtonDonavan
