Meet Me In the Garden by Rosa Sophia
Release Date: January 20th 2015 by Limitless Publishing
Genre: Adult, Contemporary, Romance
Memories of another life, and the garden where it all began, keep Amalie Jarvis awake at night.
A columnist for a popular magazine, she attends a function in Palm Beach at the famous Breakers Hotel, only to cross paths with graphic designer Ian Gardner—who appears to hold the key to her visions. The more time they spend together, the more Amalie realizes how much she wants to be with him. And how much she fears admitting that she loves him.
Ian can’t remember the past, but he is drawn to Amalie with an intense passion he’s never felt before.
Many moons ago, they met in a garden. Different names, different faces—but their souls were still the same. Unable to resist her, Ian falls deeply in love. He remains by her side as she battles severe facial pain, not knowing what it is or if it could kill her. Frightened for her, he swears his adoration without ever speaking the words.
But their devotion has dangers, and they’re about to be faced by hazards neither of them could have foreseen…
Purchase: Amazon, Barnes & Noble
AUTHOR BIO:
Rosa Sophia divides her time between South Florida and Pennsylvania. She edits for publishers and independent clients, holds a degree in Automotive Technology, and enjoys running, hiking, collecting comic books, and traveling.
{EXCERPT!}
She
hadn’t had a drink in a long time, in part because of Ian. She was
overcome with guilt drinking around him after everything they’d
been through. Alcohol repulsed her now, but at the same time it sort
of intrigued her. She wanted to let go, forget. Sometimes she wanted
to get drunk. The thought upset her, because she didn’t want to end
up like her father.
He
glared at her when she questioned him.
“Don’t
treat me like a goddamn child,” he scolded, and she sensed the
emergence of the man she feared, the one who harangued her,
criticized everything she did, and called her names. In that moment,
she wished she hadn’t let him come visit.
Several
days later, he stumbled into an end table in the living room and
broke a lamp. He found every reason he could to insult Amalie, who
sneered in return and stomped back to the bedrooms while her father
sat on the couch in the dark pouring shots.
Just
before Amalie could reach her own room, a hand snaked out and grabbed
her wrist. Ian tugged her into his room and slammed the door shut
behind her. He stood so close she could smell his minty breath.
“When.
Is. He. Leaving.” His gaze was sharp, edged with displeasure.
“Next
week sometime.” Amalie sniffed, holding back tears.
“I’m
sick of him, all he does is pick fights with you and criticize you.”
“Ian,
that’s not entirely—”
“It
is entirely,” he snapped. “What was that
he said to you yesterday?”
Amalie
slumped on Ian’s bed, sighing. “That I should get a real job. He
doesn’t think what I do is a real job. I work my ass off.”
“He
doesn’t appreciate you, Am.”
“This
is really upsetting you.” She said it as if she’d only just
noticed.
“Damn
right it’s upsetting me. Know why?” He sat beside her, appearing
defeated.
“Because when he screams at you, I see myself. When his
eyes are glassy, and he tells you that you’re fat, or that you’re
not doing something right—” Ian put his arm around her, drawing
her close. “He reminds me of me,
Am.” His brow creased, and he seemed to be holding back tears. “I
treated you like shit. You put up with it. Just like you put up with
him for years.”
Amalie
hung her head. “That’s not the same.”
“Yes
it is. I was a fucking drunk. Just like your dad. I swear to God,
Amalie, I’ll never drink again.”
She
felt beaten, exhausted. She’d run out of words, so she said
nothing. She merely slipped her hand into his as they listened to her
father pounding on the door:
“Amalie,
open this fucking door. Goddamn it, what’s wrong with you? You
never listen to me. You’re such a fucking bitch. Open the fucking
door, Amalie.” The knocking turned into
slamming.
“Wanna
get out of here, baby?” Ian squeezed Amalie’s hand as she wept.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Yes, I do.”
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