Title: Hemingway’s Hope
Author: J.C. Thompson
Release Date: March 7, 2016
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Hemingway has spent her life trying to earn love she was never going to get. Not
capable of earning the love of her mom, she found what she thought was a lifelong love, until it
wasn't. When she meets Max, the new drummer in her brothers' band, she just might find
that love she has been searching her whole life for.
No stranger to pain and heartache. Max has learned from his past, that when you
find someone worthy of your love, you give it all. Losing his mom at a young age showed him how
fragile life is. He lives life with as few regrets as possible, and when he wants something he fights with all
he has to get it.
Hemingway doesn't stand a chance against the force that is Max's love
and devotion, not that she would want to.
Will Hemingway be able to move on from her past and open her heart up to love?
Will Max be the one to show her the way? Or will they give up and move on when Hemingway is forced
to confront her past head on?
When he clears his throat my eyes shoot from his mouth to his eyes. There is a
little mischievous glint in them, and I know I was caught watching his mouth for too
long.
“Actually,” he starts as he slowly pushes the door wide enough that
he can get inside. “I was coming to see you. You haven’t been around for a few days. I
drove by your mom’s but your car was never there. So I talked to Becca and she told me you
have been hiding here. So I have to ask again. Are you hiding from
something?”
I pull the towel tighter around me, feeling more naked than before. When I look
back up into his eyes, I notice that his gaze his shifted and he is watching my hands at the top of my
towel.
“I already told you I’m not hiding.” I pull a little piece of my
hair as I answer. If he notices the nervous habit, he doesn’t say
anything.
“And I think you’re lying.” Stepping closer as he speaks in a
low gravelly voice.
“I’m not lying. I’ve just been, um, busy.” Each step he
takes forward I take one back, until there is nowhere left to step. I’m trapped against the wall.
He is standing so close that I can breathe in his fresh scent. With the last step back, I hit the wall a little
harder than I expected, I can feel my towel starting to slip.
“Why are you hiding?” he asks so slowly, like maybe if he slows
down my stupid brain will understand that he already knows that truth. What am I supposed to say
though? “I’m hiding because I had a dream about you, and now I can’t stop
thinking about how badly I want you.” Or “I’m hiding because I’m a coward
and can’t face the pull that I feel when I’m close to you.” Instead I go with the only
thing I can think that might convince him to leave me alone.
“I’m not hiding so much as avoiding.” I say with a shrug,
trying to keep my voice even.
Leaning in closer he puts a hand on each side of my head. I’m fighting the
urge to lean into him.
“What are you avoiding Hem?”
“You.”
“Me?”
“Yes, that’s what I said isn’t
it?”
“Why?”
“Because our little nothing of a kiss was a mistake. I didn’t want you
to think it was anything more than a weakness I had on an emotional
night.”
For the longest minute of my life he doesn’t say anything. I watch his eyes
as they bounce back and forth between mine. Only once do I see them slip to my
mouth.
“Huh,” there was that smirk again, God the things he could get me
to agree to if only he knew the power behind that sexy smirk. Then again, maybe he did know. Maybe
that’s why he uses it. “It was a little nothing kiss?”
“Uh huh”
“So if I kissed you now you wouldn’t enjoy it
either?”
“Nope”
“Really? Is that why your eyes are darkening? Is that why your breathing
has deepened? Is that why I can see your pulse thumping, right here?” he lightly taps the pulse
point at the base of my throat. Am I that obvious? Can he tell by looking into my eyes how much I want
him to do just that? How badly I want him to reach out and take what he wants from
me?
Unable to speak, I just nod in response. I’m no longer sure if I am agreeing
that I do want him to kiss me, or if I am confirming that it meant nothing. Which is total fucking
lie.
Lifting my face with his fingers under my chin, he leans in to whisper. “You
can lie to your friends. Hell you can lie to your brothers. Don’t ever fucking lie to me. Especially
not about wanting me.”
I don’t get a chance to answer before his lips crush down onto mine. There
is nothing slow and soft about this kiss. This is so different than what we shared just a few days before.
Running his hand around to the back of my head, he lightly pulls my hair gaining better access to my
mouth. As he deepens the kiss I bring my arms up wrapping them around his neck. His lips continue to
move against mine, and I know he is waiting, trying to encourage me to open my mouth to him. When I
feel his tongue move across the seam of my lips, I let out a small gasp, opening my mouth just enough to
give him access. His tongue slowly dances across mine. When I feel him start to pull back, like he might
break the connection, I gently bite down on his lower lip. Causing a low growl to come from deep in his
chest, as his hips push forward into mine. Oh god, the feel of him warm and hard against my hot wet
center. I couldn’t stop the moan that escaped even if I had wanted to, which I didn’t.
Moving his mouth from mine and slowly trailing kisses down my neck and across my shoulder. I feel the
hand that isn’t wrapped up in my hair, slowly slide down my side and across my hip so that he
can find his way around to my ass. Gripping my butt he pulls me to him, to feel how hard he is against
me. I can hear myself whimper as he bites down on my shoulder, just enough to sting, but not enough to
hurt. Soothing the sting away with his tongue. He slides his other hand around to the other side of my
butt and lifts me. Wrapping my legs around his waist.
“Where is your room Hem?”
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Author JC Thompson was born in raised in the Pacific Northwest. Where she
currently lives with her high school sweetheart, two little girls, and five furry kids (3 cats and 2 dogs). JC
loves to read romance, the smuttier the better. She is a self-proclaimed book addict that likes to get last
in a false reality anytime possible.
Hemingway’s Hope is JC’s debut novel, and it won’t be the
last.
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