Meet
Me In the Garden by Rosa Sophia
Published by: Limitless Publishing
Publication date: January 20th 2015
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance
Published by: Limitless Publishing
Publication date: January 20th 2015
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance
Synopsis:
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…
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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.
Author links:
Author links:
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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