Title: May
Author: Alicia Stone
ISBN: 978-1-62420-193-6
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Excerpt Heat Level: 1
Book Heat Level: 3
TAGLINE
Marielle, single, restless and thirty-something is
looking for a man. Can love compete with Fate?
BLURB
The problem is the man she
desperately wants and needs is not interested in her. He was once, but ten years ago she threw away
their chance of happiness. Together again, Marielle and Peter discover how they
have both changed and how much they have in common. Their attraction for each
other is intensified, but can their love be rekindled? Can they risk everything
for love? Affairs of the heart prove to be no match for the darker powers of
Fate as Marielle’s very survival hangs in the balance.
REVIEW:
May
Alicia Stone
978-1-62420-193-6
By C McKnney
3.5 Stars out of 5
Alicia Stone’s first novel in the Many a Moon series promises an
interesting series ahead.
Marielle made the mistake of giving up the love of her life years ago.
When she meets him again by chance, she realizes her mistake and wants to get
their relationship back on the rails.
Job woes, the challenges of pregnancy, and uncertainty that Marielle’s
beloved can come to care for her again as he once did are only a few of the
issues that make this an interesting read.
Marielle is an interesting and well-realized character; the author gets
deeply into her heroine’s head, developing a sympathetic woman faced with
realistic problems and issues, and negotiating an emotional minefield as she
seeks happiness.
Unfortunately, the male lead is less fully realized, but after a slow
start, he becomes a more relatable character. Readers should be patient and
wait for him to emerge as the story unfolds.
Far more of a character study in Marielle’s development and feelings
than a bodice-ripper romance, the introspective nature of this book makes it
particularly suitable for readers who would enjoy seeing a single, strong woman
negotiate the pitfalls of repairing the mistakes of her past and dealing with
the consequences of both past mistakes and present ones.
EXCERPT
Peter gestured with a slight inclination
of his head to a free table in the far corner. Again Marielle didn't move so he
led the way and she followed, wondering what she could possibly say. Should
they talk about the past? No. The present? Jobs? Holidays? Family? The plight
of the Euro? The gallery she'd been to? Peter had already placed her coffee on
the table and was holding out a chair. Marielle sat, putting her slightly
shaking hands out towards her cup, sipping the coffee, withdrawing her hands
and putting them together in her lap to still them. She looked up, unnerved to
see Peter watching her carefully as if he were searching for something.
Irrationally, she found herself desperately hoping she wouldn't be found
wanting.
She tried to brazen out the examination
by returning his steady gaze. She dropped her eyes to the table confused. She
was stunned by his dark intense stare. She was aware of a physical response to
his presence that was becoming uncomfortable. Marielle felt herself redden as
she remembered. Their last parting was so painful. Peter had been more mature
than she, more self-possessed. She knew he wanted her on many levels. Her
younger self was not ready for commitment. She'd been more than halfway in love
with him but hadn't wanted to be tied down. After the split she wanted a clean
break so she stayed abroad and travelled. She had relationships and moved on,
remaining restless. She'd heard no news of him for years as their mutual
friends married, had children and also moved on. This did not mean she hadn't
thought of him in the last ten years.
Looking at him now she had the decided
feeling she was the loser here. He was absolutely gorgeous, radiating the sort
of good looks and energy anyone could appreciate. She tried to swallow and
attempted a smile. Unable to gauge the result the silence grew. Marielle
remembered he'd always been good with silence, which she laughingly
acknowledged was not her natural state. The atmosphere was choking like dry
ice. She was overwhelmed and tongue-tied.
Seemingly aware of her growing misery,
he spoke. "So Marielle. How are you? How have you been?"
The question she dreaded was out in the
open between them, an invitation to tell all. She was still speechless,
thinking. This was like the early stage of a migraine where the words dance on
the page. Nothing was making sense. It too much of an effort to order her
thoughts and make a sensible reply. What did he want her to say? How was she?
How had she been?
The stare became concerned. She felt
tears come to her eyes. She fought to get a grip on herself. She wasn't the
crying sort. Especially not in public or in front of a man she felt she'd
treated badly long ago.
"Fine," she said, "I've
been fine."
She looked defiantly at him and saw the
corners of his mouth lift in a slight smile then the eyes lost their softness
and he gave her a cooler appraisal. She wondered again what he saw and felt
herself blush deeply. What was going on here? She was amazed but disconcerted
by the depth of feeling he stirred in her.
"Drink your coffee," he
reminded.
The hot strong coffee did nothing to
ease the ache in her throat, but she mechanically obeyed. She felt like an
awkward teenager. All her senses were heightened and she realised the
adrenaline now surging through her would suffice until the coffee began to kick
in.
"Have you been happy?" he
asked, "Do you enjoy your freedom?" This was said with a hint of
bitterness and irony as he looked at her left hand holding the cup.
"Don't."
She reached for Peter's hands and felt
him shudder on contact. Did he feel revulsion or something more positive? She
realised this was the first time they'd touched. She was aware of a thrill of
pleasure, but great confusion, too. Why was this man affecting her so? Their
relationship was long over, they'd said goodbye and moved on. Hadn't they both
got on with their lives? He was staring at their hands, hers pale and small now
enveloped by his. His hands were warm and capable and she felt an absolute and
absurd excitement that they covered hers. She could feel no ring. Irrationally
emboldened by this detail, she asked him where he lived, the first bland
question to enter her head.
"I have a flat in Chiswick near the
business. I run a small design business with a partner. He's out of town this
week so I was having an initial meeting with a client here. He just left when I
saw you...I saw you, Marielle, buying a coffee." He shook his head with a
wry smile and a measure of disbelief.
She searched for something to say.
Anything would do. Their cups were empty and she could not let him go. She felt
such powerful emotions and a desperate urge to stay with him.
"Well then, we have finished our
coffee, shall we go?"
What made her say that? How would her
suggestion be interpreted? Would he think she wanted to leave and walk away or
would he think she was making a more brazen suggestion?
He
did not let go of her hand and they moved to the door. As if they were
following a film script he hailed a taxi with confidence and assurance. The
next thing she knew they were sitting inside, their bags on the floor with
nothing but space and a decade between them.
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