Author: CJ Martin
Published by Self-Published
Release Date August 3, 2017
Genres: Contemporary Romance, Erotic Romance
More Info: Goodreads
Purchase From: Amazon US
Purchase From: Amazon UK
Purchase From: Amazon CA
Purchase From: Amazon AU
Best friends aren’t meant to fall in love with each other...
From the time I was five, Jesse Collins was my world.
He was my partner in crime. My best friend. My confidant.
We were inseparable. Soul mates. Forever hearts.
But all that changed when he took on a new role. Lover.
He told me to trust. To have faith. To believe in our love.
And I did.
But we all eat lies when the heart is hungry. And mine was damn hungry for Jesse Collins. I couldn't stop myself from falling for him, even if I wanted to.
This is our story. The good. The bad. The heartbreaking.
But in the end, will the thread that binds us together be strong enough to weather the storm?
I used to think so, but now I’m not quite as sure...
Forever Hearts is a friend to lovers’ new adult romance. If you like sexy and sweet, hot and handsome, mixed with a whole lot of spice, then you’ll love this steamy romance by best-selling author CJ Martín.
Title: Forever Hearts
Genre: Contemporary Erotic Romance
Cover Design: By Hang Le
Author: CJ Martín
Release Date: August 3, 2017
I shower, get dressed, make it all the way to my car, before I realize that I left my cell phone in my apartment. I pat my pockets, check my purse, and glance at the dashboard to see if the Bluetooth symbol is illuminated—it isn’t. I groan audibly as I switch off the ignition and rush back into the cold. It’s mid-March, yet the thermometer has barely reached thirty degrees this week, and with the wind whipping through the air, the “real feel” is in the single digits.
Back inside my apartment I locate my phone on the kitchen counter, still plugged into the charger. As I pick it up, my eyes scan over several notifications, one of which is a text message from Bill.
Bill: Hi, Sweetie. Just got back from the airport with my parents. Reservations are at seven. Are you on your way?
I glance at the clock. It’s five forty-five. I can make it across town with plenty of time to spare—I think. Bill’s perpetually early, as in, if we do not arrive twenty minutes prior to the start of any function—and I do mean anyand every function— he panics. He’s chronically early; I’m chronically late. We balance each other out…in theory, anyway.
My thumb swipes the screen, but my fingers are too cold to register the touch, so I drop the phone and blow into my hands in an attempt to warm them up. A minute later, I type a quick message to Bill.
Riley: Omw. Left ten minutes ago.
This is an outright lie; I’m still standing in my kitchen and I would never text and drive. He should know that after nine months of dating, but he simply agrees.
His response is simple. Quick. Efficient. Just like him.
I knock on Bill’s front door thirty minutes later—traffic was heavier and slower than I anticipated. His mother and father are seated on the sofa. It’s not the first time I’m meeting them, but every time they visit I have the feeling I should be walking on eggshells. They’re prim and proper, formal, refined—the exact opposite of me.
“Mr. and Mrs. Lewg.” I smile as I embrace first his father, then his mother, in the world’s most awkward hug. “So good to see you.”
“Lovely to see you, dear.” Mrs. Lewg—Carole, though she’s never told me to call her that—says. “Bill was just telling us he has a special announcement before we leave for dinner.”
“Oh?” I raise my eyebrows as I turn toward Bill. My mind quickly scans over our last few conversations. I can’t remember him talking about any major deal specifically, apart from the new property, but that deal closed weeks ago. All right, okay, I may not pay one hundred percent attention when he blabs on and on about investment properties or the price per square foot of Building A versus Building B, but can you blame me? Commercial real estate is freaking boring. Take it from me, I should know; it’s all Bill ever seems to talk about.
“Riley.” Bill makes no effort to move from in front of the mantle where he stands, but he extends his hand and pulls me toward him. “Can you come here for one second? There’s something I want to ask you. Something I’ve wanted to ask you for a long time.”
The smiling face of my roommate pops to mind and her words bounce around my brain. You’ll be engaged before me. But surely that’s not what this is. We haven’t been together that long. I haven’t even given him a key to my apartment yet. He just met my family.
“Riley Ann Jones.” He takes both my hands, and I will myself to close my mouth, which gapes open in the most unflattering way.
Oh, shit. Oh, no. Fuck. Please don’t let him be asking what I think he’s going to—
“This past year…” —nine months, I automatically correct in my head— “has been the happiest year of my life. You’re everything that I want in a life partner: smart, beautiful, kind, honest…”
I swallow. I’m not so honest.
He drops to one knee, looks up at me with caring brown eyes. “Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
My gaze darts around the room, heart beating wildly in my chest, not from excitement, but from fear.
His mother smiles at me encouragingly, as Bill cracks open a small, velvet jewelry box. “It was my grandmother’s. It’s been in our family for generations. I asked my mother to bring it in with her.” He waves with his free hand to where his parents sit. “It’s part of the reason why they flew in early.” He smiles again. “So, will you? Will you be my wife?”
Holy fuck. Bill scrunches his nose and I press my lips together, sending another silent prayer heavenward that I didn’t just say fuck in front of his parents. In front of my (potential) future in-laws.
“Kind of waiting on an answer here, Riley.” His voice jokes, but I can see the tension around his eyes.
I squeeze my eyes tight, swallow a deep breath, and nod. “Yes.” My voice is the faintest of whispers. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”
“Wonderful!” his mother exclaims, clapping her hands in front of her chest. Bill pulls himself to his feet and slips the ring onto my left finger. It’s delicate, a solitaire, round-cut stone, light and classy, but it feels like a heavy anchor pulling me down. I’m suffocating. Sinking. Drowning.
Mr. Lewg claps Bill on the back. “Congratulations, son.” They shake hands as though they’re business associates rather than father and son.
Bill locks eyes with me, the megawatt smile that is plastered on every billboard within a thirty-mile radius beams at me. He mouths “I love you,” but all I can do is nod, because there’s only one thought looping through my mind right now, and if I’m not careful, the words will escape and topple the house of cards that I’ve struggled to build this entire year.
Those words are on my mind throughout our indulgent, five-course meal.
They’re there later that night when Bill makes love to me and tells me how happy he is.
And they’re still there long after his breath has slowed and he has fallen asleep. Then, and only then, do I let the devastating truth fall past my lips:
He’s not Jesse.