Lost In Me is the first book in the Here and Now series, a spin-off of the New York Times and USA Today bestselling New Hope series. This sexy amnesia love triangle is intended for mature readers.
Releasing April 7, 2014
If you pre-order on iBooks or purchase the first week of release, you receive a fan appreciation price of only .99 cents!
The last thing I remember is having drinks at Brady’s and trying to avoid eye-contact with my life-long crush—the gorgeous, unattainable Maximilian Hallowell. They tell me that was a year ago, but I have no memories of anything since then. What I do have is this ring on my finger that Max says he gave me, and this much-thinner body I’ve dreamed of most of my life. Aside from a case of retrograde amnesia, everything seems almost…perfect.
But the deeper I immerse myself into this new world of mine—planning a wedding to a man I don’t remember dating, attempting to run a business I don’t remember starting—the clearer it becomes that nothing is as it seems. Do I have the life I’ve always wanted or is it a facade propped up by secrets I don’t even know I have?
I need answers before I marry Max, and the only person who seems to have them is the angry, tatted, sexy-as-sin rocker Nate Crane. And Nate wants me for himself.
Lost in Me is not a standalone novel, as the story continues in Here and Now book two, FALL TO YOU, releasing in June.
“You don’t understand what this is like. Not remembering? I’m planning a wedding to this man I’ve wanted most of my life. Don’t I owe it to him—don’t I owe it to myself—to have the truth out there before we promise until death do us part?”
Even in the moonlight, I can see the pain in his eyes.
“I just need answers.” I lift my chin and move toward the back wall of the house, toward him. Immediately, I regret the decision because his lips curve into a wicked smile and he closes what distance is left between us. “I need the truth,” I whisper weakly.
“The truth? Is that what you really want, angel?” His deep voice dances over my skin like a caress. A little tender. A lot wicked.
I can’t reply. I’m too busy holding my breath. Too deep of an inhale might brush my breasts against his chest, and I’m afraid to touch him. Afraid of what it might make me feel.
As if he can read my mind, he takes another step closer, and when I step to the side to turn away, I’m against the wall and his body is against mine, his hot breath at my ear.
“Do you want to know what it was like between us?” he whispers.
I realize my mistake when a groan rumbles from his chest. “Should I start with how wet you were every time I touched you? Or maybe how you begged me that first night?”
“Have you been telling yourself some wicked rocker seduced you? That I tricked you into my bed? Sorry. You asked for the truth. You begged. Right there outside the club, you begged me until I ripped your panties off and you were too busy biting my neck to talk anymore. Is that what you’re hoping to remember? How you wanted me so badly you let me finger you out in the open, against that building where anyone could have seen?”
My breathing is uneven, my cheeks hot. When I press into his chest to put some distance between us, my traitorous hands curl into his shirt instead.
He makes a low growling sound at the back of his throat. His teeth nip at my earlobe. Lightning cracks in the sky behind him. “You might have forgotten me, but you still like dirty talk, don’t you? And maybe if I made you come now, you’d still scream my name. Because you always screamed my name, Hanna. Never his.”
I gasp. “You are horrible.”
“What are you really upset about? That you wanted me? Or that even as you stand here wearing his ring, you’re secretly hoping I’ll tell you about it. Secretly wishing you could remember all the details.”
LOST IN ME © Lexi Ryan, 2014
About the Author
Once a college English professor, I now write full time. I live in rural Indiana, where, when I’m not writing, I get to hang out with my husband and two kids–a six-year-old boy and a two-year-old hellion, er, girl. Not surprisingly, reading and writing remain my favorite activities, though both come in bits and pieces these days, not the big hunks of time I enjoyed before I had children. When I’m feeling virtuous, I like to go running (I use that word liberally. I’m really, really slow) or do yoga. Don’t worry, I’m always careful to balance out such activities with a hearty serving of ice cream or a chocolate martini.
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