Release, an all-new “mesmerizing” and “captivating”
standalone romance from USA Today bestselling author Aly Martinez, is available
now!
Growing up, Ramsey Stewart branded my soul in ways time
could never heal.
At twelve, he asked me to be his girlfriend.
At thirteen, he gave me my first kiss.
By sixteen, we’d fallen in love, planned a future together,
and had our eyes set on the horizon.
Love never fails, right?
But for Ramsey, it did.
Love failed him.
I failed him.
The entire world failed him.
At seventeen, Ramsey was convicted of killing the boy who
assaulted me.
Move on,he wrote in his first and only letter from prison.
Start a new life, he urged.
I don’t love you anymore, he lied.
There was no such thing as giving up on Ramsey. Love may
have been our curse, but he was mine—then, now, and forever.
So here I am, twelve long years later, waiting for a man I
don't even know to emerge from between the chain link gates.
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Excerpt
It was funny. I’d spent almost half my life surrounded by
the biggest, baddest criminals the state of Georgia had been able to capture.
Yet, I was terrified of a five-foot-five woman who for some asinine reason was
still in love with me.
I couldn’t be around her. Not if I wanted to keep my head
straight and my eye on the prize. I had three years before I got off parole. I
needed to get a job, tuck away some cash, and, the second I was allowed to
leave Georgia, get the hell out of there. Maybe, if I was lucky, I’d be able to
convince my sister to come with me. We didn’t have to go far. We could stay in
the south if she wanted. South Carolina, North Carolina, Alabama,
Tennessee—there were schools everywhere. Nora wouldn’t have trouble finding a
job. The hardest part would be convincing her to leave Thea.
However, maybe if she did, Thea would finally move on with
her life and stop obsessing about me.
I’d known they lived together for a while. I didn’t want
anything to do with Thea while I was locked up, but I was happy as hell Nora
had someone to lean on. I had been under the impression that Nora had gotten
her own place when she found out about my release. I had been under that
impression because Nora had straight-up told me she was getting her own place
after I’d declared there was no way I was living with Thea.
Now, I was hiding in my room, waiting for Nora to wake up,
open my door, and escort me to breakfast like a damn bodyguard so I could avoid
confrontation.
Next up in my efforts to kill time was a workout. Sit ups,
push-ups, planks, running in place. This was when I realized Nora hadn’t bought
me any deodorant.
Another shower.
Another naked lap around the bedroom, and this time, I
managed to keep my hands off my cock.
Finally, I got dressed. This required me to pick through a
bunch of preppy shit Nora had bought for me to find tattered jeans and a fitted
green tee that clung to my chest like a damn glove. In my closet, I found a
belt and a pair of distressed brown lace-up boots that maybe could have doubled
as combat boots if the war was taking place on a runway. But what the hell did
I know about style? I’d been wearing orange or puke beige for almost half my
life.
When I was done with all of that and there was still no sign
of Nora, I sat on the edge of the bed and decided to give the phone thing a
try. I wasn’t totally out of the technology loop. We had computers at the
library and we were allowed to use them if we earned the privileges. But they
might as well have been dinosaurs compared to the phone she’d bought me. I
couldn’t even get it to read my face with the fancy secret laser thing. I gave
up trying pretty quickly.
So there I was, bored out of my mind, starving, and poking
at my newfound wrinkles in the bathroom mirror, when I heard a knock at my
door.
“Ramsey?”
I froze, my eyes locked on the mirror, panic staring back at
me.
Thea.
Jesus. I needed to find somewhere else to live.
Leaning out of the bathroom, I stared at the door. If I was
super quiet, maybe she’d think I was still asleep and go the hell away.
When I didn’t reply, she knocked again. Her voice was timid
and sweet, not at all like the fearless girl I’d grown up with. I hated
it.
“Ramsey? You hungry? I’m making breakfast? I was wondering
if you wanted something?” Everything from my name to the fact that she was
making breakfast was a question, as if maybe she was asking permission to cook
in her own house.
My stomach was currently feasting on my backbone. Still, I
said nothing.
She sighed. “Okay. Well, if you change your—” There were
several seconds of silence.
I quirked my eyebrow at the door, trying to figure out why
she’d abruptly stopped talking, and then cursed my inability to develop x-ray
vision.
I held my breath, hoping to hear her footsteps as she walked
away.
No. Such. Fucking. Luck.
The door swung open and she came walking inside with her
hands stacked over her eyes. “Look, I know you’re awake. I heard you running
earlier. I also heard you take at least three showers. Sorry, but the house
isn’t that big. Neither is the hot water heater. Are you at least dressed so I
can open my eyes?”
Brave. Unapologetic. And completely oblivious to boundaries.
Now that was the Thea I knew.
“Get out,” I barked.
“Dressed? Not dressed? Help me out here?”
“Get. Out.”
She kept her eyes closed. “You gotta eat, Ramsey. You can’t
stay locked up in this room forever.”
I wanted to tell her to get the hell out again. Honestly, it
was on the tip of my tongue. But it never made it past my lips because my
traitorous eyes stole a head-to-toe of her lithe body. She was barefoot,
wearing jeans—tight ones that tapered at her ankle. They looked like mine in
the sense that they had a rip in the knee. They didn’t look like mine in the
sense that they hugged the curve of her hips and more than likely her ass too.
A pink tank top stretched across her chest, and I swear on my life, fuck x-ray
vision because I could see the pebble of her nipples beneath the fabric.
It wasn’t a ridiculous dress.
It wasn’t stupid fucking heels.
She wasn’t wearing a face full of clown makeup.
She was just Thea.
The nostalgia pumped through my veins like acid even as my
cock stirred. Fuck, I should have jerked off again in the shower.
“I’m dressed,” I bit out, desperate for her to put her damn
hands down and maybe use them to cover her tits instead.
Her long, brown lashes fluttered as she opened her eyes.
Those fucking eyes had once owned me. As a huge smile lit her face, I felt the
claim all over again.
“Oh, look, you chose one of the outfits I picked out for
you.”
Of course I had. Of fucking course. As soon as I got her out
of my room, I was going to take the outfit off and light it on fire.
About Aly
Originally from Savannah, Georgia, USA Today bestselling
author Aly Martinez now lives in South Carolina with her husband and four young
children.
Never one to take herself too seriously, she enjoys cheap
wine, mystery leggings, and olives. It should be known, however, that she hates
pizza and ice cream, almost as much as writing her bio in the third person.
She passes what little free time she has reading anything
and everything she can get her hands on, preferably with a super-sized tumbler
of wine by her side.
Connect with Aly
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