♥♦♥
We
are honored to share with you that one author who never ceases to give us the
emotional turmoil we are greedy for! We all love his love and on
Oct 13th 2015
we are getting a new favorite love.
See Me.
A story of second chances, first loves and unsuspected fear!
Oct 13th 2015
we are getting a new favorite love.
See Me.
A story of second chances, first loves and unsuspected fear!
Title: See Me
Author: Nicholas Sparks
Publication Date: October 13, 2015
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
See me just as I see you . . .
Colin Hancock is giving his second chance his best shot. With a
history of violence and bad decisions behind him and the threat of prison
dogging his every step, he's determined to walk a straight line. To Colin, that
means applying himself single-mindedly toward his teaching degree and avoiding
everything that proved destructive in his earlier life. Reminding himself daily
of his hard-earned lessons, the last thing he is looking for is a serious
relationship.
Maria Sanchez, the hardworking daughter of Mexican immigrants, is
the picture of conventional success. With a degree from Duke Law School and a
job at a prestigious firm in Wilmington, she is a dark-haired beauty with a
seemingly flawless professional track record. And yet Maria has a traumatic
history of her own, one that compelled her to return to her hometown and left
her questioning so much of what she once believed.
A chance encounter on a rain-swept road will alter the course of
both Colin and Maria's lives, challenging deeply held assumptions about each
other and ultimately, themselves. As love unexpectedly takes hold between them,
they dare to envision what a future together could possibly look like . . .
until menacing reminders of events in Maria's past begin to surface.
As a series of threatening incidents wreaks chaos in Maria's life,
Maria and Colin will be tested in increasingly terrifying ways. Will demons
from their past destroy the tenuous relationship they've begun to build, or
will their love protect them, even in the darkest hour?
SEE ME by Nicholas Sparks
In
the past, when she’d worked in the Mecklenburg County district attorney’s
office, Maria Sanchez had been in the courtroom with any number of criminals,
some of whom had been charged with the kinds of violent crimes that kept her
awake at night. She’d had nightmares about various cases and had been
threatened by a sociopath, but the simple fact was that she’d never been quite
as frightened back then as she felt right now on this deserted stretch as that car, driven by that guy, suddenly pulled to the side of the road.
It
didn’t matter that she was twenty-eight, or that she’d
graduated summa cum laude from UNC Chapel Hill, or that she’d
gone to law school at Duke. It didn’t
matter that she’d been a rising star in the
district attorney’s office before finding other work
at one of the best legal firms in Wilmington, or that until that moment, she’d
always had a pretty good handle on her emotions. As soon as he stepped out of
the car, all those truths went out the window and the only thing she could
think was that she was a young woman all alone in the middle of nowhere. When
he began to walk toward her, panic flooded through her. I’m going to die
out here, she suddenly realized, and
no one’s ever going to find my
body.
Moments
earlier, when his car had slowly drifted past hers, she’d seen him staring at
her—almost leering, like he was sizing her up—and her first thought was that
he’d been wearing a mask, which was terrifying enough, but way less scary than
the sudden realization that she’d actually seen his face. It was bruised on both sides; one eye was swollen shut, the other one
bright red and bloody. She was pretty sure that even more blood was dripping
down his forehead, and it had been all she could do not to start screaming. But
for whatever reason, not a sound escaped her.
For the love of God, she
remembered thinking as soon as he’d passed, please keep going. Whatever you do, please don’t stop.
But
obviously God hadn’t been listening. Why would God intervene to keep her from
ending up dead in a ditch out in the middle of nowhere? He wouldn’t. Instead,
He’d decided to have the guy pull over, and now a man with a mangled face was
gliding toward her like something out of a low-budget horror film. Or prison,
from which he’d just escaped, because the guy
was positively ripped, and wasn’t that what prisoners did? Lift weights all the
time? His haircut was severe, almost military style—the signature of one of the
gangs in prison she’d heard about? The ratty black concert T‑shirt didn’t help, nor did the torn‑up jeans, and the way he was holding his jacket
freaked her out. In this storm, why wasn’t he wearing it? Maybe he was using it
to hide . . .
A knife.
Or,
God forbid, a gun . .
.
A
squeak escaped her throat and her mind began racing through options as she
tried to figure out what to do. Toss the tire at him? She couldn’t even get the
thing out of the trunk. Scream for help? There was no one nearby, not a single
car had passed in the last ten minutes, and she’d left her cell phone God knows
where or she wouldn’t have been trying to change the tire in the first place.
Run? Maybe, but the liquid ease with which he moved suggested he’d easily catch
her. The only thing she could do was get back into the car and lock the doors,
but he was already right there, and there was no way to get past him . . .
“Need a hand?”
It
was the sound of his voice that jolted her out of her trance. Letting go of the
tire, she began backing away, focusing only on creating distance between the
two of them. Lightning flashed again and she noticed a blankness in his
expression, almost like something elemental was missing in his personality, the
piece that signaled that it wasn’t okay to rape and kill women.
“What
do you want with me?” she finally choked out.
“I
don’t want anything,” he answered.
“Then
what are you doing here?”
“I
thought you might need some help changing your tire.”
“I’m
fine,” she said. “I can handle it myself.”
He
looked from her to the flat tire, then back to her again.
“Okay.
Good night,” he said. Wheeling around, he started back toward his car, his
figure suddenly receding. His reaction was so unexpected that for a second she
felt paralyzed. He was leaving? Why was he leaving? She was glad about
that—actually, she was thrilled
about that—and yet, and yet . . .
“I’m
having trouble getting the tire out of the trunk!” she said, hearing the panic
in her own voice.
He
turned on his heel as he reached his car. “Seems like it.”
He
reached for his door and pulled it open, ready to climb in—
“Wait!”
she suddenly cried.
He
squinted at her through the downpour. “Why?” he called back.
Why? She wasn’t sure
she’d heard him right. But then again, she’d told him she didn’t need any help.
And she didn’t, except that she did, but it wasn’t as though she could call
anyone, and with her thoughts racing and jumbled, the next words spilled out
involuntarily.
“Do
you have a phone?” she shouted.
He
closed some of the gap between, stopping when he could be heard without
shouting, but not getting too close. Thank God. “Yes,” he answered.
She
shifted from one foot to the other, thinking Now
what? “I lost my phone,” she said. “I mean, I didn’t lose lose it.” She knew she was rambling, but the way he kept staring
at her made the words impossible
to stop. “It’s either at the office or I left it at my parents’, but I won’t know for sure until I
get to my MacBook.”
“Okay.”
He added nothing else; instead, he stood unmoving, his eyes steady on hers.
“I
use that Find My Phone thing. The app, I mean. I can track my phone because
it’s synced with the computer.”
“Okay.”
“Well?”
“Well
what?”
“Can
I borrow yours for a minute? I want to call my sister.”
“Sure,”
he answered. He tucked the phone into the folds of his jacket and as he began
to approach, she reflexively took another step backward. He placed the jacket
on the hood of her car and gestured at it.
She
hesitated. He was definitely odd, but she appreciated the fact that he’d
stepped away. She hurried to the bundle and found his iPhone tucked inside, the
same model as hers. When she pressed the button, the screen lit up and sure
enough, he was getting service. But it wouldn’t do any good unless . . .
“Five-six-eight-one,”
he offered.
“You’re
giving me your code?”
“You
can’t access the phone without it,” he noted.
“Aren’t
you worried about giving it to a stranger?”
“Are
you going to steal my phone?”
She
blinked. “No. Of course not.”
“Then
I’m not worried.”
She
wasn’t sure what to say to that, but whatever. She typed in the code with
trembling fingers and dialed her sister. By the third ring, she knew she’d get
Serena’s voice mail. Maria did her best to keep her frustration in check as she
left a message, explaining what had happened to the car and asking her sister
to come pick her up. She tucked the phone back into the jacket on the hood and
then stepped away, watching him.
“No
answer?” he asked.
“She’s
coming.”
“Okay.”
When the lightning flashed again, he motioned toward the rear of her car.
“While you’re waiting for her, do you want me to change your tire?”
She
opened her mouth to again decline his offer, but who knew when—or if—Serena
would get her message? And then there was the fact that she’d never actually
changed a tire in her life. Instead of answering, she let out a breath, trying
to keep the tremor from her voice. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Yes.”
“What
. . . what happened to your face?”
“I
was in a fight.”
She
waited a few beats before finally realizing he wasn’t going to add anything
else. That’s
it? No further explanation? His
demeanor was so utterly foreign, she wasn’t sure what to make of it. As he
stood in place, obviously waiting for the answer to his earlier question, she
glanced at the trunk, wishing she actually knew how to change a tire.
“Yes,”
she finally said. “If you wouldn’t mind, I’d love some help changing the tire.”
“Okay.”
He nodded. She watched as he reached for the bundle on the hood and tucked his
phone back into his pocket before slipping his jacket on. “You’re afraid of
me,” he said.
“What?”
“You’re
afraid I’m going to hurt you.” When she said nothing, he went on. “I won’t, but
whether you believe that is up to you.”
“Why
are you telling me this?”
“Because
if I’m going to change your tire, I’m going to have to approach the trunk.
Which means I’ll be approaching you, too.”
“I’m
not afraid of you,” she lied.
“Okay.”
“I’m not.”
“Okay,”
he said again, then started toward her. She felt her heart squeeze as he passed
within arm’s reach of her, only to feel foolish when he walked right past
without slowing. He unscrewed something, then lifted the spare tire out and set
it aside before he disappeared behind the trunk again, no doubt to retrieve the
jack.
“One
of us needs to move your car onto the road,” he said. “It needs to be level
before I get the jack going, otherwise the car might slip.”
“But
I’ve got a flat tire.”
He
peeked around the side, jack in hand. “It won’t hurt the car. Just go slow.”
“But
it will block most of the lane.”
“It’s
blocking half the lane already.”
He
had a point there . . . but . . .
But
what if that was all part of his plan? To distract her somehow? To get her to
turn her back?
A plan that included letting me use his phone? And removing
the tire from the trunk?
Rattled
and self-conscious,
she got into the car and started the engine, slowly but surely edging it back
onto the road and setting the emergency brake. By the time she opened the door,
he was rolling the spare toward the rear tire, lug wrench in hand.
“You
can stay in the car if you want,” he said. “This shouldn’t take long.”
She
debated before closing the door, then spent several minutes watching in the
side mirror as he continued to loosen the bolts before sliding the jack into
place. A moment later, she could feel the car lifting slightly, bouncing its
way slowly upward and then stopping. She watched as he finished unscrewing the
bolts before sliding the tire off, just as the storm began to intensify, rain
blowing in gusty sheets. The spare went on quickly, along with the bolts, and
then all at once, the car was being lowered again. He placed the flat tire back
in her trunk along with the jack and the lug wrench, and she felt him gently
push the trunk closed. And just like that, it was over. Still, she startled a
little when he tapped on her window. She lowered the glass and rain began to
spit through the opening. With his face still shadowed, it was almost possible
to see past the bruises and the swelling and the bloody eye. Almost, but not
entirely.
“You’re
good to go,” he shouted over the gale, “but you should probably get the tire
fixed or replace it sooner rather than later. Your spare isn’t meant to be used
permanently.”
She
nodded, but before she could thank him, he had already turned and was jogging
toward his car. He jerked his door open and slid behind the wheel. She heard
the roar of his engine and then—before she knew it—she was alone on the road
again, albeit now in a car that would get her home.
With over 100 million copies of his books sold, Nicholas Sparks is one of the world's most beloved storytellers. His novels include 12 #1 New York Times bestsellers. All his books have been New York Times and international bestsellers, and were translated into more than 50 languages. Ten Sparks novels have been adapted into major motion pictures, with The Choice coming in February 2016.
