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Ruined final 2 (2)I am so excited to announce that my newest book, RUINED, was just released today!

This is a New Adult romance with lots of emotion, angst and love. 🙂

Check it out on Amazon at:

http://www.amazon.com/Ruined-ebook/dp/B00EN0ZA3K

and on Nook at:

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/ruined-rachel-hanna/1116523394

I sure hope you love these characters as much as I loved writing them!

Here’s a small sample of RUINED:

June, 2008

I cracked my knuckles, which is an awful habit, as I sat in the back of the police cruiser. I’d never been in a police car, and I made myself a vow that this would be the one and only time I ever would. I felt something sticky as I ran the fingers on my right hand across my left hand. Blood. Wishing I had access to a bathroom or at least a wet cloth, I opted instead to sit on my hands. Out of sight, out of mind. At least that was the goal, but it didn’t work.

How did this happen? Shock consumed me over and over again. Regret. Guilt. Anger. Sadness. A flurry of emotions threatened to overwhelm me for the tenth time that night. Choking back another set of sobs, I slowly pulled out my hands, completely numb from sitting on them, and stared at them through the flickering lights of the two police cars. The blood was dry and caked onto my hands. The image would forever be burned into my mind. A lot of images would forever be burned into my mind. There would be no escape for me. A wall slowly crept up around me, and I knew that no one would ever be able to climb over it.

Off in the distance, I could see my distraught mother talking to a police officer on the stoop of our formerly cohesive family home. She had her arms pulled around her, as if she was hugging herself for comfort. I’d only seen her do that one other time, and it was when Grandpa died three years ago. I could see her tear stained face, and I could feel my own tears returning to sting my eyes once again. When would the tears stop? Surely a person could get dehydrated from crying, and if that was true I was in medical trouble soon.

As I watched her, I felt my mind become detached from my body as if I was watching a terrible movie with an awful ending. I could see an invisible but immensely strong wall being erected between my mother and myself. How would she ever look at me again? She would surely regret the day I was ever born, and I couldn’t blame her.

I saw my mother glance at the police car that now housed her one and only child, and the grief that rocketed through her face was palpable. Her smart, popular fifteen year old daughter was locked in a police car and there was nothing she could do about it. I wasn’t even sure she ever wanted to see me again.