Westbrook Blues - La série

Top #10 Amazon Sports Romance Fiction Bestseller "Deep always calls unto deep. The results? Reckless Hate & Catastrophe." Westbrook had four boys that ruled my life once. They were hell raisers. Cunning Athletes. Skilled Manipulators. Hateful Assholes. Gorgeous gods. Heartbreakers. . . Only I never counted on them breaking my heart as savagely as they did, sending me away when I needed them the most. Making me spiral into a vicious abyss of darkness where I'm haunted by a pair of frosty blue eyes filled with hate. But now I'm back and this time around, for a reason that makes breathing almost completely impossible. And if they think I won't get revenge for my brother--one of the Blue Boys--then they have another kind of hell to face. Because I'm no longer their little Blue girl from four years ago. . .

Devastation tastes a lot like ash in your mouth. It feels like looming death hanging over your bones. It sounds like the violent shattering of your soul. It has an acrid smell much like that of rotting hearts. . . But most of all, devastation looks a lot like the beautiful, fiery girl with her fake sincerity and lies. Now, she thinks we're somehow an option that she can discard at any fucking time. Does it surprise you then, sweetheart, that I would show you what real hate is? Isn’t it a tragedy after all? To wish on a star that has fallen from grace? Because baby, that’s what you are to me now. A beautiful tragedy that I desperately want to make atone for all her sins. I guess we were two mismatched, vicious and tragic souls flourishing in hate, headed straight for the sweet experience of deep devastation.

What’s wrong Baby Blue? Did you mistake his forced sincerity for love? Every kiss will fade in time. Every memory will fade in time. Every smile, every teardrop, every wound—it’ll all dry up—in time. But every lie? That shit only gets bigger and more devastating with time. In time... I’lol learn to let him go, but not without leaving my bitter mark on him like he carelessly ruined my soul with his cold, rough touch. In time I’ll learn to forgive this that have wronged me as savagely as they did. In time I’ll rise from the ashes and sour. In time the Blue Boys will learn to take me seriously come hell or high water. But for right now, we’re in the final blue act, playing for hateful truths—our audience of two faced snakes cheering for the hate and the breaking. Resentment, toxic anger, lies and betrayal are the rules of the game. The price? A bitter ending. What will break? My hate or your heart? Because baby, love means absolutely nothing when it falls on broken, shattered souls like ours.