Thursday, July 3, 2014

Blog Tour Stop: Keeping Jahleel by S. Ann Cole


Note to self:

If an arsehole tells you he’s yours, believe him.

If a good guy tells you he’s yours, be dubious.

Good guys lie, because their ‘good’ reputation makes it so easy.

Arseholes never lie. Because they have no reason to. They don’t care about your ‘feelings’. They just slap ya’ with the hard truths.

And nothing hurts more than the truth, right?

So basically, Hard Truth is an arsehole’s most precious weapon.

I wish I’d known all this. I wouldn’t have been so distrustful, nagging, annoying, and jealous. I wouldn’t have been the girlfriend every guy hates to have.

Keeping Jahleel shouldn’t have been that hard. I had him. He was mine. He loved me.
He assured me of this. Over and over.
And I should’ve believed.
I should’ve kept my mouth—and legs—shut.
I should’ve believed when he told me he was mine, and mine alone.

Because arseholes never lie.

A follow-up novella to JAHLEEL

3 Stars
Seriously, if you're looking for a read that is filled with angst. Then this follow-up book is just for you. It's filled with heartbreak, drama and love. Saskia and Jahleel are truly passionate and can be volatile at the same time!

I knew going into this that their story was going to be full of surprises. I can't say much more about this story and their relationship, but it a must read to follow up from their first book. 


June 15th
Forcing a smile, I nodded, and he slung an arm around my neck rude-boy style, moving out to the dance floor.
We stole the middle of the floor just as Bruno Mars' Just the Way You Are began playing. Jahleel gave me his famous crooked grin and tugged me into him, crushing his lips to mine right there in front of everyone.
Surprised by the attack, I pressed a hand to his chest, but only to gain balance so I could kiss him back, as his arm was still hooked around my neck, making me feel like a biker's Old Lady.
Breaking the kiss, he stared down at me for a long moment, his golden eyes something fierce in the dark. Then he mouthed, "You're amazing," before unhooking his arm from around me, and in one smooth flow, caught me with his other hand and reeled me out, my hair whipping around, then he pulled me back in.
A happy giggle bubbled from me at the sudden movement.
He started dancing, and I was no longer in control of my feet. He moved for both of us. Hands on my waist, guiding me. Of course, he knew I couldn't dance, so he was doing me a huge favor.
The song bled into another, and then another, and we danced and danced. Me grinning like an idiot the whole way through. Music blaring, people moving, dancing, yet I saw only one person. Jahleel. For me, no one else was in the room but us. I loved him so much.
"Can't believe…I've been missin' out on this…all these years," Jahleel whispered brokenly into my ear as we rocked slowly to Christina Perri's A Thousand Years. "You're such a spectacular fuckin' view, Sassy. Priceless. Fuckin' priceless. Don't wanna look anywhere else but here. Through any other windows but your eyes. Walk through any other door but your heart."
I stared up at him, unblinking, as his words seeped deep into my soul. I felt like I've been loving him for a thousand years, too. And it was so surreal that we were finally together. We fought, we worried, we doubted, but in the end, we knew we belonged together. We knew we were each other's forevers.
A tear stained my cheek, and Jahleel gave me a faint smile, wiping it away with his thumb.
"Do you love me?"
"Forever," I answered without hesitation.
"Good," he said. "'Cause I love me, too. Nice knowing I'm not the only who thinks I'm the shit."
Giggling like the giggly sluts I hated so much, I smacked his arm. "Arse."
He watched me with soft eyes like he adored the crap out of me.
Of course, Lion had to bloody interrupt. Again. "Bodyguard's been briefed. Free to go now."
We started off the dance floor, and Jahleel leaned down to whisper, "So, do the cocky assholes usually get into the British girls' panties at the end of the night?"
"No," I answered with a serious expression. "They usually get hair-gripping blow-jobs. British style." 


S. Ann Cole is a passionate writer and reader, and a lover of anything that distracts her from the real world.  Reader first and second a writer, S. Ann Cole is an exaggerator, a laugher, sometimes overly chatty, sometimes overly shy. She’s afraid of cats, dogs, snakes—heck, she’s only tolerable to gold fishes in a tank. Because if they do jump out and try to attack her, the suckers will die…

She hates chocolate, schmaltz and arrogance.

She loves carbs, Chris Brown and humility.

She lives nowhere and everywhere.

Jokey people are her favorite people, as laughter is the way to her heart.

Ann hopes that one day, the right day, when it’s her time (because nothing happens before its time), her hard work will be noticed and appreciated, and she’ll become a “bestselling author”…

…But she’s guessing that might not be likely if she continues to write such sucky author bios.
When Ann’s not abusing her computer keyboard, you can find her nosing a novel, watching anything on television that makes her laugh until she breaks into hiccups, studying the Bible, or guzzling booze.


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