The Story of You and Me By Pamela DuMond
Release date: September 17, 2013
Genre:Coming-of-Age, Contemporary Romance
Age Group: New Adult, Mature Young Adult
She’s driven to save a life.
He’s haunted by breaking one.
Some secrets are too risky to share.
But nothing’s more dangerous than falling in love…
Nineteen-year-old Sophie doesn’t listen to the naysayers because she has hope. The kind of hope that makes you do weird things—like travel two thousand miles away from everyone she knows and loves to a strange city.
So what if her first night in Los Angeles starts with a small misstep—a brief trip to the ER after twenty-one-year-old Alejandro, the hottest guy she’s ever met, saves her during a bar fight on the USCLA campus.
The stakes are high for Sophie—life and death—as she seeks answers to dark questions in a city that can be a slice of heaven, or a piece of hell. She’s running out of time on her journey to find healing. Falling for a guy isn’t part of her plan. But healing doesn’t always come the way you think you need it.
Sophie’s healing is six-foot-two-inches tall, has stunning hazel eyes, black, shiny hair and a rock solid chest that shelters her. Her healing is Alejandro.
But he’s not your typical college party boy—he has a dangerous past. Sophie isn’t the only one who keeps secrets. As they fall in love, he fears his truth might hurt her. And Sophie doesn’t know if she has the courage to tell him:
He can’t break her—because she’s already broken.
A Story of Hope. A Story of Love. A Story of Redemption.
About the Author:
Pamela DuMond is the writer who discovered Erin Brockovich’s life story, thought it would make a great movie and pitched it to ‘Hollywood’.
She’s addicted to The X Factor. The movies Love Actually and The Bournetrilogy (with Matt Damon — not that other actor guy,) make her cry every time she watches them. (Like — a thousand.) She likes her cabernet hearty, her chocolate dark and she lives for a good giggle.
When she’s not writing Pamela’s also a chiropractor and cat wrangler. She loves reading, the beach, yoga, movies, animals, her family and friends. She lives in Venice, California with her furballs. If she ever gets her act together, she might even blog more often.
She’s constantly updating her website, which you can find at http://www.pameladumond.com
Connect with Pamela: Website | facebook | Twitter | Pinterest
Alex grinned at me and pushed the phone away from our faces for a second. “I’ve got this,” he whispered. Pulled my hand that held the phone close to his face. “Yes, Bubby Sophie.”
“Perfect, Alejandro,” Nana said. “Are you in a romance with my granddaughter? You do know she is a shiksa, yes? It seems many young men of the Jewish faith will happily date shiksas, but not be serious about marrying them. Will this be a problem for you in the future?”
“Nana!” I hollered and collapsed back into my seat. I face palmed my hand into my forehead in sheer humiliation that only a family member could initiate.
Alejandro ran his finger over my cheek and traced my jaw. His fingers landed squarely under my chin that was collapsed in my hands on my chest. He gently lifted my head up. “Put the phone back toward me,” he whispered.
I blushed but did as he asked.
“Bubby Sophie?” he asked.
“I thought for a second I lost you.”
“You’re not going to lose me, Bubby. In fact, I can’t wait to meet you some day soon. In regards to your shiksa granddaughter? I’m crazy about her Wisconsin accent—”
“What accent?” I slapped Alejandro’s thigh with my free hand. He caught my hand and interwove his fingers between mine and pulled me close to him. Which meant I was practically sitting in his lap.
A man in a truck in the next lane honked, leered and said, “Get a room!”
I glared at him. “Get a life!” I struggled to flip him my middle finger but it was currently engaged and wrapped tightly next to Alejandro’s middle finger. He squeezed my hand and winked at me. “Ignore the assholes,” he whispered into my ear and turned back toward the phone. “I adore your granddaughter’s snarky sense of humor…”
I stuck my tongue out at him.
“… her beautiful dairy queen face, the fact that she’s girlie but still thinks football is important and her sheer determination to get things done. So, no, I don’t care that she’s a shiksa. I also don’t care that she’s stubborn and that she’s probably going to test me even further once I get off the phone with you. Can you live with that, Bubby Sophie?”
“Yes,” Nana said. “You seem like a nice young man, and I greatly appreciate you letting me practice my foreign language skills with you.”
“You’re welcome.” Alejandro smiled at me.
“I must run or I’ll be late for the sing-along in the lobby. We’re performing a medley of Michael Jackson songs this week.”
“It’s my honor to have made your acquaintance,” Alejandro said.
“And you, Alejandro Maxwell Levine.”
I leaned into the phone. “I love you, Nana.”
“I love you back, my favorite granddaughter.”
“I’m your only granddaughter.”
“I know,” she said. “Which is number six on my top ten reasons why I love you the most.”
She paused for a moment and I heard her breathing, hard and raspy into the phone. “Nana? You okay?”
“Never better. Just promise me one thing?”
“What?” I asked.
“Life is full of mysteries, odd twists and turns. You think you’re traveling down one road only to discover you veered off and venturing down another. One that is completely unknown. And the new road has no fancy navigation system, no streetlights, or signs and you have no reception on your fancy phone. What do you do? Tell me, Sophie. What do you do?”
Alejandro squeezed my hand. He gazed into my eyes for a second. Smiled. Then turned his eyes back on the road. A lock of his black-brown hair escaped from behind his ear and fell onto his high, sharp cheekbone. He lifted my hand to his mouth and kissed it. Softly. Tenderly. I broke out in chills. Everywhere. “What should I do, Nana?”
“Be kind,” she said. “Just be kind to each other.”
“Okay,” I said.
But she’d already hung up.
It’s a good thing that I’m sober otherwise I’d go back there and punch him.
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