Title: When It's Right (Montana Men, #2)
Author: Jennifer Ryan
Publisher/Publication Date: Avon Books; March 31, 2015
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Format/Source: E-ARC/E-Book, Publisher/Edelweiss & Purchased
When It’s Right (Montana Men #2) synopsis
Gillian ‘s
turbulent life has never been easy, but nothing prepared her for the moment of
violence that sends her and her little brother running from San Francisco to
her grandfather’s ranch in Montana. A man she’s never met. She
learned long ago not to trust anyone, but she’ll do anything to keep her
brother safe and give him the happy childhood she never had. When she meets
Blake Bowden, a strong, silent, gorgeous cowboy who teaches her about
the ranch and rescued horses-animals who have been through hell and
back, just as she has-Gillian begins to feel at ease for the first time in
memory. In fact, she even starts to feel happy. But in her world happiness has
always been fleeting, and she’s not sure she can believe in it or the man who
has quickly found his way into her heart.
Blake has
everything he’s ever wanted: a partnership on a ranch that allows him
to spend his day in the saddle training racehorses. His life is good, steady,
uncomplicated…until the most beautiful, haunted looking woman arrives at Three
Peaks Ranch. If he wants to keep his ideal life, his partner’s
granddaughter is entirely off limits, but Gillian awakens a protective instinct
in Blake that he can’t ignore…and ignites a passion he shouldn’t feel. But as
Gillian heals and finds her way back into the world, Blake knows that he’s
found the one thing that he never knew he was missing. And when danger comes
close, he will do anything he must to keep Gillian safe…even if it means
risking his life’s dream.
WHEN IT’S
RIGHT, Ch1 Excerpt
Chapter One
San
Francisco, California
“Help me!”
Home late from her
shift washing dishes at the Jade Palace, Gillian pounded up the two flights of
stairs as fast as her legs allowed. She hit the landing and turned right,
racing down the hallway past her apartment’s open door to Mrs. Wicks's unit at
the end of the hall. She’d heard the screams from outside. Not the first time
she’d answered that call, but so help her God, if her father touched one hair
on Justin’s head, she’d kill him.
“I’m calling the
police,” the babysitter, Mrs. Wicks, threatened loud enough for her voice to carry
down the hall.
“Damnit, woman,
he’s my blood,” her father bellowed.
Gillian rushed
into the apartment, spotted Justin holding his arm, tears shimmering in his
eyes, but otherwise appearing unharmed. She looked her father up and down
assessing the situation in a glance and the odds on talking him down from
whatever ludicrous idea had taken root in his shadowed mind. Dressed in the
same clothes he’d left in four days ago, his hair an oily mass hanging lank to
his shoulders, he reeked of whiskey, cigarette and pot smoke, and acrid body
odor. The wild look in his bloodshot eyes told her he hadn’t slept in a good
long while. Riding a meth high, he’d probably binged for days. Soon, he’d lose
all sense of reality and need more of the drug that wouldn’t give him the high
he needed, since he’d overloaded his system. He’d crash, his body shutting down
and putting him into a deep sleep for a day, or two, or three before he woke up
miserable, needing more of what put him in this psychotic state in the first
place.
Frustrated and
angry, but resigned to this same worn-out routine, she shored up her resolve to
get through this night, like she’d done too many times in the past, trapped
raising a child with little money and even fewer choices. None of them good.
Her father paced,
his movements jerky. He scratched at his arm, his legs, the back of his neck
with his grime filled nails. He slapped at his thigh, then bit at the tips of
his fingers. A hint to how far he’d fallen down the rabbit hole. Not good.
“Dad, come on. Let’s
go home. I’ll make you something to eat,” she coaxed, keeping her voice calm.
A powder keg of
roiling rage, you never knew what would set him off.
Justin cowered in
the corner of the couch, his eyes wide and watchful. He didn’t move, afraid of
drawing her father’s attention. Even at six, he knew the rules of this twisted
game.
Mrs. Wicks moved
into the kitchen, leaving Jessie to handle getting her father out of there and
back to their place. She’d done it before. Usually, he’d come looking for her.
She’d been held up at work, and he’d found little Justin alone. She never left
Justin with him if she could help it, especially over the last year when her
father spent more time strung-out and paranoid on meth than comfortably numb
with booze and pot, like he’d been every day of her life.
The last two weeks
had been hell. Her patience had worn thin days ago. If she could hold on, get
him out of Mrs. Wicks’s apartment and into theirs, she could take Justin and
crash somewhere else for a few days until her father came down and leveled off.
Then, joy, they
could start this whole thing over again.
I wish Justin and I were anywhere else.
Inside, the
pressure built. How good it would feel to open her mouth and unleash a string
of curses, insults, and blame for what her father put her and Justin through
day in and day out. She hated him for spending his life drowning in a bottle
and doing drugs, his life going up in smoke. Her life went up with it. Justin’s
too. She wanted it to end. One way or another, just end.
Her father swatted
at some imaginary bird, or butterfly, or dragon for all she knew. Only he saw
the tormenting hallucinations. If he was this far gone, he was even more
volatile and dangerous than usual.
“Dad, come on.
I’ll make you a burger and get you a beer.”
“We have to go.”
His words came out rushed. He swatted at the air again, this time spinning
around to the right before he stopped and turned the other way again, tracking
his imaginary flying devils, waving his arms over his head to swat them away.
She shook her
head, frustrated and tired of dealing with him. This. Everything. She wanted to
run away, but where would she go? It was all she could do now to keep a roof
over Justin’s head and food in his belly with the diminishing help her father
supplied. Out on the streets, or in a shelter, they’d be vulnerable to even
more horrors. What kind of life would that be for Justin? Better than this one?
Maybe. Maybe not. Still, she needed to find a way to give Justin better than
she’d had growing up with a volatile drunk, who could barely keep a bartending
job and supplemented his income selling drugs to support his own habits.
“We have to go. We
have to go. We have to go,” her father chanted, getting agitated, hitting the
side of his head with one hand and scratching at the imaginary bugs crawling
under his skin on his leg with the other.
Fed up, she
stepped toward him to grab his arm and lead him back to their place. He jumped
out of her reach and laughed. The sound held no humor, but a touch of hysteria
in the odd shriek. Her father pointed at her, shaking his head side to side.
“No. No. No. No. No.” Again, his ominous giggle sent a chill up her spine.
Her father grabbed
Justin’s arm and yanked him off the couch. She stood her ground in front of
him. No way he left here with Justin.
“Let him go. He
needs to finish his homework.” She made up the excuse, hoping he’d release
Justin, and she could get him out of there.
“He’s mine. He’ll
keep them away. He’s got the light that turns them away.”
Paranoid, delusional asshole.
She sighed,
knowing just where this was going and not liking it one bit. Soon, her father
would spiral into a psychotic delusion no one could talk him out of.
Please, just pass out already.
Not that lucky,
she tensed and waited to see what came next. Her father pulled Justin in front
of him, held him by both arms and turned him this way and that, a shield
against an enemy only he could see.
“Ow!” Justin cried
out when her father’s fingers dug into his thin arms.
“Keep them back.”
Her father tugged on Justin again. Hurt and scared, Justin planted his feet and
pulled away, trying to get free. Her father held tighter, spun him around to
face him, and when her father hurt Justin and he fell to the floor, tears
spilling from his eyes, Jessie's couldn't take the ache in her heart and her
anger exploded.
“Keep them back.”
Her father shook Justin again.
Jessie lost it. “I
warned you, if you ever touched him...” She lunged for her father, striking him
in the arm, breaking his hold on Justin. She shoved her father two steps back
and Justin ran for Mrs. Wicks in the kitchen, who rattled off the building
address to the police on the phone. Not the first time someone called the cops
on her father, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. No way they got here in time
to stop him. Whatever happened next, she’d sure as hell make sure he never got
anywhere near Justin again.
Her father came
after her in a drug-hazed rage that gave him strength and sent him into a
mindless attack. All other thoughts disappeared behind the fury filling his
mind. Her father only knew how to hurt. She’d been through this too many times
to count and braced for the impact when his fist came at her straight into her
eye. Pain exploded in her head. She shoved him in the chest, but he came back with
a slap to her jaw that stung something fierce. She kicked him in the shin and
shoved him again. He fell back two steps, his hand coming up from behind his
back. Momentarily stunned, she didn’t move, but stared down the gun's black
barrel in disbelief that he’d actually pulled a weapon on her. She didn’t know
where he’d gotten it, only that this added a whole other level to what had
seemed like just another rotten night in her life.
Her father held
the gun steady, even when he swatted the imaginary devils pestering him. His
eyes narrowed on her and in that moment she joined him in the madness she saw
swirling in his gaze.
You or me?
One of them wasn't
leaving that room alive.
Justin needs me.
You.
She rushed him,
grabbed the gun, spun her back into his chest, the gun in both their hands
pointed to the window. He tried to wrench it free, punching her in the ribs
with his free hand. She jerked on the gun again and again and scratched his
hand to get him to release it until he finally let go and the gun thumped onto
the floor and skittered across the scarred hardwood. He shoved her from behind.
She stumbled forward, scooped the gun off the floor, and turned to face him.
Never turn your
back on a psycho.
He leaned forward
and charged her like a wounded beast, murder in his eyes and a guttural yell
that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.
She swung the gun
up and fired. Once. Twice.
Mrs. Wicks
screamed.
Blood bloomed on
his chest. Still he kept coming. His hands fisted in her T-shirt. He lifted her
off her feet and shoved her backward into the window. Her back and head hit the
glass with a crack a split second before it shattered. Glass tore and bit into
her skin, but she didn’t feel the pain past the one thought in her head. It’s
done.
Justin screamed,
“Gillian, no!”
I'm sorry.
She flew through
the window.
Her father’s dark
form stood in the opening, highlighted by the lights behind him. He literally
dropped to the floor out of her sight.
Be safe, Justin. Be happy.
Her body slammed
into the roof of a car with a sickening thud. Everything went black.
Review
Jennifer Ryan
is back again with another story that is sure to draw you in with the
intense dramatic scenes in the beginning. When It’s Right addresses familial
issues associated with substance abuse and Gillian’s struggles as she learned
to trust those around her. Ryan presented both characters that were likeable
and those that you love to hate. I loved the fact that Gillian was resilient
and continued to press on while having Justin’s best interest as her top
priority. And as was true with At Wolf Ranch, I liked the fact that the
romantic elements were nicely woven into the story.
Rating 3/5 The book was enjoyable and I would consider
recommending it to others.
I received an e-arc of this book from the publisher/Edelweiss in exchange for an honest review. I also purchased a copy.
Teaser
“I’m
not going to kiss you.”
Bud
would kill him. Yes, think about that. A slow and painful death, not her full,
soft lips. Damnit.
“Oh,
you are going to kiss me.” She walked right up to him and stood on tiptoe with
her body pressed to his. His hands remained at his sides, wrapped around the
edge of the desk. She ran her hands up his arms to his shoulders. “Kiss me,
Blake. I want you to.”
The
devil inside him leaped. He cupped her face in his hands and stared down into
her beautiful hazel eyes. Be gentle. Give her that much. “I’ve wanted to do
this since the moment I saw you.” His lips touched hers, soft, tender. Just
that one light meeting of lips and mingling of breath and she wanted more. More
than she’d ever wanted for herself. For the first time in her life, she wanted
to love this man and be loved by him. She had a thousand dreams run through her
mind, and all of them were filled with Blake.
About the Author
Jennifer
Ryan is the New York Times & USA Today bestselling author of The Hunted
Series and The McBrides Series. She writes romantic suspense and contemporary
small-town romances featuring strong men and equally resilient women. Her
stories are filled with love, family, friendship, and the happily-ever-after we
all hope to find.
Jennifer lives in the San Francisco Bay Area with her husband and three
children. When she isn’t writing a book, she’s reading one. Her obsession with
both is often revealed in the state of her home and in how late dinner is to
the table. When she finally leaves those fictional worlds, you’ll find her in
the garden, playing in the dirt and daydreaming about people who live only in
her head, until she puts them on paper.
Connect
with the Author
Giveaway
Title:Ancillary Justice
