PATCH UP by Stephanie Witter
New Adult Contemporary Romance
**Due to some shocking scenes,
this novel is not intended for readers under 18**
Expected publication: September 2013
"What if I am already broken into pieces?"
She hates to be touched, hiding under her oversized shirts and behind her wild frizzy hair. Even her bubbly roommate can't reach her. And yet ...
"I'm the guy who knows how you can hurt so much that your insides feel like they're cut and bleeding."
The tall, handsome, and tattooed TA in her psychology class changes everything when he literally collides with her and confronts her. For the first time in a long time, she wants to try and open up to this guy whose dark, intense eyes can't hide his own pain despite his dazzling smile getting to her.
However, just when she's starting to live again, her ex-boyfriend comes back, breaking her time and time again, making it all the more complicated.
She wants to fight for herself and for this building thing with the TA, even when he pushes her away, but can two broken people patch each other up?
"I never thought colliding with someone could change lives, but it is possible."
(The first meeting)
Without paying attention to my surroundings, I turn to my left to walk toward the row closer to the door where a seat is available. I take a step and collide with a hard body, almost toppling me over on the ground for the second time in less than an hour. A strong hand grips me firmly by the forearm. My body stiffens and my breath catches in my throat. It’s as if I can’t move besides yanking my arm free without looking up to see who I collided with.
“Are you all right?” he asks me in a deep and calm voice.
My eyes wander from my red Converse to his dark boots. I have to calm down. I’m being ridiculous. Calm down. I take a deep breath and look up slowly. Long, muscled legs in beat up dark blue jeans, an old black leather jacket open over a dark grey V-neck sweater that showcases an impressive tall body with broad shoulders and finally, longish and messy black hair, perfect straight nose, full lips, high cheekbones and expressive soft dark eyes that lock with my bluish-greyish ones. He looks older with his goatee perfectly trimmed. A perfect hot mess many girls would say. I’m just intimidated by this stranger, though.
“I’m fine,” I reply, my voice even. I push away some of my untamed locks and curse my auburn frizzy hair that is always all over the place.
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