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K. Bromberg is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of the Driven series. K. lives in Southern California with her husband and three children . The Driven Series Boxed Set - (Driven, Fueled, Crashed and Raced) ENG. - K. Bromberg - dokument [*.epub] Table of Contents Copyright Other Books Driven. Title: Aced (Driven Series Book Author: K. Bromberg Genre: Contemporary Romance Rylee and Colton's ride continues One moment. Six years ago.


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Sincerely, Josh! Free Reading: Sweet Ache Driven 6 [Romance Book]. Sweet Ache Driven 6 by K. More about Beryl Cook.

You and I Together. Melissa Toppen. Breathe into Me. Sara Fawkes. Sweet Fall. Torn from You. Nashoda Rose. Masked Innocence. Alessandra Torre.

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You and I Alone. You and I Forever. Dirty Billionaire. Meghan March. Filthy Beautiful Lust. Kendall Ryan. Rebel Heir. Vi Keeland. Bound to You.

Vanessa Booke. This Man Confessed.

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Sweet Filthy Boy. Christina Lauren. Addicted To You Box Set. Chelle Bliss. Blindfolded Innocence. Stuck-Up Suit. Temptation Club X 1. Richer Than Sin. Sinful Empire. Treasure your Love.

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Big Rock. Lauren Blakely. Faking It. Sweet Ache. Slow Burn. Down Shift. Hard Beat. Bundle Fourteen. Kristen Ashley. The Player. The Catch. Worth the Risk.

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An Everyday Heroes Novella. Sweet Rivalry Dark Nights. How to write a great review. The review must be at least 50 characters long. The title should be at least 4 characters long.

Your display name should be at least 2 characters long. At Kobo, we try to ensure that published reviews do not contain rude or profane language, spoilers, or any of our reviewer's personal information. You submitted the following rating and review. We'll publish them on our site once we've reviewed them. Continue shopping. Item s unavailable for purchase. Please review your cart. The walls keep moving in on me.

My need to escape is the only thing I can focus on. I pound on the door again, yelling frantically, hoping someone roaming these back corridors can hear me. I lean my back against the wall, close my eyes, and try to catch my breath; it's not coming quickly enough and dizziness surfaces.

Becoming nauseous, I start to slide down the wall and accidentally hit the light switch. I'm submerged in pitch-black darkness. I cry out, frantically searching for the switch with my trembling hands.

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I flick it on, relieved to have pushed the monsters back into hiding. But when I look down, blood covers my hands. I blink to try and snap out of my reverie, but I can't shake it. I'm in a different place. A different time. All around me, I smell the acrid stench of destruction. Of desperation. Of death. In my ears, his thready breathing is agonizing. He's gasping. I feel the intense, blazing pain that twists so deep in your soul, you fear you'll never escape it.

Even in death. My screams shake me out of the memory, and I'm so disoriented that I'm not sure if they're from the past or the present. Get a grip, Rylee! I rub the tears off my cheeks with the backs of my hands and think back to my previous year in therapy to try to keep my claustrophobia at bay.

I concentrate on a mark on the wall across from me, try to regulate my breathing, and slowly count. I focus on pushing the walls out, pushing the unbearable memories away. I count to ten, gaining a scrap of composure, yet desperation still clings to me. I know Dane will come looking for me shortly.

He knows where I went, but the thought does nothing to alleviate my surmounting panic. Finally, I surrender to my intense need to escape and start pounding on the door with the heels of my hands. Shouting loudly. Cursing sporadically. Begging for someone to hear me and open the door.

For someone to save me again. In my ragged state of mind, seconds feel like minutes and minutes feel like hours. I feel like I've been locked in this ever-shrinking closet forever.

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Feeling defeated, I yell out once more and rest my forearms on the door in front of me. Bracing my weight on my forearms, I lay my head on them and succumb to my tears. Large, ragged sobs shake violently through me. And suddenly, I have the feeling of falling. Falling forward as I stumble into the solid body of a man in my path. My arms encircle a firm torso while my legs lie awkwardly bent behind me. The man instinctively brings his arms up and wraps them around me, catching me, holding my weight and absorbing my impact.

I look up, quickly registering the shock of dark hair spiked haphazardly, bronzed skin, the slight shadow of stubble ,,, and then I meet his eyes. A jolt of electricity-an almost palpable energy-crackles when I meet those guarded, translucent green irises. Surprise flashes through them fleetingly, but the intrigue and intensity with which he regards me is unnerving, despite my body's immediate reaction to him.

Needs and desires long forgotten inundate me with this one, simple meeting of eyes. How can this man I've never met make me forget the panic and desperation I felt only moments before? I make the mistake of breaking eye contact and glancing down at his mouth. Full, sculpted lips purse as he studies me intently, and then very slowly, they spread into a lopsided, roguish grin.

Oh, how I want that mouth on me-anywhere and everywhere all at once. What in the hell am I thinking? This man is way out of my league. Like light years away out of my league. I draw my gaze back up to see amusement in his eyes, as if he knows what I'm thinking.

I can feel a flush slowly spread over my face as embarrassment for both my predicament and my salacious thoughts registers in my brain. I tighten my grip around muscular biceps as I lower my gaze to avoid his assessing eyes and try to regain my composure. Bringing my feet back under me, I accidentally stumble farther into him, my balance compromised by my inexperience with sky-high heels. I jump back from him as my breasts brush against his firm chest, setting my nerve endings ablaze.

Tiny detonations of desire tickle deep in my belly. The man is even more disarming now that I'm able to drink in the whole length of him. Imperfectly perfect and sexy as hell with a smirk suggesting arrogance and an air exuding trouble. He raises an eyebrow, noticing my slow inspection of him. His voice evokes images of rebellion and sex. I can only hope he's joking, but his enigmatic expression gives nothing away. He watches my response, bemusement in his eyes, and that cocksure smile widening, causing a single dimple to deepen in his defined jaw.

Despite having taken a step back, I am still close to him. Too close for me to gather my wits, but close enough for me to feel his breath over my cheek.

To smell the clean scent of soap mixed with his subtle, earthy cologne. Thank you," I respond breathlessly.

I see the muscle in his clenched jaw pulse as he watches me. Why is this man making me nervous and feeling like I have to justify my situation? Featured Posts. May 21, Share on Facebook. Share on Twitter. Follow Us. New York. Search By Tags.

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