ABOUT THE DEBT
Title: The Debt
Author: Tyler King
Publisher: Forever Yours
On Sale: May 10, 2016
Synopsis
Hadley saved my life…and I ruined hers
Hadley's my best friend. We share a house, our friends, a life. She knows all my secrets…except one. My desperate need for her is inked on my body, it's the best I can do. But Hadley needs to hear the words…
Growing up as foster kids, Hadley made me feel whole—sane. And what did I do? I destroyed our chance to be together. I ran out on Hadley when I should have stayed, and something broke between us. Now I'll do anything to fix it.
I'll never leave her again. I won't ever let her feel afraid again. But the more I try to protect her from my pain, the more I just make things worse. I'm terrified that if I tell her everything, she'll never forgive me. I'm even more terrified that it may be too late to make her mine. I have to try to give her what she needs…it's a debt I'm determined to repay.
My Review
The Debt by Tyler KingMy rating: 3.5 of 5 stars
Josh and Hadley have been best friends since they met as children in foster care. They know each other better than anyone and have helped each other through more trauma than most children have to face. Josh feels that he owes his life and survival to Hadley and will do anything for her. For the past few years, they have been continuing to live as roommates but where they used to be close, they now just share the same space. This is all due to an event that changed their relationship completely. Now Josh is sick of pretending that he isn't completely in love with Hadley and he knows if he doesn't let her know soon he will lose her completely.
This story is told from Josh's POV. He is troubled and hasn't been able to get past some of the traumas in his past. He knows he needs to change, and is more strongly motivated when he feels like he really might lose the person he loves the most. These characters are not typical or easy, and neither is their relationship. The dysfunction and dependence is not something that can or should be sought by other couples, but in the case of Josh and Hadley it seemed to make some sense. They both struggle with some serious mental traumas and diagnoses. Sometimes it is hard to tell whether they are keeping each other moving forward, or holding each other back. It does seem that they finally start to move forward, and I was really hoping that both would seek the professional help they need while being honest with each other about their feelings and desires. Their chemistry is very hot, but it was tough to see Josh struggle with triggers of his traumatic past during something that should bring him happiness and pleasure. These characters and their situations are difficult, but they keep the story intriguing. I was hoping that they would be able to be the support that each of them needed to get through life and the future.
*An ARC was provided in exchange for an honest review
ABOUT TYLER KING
Tyler King was born and raised in Orlando, Florida and graduated from the University of Central Florida with a degree in Creative Writing. As a journalist, her work has appeared in Orlando magazine and Orlando Business Journal, among other publications. She is a proud army spouse currently living in Virginia with her husband.
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THE DEBT by Tyler King
Release Day Blitz Excerpt
Hours later, just after 8:00 a.m., I was still awake when the woman
next to me stretched and reached for her phone on my nightstand. Propped up
against my headboard, I watched the silhouette of a leggy blonde dressing at
the foot of my bed. She shoved her tits into a push-up bra and wiggled her way
into a tight black dress.
“It was fun,” she said. “See you around, MacKay.”
“Later.”
She tiptoed away with her shoes in her hand and closed the door
behind her. I knew I shouldn’t have brought Kate home, but at the time I didn’t
have the clarity of mind to do otherwise. Women had always been transient in my
life. This one was no different.
I pried myself from the covers, then crossed the room and stood at
the floor-length mirror beside my dresser to inspect the new ink peeking around
the right side of my rib cage. The skin there was still tender and swollen, a
result of six hours under the needles to continue the design that decorated my
back. Bear was an artist with an implement of pain.
My eyes fell to the framed photo lying facedown on my dresser: a
younger me in a tux, standing onstage with my adoptive parents beside a piano
before my first sold-out concert. It was one of the happiest days of my life,
and I couldn’t bear to look at it.
I was skinnier then, and lanky. Hadn’t yet grown into my body. Next
to my pale, freckled parents, I stood out like one of those exotic adopted
children of yuppie celebrity parents. Dark skin. Black hair. Green eyes. People
told me I was “interesting” to look at, to gawk at. So little by little I
covered all the pretty bare flesh in tattoos.
The first piece I ever had done was of a raven with its wings
spread wide across my chest. The tips of each broken wing nailed down. I was seventeen
then. After my first sitting, I came to understand why people said tattoos were
addictive. I suppose I became a glutton for pain, because when Bear’s wife
offered to put a hole in my lip, I let her stick a needle through my face. For
shits and giggles. At twenty-one, I had two full sleeves. My dad only asked
that I keep the modifications within reason. I was a bit fuzzy on that
definition.
From the top dresser drawer, I grabbed a tube of antibacterial
ointment and applied two fingers’ worth to the new tattoo. My stomach growled.
It was empty and angry from last night. So I sifted through the field of
laundry-pile bunkers scattered around my bedroom until I found a black shirt
and dark jeans on the passable side of clean.
When I hit the landing at the bottom of the stairs, I felt a pair
of knowing brown eyes watching me from the living room. Nothing good ever came
from the morning-after ritual. Even so, I couldn’t help but glance at my
roommate curled up on the leather couch with her laptop open and earbuds hidden
under her long dark hair. She held seven fingers over her head. Hadley averted
her gaze back to the computer screen rather than look for my reaction. Like she
didn’t give a fuck.
“Don’t you have anything better to do than wait for the walk of shame?”
“Don’t you have an appointment to get your dick swabbed for STDs?”
“Fuck off.”
“Get bent.”
And so everything was par for the course on a Sunday morning. I
held out my middle finger as I turned toward the kitchen. That
was fun. Let’s do it again next week,
shall we? I had yet to decipher her scoring system. Asking for
clarification would only validate her participation in my sex life.
Neither of us enjoyed living together. My parents’ house in the
middle of nowhere was too big for two people and not big enough for the both of
us. Since my dad left to take a job in New York during our freshman year of
college, every day was a special kind of torture. But Hadley needed me. And as
much as I couldn’t stand being near her, I wouldn’t abandon her again.
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