HEARTBREAK WARFARE by Heather M. Orgeron & Kate Stewart! Don’t forget
to check out the excerpt below and add it to your TBR today!
Designed by: Letitia Hasser RBA designs
Remember when we parted ways in Germany? It was the day I broke your heart.
What you didn’t know was that I was breaking mine too.
I thought theyâ€™d be enoughâ€“my husband and my son. That Iâ€™d get home and
everything would go back to the way it was . . .
Before the war.
Before the ambush.
But, no matter how hard I try, I canâ€™t erase the trauma we shared. I canâ€™t seem to
forget the way my heart beat in time with yours.
The truth is Iâ€™m lost without you.
I thought the nightmare was over when they pulled us from that hole in the ground,
but nothing could have prepared me for the war Iâ€™d face at home.
I know itâ€™s selfish of me to ask, but, please, I have to see you one last time. . .
All my love,
â€œI need you to break my heart,â€ she declares, wringing her hands nervously. â€œGive
me a reason to hate you, because wanting you this way is…itâ€™s ruining me. Itâ€™s
ruining my life.â€
She is dead serious.
Lifting her chin, as if ready to take a blow, her turbulent eyes implore mine. â€œTell me
about them. Tell me about all of the women youâ€™ve been with since Germany.â€
â€œNo.â€ I shake my head. â€œHell no.â€
â€œOh, please, Briggs. How long did you wait? A few days?â€ She laughs sarcastically. â€œI
bet you didnâ€™t even make it a day.â€
Sheâ€™s coming out guns blazing, and I can see itâ€™s physically killing her to do it.
â€œAre we playing the guessing game? Do I get to ask how many times youâ€™ve fucked
â€œSure,â€ she says with a shrug. â€œWeâ€™ll trade. You go first.â€
Sheâ€™s bluffing, and Iâ€™m calling her on it.
â€œDonâ€™t do this, Scottie. You donâ€™t really want to hear about that.â€
â€œHumor me, Briggs.â€ Her eyes plead with mine. â€œI need to hear this.â€
â€œFine. You want the truth?â€
Again, she bobs her head.
She stands stock-still as I pace the small room, feeling the blood begin to boil
beneath my overheated skin.
I stalk back toward her, stopping inches away. â€œYou really want to know that there
have been so many that Iâ€™ve lost count? How theyâ€™re all blondes with blue eyes? But
the blue, itâ€™s never right, and their smilesâ€”all wrong.â€
She swats at the fresh tears that trail down her cheeks as her lips begin to tremble.
Reaching out, she places a hand on my chest, and I know that she must feel the way
my heart is pounding against my rib cage, reaching for her. Always reaching for her.
I jerk myself away and brand that touch to memory.
In about forty-five seconds, my heart is going to implode. I start ticking them
â€œYou want me to tell you all about how I have to drink myself stupid, till their faces
blur enough that I can pretend…â€ I pause running a hand down my face. â€œSo that I
can pretend theyâ€™re you? You want to know how fucking miserable I am? How when
I slide between their legs, I close my eyes, and itâ€™s your face I see? How Iâ€™m always
careful not to kiss them because their lips are all wrong. How every time I finish I
want to fucking kill myself, because I canâ€™t stand the pain of wanting the one woman
I can never have.â€
â€œIs that enough?â€ Her eyes snap to mine. â€œHate me yet?â€
Face crumbling, she gasps out a sob, wrapping her arms around her shoulders.
â€œCome on, Scottie. Letâ€™s not kid ourselves. Iâ€™m still the same prick you hated when
we met. Nothingâ€™s changed. I think weâ€™ve romanticized this situation long enough,
Taking another step away from her, I tilt my head. â€œYouâ€™re a housewife,â€ I say
snidely. â€œSomeone elseâ€™s wife and Iâ€™m a career soldier. This isnâ€™t exactly ideal.â€
She flinches visibly, and my heart bottoms out.
I cut my hand through the air. â€œAt the end of the day, this was nothing but a big
mistake. And we never would have happened ifâ€”â€
â€œStop,â€ she cries out painfully, â€œstop, Iâ€™m good,â€ she whispers before rocketing
toward the door just as I reach for her, my fingers curling in the space she just left.
Handle in hand, she looks back at me with the sweep of her eyes until they meet
mine. Thatâ€™s how we started, and itâ€™s only fitting itâ€™s how we should end. For the
moment, weâ€™re right back there in the place we created, where we are perfect.
Where our souls line up without any visible smudge on the seams. In a place where
there is still so much love, so much that I canâ€™t stop the tear that slides out before
batting it away with the back of my hand.
An identical tear runs down her cheek. â€œThank you.â€
Heather M. Orgeron is a Cajun girl with a big heart and a passion for romance. She
married her high school sweetheart two months after graduation and her life has
been a fairytale ever since. Sheâ€™s the queen of her castle, reigning over five sons and
one bossy little princess who has made it her mission in life to steal her Mommaâ€™s
throne. When sheâ€™s not writing, you will find her hidden beneath mounds of laundry
and piles of dirty dishes or locked in her tower(aka the bathroom) soaking in the tub
with a good book. Sheâ€™s always been an avid reader and has recently discovered a
love for cultivating romantic stories of her own.
A Texas native, Kate Stewart lives in North Carolina with her husband, Nick, and her
naughty beagle, Sadie. She pens messy, sexy, angst-filled contemporary romance as
well as romantic comedy and erotic suspense because it’s what she loves as a
reader. Kate is a lover of all things ’80s and ’90s, especially John Hughes films and
rap. She dabbles a little in photography, can knit a simple stitch scarf for necessity,
and on occasion, does very well at whiskey.
Contact Kate- Emailfirstname.lastname@example.org