Forgetting You, Remembering Me Cover Reveal


Forgetting You, Remembering Me

by

Monica James

Cover Reveal

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Release Date: February 28th, 2018

The stunning conclusion to this epic love story that began with Forgetting You, Forgetting Me from International Bestselling author, Monica James. The truth sets you free...but what happens when everything you believe in changes in the blink of an eye? All I ever wanted was for my fiancé, Samuel Stone, to remember me. And now that he does...all I want is for him to forget. Through tragedy, I found myself and who I was destined to become. But more importantly, I found who I was destined to be with. With a single word, Saxon Stone changed my life forever. He taught me how to live again. But now that Samuel remembers and all secrets have been revealed, I’m left to wonder which life I’m meant to lead. Divided by my head and my heart, I’m torn between duty and desire. Samuel is my past while Saxon is my forever. The choice should be easy. But love never is…

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Excerpt

“I’m going to take off the blindfold,” he whispers into my ear. I pause in my tracks, eagerly awaiting the view.

No surprise as Saxon draws out the reveal, torturing me further. I bounce from foot to foot. His husky chuckle tickles me from the inside out. “I thought you didn’t like surprises.”

“I don’t, but maybe you’ll change my mind.”

“Maybe,” he covertly replies before removing the soft fabric over my eyes.

It takes me a moment to adjust to the dim lighting, but after blinking a few times, what I see takes my breath away. “Saxon…oh my god. It’s beautiful.” And it really is.

“You like it?”

“Like it? I love it.” My feet act of their own accord as I float down the steps and spread my arms out wide. My fingertips brush over hundreds of sunflowers arranged in endless tall glass vases as I walk my yard. “When did you do this?”

“Today. You looked like you could do with some color in your day.”

I pause in the middle of my backyard, needing a moment to take it all in. A red and white picnic blanket lays just a few feet away, and to the left is a wicker basket. Bouquets of sunflowers are dotted as far as the eye can see, adding bursts of vibrancy and instantly lightening my mood.

When I turn over my shoulder, the fairy lights fashioned as stars dangle from the porch railings and rafters. They add to this most picturesque scene. However, when I focus on Saxon leaning against a wooden pillar with a lopsided smirk tugging at his full lips, I know he is the picture of perfection.

“I can’t believe you did this. Is this why you’ve been scarce all day? I was starting to think I smelled.”

He laughs, pushing off the post. “You smell amazing. Hungry?” My growling stomach answers for me.

I watch as Saxon saunters down the stairs, takes my hand, and leads us to the blanket. The gentle hue of the lights wraps us in our own private romantic bubble. I fold my legs beneath me as I sit, running my fingers along the sunflower petals next to me. I can’t help but reminisce about the first time I saw these flowers with Saxon—I was on the back of his bike as he saved me from yet another bad day.

Saxon kneels, reaching into the basket. It’s not until now that I realize how hungry I am. Glued to the computer all day, I’ve forgotten to eat or move. This is so thoughtful. So Saxon. “I hope you didn’t go to too much trouble. Well, clearly you did—” I sweep my hand toward the beauty in front of me “—but I hope you weren’t slaving over a hot stove all day.”

He gives me a playful grin, and I discover why when he exposes what’s inside the basket. “Oh my god.” I laugh. “Just when I thought I couldn’t love you any more, you go and do this.” And by this, I mean when he produces an enormous paper bag filled with only the best Mexican in all of Montana. However, the crème de la crème is when he adds a bottle of Dr. Pepper to the mix. “You know the way to my heart.”

“Or stomach,” he quips, passing me the bottle. “Here is your seven-layer burrito, extra onions.” He hands over my mountain of goodness with a grin.

“What did I do to deserve this?” And I’m not only talking about the food.

“Just being you,” he replies, kissing the end of my nose. My heart swells. He spreads his long legs out in front of him, sipping a beer. “How’s work?”

I sigh, unwrapping my burrito. “Not great. I know there will always be conflict in the world, but it just seems that lately no one is getting along.”

Saxon moves his lips from side to side, appearing to be in thought. “I’m glad we are, though.”

Afraid of choking, I chew slowly, needing a minute to process what he just said. “Me too.” Something is bugging him. It’s written all over his face. “About this morning—”

He cuts me off. “It’s okay, Lucy. I just…need to get over this irrational jealousy when it comes to you. I know you love me, but it’s just difficult sometimes.”

“I completely understand.” I reach for his hand, intertwining our fingers. “I’m glad you know that I love you. Because I do. We’re all trying our best to deal with this pretty messed-up situation. Personally, I think we’re doing great.”

He nods, my words appearing to appease him. But something is still stirring behind his eyes. Just when I’m about to ask what’s going on, his phone rings—again. He digs into his pocket, the ‘something’ amplifying tenfold.

“I won’t be a minute.” He stands quickly and walks briskly away, out of earshot.

Sighing, my appetite gets shot to hell, and I place my barely touched burrito back into the paper bag. I watch for any signs of what the secret conversation Saxon is having entails. But he turns his back as if sensing my inquisitive stare.

I hate this unsettled feeling in the pit of my stomach. The light at the end of the tunnel with Sam is shining dimly, but it’s suddenly overshadowed with whatever Saxon is hiding. He turns over his shoulder, meeting my eyes, before heading toward the house, which just makes me feel worse.

Unable to sit still, I stand, feeling constraints tug at my heart. Needing to escape, I take flight to the stables. Memories of when I felt similar to how I do now cloud my mind, and I do the only thing that has cleared my head since I learned to ride.

Potter, my horse, neighs when he sees me, sensing my desperation. Without thought, I put on his bridle, then I mount him, bareback, and squeeze my calves around his muscular barrel. I cluck my tongue twice, sending him into a gallop. He knows what I need. We both relish in the need to be free.