Make Me Believe
by Karen Ferry
Believe #1
Publication Date: July 6, 2015
Genres: Contemporary, New Adult, Romance
Sometimes, a chance meeting is just the push you need in order to break free from the darkness within…
My name is Emma, I’m 23, and I’ve never been kissed. I’m no virgin…But kissing is too intimate, too intense, and I don’t want that – not ever. I like sex, though, and most of my hook-ups don’t seem to mind the no-kissing part.
But then I meet Daniel, who’s such a geek, and definitely not the kind of guy I’d normally take an interest to. He’s the shy, quiet type, but with such a charming smile, and he makes my heart race – something I’ve never experienced before.
Daniel has his own issues to work through, and I know my hardened heart shouldn’t melt when he looks at me. I really shouldn’t be falling for him, either, but somehow, he manages to tear down my walls, and I’m scared…because once he learns my secrets, he’ll want nothing to do with me.
All I know is that Daniel makes me feel things that I have never felt before – but do I dare let down my walls and confide in him?
Will I let him be my first kiss?
This is my story, and I’ll reveal everything in my own sweet time…
Just don’t expect all the hearts-and-flowers stuff.
Life is messy, and mine is no different…
INSPIRED BY TRUE EVENTS
***Due to possible ‘triggers’ and adult situations (yes, there is lots of sex in this book) it is not recommended to persons under the age of 18.
Excerpt
Daniel
Emma takes my hand in hers and pulls me inside her flat, shutting the door quietly. I wait in her small hallway, unsure of what to do, and I’m completely taken aback when I feel her arms surrounding me from behind, her body pressed flush to mine.
For the first time since I last saw her, I can breathe freely again.
Shite . . . I’m going to bawl like a baby soon!
Emma's lips press against me, and although I can't feel them on my skin, they're burning me.
"I'm sorry, Daniel . . . ,” she whispers softly, and I'm grateful when she leaves it at that. Reaching my hand upwards, I place it on top of hers briefly before turning in her arms to wrap my own around her.
I need her so fucking bad right now.
I squeeze tightly, wishing more than ever that she would allow me to kiss her. But if she won't let me pour out how much she means to me with my mouth, at least I am able to use my hands, mouth, and my tongue on her body. Maybe it'll even force her to open her eyes and truly see how I need her so much.
It would seem that Emma has another plan in mind, though, because she wriggles gently out of my grasp, takes my hand again and leads me inside her living room. She stops next to her CD player hanging on the wall to the right just above her small TV and turns up the volume a bit. Smiling shyly at me, looking cute as hell, she backs away from me, and I have no other choice but to follow her. The next song starts, and I’m surprised when I hear a French woman sing a cover of “Someone Like Yo”’ by Adele. I like it, and I like to see yet another side to Emma.
“I thought you weren’t a romantic,” I murmur, keeping my voice low for fear of breaking this strange spell she has me under, and she shrugs.
“Dancing isn’t necessarily a romantic act,” she mutters.
Bloody hell, she’s stubborn.
I want to disagree with her but I don’t want to lose this moment we’re having right now. Because this feels significant, somehow . . . The air is charged with electricity, my stomach is wrapped up in knots, and I honestly don’t know where this is going.
But I know I’ll follow this girl everywhere she goes.
It’s as if she has woven a web around my entire being . . . She’s never far from my thoughts, my attraction to her has not died down while I was away these past few days -- quite the contrary, in fact -- and even though I don’t believe in some higher deity, I thank them for bringing this girl into my life.
Emma accepts me for who I am, no matter where I come from.
I’d be lying if I said I’d want to break free of the bonds she has wrapped tightly around my heart.
I don’t. Not now. Not ever.
This is it: the moment I hand over my heart to her, unafraid of what the consequences might be.
And she seems to want to dance with me. Well, then . . . who am I to deny her? I just hope I don’t step on her toes too much.
About Karen Ferry
Emma takes my hand in hers and pulls me inside her flat, shutting the door quietly. I wait in her small hallway, unsure of what to do, and I’m completely taken aback when I feel her arms surrounding me from behind, her body pressed flush to mine.
For the first time since I last saw her, I can breathe freely again.
Shite . . . I’m going to bawl like a baby soon!
Emma's lips press against me, and although I can't feel them on my skin, they're burning me.
"I'm sorry, Daniel . . . ,” she whispers softly, and I'm grateful when she leaves it at that. Reaching my hand upwards, I place it on top of hers briefly before turning in her arms to wrap my own around her.
I need her so fucking bad right now.
I squeeze tightly, wishing more than ever that she would allow me to kiss her. But if she won't let me pour out how much she means to me with my mouth, at least I am able to use my hands, mouth, and my tongue on her body. Maybe it'll even force her to open her eyes and truly see how I need her so much.
It would seem that Emma has another plan in mind, though, because she wriggles gently out of my grasp, takes my hand again and leads me inside her living room. She stops next to her CD player hanging on the wall to the right just above her small TV and turns up the volume a bit. Smiling shyly at me, looking cute as hell, she backs away from me, and I have no other choice but to follow her. The next song starts, and I’m surprised when I hear a French woman sing a cover of “Someone Like Yo”’ by Adele. I like it, and I like to see yet another side to Emma.
“I thought you weren’t a romantic,” I murmur, keeping my voice low for fear of breaking this strange spell she has me under, and she shrugs.
“Dancing isn’t necessarily a romantic act,” she mutters.
Bloody hell, she’s stubborn.
I want to disagree with her but I don’t want to lose this moment we’re having right now. Because this feels significant, somehow . . . The air is charged with electricity, my stomach is wrapped up in knots, and I honestly don’t know where this is going.
But I know I’ll follow this girl everywhere she goes.
It’s as if she has woven a web around my entire being . . . She’s never far from my thoughts, my attraction to her has not died down while I was away these past few days -- quite the contrary, in fact -- and even though I don’t believe in some higher deity, I thank them for bringing this girl into my life.
Emma accepts me for who I am, no matter where I come from.
I’d be lying if I said I’d want to break free of the bonds she has wrapped tightly around my heart.
I don’t. Not now. Not ever.
This is it: the moment I hand over my heart to her, unafraid of what the consequences might be.
And she seems to want to dance with me. Well, then . . . who am I to deny her? I just hope I don’t step on her toes too much.
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