Way too young, eleven year old Tucker Creed and his six year old neighbor, Sylvie Bissenette, find they have something awful in common. Creed then decides he’s going to do everything in his limited power to shield his Sylvie from her ordeal. So he does and Creed and Sylvie form a bond that grows and blossoms with their ages.
They plot to leave their lives behind, the town they live in that will hold them down and the histories they share that, unless they break free, will bury them. Sylvie goes to their special place, Creed never shows and she doesn’t see him again until it’s too late.
With Creed gone, Sylvie is forced to endure a nightmare and do the unspeakable to end it. To deal, she develops a hard shell with sharp edges that very few can break through. So when Creed again finds his Sylvie, he discovers the girl he loved is locked away and he has to find his way back into her heart without getting shredded in the process.
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Mary Ann's Review:
From all of KA's works, Sylvie is the most kick-ass heroine for me yet. She's strong, passionate, and when she feels, whether it's love or it's hate, she feels DEEP.
Creed, on the other hand, has suffered together with Sylvie, but he suffered more when he finally found her again and saw that his sacrifices made years ago were all for shit.
It was a long road for them, but in the end, I got my happy ending.
I'm only sharing one scene, so explosive, that my heart was racing the first time and the second time I read it:
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His casual, yet careful, words pierced through me like spears and I froze in an effort to contain the pain.
Then the pain engulfed me and I couldn't contain it anymore. As it swallowed me into its dark, fiery pit, I tossed my plate of ziti on the table. It went skidding across the files and flew over the other side as I drew my other arm back and brought it forward in a sidearm slice, releasing my beer so it sailed past him and shattered against the low wall under the windows at his back, foaming beer spraying in wide spatter all around.
His feet came off the table and I knew by his eyes, he knew.
He knew.
He didn’t forget.
That motherf*cker knew.
“Sylvie, let me –” he started.
“You named her kids my names,” I whispered, my breaths coming heavy.
“Sylvie –”
Sh*t, f*ck, sh*t.
I couldn’t take it.
We’d talked about it. We’d talked. Frequently. Talked. Dreamed. Planned. Frequently. I told him, we had a girl, she’d be named Kara. We had a boy, we’d name him after his Dad.
Those were my names.
My f*cking names!
“You named her kids my names!” I screamed then attacked.
Launching myself over the table, I hit him in the chest. His chair slammed back, taking us and his plate with it, ziti smushed between us but I did not give one, single, solitary f*ck.
He named another woman’s children my names!
That f*cking motherf*cker!
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