Title: The Evolution of Ivy: Poison
Author: Lauren Campbell
Genre: Contemporary Romance with Psychological element
Cover Designer: Murphy Rae from Indie Solutions
Editor: Madison Seidler
Hosted by: Lady Amber’s PR
This book really didn’t do it for me. The whole book is back and forth in her heads. One chapter memory, next chapter current reality. It made sense for the story, but it didn’t make sense to me as much as it jumped back and forth. I felt like the whole time I was Sherlock Holmes looking for a clue. It was a good book, good story, well-written. It just wasn’t a book for me.
Bringing the mug to my lips, the last drop of lukewarm coffee slides down my throat as the waitress zips by. I sigh, my hand halting in midair before coming to rest on the table again. I can’t do much of anything without coffee. Can hardly remember my old name without the heavenly liquid, much less my new one. If I’m going to craft any sort of decent plan to get Brooks back, I’ll need a refill.
Despite her Facebook telling me she frequents this place, Eliza is still MIA. Perhaps she isn’t eating. Maybe she’ll starve to death. But Lord knows I’ve eaten plenty for the both of us. I’m unwilling to get fat waiting on her, but the smells of freshly cracked eggs and crisping bacon prevent me from simply having a coffee. The breakfast aromas must drift far from the building, because all the self-important losers of Brookhaven keep packing the place like sardines. I’ll give it until the end of the week before coming up with another plan. Which would suck, because—
There she is. A crown of blonde shifting nervously from foot to foot at the front door. Two douchebags engage her, because she’s pretty—okay, beautiful … whatever. Raised brows and sly smiles adorn their faces. She rolls her eyes. Raises a hand to flaunt the rock that should be on my finger instead. Stubborn, they keep trying. She steps to the counter, shakes her head at the staff, then shrugs in exasperation. A whoosh of hair as she spins around, heading for the door.
Every day until the wedding is precious. I can’t let her go. Without thinking it through, I bolt from the table. My feet are quick as I beeline for her, and then fingertips finally connect with her shoulder. “Hey!”
She spins, blue eyes staring at my own. Unable to speak, I stare back. I’m afraid, terrified she will recognize me, even though she couldn’t. It’s impossible. I don’t even resemble Ivy.”