Micah (The Brash Brothers #2) Read Online Jenna Myles

Categories Genre: Romance Tags Authors: Series: The Brash Brothers Series by Jenna Myles
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Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 83407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
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I’m worth billions, but i’d trade it all for her ring on my finger.
Holly’s husband was an abusive POS, and now that he’s out of the way, it’s time to make her mine.
She’s been hurt, scarred, but she’s so f*cking tough, she saved herself. She made it out alive.
But how does a grumpy, mostly silent giant like me convince a tiny thing like her to give me a chance? It seems impossible.
Then with raging twist of fate and flame, I see my opening. Now she’s in my home, in my bed, and I will use every tool in my arsenal to make sure she never wants to leave.
Every breath in my body is hers, and when she finally realises the power she has over me? Well, there are bound to be flames of a different kind.
CW: Holly and Micah have both come from tough places. This book deals with adult topics like domestic abuse, sexual assault, physical abuse of a child and pregancy loss.

FULL BOOK START HERE:

PROLOGUE

HOLLY

Sometimes I think the day I met Becca is the day I became the new me. Or at least started the process.

Before walking into her self-defense class, I lived in a perpetual state of fear. It was with me when I woke up in the morning, while I brushed my teeth, while I rode the bus to my job, and even when I crawled into bed at night. Looking around corners, scanning crowds, checking behind me every few seconds…it was exhausting, both mentally and physically. It wasn’t just fear of him finding me, but fear of the unknown.

After seven years in an abusive marriage, I didn’t know how to decide for myself anymore. A trip to the grocery store would be simple for most people.

Not for me.

First was the checking and rechecking of my door to make sure it’s locked, then putting a tiny piece of tape at the bottom, so I could see if someone was in my apartment while I was gone. Then the walk to the bus, searching for signs of someone following me, while trying to avoid eye contact with every man I pass. Then the bus ride, trying desperately to get a seat at the back so I could see what was coming.

The grocery store itself was a whole other set of problems. Do I buy the brand of spaghetti sauce my husband likes? Because that was all that mattered in the past, that he liked it. My taste, my preferences, my wants, were irrelevant to him. I didn’t even know what I liked anymore, so when I finally got out of the shelter and into my own place, I stuck with what I knew.

I wore dark clothes, because he told me they were slimming, because God forbid anyone see I was fat. I ate the same food because it was easier than trying to learn what I liked. And at night I sat in fear in my cheap apartment, worrying about what would happen when he found me.

When, not if.

So when I overheard a girl at work talking about going to the class, my first thought was no way. But I couldn’t get it out of my mind. It felt like something outside of me was pushing me to go, even though it was wildly outside of my comfort zone.

I stayed in my box. I didn’t deviate.

Ever.

So why was I dressed in shabby workout clothes riding a bus towards the industrial area?

I stood outside for twenty minutes, talking myself into, and then out of, going in. But then a tall, strong, curvy, beautiful woman passed me, spinning to walk backwards. “You coming inside sunshine? I’m teaching self-defense tonight. I’ll teach you how to make a grown man cry.” She said with a bright smile and laughing eyes.

Yes. Yes, I am, I thought. But I only nodded and followed that magnetic woman inside. During that class, I fell a little bit in love. She seemed to focus on me, and I swear I felt bigger than five-foot-one in her presence, like her energy and confidence seeped into me. She treated me so kindly, and cheered me on so loudly, that I collapsed in my bed that night and sobbed.

Sobbed, because for the first time, I felt like someone truly saw me. She knew, somehow, how damaged I was, but she saw through that to me, to the person I didn’t even know was inside. The person who yelled when she punched the bag, imagining it was Brent’s face. The person who leaned forward each time Becca demonstrated a strike to the groin. Who mentally practiced that move the whole bus ride home.

Somehow, I was changed. On the outside, everything was the same. Brent was still out there looking for me. He wouldn’t ever stop. I knew that for sure. But I didn’t check the door as many times that morning. I didn’t check behind me as often, and when my disgusting, handsy boss tried to corner me the next day, I didn’t freeze. Those might be little things to other people, but to me, they felt monumental.


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