Monday, November 14, 2016


Low Over High (The Over Duet #1)
Author: J.A. DeRouen
Cover Design: DCP Designs
Release Date: November 14, 2016


I fancy myself a purveyor of truth, a sifter of lies, a cutter of bullshit. It’s not a gift, but rather, all skill, honed to a razor’s edge after one too many trips down the rabbit hole. Some may dismiss my talent as misplaced and misguided cynicism, but they’d be wrong. Cliches about hope and faith in mankind are concocted unicorn farts, an effort to keep the dreamers dreaming. Experiences don’t lie—people do. While I’m not proud of the circumstances that led me to this way of thinking, I respect the journey. The road to enlightenment can be dark and foreboding, but the destination makes it all worthwhile. But funny thing about the past—it’s a defiant child refusing to stay in time out. No matter how deeply buried, it can always pop up when least expected, and sink its fucking claws into the flesh of your heart. No, not my heart—I no longer have one. I foolishly gave it away years ago, but I still feel the ripping in my chest as I fist the crumpled note left on my porch. I’ve avoided this day, ran from it, for the past eight years. And still we meet again. But to truly understand … to feel my dread and fear my future as I do, it’s important to know what happened in my past. Or who… My name is Marlo Rivers, and this is my story of corrupted love.    



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Amazon/Goodreads Rating: 5/5
In Patti's Imagination Rating: 10/10

First off, this book does end in a slight cliffhanger and I sure hope this next book is released sooner than January.  Of course I knew going in that this story was not able to be told in one book but still, what an emotional story.   I need to know how it is going to end.  
Marlo Rivers or Low as she is called, ends up connecting with her mother who left her as a child.  She moves from Texas to Louisiana to get to know her mom as well as attend her senior year of high school at a private academy.  Low is a very interesting person and she sees herself as a purveyor of truth and sifter of lies.  She says it like she is and many don’t agree with her but she see cliches about hope and faith in mankind as concocted unicorn farts.  She has learned that experiences don’t lie but people do.  Her past may not have been what you would think as she had a wonderful childhood raised by her dad but her life is forever changed that senior year of high school.  She has run from her past for the eight years following graduation and no matter how deeply she has tried to bury what happened, it has a way of popping up when least expected to confront her present. This book focuses on what happened in her past to bring us to what she fears after reading that note left on her porch.   
The emotional journey we are taken on from the present to eight years earlier to understand why Low is who she is one that you will not be able to put down.  I so need to know what is going to happen next now that we got to experience her senior year. While reading this book, I could feel the pain along with the joy Low was experiences as if I was a part of it .  Was this book predictable, heck no.  I thought I saw some things going to happen but they didn’t but other things that did, took me for a loop and at times I had to fight the tears.  
This is not an easy book and there are some very emotional events that occur that I can totally see why the author had them take place.  People are not perfect, we are flawed in so many ways and I loved the confession Low had with the priest in the confessional.  As he said to her request to be granted the same absolution, “I wish that were true, my dear, but unfortunately, I don’t think it works that way.”  She then asked him “But shouldn’t it, though? Shouldn’t it?”  His response is something we all need to remember, “You certainly make me wish it did,” he says introspectively, all aggravation gone.  “While I can’t take away your pain, you’re never alone.  The Lord is always by your side to carry you when the burden is too great.”
While this is part of a series, it can be read as a stand alone. It is a great emotional story.




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Kissing Ever is like breaking the surface of the ocean. Legs kicking, arms flailing, and then that precious moment when air rushes into your lungs, giving you the one thing you need the most. Yeah, kissing Ever is just like that.   When his teeth lightly tug on my bottom lip, he owns me. I swear, my shirt almost flies off of its own accord.   Of course, I keep my cool despite his lovely lips … sort of. His tongue slides gently against mine, and I inch closer to him. He pulls away to taste my upper lip, and I grip his shirt with both hands. Maybe my hands slide under the shirt to touch his hot skin, but only an inch or two. When he lets out a long sigh, and his fingers brush the sides of my cheeks just so, I slide my legs between his. I want to pull his ribs loose and burrow deep inside of him, and even then, I’m not sure if it’s close enough.   He slows the kiss, still tasting me, sucking my lips, teasing me with his tongue. When I open my eyes, he’s right there with me, hazy eyes and parted lips. I run a hesitant finger over the freckles on his nose, and he runs his thumb across my swollen mouth. I finger his hair, tugging playfully, and he kisses my dimple, poking me with his tongue.   We explore each other slowly, thoroughly, and my thumb runs over his stomach to the thin line of hair trailing below his belly button. He shivers, and I swear the bulge pushing into the back of my thigh isn’t a banana in his pocket. It makes me feel powerful—that I can turn him on that way. This is the first time I can remember wanting that power. Boy’s erections were always a nuisance to me in the past.   He doesn’t expect me to do something with that, does he? Nuh-uh.   Let me be clear, those are not the thoughts running through my mind as I bend my knee and push my thigh more firmly into Ever’s hard-on. Not even close.   His hips raise to my pressure, and he drops his forehead to mine with a long sigh.   “I knew kissing you would be good, Low, but that was … I don’t know what that was,” he says with a chuckle, stealing another kiss.   “We should try it again. You know, figure it out.”   And we do.    


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About the Author

J.A. DeRouen lives in South Louisiana with her husband, son (aptly named "The Professor), and her furry friend, Scout. She holds bachelor's degrees in psychology and nursing.
When she's not writing or inhaling romance novels by the stack, she works as a women's health nurse. She's been an avid reader and daydreamer since childhood, and she's never stopped turning the page to get to the next happily ever after.

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