Review: The Upside of Falling, Meghan Quinn




Tucked away at the base of the Rocky Mountains lived a little boy with one singular dream: leave this broken and battered home and become someone.

Be somebody’s hero.

That boy was me—Colby Brooks. Except I’m not that same little boy anymore.

My dreams might still be the same, but my reality isn’t.

I’m smarter. Stronger. A man.

And I learned a long damn time ago, the only way to achieve my dreams was to avoid distractions—at any cost.

Focus. Resolve. Determination.

But all it took was one single night. One night and my entire life…changed.

One night had me colliding head first with the biggest distraction of my life; Rory Oaks.

Smart. Charming. Beautiful.

Rory changed everything.

Quickly, my one-track mind started to bend.

Each kiss faded decade-long dreams.

And with one single incident, I fly off course.

LINKS
Amazon UK:  http://amzn.eu/ijI7Ici 
Amazon CA:  http://a.co/e9jVlHr






REVIEW


Hmm . . . I do like military men. There’s something so hot about giving a piece of their life to serve and protect.”

Oh lordie, Colby Brooks is special and I'm not just saying it for the heck of it. He truly is special. And you'll find out for yourself how much once you read this book. My goodness my poor heart was very excited when I started reading this book, but once the first chapter of Colby as a child appeared it started to hurt. You start figuring out who Colby is and why he is the way he is in a general basis, but mostly importantly why he tries to stay away from Rory. You get glimpses of his past and what he went through, and it's amazing to be able to contrast that scared 10 year old boy with the 22 year old man who is strong, determined and so damn caring once you get past his hard exterior.

Colby is different. He’s commanding with the strength in his step, the stiffness of his broad shoulders, the mysterious searching of his cautious eyes, and the strong set in his carved jaw. There is an air about him that sucks you in the moment you make eye contact, taking you on a stomach-dropping, heart-stopping journey. There is no doubt about it; he’s the most eye-catching man I’ve ever met.

As I said, Colby didn't have an easy childhood, for many reasons, all related to each other in a snowball effect. He has always known what he wanted to do, and the hardships he had to endure only made him more determined to achieve his dream of being a pilot. His only support system has always been his grandpa, who instilled in him the love for planes and always feed that love and Colby's dream of flying. 

Colby is so very close to graduating, and then knowing if he got into Flight School. He's trying to stay focused on his goals, working hard and studying. But one day, when he's home on break, his best-friend and housemate convinces him to go to a party and it's at this party that Colby and Rory first lay eyes on each other. He tries to stay away from her, he doesn't need a distraction but Rory is very persistent. She knows what she wants, and she can tell from the start that Colby is worth pursuing. Boy is she right! And she really sees that along the way, when he starts opening up to her. 


“She’s everywhere, Stryder.” I close my eyes. “She’s in class, and she’s in my head constantly. I swear I see her sometimes passing through the halls. She’s in my fucking dreams, that red lipstick killing every last bit of resolve I have.” The dickhead laughs some more. “Oh fuck, you’re totally smitten.” “I’m not fucking smitten.” I roll my eyes. “I’m just . . .” What am I? “Smitten.” Stryder lets out a bellow of a laugh this time while he claps, rolling to his back. “For the first time, ladies and gentlemen, the bulletproof and impenetrable Colby Brooks is being weakened by a persistent and incredibly hot brunette. This is so fucking great.”

Even though he tried to stay away, she became a distraction anyway because he couldn't stop thinking about her after they met. And with a little more persistence and creativity Rory wins him over. They fall. They fall hard. At every little secret or quirk Rory learns about Colby, makes her see how truly amazing he is. And seeing him with her family and interacting with her autistic brother only proves that. They found 'the one' in each other but with Colby's future looming over them, things are nothing but easy. What will Colby choose, his dream or the love of his life? And will Rory let him give up on that dream? 

Each time I see him, he gives me another small piece to his puzzle, and with each piece I lock in, I want him more and more. I want to know this sensitive, weathered man.


Since this is a duet, I bet you know the answer to at least one of those questions. My god, I already knew this wasn't gonna end well. And at one point in the book, it's pretty clear what will happen but let me say this, that epilogue oh my god. My poor heart. His poor heart. Holy f*ck! It hurt. And now I'm DYING to see how everything will play out because I NEED to know, not just what happens next but what the heck happened in that one year gap. Ah, I feel like screaming just thinking about it. Damn it!! These are the kind of things that really get to me. I swear I've never wanted to have the second book of a duet as much as I want this one right now. iedfjngvojglfnjenriodvfngh. I'm a mess, but I guess you could probably already tell at this point.

Okay, okay. Please pick up this book, it might destroy you in the end but it is truly so good. I think with every book I read of Meghan's I fall a little more for her writing. And this book, no doubt has been my favorite. These two were beyond perfect together. They are two very sweet characters who have sucky family situations, even though in very different ways, that have come out on top and have strived and are just amazing people. I seriously loved them, but you know with that ending my opinion of Rory might change. It's very possible. 

For real though, pick this one up. You won't regret it. #promise



 EXCERPT

Head turned down, pushing the sleeves of his white Henley up his arms, he swaggers toward me. His jeans hang low on his hips, held up by the same brown belt he wore the other night. His narrow waist directs my eyes to the center of his jeans, and I can’t help wonder what might be behind the crotch of his pants.

And then there is his chest. Barrel like, broad and prominent. His thick biceps showcase his strength, and the fabric of his shirt stretches over his shoulders and forearms. Having spent a lot of time at the gym, I’ve seen every body type, but Colby’s is different. He’s strong, built, but not like a body builder. His body seems to suggest the only kind of weight he’s been lifting is his own body, pushup after pushup. I can’t imagine there being barbells in his workouts, but I can imagine logs, cadets, and heavy machinery. He has working muscles, the kind you earn from hard, dedicated work on the field. In a word? Impressive.

Walking up to Stryder, he grips his friend’s shoulder and says something into his ear. A smirk crosses Stryder’s face before he moves over to our side of the bowling alley and takes Colby’s place.

Is he leaving? Already?

Might as well at this point. It’s not like he’s going to talk to me, not after my pathetic attempt at a bet. I should have known I was going to hang out in the gutter all night. It’s where I usually am when I’m bowling. I blame the ball. The thing has a vendetta against me.

Sighing, I prop my chin in my hand and watch Stryder expertly toss his ball down the lane, getting a strike . . . once again. And just like every other strike, he pumps his arm up in the air and celebrates. We get it, you’re good, no need to—

“Hey.”

That voice . . .

Stunned, eyes wide, not able to move, not wanting to scare him away, I keep my eyes trained forward, soaking in that beautifully deep voice of his for a brief moment before saying, “Hey.”

“Can I sit here?”

Still keeping my eyes trained forward, I say, “Sure.”

My body tingles with awareness of how close he is to me, that fresh laundry scent invading my senses, prickling the little hairs on my arm. My body leans toward his, wanting a little more, searching for anything else he might give me. I don’t know why he’s choosing to engage me in conversation, but I’m sure as hell not moving while he does.

“Sorry about tonight,” he says and he actually sounds sincere.

“Why are you sorry?” I mumble.

Reaching around, he takes my cheek in his hand. The callouses on his palm rubbing against my skin is a welcome sensation. As I’m turned toward him, I steady my breathing. I’m having a hard time slowing my heart rate because of his close proximity, and the unexpected touch shooting a wave of heat through my veins.

“I’m sorry you didn’t get to ask me any questions. I didn’t think you were going to suck that bad.” A playful smile tugs at his lips, and my heart sinks to the floor. Oh God, he’s so gorgeous, especially when he smiles.

Matching his smirk, I say, “I didn’t think I was going to suck that bad either.”

“I feel bad.”

“You should.” That garners a laugh, deep and throaty, the sound cloaking me like a shield, protecting me from the outside world, bringing me into a little bubble where we are the only two that exist.

“Ask me a question.”

Shocked, I swallow hard and say, “Really?”

He nods and holds up his fingers. “You get three.”

“Oh, three? Wow, I feel like you just gave me the key to your soul.”

Rolling his eyes, he adjusts his stance on the barstool and leans back, giving us some space, our knees still knocking into each other. “Easy killer; it’s just three questions.”

“Yeah, three questions I didn’t have before.” Tapping my chin, I try to think of good questions, but now that I have him willing and waiting, nothing comes to mind. I wasn’t prepared for this, he caught me off-guard, and now I feel I can’t be strategic about my probing. “Hmm . . . what do you like to do on the weekends?”

“Jump,” he answers.

Searching his eyes, lips quirked, I say, “Uh, you’re going to have to be more specific than that. What kind of jumping are we talking here? Like jump roping? Because that seems kind of weird to do on the weekends, and if you tell me you’re in some kind of jump-roping club at the academy, I’m not going to believe you.”

His lips curve up as he scratches the side of his jaw. “Jump out of airplanes.”

Oh.

Oh.

That’s . . .

Uh, that’s really hot.

“So you just casually jump out of airplanes?”

“I’m part of the Wings of Blue, the academy’s parachute team. We jump every day, at least two to three times a day after class and before dinner, depending on wind and ceiling limits. On the weekends, some of the guys, including Stryder and me, go to Springs East Airport and do civilian jumps. The more jumps we get in, the higher the chance we’ll be considered for big demonstrations, like parachuting into football games and major sporting events for the Rockies and Broncos.” Ummmm. Did anyone else just hear how many words he gifted me? And seriously? Does the man have no clue how incredibly sexy he is when he talks about something he loves? The expression on his face . . .

“Wow, that’s . . . that’s really hot.” I chuckle. “Sorry, I don’t mean to fangirl over your parachuting, but I guess I wasn’t expecting that answer. You just jump out of planes?”

He slowly nods. “Every day.”

“Anything to get you up in the clouds, huh?”

“Yeah,” he answers shyly, rubbing his jaw. “Okay, next question.”




THE DOWNSIDE OF LOVE – July 5th


This isn’t a story about a love triangle. There is no triangle involved.

This isn’t a story about an accidental pregnancy. Although having a baby with her . . . I would.

This isn’t a story about lies and deception, even though at times I’ve lied to myself.

No, this is my story.

A story about sacrifice.

A story about a man who fell in love with the wrong girl.

A story I wish I never had to tell.

This is a story about the true meaning of the downside of love.




Born in New York and raised in Southern California, Meghan has grown into a sassy, peanut butter eating, blonde haired swearing, animal hoarding lady. She is known to bust out and dance if “It’s Raining Men” starts beating through the air and heaven forbid you get a margarita in her, protect your legs because they may be humped.

Once she started commuting for an hour and twenty minutes every day to work for three years, she began to have conversations play in her head, real life, deep male voices and dainty lady coos kind of conversations. Perturbed and confused, she decided to either see a therapist about the hot and steamy voices running through her head or start writing them down. She decided to go with the cheaper option and started writing… enter her first novel, Caught Looking.

Now you can find the spicy, most definitely on the border of lunacy, kind of crazy lady residing in Colorado with the love of her life and her five, furry four legged children, hiking a trail or hiding behind shelves at grocery stores, wondering what kind of lube the nervous stranger will bring home to his wife. Oh and she loves a good boob squeeze!

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