He’s always so serious, and although that intrigues me, he needs to smile more because when he does he’s fucking beautiful.

So, James is described as looking like David Gandy.  I mean come on...could this book have been written for anyone else...NOPE.

So bonus points there.  

But man...this was a heartbreaking book and my sweet "David Gandy" was deeply troubled.  His mental illness was beautifully captured and felt very real to me.  This is not an easy book.  But it's a journey that I would recommend regardless.  Theodore is unbelievably patient, loving and supportive and was the one to truly SEE James from the first time they met.  He was drawn in and capivated by this man.

“Stay with me, Theodore,” he murmurs. “No matter how hard I push, stay with me. Believe in me.” His tone is so raw, so powerful, and I can’t prevent the tear that leaks from the corner of my eye.

Hovering my face just inches from his, I cup his cheek, stroking softly with my thumb. “Always.”

There isn’t a choice. I belong to James Holden. I can try to fight it, but the truth is this beautiful, haunted man, has owned me since the first time I looked into his eyes.

This is simply beautiful.

The sight of him steals my breath for a moment. He’s stunning. All of him. Even the parts he’s ashamed of. To me, I see scars of courage. Inflicting them gave him the strength to survive the pain that’s plagued him all his life. I’m grateful to every one of them because he’s still here, with me.

I only wish the mother had gotten a good smack upside the head.  I cannot imagine treating a person with mental illness the way this woman treated her son. 

*Highly Recommended.*

Logan lowered his forehead to rest it against Tate’s. “I love you, William Tate Morrison. With you there are no walls or boundaries, just the endless possibility of things being better than the day before.”

My goodness. I cried more this time than I did the first time. ❤️❤️❤️

“You made me cry,” he whispered into Tate’s hair. “This is… It’s beautiful, Tate.”

But as Logan got to his feet and tossed his napkin down on the table to walk past his dinner companion, he raised his eyes once again to meet Tate’s, and instead of shock, they were now filled with an expression Tate was more than familiar with—desire.

Jesus, he’s potent, Tate thought, as Logan made his way through the tables, his focus now locked on Tate like a fucking laser beam, and when he came to a stop at the bar, Logan gestured for the bartender.

Tate let his eyes roam over Logan’s striking profile, from his perfectly styled hair and day-old stubble, to his high cheekbones and masculine jaw line, and damn, there was no denying it—Logan was fucking hot.

“Say hello to my future husband, boys,” Robbie said, and batted his lashes. “I think I’m in love.”