Teaser Tuesdays is a weekly bookish meme, hosted by MizB of Should Be Reading. Anyone can play along! Just do the following:
- Grab your current read
- Open to a random page
- Share two (2) “teaser” sentences from somewhere on that page
- BE CAREFUL NOT TO INCLUDE SPOILERS! (make sure that what you share doesn’t give too much away! You don’t want to ruin the book for others!)
- Share the title & author, too, so that other TT participants can add the book to their TBR Lists if they like your teasers!
The facade he’s hiding behind cracks open just for a second and I see something I never would have thought I’d see on him. An exhaustion I recognize. The effort it takes to keep everything and everyone out and the terror of what would happen if maybe, just maybe, it’s time to let someone else in.
~31%, Tight Knit by Allie Brennan
We’re all a little broken. We all harbor little pieces of pain that accumulate inside us. Pain we wish we could cast out, but in truth defines us. All we really need is someone to help us bear the hurt. Someone to say I’m right beside you. Someone to say no matter what you’re not alone.
75%, Tight Knit by Allie Brennan
I’ll see you very soon. In a dream? I’d like to see you in a nightdress, unless you’re being modest. Which I respect, I do. Utterly. Even if modesty isn’t any fun.
~53%, The Twisted Tragedy of Miss Natalie Stewart by Leanna Renee Hieber
I smiled. This was the core of true love: when someone brought out the best, bravest, and strongest parts of you and stood with their best self beside you.
~58%, The Twisted Tragedy of Miss Natalie Stewart by Leanna Renee Hieber
Beth’s eyes were shining. “Willow, that’s wonderful!” she said, breathless. “That’s exactly what I needed to know! It wouldn’t be a mistake, then.”
“It would!” I snapped. My voice was like a harsh whip, and Beth’s eyebrows flew up in surprise. “Trust me: it’s not a good path. Everything just . . . felt cold.” My heart beat faster as I remembered the slithery gray clouds. Words suddenly seemed so totally, stupidly inadequate.
Beth sat motionless, staring at me. I could hear the TV going faintly in the other room and the low murmur of the caregiver’s voice, saying something to Mom. Finally Beth cleared her throat. “What do you mean, cold? You mean, like . . . death?”
What are you reading this week?