Sara tries to heal as she navigates college life and her relationship with Scott. A missing persons case creates a distraction from her own problems, and Sara uncovers a secret that rocks her to her core. When the odds are stacked against her and there is nothing left to lose, can true love endure? Readers who love April Wilson will enjoy Revive by Tricia T. LaRochelle, a new adult, romantic suspense.
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Excerpt
Copyright 2022 Tricia T. LaRochelle
An ear-piercing scream … Someone grabbed my shoulders and shook me, lifting my torso off the mattress. What is happening? A voice rang out. “Sara. Wake up!” I startled as light filtered in through my eyelids. I couldn’t fathom where I was or when. Then the nightmare resurfaced. Oh, God. Is it him? My mind was locked in another world, one where l was running down hallways, trying to hide, a shadowy figure always close. Too close. Danger lurked around every corner … Scott’s voice broke through the haze. His hands were warm and embracing, his tone frantic. “Wake up, babe.” I forced my eyes open and focused on the face in front of me. My heart raced, sending perspiration to my chest, my body encased in an uncomfortable sweat. I took a few long blinks, allowing Scott’s distressed blue eyes to come into full view. I tried to swallow, but my mouth was beyond parched. That dream—that horrible dream still plagued my mind. Even though I was awake, the trauma still felt very real. Painted bloodshot red, Scott’s eyes were wide with worry, his brow creased. “You were having a bad dream. Are you okay?” He smoothed my hair back, his breath coming in short pants, like one does when startled awake. “Was I talking in my sleep?” Then I remembered the scream. Did that come from me? My gaze traveled around Scott’s fraternity room, orienting myself with the soccer player and sports car posters that decorated his walls, his bookcase full of loose papers and notebooks, his dresser, and his futon. Everything was in its place. Even his PlayStation, which sat atop a beat-up old coffee table, brought me an unexpected feeling of comfort. I wasn’t in an old decrepit dream house full of cobwebs, mold, and terrifying darkness, and he wasn’t coming after me. It wasn’t real. For a moment, I felt like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz—Scott was my Auntie Em—my beacon back to safety. “You were screaming.” Scott slid a hand down his unshaven face. So it was me. My scratchy throat confirmed it. “It was just a dream. You’re okay, now.” A lingering doubt played at the edges of his words. He pulled me into his arms and held me there. The stubble growing on his cheeks bristled against my neck as I inhaled a hint of musk that had collected in his soft golden curls from his late-night shower. God, I had missed that smell just as much as I had missed those strong arms that always made me feel so safe. I glanced at the clock, realizing we had only been asleep for a few hours. The dark circles shadowing Scott’s eyes were a testament to that. We had spent most of the night wrapped in each other’s arms, fully clothed and grateful. Whenever I dozed off, I’d startle myself awake, fearing he was gone … again.
About Tricia T. LaRochelle
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