Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 107673 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107673 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
The guy of my dreams sweeps me off my feet and over my handlebars, quite literally. But our budding relationship takes a turn when my troubled past resurfaces, shattering any hope for a future. Now, I feel like a hollowed-out version of myself. Memories of piercing blue eyes and sweeping blond hair are all that remain to get me through a day.
I know I have to make peace with my past to move forward into my future. But am I strong enough?
Dash Richmond
I’m the tenth child of affluent older parents, confident, and privileged. But the future they see for me isn’t how I want to live my life. A chance encounter with a guy my polar opposite changes my path indefinitely, leading me to the life I’ve always wanted.
When he’s ripped away from me, I vow to wait for his return. Now I’m stuck in limbo, unwilling to give up on him.
Can the friction of life destroy what they shared or is your first true love like gravity—an unending universal law?
The Gravity Series is an unforgettable whirlwind romance chronicling the love of two men over three decades. Friction heats up the scene with passionate alpha males who navigate the often-rocky road to love. Love’s rarely easy, but when it’s true, it’s a battle worth fighting for.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Late Spring, 2000
Mobile, Alabama
The fresh morning air and bright sun drew me from my second-floor window out onto the rooftop. I followed a well-worn path that I’d trekked hundreds of times before. When I reached the point just beyond the downstairs living room windows, I leaped to a grassy patch below, easily landing on my feet. From there, I followed the fence line to my favorite place, our property’s edge along Dog River.
Small ripples lapped gently against the shallow shoreline. I took a seat on my butt, just shy of the river’s edge. Life’s troubles stayed at a distance here, which was why I spent most of my time in this spot.
But the river didn’t work its usual magic. Probably due to this being my last time here.
My heart seriously hurt.
Absently, I picked up a rock and tested its weight by sifting it through my fingers. My grandfather, my pop-pop, came to mind, causing the pain in my heart to ramp up a notch, thinking about the care he used to teach me how to skip a rock properly. Because of him, I could throw a stone better than most. It might even be my superpower.
The last time I saw him, he called me to his side for a final bit of advice. It echoed through my head as if he were sitting right next to me. He explained that experiencing pain was essential in the process of love. Pain showed us how deeply we cared, and how lucky we were to have loved in the first place. Pop-pop knew he was at the end of his life, even if I had refused to believe it.
At fourteen years old, a week shy of my fifteenth birthday, I knew way too much about pain and not near enough about love.
“Beau. Are you awake, son?” The muffled sound of my mom's voice called from inside the house. If I guessed correctly, she was probably near the kitchen. She’d then call me again at the base of the stairs before trotting up to see I wasn’t in my bedroom. It gave me a few more precious minutes of privacy before she found me outside.
She… Me too, I guessed, but for the sake of my current pity party, this was all on her. She planned to exile me from my childhood home in Alabama to live in Sea Springs, Texas, where she grew up and where my other set of grandparents still lived.
I had until the long-haul movers loaded everything we owned into the back of their truck then moved us across the country to my grandparents’ bed-and-breakfast. Maybe the distance wasn’t quite that far, but for the sadness clogging my world, I needed the dramatic flair.
“Beau! Quit pouting and come downstairs. It’s time,” my mom called louder.
I glanced at the empty covered boat dock built fifty feet into the river. Only a ghost of its former self. Empty and void of all the personality that once hung on the walls. Pieces of décor and memorabilia my father had collected over the last fifteen years.
The rock in my hand hummed, drawing my attention there. I got to my feet, readying the toss. After all, as the two-year reigning champion of stone skipping, awarded by the governing body of the Dog River Festival, I knew how to make the rock bounce across the ripples.
With my arm reared back, I threw the stone forward, sending it flying low across the river. My eyes locked on its descent, ready to count the skips. A throw that should have garnered at least twelve jumps.
It didn’t. Not even one. The rock sank underwater before it ever had a chance to get started.
If a moment represented a life, this was mine.
“Beau, come on, babe! The movers are almost here.” Her heavy clomps up the stairs rang of her irritation.
“You there?” Scott Lee, my lifelong best friend, called from behind the privacy fence. We’d been neighbors for as long as I can remember. We did everything together. Spent some part of every day with the other, and had each other’s back no matter what the situation.
We also had a healthy competitive streak between us. Well, if healthy meant we approached every task with a battle-to-the-death attitude. Each determined to win, no matter the cost. We fished, exercised, and did all our schoolwork together in a race to see who was the strongest, fastest, or smartest.
But, if I were being honest, the invisible connections that bound us together had begun to show signs of unraveling. Scott had grown stupidly girl-crazy, like his brain cells had gone haywire. He wanted and was determined to find a girlfriend who put out. It was all he talked about anymore, and I wasn’t there with him.
Seconds later, Scott poked his head over the high fence. A couple of colorful balloons sprang up behind him, bouncing in the air as he fluidly jumped over the tall slats, landing easily on his feet. The balloons stayed on the other side, unattached to my friend.