BEAST
by Alana Albertson
Publication Date: June 14, 2016
Genres: New Adult, Contemporary Romance, Military Romance
Purchase (99c or #FREE with #KINDLEUNLIMITED!): Amazon
Synopsis
Love doesn’t need to be perfect, it just
needs to be true.
Isabella—Grady Williams is a national treasure, the youngest
living Medal of Honor recipient, America’s scarred superhero. With tattooed
arms sculpted from carrying M-16s, this bad boy has girls begging from sea to
shining sea to get a piece of his action.
When my father squanders away my college fund, I make a deal
with this dirty-talking Devil Dog—I will pretend to be Grady’s girlfriend for
the Marine Corps Ball, and my dad will write Grady’s war memoir.
Grady is fearless. Hell, this badass jumped on a grenade to save
his fellow Marines! As much as I crave him, I refuse to allow myself to become
addicted to a dangerous man who will detonate my heart.
Grady—Isabella Cuesta is an angel who can see beyond my
mangled skin, a pawn used to repay her father’s debt, a woman who makes me feel
like a man instead of a monster.
But I no longer believe in fairy tales.
She’s mine until our contract ends. I’ll take her hard and
rough, listen to all her hopes and fears, lay down my life to protect her.
This beauty will never let herself love a dangerous man like
me—a man who has killed, a man who runs towards gunfire, a man who never backs
down from a fight.
But without her love, I’m not a man—I’ll remain forever a
beast.
BEAST MUSIC PLAYLIST
Grenade by
Bruno Mars
One by
Metallica
I'm Not
Giving You Up by Gloria Estefan
Tale as old
as Time - by Beauty & the Beast Soundtrack
If You're
Reading This by Tim McGraw
One Hell of
an Amen by Brantley Gilbert
#AMERICASBRAVESTBEAST
EXCERPT ---Grady
I blasted
the volume on the television, trying to drown out the noise from a goddamn frat
party down the street. Loud music, water splashing in the pool, girls laughing
maniacally—the sounds of people enjoying their lives. At least the racket
sounded better than the clamor running through my head.
The ricochet
of gunshots, my friend screaming in pain, his agonizing cries during his last
seconds of life—that was the clatter that racketed through my skull. And I
could never turn it off, not even when I slept.
Why had I
been the one to survive the battlefield? The survivor’s guilt was almost worse
than my physical scars.
And now, I’d
been deemed a fucking war hero. At twenty-five years old, I was the youngest
living Medal of Honor recipient. I’d met the President—even shared a beer with
him in the Rose Garden.
He’d invited
me to be the guest of honor at an upcoming Marine Corps Ball in Hawaii that he
would be attending. Sounded great, but I needed to find a date worthy of
meeting the leader of the free world. I couldn’t exactly bring one of the porn
stars I’d recently fucked to meet the President.
My
commander-in-chief had given me one piece of advice—get an education. Sounded
great in theory, but only one of my eyes worked, dirt from the attack was still
embedded deeply in my wounds, and the burns on my skin itched so fucking badly
that I spent my free time gouging my own flesh off. And those were just the
physical problems. Mentally, I was a complete fuckup. I couldn’t shake the
premonition that I was headed for some sort of Final Destination fate, doomed
because I’d cheated death. The littlest noise made me as skittish as one of the
wild dogs in Iraq. I couldn’t focus on any task for more than a minute, and I
struggled daily trying to heal from my injuries.
College
wasn’t an option for me now because the thought of sitting in a room filled
with people scared me more than jumping on that grenade. I wouldn’t have time
to attend even if I wanted to. For the past two years, I’d endured intensive
physical therapy, nonstop burn and facial reconstruction surgeries, not to
mention PTSD treatment, which was the most painful experience of them all. And
I’d be too drugged up to focus. My docs forced me to try a bunch of meds that
gave me at worst a limp dick and at best massive headaches and sleepless
nights. I’d done group therapy, individual therapy. Fucking bullshit. I’d
rather get a skin graft than talk about my feelings.
The only
benefit from this fucking hell that was my life was that every time I had left
my place, I’d been swimming in a sea of pussy. Women couldn’t wait to get a
piece of me, like being fucked by me made them some type of patriot. But that
was all they wanted. One night riding a hero, and by morning they were quick to
bail, find a man who didn’t look like he escaped from the circus, a man who
could take them to a fancy dinner without freaking out and having a flashback.
I enjoyed all the attention at first, but sometimes I yearned to find someone
who actually liked me for me.
The voices
down the block grew louder. I peered out the window, and could see the party
raging, a bunch of rich, spoiled college kids dressed like superheroes.
Kickass. I
could do this. The old me hated costume parties or anything with a theme—I’d
much rather get wasted with my buddies. But since I looked like Frankenstein
now, masks suited me just fine.
I pulled out
my razor because I didn’t want my beard scraping against my mask. I rarely
shaved because I couldn’t stand the sight of myself in the mirror. I’d never
get used to looking at my face.
A freak. A
monster. A beast.
My face was
now split in two. On one half, my eye drooped, my skin sagged. On the other, I
looked like the man I used to be.
Now I had a
face only a mother could love. Too bad my mom had abandoned me years ago.
Could anyone
ever stand the sight of looking at me every day? Or would I always remain some
type of novelty—a patriotic pity fuck?
I dug out my
favorite costume—the Hulk—stained my body with green camouflage paint, pulled
on my shorts, and tugged the latex disguise over my head.
Normally,
once I told a woman my name, she’d start fawning over me, and thank me for my
service by sucking my cock. But tonight I wanted to try something new. I was up
for a challenge. I wanted to keep my scars and my identity a secret. Maybe I’d
be able to meet a girl tonight who would get to know me first before judging my
appearance and my actions. Someone sweet, caring, and classy. Someone I could
invite to the Marine Corps Ball. A woman who wouldn’t be scared of getting to know
the real man behind the mask.
REVIEW
Review by: Melanie
(4 stars)
My first read from Alana Albertson and I really enjoyed it. Very loosely based on the Beauty and the Beast fairy tale, Grady, a wounded Marine meets Isa, a former dancer, damaged from the loss of her mother.
The way these two met was brilliant, a very original idea that worked well. Even Grady having a PTSD episode during that first meet didn't scare Isa away and their story began.
Both these characters were written well, although at one point Grady really turned me off him with how he bossed Isa in one scene, he quickly redeemed himself and the rest of the story was sweet, sexy, with some drama thrown in for good measure.
I'd certainly read something from Alana Albertson again and I give Beast 4 stars.
(4 stars)
My first read from Alana Albertson and I really enjoyed it. Very loosely based on the Beauty and the Beast fairy tale, Grady, a wounded Marine meets Isa, a former dancer, damaged from the loss of her mother.
The way these two met was brilliant, a very original idea that worked well. Even Grady having a PTSD episode during that first meet didn't scare Isa away and their story began.
Both these characters were written well, although at one point Grady really turned me off him with how he bossed Isa in one scene, he quickly redeemed himself and the rest of the story was sweet, sexy, with some drama thrown in for good measure.
I'd certainly read something from Alana Albertson again and I give Beast 4 stars.
ABOUT ALANA ALBERTSON
Alana
Albertson is a multi-award winning author, current President of Romance
Writers of America’s Contemporary Romance Chapter and the former
President of both Romance Writers of America’s Young Adult and Chick Lit chapters.
Alana Albertson holds a Masters of Education from Harvard University and a
Bachelor of Arts in English from Stanford University. A recovering professional
ballroom dancer, Alana currently writes contemporary romance, new adult and
young adult fiction. She lives in San Diego, California, with her husband, two
young sons, and four dogs. When she’s not spending her time playing with her
sons, dancing, or saving dogs from high kill shelters through Pugs N Roses, the rescue she
founded, she can be found watching episodes Homeland, Devious Maids, or Dallas
Cowboys Cheerleaders: Making the Team.
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