En este momento estás viendo Download: Purple Hearts – Tess Wakefield PDF

Download: Purple Hearts – Tess Wakefield PDF

Download: Purple Hearts – Tess Wakefield PDF

SOON TO BE A NETFLIX MOVIE! When a soldier with a troubled past and a struggling songwriter agree to an arranged marriage for military benefits, neither waits long after saying «I do.» Then tragedy strikes, and the line between what’s real and what’s pretend begins to blur in this clever and surprising romance, perfect for fans of Nicholas Sparks and Jojo Moyes. Cassie Salazar and Luke Morrow couldn’t be more different. Quick-witted Cassie works nights at a bar in Austin, Texas to make ends meet while she pursues her dream of becoming a singer-songwriter. Luke is an Army trainee, about to embark for duty, who finds solace in the unyielding discipline of the service. But a chance encounter at Cassie’s bar changes the course of their lives.

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Cassie is drowning in medical bills after being diagnosed with diabetes. When she runs into her old friend Frankie, now enlisted in the Army, she proposes a deal: she’ll marry him in exchange for better health insurance and they can split the pay raise that comes with having a «family.» . When Frankie refuses, her handsome but frustratingly intense friend Luke volunteers to marry Cassie. What she doesn’t know is that he has his own desperate reasons for getting married. In this unforgettable love story, Cassie and Luke must put aside their differences to make it seem like a real marriage…unless, somewhere along the way, it becomes one…

Product description

critics

«A good, romantic take on some very modern challenges!»– «A Bookish Affair»

«I didn’t want this novel to end. I would definitely recommend this novel to readers who enjoy Nicholas Sparks, Jojo Moyes, and other contemporaries.» romance novels.” – “The Blonde Bookworm”

“If you’re looking for a book that tugs at your heartstrings and is filled with unlikely romance that will make you swoon, definitely check out PURPLE HEARTS this summer. it would be the perfect read for a lazy summer day or a relaxing day at the beach.” – “Confessions of a book addict”

«PURPLE HEARTS is absolutely real and tangible. It’s a story you can’t walk away from, but you’re falling apart as you read. My only objection is that I wanted more. More of Cassie, more of Luke. More of their intertwined lives. It’s a slow burn, a sizzle, a spark, a big gust of wind that threatens to blow you away

. » , I would still recommend this to anyone who loves their brooding military hero, especially someone who has worked so hard to redeem themselves.” – “The Book Hookup”

Best Books of the Month – “Liz & Lisa”

“Wonderfully true and surprising, with modern, complex and fascinating characters.” –Sarah Pekkanen, international bestselling author of THE PERFECT NEIGHBORS

“When I laughed out loud at Tess Wakefield’s wit on page three of PURPLE HEARTS, I knew this was a book I would love. With complex, compassionately drawn characters facing all-too-real problems, Wakefield has created a singularly moving love story about two people so profoundly human you’d almost swear you knew them.” –Bethany Chase, bestselling author of THE ONE THAT GOT AWAY

author biography

When she’s not producing fiction for young readers, Tess Wakefield works in Golden Valley, Minnesota, as a copywriter, amateur comedian, and caretaker of several thriving plants. Purple Hearts  is her first adult novel of hers.

Extract. © Reprinted with permission. All rights reserved.

purple hearts

Cassie


Today, August 2, at 5:34 pm on the South Congress Bridge, also known as the South Congress Parking Lot, I accepted my true form. The Subaru’s windows were down, Queen’s Greatest Hits was blaring, and this was it, she was no longer a woman chained to a cubicle, she was a bandleader, singing out loud with Freddie Mercury. The cars ahead were slowing down. I did the same, reaching out to make sure the box on my front seat didn’t slide. Inside was a photo of my mom and I at Disneyland when I was five years old, a coffee mug with David Bowie’s face on it, and three stale granola bars that I found buried under some old statements. My personal effects.

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Half an hour ago, my boss, Beth, had called me into her office. She reached out and took my hand, the slime from her lime-scented lotion brushing my palm, and she waved me away. I looked at my thighs sticking out of my boxy navy blue dress, my cheap ballet flats, and felt a strange buoyancy. It was the feeling I had every day at five, walking through the parking lot, but magnified tenfold. Like at some point, you’d hear applause from a director’s whiteboard and everything in Beth’s office would get brighter under the studio lights and someone would yell, “Okay, that’s the end of the paralegal! Good job, Cassie.

And that was today. I left the set to start my real life, hopefully one that involved not just singing cars. Despite the fact that Beth’s long and fake sympathetic «I wish I didn’t have to do this» speech had made me late for my second, now only, job, I had already realized that I had been fired from Jimenez, Gustafson. , and Moriarty’s wills and probate attorneys were bound to happen. It’s not a blessing in disguise, it’s not a wake-up call, but something really good and pure like sugar, something I wanted and wished for: getting rid of endless hours of licking stamps and finding typos and, more often than not, quickly getting out of Hiatus Kaiyote performances on YouTube when I felt Beth behind my desk.

I changed lanes to get ahead of the Pathfinder. This was. I would announce it. I turned down Queen, put my phone on speaker, put it in the cup holder, and dialed.

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«Yellow». Traffic buzzed in the background. Mom must have been on her way home from the Florien residence, where she cleaned on Fridays.

Hi, I said. «I was fired.»

Silence. The traffic moved slowly. «Did they fire you?»

I let out a sigh and smiled. «Yes.»

«Did they fire you?» she repeated.

«Yes, mom,» she confirmed.

«So that?»

«They said business was down and they were combining my work with Stephanie’s, and Stephanie had been there longer, so wah-wah.» I made a sad horn sound. Goodbye Cassie.

«I’m sorry, mija.» I could picture her face, her pursed lips, her furrowed brows. “I am very sorry that this happened. What are you going to do?»

I thought of Nora’s smoky basement, of Toby spinning on the stool behind his drum kit, of pressing my ear against the wood of the old upright piano I got on Craigslist, of never having to finish band practice by ten o’clock. at night to be awake. enough for a daily purgatory of Excel spreadsheets. I could discover what it feels like to be a real musician. I could wake up tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after, knowing that the whole day was mine for The Loyal.

My voice was light. «I’m on my way to The Handle Bar, so I guess I’ll go to the next routine.»

«You’re taking it well.»

“Yes,” I said, softening my voice to sound sadder, since that was what she expected. «I’m trying.»

“What about your health insurance?”

A truck honked its horn nearby. I yelled over the noise: «There are government programs.»

«What about your rent?» my mom interrupted. «I’m worried,» she said, and, as if the word «worried» were some kind of password, she uncoiled a coiled spring and began to rant. She hoped she was still driving slowly. She used to wave her arms around a lot. She talked about a severance package. The enrollment deadline for state-assisted health care had passed, she said, but they had better make an exception.

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I waited to tell him about my complete transformation as he spoke, taking deep breaths, trying to calm the hard core of worry twisting in my stomach.

I had learned to pay close attention to my stomach, more than most people, I was pretty sure. We had to be on the same team, my gut and me, because for the last few months I’d been in a bad mood. I imagined him as an anthropomorphized, wise, old, talking object, like a character in an animated movie. What my gut communicated was usually limited to things like I don’t like these Flamin’ Hot Cheetos, or Good effort with bean soup, I’m going to branch out and sit with this for a while.

Now he seemed to be saying everything my mom said, but in a nicer, less strident way. Cassie, she rumbled, sending up waves of nausea. You are not facing reality. She was still going.

«Stop panicking!» I interrupted, loud enough for the woman next to me in a VW to look up. «This is a great opportunity.»

«You’re right, Cass,» he said.

And for one wonderful moment, we were all together, the three of us: me, my mom, and my gut. The traffic moved twelve inches and a breeze came through my open window.

Then she said, «You can use your free time to study for the LSAT.»

My insides lit up again, and I avoided hitting the bumper of the Honda in front of me by an inch. I wanted to hit my head against the steering wheel.

With his accent, anyone but me would have thought he said «El Sot.» The feared El Sot. It wasn’t like Mom was going to break my Yamaha and force me to enroll at UT Austin at gunpoint, but since I graduated pre-law four years ago, the seed of law school had taken root. Now I could return it to the sun, water it, Talk it to grow until it strangles me. I wanted to play music. Not just any music, but my music with my bandmates, Nora and Toby, somewhere between Elton John and Nina Simone and James Blake. It was the only thing that made me happy. But you can’t eat happiness.

My mother reminded me whenever she could, and now that she had lost her paralegal job, she had nothing to point out to distract her.

«The LSAT, yes,» I said. I took a deep breath.

«You know what, I know you’re going to be strapped for cash,» she continued. “I will pay for the preparation course.”

The mass in my stomach was taking over my entire torso.

«I have to go,» I said.

«Okay, I’ll start looking for courses nearby.»

I swallowed. «You don’t have to do that.»

«Why shouldn’t I?»

“Okay, I love you, mom! Bye!»

The mass had spread throughout my body, throbbing, making me dizzy. This happened a lot. Like, twice a day, somewhere. Hence the visceral intimacy. She usually put it down to anxiety related to student loans and tried to pinpoint the source of this particular spell: Deeply hungry? Very full? Did you have to pee? Come on hungry, I told my gut. I grabbed a granola bar and bit into the stale oatmeal, trying to keep my head from spinning.

My phone vibrated. I was expecting a rushed text from mom, but it was Toby.

plans tonight?

I smiled. A text on a day we didn’t have band practice? And before midnight? This was new. When the traffic stopped, I started to reply, Maybe I’ll come after work, but I stopped. I’d let him wait. Toby was a tall, long-haired Cat Stevens lookalike who played a musical instrument. in Austin. He would be fine. I was probably one of the three women who got that message anyway.

My phone vibrated again. It was Nora, who was working as a bar. Where are you?

Traffic, I replied. Be there ASAP. Besides, whatever, Nora.

I got her this job, so she can’t pretend she’s all responsible. If it wasn’t for me, she’d be on her couch three bong rips, trying to figure out the bass part of «Psycho Killer.»

I needed to show mom that I was serious. A Loyal album, perhaps. Still no name. Maybe a color. Toby had suggested calling it Lorraine, after her cat. We would have to record it first. The rest, the medical care, the money, would be online after that. My gut rumbled again, disagreeing.

«What do you know?» I asked out loud, turning the music up to full volume. «Just eat your granola and be happy.»

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