Review (ARC): No Damaged Goods (Heroes of Heart's Edge #4) by Nicole Snow

Title: No Damaged Goods

Series: Heroes of Heart’s Edge 4

Author: Nicole Snow

Release Date: February 19, 2020 (ARC)

Published By: Ice Lips Press

Category: Contemporary – Crime – Fiction – Military – Romance

Type: Digital – Paperback

Click Here To Buy Now!

Nicole Snow Website

Rating:

Heat: 

Blurb: 

Fearless firefighter. Silver tongue. Single dad.
My grouchy hero pushes all my freaking buttons...

The red hot stranger who just saved my bacon might be the end of me.
Blake Silverton could sweet talk an angel into sin.
Fierce small-town fire chief. Rough velvet voice. Drop dead gorgeous.
Don't even get me started on the tortured single dad thing.

Wintering in Heart's Edge wasn't a choice when my van went kaboom!
Neither is gawking at the human bulldozer who keeps charging to my rescue.
If only we could stop butting heads over...everything.
But I can tame a grumpasaurus in my sleep.

Oh, I'm hardly obsessed.
I'm not tuning into his radio love line every single night.
That charred lump of coal he calls a heart isn't that fascinating.
I can handle one itsy bitsy insta-wildfire kiss.
Those fires some deranged punk keeps setting around town, though...

Maybe I need a hero after all.
He insists on playing house to protect me.
Being under Blake's roof isn't scary.
But when the heart falls hard for damaged goods?
It's out of the frying pan and into the fire.

From Wall Street Journal bestselling author Nicole Snow – cupid slaps some sense into one small-town protector who swore he'd never love again. Witness an ultra broody hero man coming back to life for the spitfire he can't live without. Full-length standalone romance novel with a bold shot of Happily Ever After.

 By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age.

If you are under the age of 18, please exit this site.

Favorite Lines:

I can’t believe that little hippie brat called me Gramps.  ~  Blake

I’m not good at ignoring my impulses.  ~  Peace

“Ahhh, baby,” I growl. It falls out spontaneously. “You’re so the shit.”  ~  Blake

“I’m addicted to broccoli now.”  ~  Blake

Wanting Blake is complicated. Delicate. Kind of a minefield. But worth it, I think. He’s worth it, and I don’t think he quite sees it.  ~  Peace

Vocabulary Word:

 noun

\ -ˌräb  \

variants: or less commonly broccoli raab \ -​ˌräb  , -​ˌrab \ or broccoli rab \ -​ˌräb  , -​ˌrab \

Definition of broccoli rabe

: a garden brassica (Brassica rapa ruvo) that is related to the turnip and produces edible leafy branching stalks and compact clusters of yellow florets

— called also rapini

Excerpt:

          You know, I don’t normally question my decision-making skills. 
          If I did, I wouldn’t be me. 
          My dad used to call me a flower on the wind. 
          Maybe I’m small and soft and fragile and have a hippie name—
          But that just makes me light enough to move with the breeze, soar high, drift into the sky, and let every gust take me to new horizons and beautiful things. 
          That’s what sent me jetting out of Oahu. 
          What sent me flitting through New Orleans, St. Louis, Nashville, Chicago, and lately Denver. 
          What put me on the road to Vancouver, too, for my next big adventure. 
          ... and what’s currently left me stranded on the side of the road on a remote mountain looking out over a town called Heart’s Edge. 
          Freezing my butt off, with no way to warm up except for my old clunker of a van. 
          Which is currently on fire, belching plumes of thick, dark smoke up into the sky. 
          Yep. 
          Sometimes when you’re a flower on the wind, you find yourself adrift on a beautiful sea. 
          And sometimes you land face-first in a burning garbage fire, desperately flailing to alter course but sinking deeper anyway. 
          It’s my own fault. 
          I’m the only one who decided I needed to go for a drive after dinner, packing up my van like I’m part of Scooby and the gang, gearing up in the Mystery Machine. 
          Honestly, my ride’s probably even older than that technicolor beast in the cartoon, but it’s served me well. 
          Until now. 
          I’d been puttering along just fine, listening to some local radio station and this really weird little show. 
          At first, I thought it was a variety show, but it turned out to be some kind of call-in advice line. The guy hosting it had a warm, kind voice, deep and sort of gritty with a weathered edge. 
          He sounded like he laughed a lot. And he’d sure as hell been laughing when someone called in looking for advice on what to do if a woman caught her husband stealing her underwear—to wear them. 
          He’d been gentle as he’d said, “Maybe get used to sharing, ma’am, or maybe get him his own.”I’d been able to hear the grin in his voice as he’d said it. “We ain’t quite made to fit in the front of them lacy things, and he’s gonna stretch yours plumb out. Whatever floats his boat, though.”
          Most guys would’ve made fun of the guy and his wife. Oh, poor gal, that kind of thing. 
          This guy, though... 
          He’d just laughed like it was no big deal, live and let live. It made me feel better even though it wasn’t even my call or my issue. 
          I’d been giggling too, feeling kind of warm inside, as I’d listened to him say “Next caller...”
          But I missed out on what the call was about, because right then my van decided it was hotter for this guy’s voice than I was. 
          And it just blew. 
          Spontaneously combusted. 
          Big old boom that split the night like a gunshot, sending smoke and plumes of flame spewing out from either side of the flower-painted hood. 
          Good thing I was going slow, I guess, being extra careful with the snowy roads and steep slopes. 
          Still, it must’ve been the scariest thirty seconds of my life while I wrestled the burning van over to the side of the road, grabbed my things, and scurried out. 
          The funny thing is, I can still hear the radio going, while whatever’s under the hood crackles and burns. 
          “I don’t know,” Mr. Advice Guy’s saying. “I mean, you ask me to pick between football and sex and UFO sightings...”
          Someone else at the station guffaws. He sounds older, heartier. “Oh, c’mon. I know which one you’ll pick, and so does everybody else. You’re dang-near the last single man standing, Blake. Everybody wants a slice of that in this town. Bet you’re getting a piece every night.”
          There’s an odd pause. Weird, heavy. 
          And when Advice Guy speaks again, it’s almost... melancholy, even if there’s still a smile in his voice. “Guess so,”he says. “You know me. Real heartbreaker.”
          Ouch. 
          I wonder what happened to make him sound like that. 
          There’s real pain living in his voice. The kind of buried agony that has teeth. 
          Pain is something I know in my line of work. 
          And I know what it sounds like when someone’s got a heart that’s taken a direct hit from a sledgehammer. 
          Listen to me. Sitting here worrying about this guy, when I should be taking care of myself. 
          I’m a warm-weather girl. Even bundled up in a thick coat, I’m about to shiver my toes off, and the clear night sky looks heavy. 
          I need to get off the side of the road before another storm comes down. 
          And, you know, before my van explodes into stabby confetti. 
          I fumble my phone from my pocket with half-numb fingers and dial 911. I’m hoping I did the call routing right. 
          It’s always a little iffy with the way I travel. Never know whether 911 will route to the office closest to the nearest cell tower or will try to hit the 911 for my old Hawaii zip code. I’ve never needed to test it much, except one night when I got mugged in Chicago. 
          But I’m in luck because after a couple of rings, a drowsy, thick male voice slurs, “Langley.”
          I blink. 
          I’m used to 911, what’s your emergency? 
          But after a moment I say tentatively, “Um... is this the police? The Heart’s Edge PD?”
          “Sure is. Sheriff Langley at your service, Miss, and I’m guessin’you’re one of the out-of-towners if you don’t know that.”
          “Yeah.”I smile wryly. “Listen, my van broke down and it’s kind of on fire—”
          “Fire? I ain’t the one you need, then, but lemme get you right on over to the main man.”
          I don’t even get to protest Wait! before there’s a weird buzzing sound. 
          It’s like... the line’s not disconnected, but he’s not there. 
          I wait a second, listening to the idle murmur of voices from the radio. There’s a rattling, a clicking, and a different male voice comes on the line. 
          “Fire and rescue.”Deep, crisp, business-like. “What do you need?”
          Wait. 
          Why do I hear his voice twice? 
          The second time, it’s coming from my van in this weird half-second delayed echo. 
          But I try, “Um, hi, my name is Peace and my van broke down and caught fire.”
          Now I’m hearing it again. 
          The echo, only this time... 
          Oh, crap. 
          That’s me. 
          And it’s coming from the radio inside the van. 
          I’m live on the air with the advice line guy, who’s apparently also the emergency responder for the town’s fire team. 
          “Um,” I fumble again, then continue, “I called the sheriff’s office and the second I said fire, he routed me to you.”
          “Where? How much fire we talkin’?” the man snaps off quietly—Blake. I think that’s what the other guy on the radio said his name was. 
          His friendliness is gone, replaced by an authoritative calm. His tone eases a little knot of nerves I hadn’t even realized I was holding on to until it started to relax. 
          “I’m not sure... a little flame, a lot of smoke.”I don’t like the echo of my voice coming from the radio, when I sound way more scared than I really want to be, but I’m kind of stuck here. Helpless. “I’m from out of town, and I was just driving around to check out the woods and mountainsides—”
          “Can you see the town from where you are?” he asks. 
          I turn slowly, scanning. Just sky, forest, road, and a break in the trees, but no lights of the town. “Nope.”
          “What can you see?”
          I step closer to the edge of the trees, pulling my thickly felted peacoat tighter, my breaths icy on my tongue and puffing out in front of me. I squint through the narrow trunks, the spindly leafless branches. 
          “Through the trees... there’s a valley.”I squint, looking down at dry slopes of red earth dotted with half-dead scrub and a dark chunk of rocky slope with what looks like the remnants of a pretty big building in front of it. “And what looks like some old, damaged abandoned place. Ruins?”
          “Paradise Hotel. Gotcha. Direction?” he barks. 
          That I can answer a bit more confidently, looking up and scanning the sky. The North Star twinkles just bright past the building clouds that are gathering way too fast for my liking. But it’s still there, brilliant and white against the deep blue. 
          “East,” I say. 
          “Any other nearby landmarks?”I rack my brain, trying to remember the things I’d passed by in the shadows. “Yeah, think I passed a hunting shack on the side of the road, about a mile and a half back?”
          “I know where you are.”I can hear rapid movement both on the radio and over the phone, and on the line he goes a little distant with a murmur. “Take over, Mario. I’m heading out.”
          Then his voice growls stronger again, aimed at me. “Stay put, lady. I’m coming. Keep your distance from the vehicle in case a gas line catches.”
          I nod as if he can see me. 
          Then curse myself for being an idiot. 
          I bite my lip, stuffing the hand not holding my cell into my pocket, curling it together for warmth. I hadn’t brought gloves since I hadn’t expected to be outside. “Blake? That’s your name, right?”
          There’s a pause, then an oddly quiet, “... Yep. How’d you know?”
          I smile faintly. “I was listening to you on the radio before my van went boom. I just... I think it’s going to start snowing soon.”
          Another long silence passes before his crisp tone gentles. His voice is so expressive, and I get why anyone in town would tune in to listen to him. It’s like he can lead you with his voice, this slow, rolling cadence of baritone roughness that wraps you up like velvet and carries you in and out of whatever feeling infuses those rich words. 
          I’m a music nerd; it’s in my bones. 
          And his voice is like music, even when he says something as simple as, “What’s your name?”
          “Peace,” I answer. “Peace Rabe.”
          He lets out a soft, husky laugh, and something tightens in my chest. “Rabe? Like a rabe of broccoli?”
          “Don’t,” I groan around a laugh. “I had to deal with that in high school.”
          “Okay, Little Miss Broccoli. I won’t.”
          “You just did.”
          “Maybe,” he says, and my gut clutches up at the soft edge in that single word, almost like a sigh. “But you’re not worrying about the snow anymore, are ya?”He stops, then adds gently, “You’re gonna be okay, Peace. I’m on the way.”
          “Okay, Blake,” I answer, and even though I’m so cold my toes feel like frozen nubs, I’m freaky warm all over, too. “I’ll be waiting.”
          The line goes dead. 
          I pull the phone back and stare at the screen, running my tongue over my teeth, pulling my collar up around my mouth and nose to trap in the warmth of my breath. 
          My chest’s all fluttery as I listen to the last murmur of Blake’s voice on the radio. He says something unintelligible before he fades out. The other man’s voice takes over, laughing. 
          I guess help’s on the way. 
          And I shouldn’t be hoping the man coming to rescue me is as intense as that rolling, lyrical, perfect lion voice.

Highlight:

          That door bangs open again. 

          And with his temples glistening and smeared with soot, his jacket pulled off and wrapped around a shaking, sobbing little boy, Blake steps out in all his glory. 

          Steam rises off his shoulders. He’s drenched and scorched but whole. And just as courageously angry and focused as ever. 

          I’m so relieved to see him I almost don’t catch the limp. 

          But as someone else comes tumbling out behind him, a crying woman in the uniform of the clothing shop currently sinking into a smoldering wet pit, the door bangs against him, and he stumbles forward. 

          His left leg starts going out under him. 

          He catches himself, just barely, clutching at the little boy, standing a little taller like nothing ever happened. 

          I start forward but stop myself. 

          Then let out a cry as he tries to straighten. 

          Too late. 

          His body goes crashing to the ground in a slow, strained, broken mess. 

          My pulse stops. I don’t even realize I’m moving. 

          It’s just sneakers on pavement and then I’m there, catching the shrieking little boy before Blake can’t hold him up anymore and he hits the concrete. I’m just in time, gathering him up in my arms. 

          “Blake,” I gasp, but he’s on his knees now, gripping at both thighs with white-knuckled hands, teeth bared in a grimace of agony and shame. His eyes are pinched shut. 

          “Take him. Go,” he snarls through his teeth, deep and raspy with pain, the timbre cadence richer, almost velvety. “Oxygen mask!”

          “On it, Chief,” Justin says. And suddenly he’s there, relieving me of the little boy, juggling him against his hip as he clamps an oxygen tank under one arm and fits a mask over the boy’s face with his free hand. 

          Leaving me free to focus on Blake, this feral beast-man laid low by an invisible arrow to his muscle. 

          I step closer, then back, then stop, hands outstretched. 

          “Here,” I whisper. “Let me help. What happened?”

          He actually flinches back. 

          “Just a cramp.”He opens his eyes, glaring up at me, blue irises fierce and snapping, the faint hints of lingering embers floating in his gaze. “What the hell you doing here, Broccoli? It’s not safe.”

          “I...”I falter, swallowing. “I was worried about you. I was talking to Leo when the fire started. I just wanted to help and—”

          “Don’t need no help, woman,” he snarls. “It’s just a cramp, you hear?”

          It doesn’t matter how many times he says it. 

          It doesn’t make it true. 

          I know what deep pain looks like—the kind of brute agony that takes up root and never goes away, coiled like a serpent under the skin. 

          But he doesn’t want my help. 

          And I feel redundant as Leo thrusts himself around the corner and races to Blake’s side, approaching him with a certainty I could never feel. 

          Blake doesn’t flinch back from him, at least. 

          Leo grunts and loops his arm under Blake’s shoulders, hefting him up with his jaw clenched. “C’mon. Let’s get you on a stretcher.”

          There’s nothing I can do. 

          Nothing but watch, while Rich joins Leo on Blake’s other side and together they guide him away, limping heavily. 

          “Go home, Peace,” Blake grinds out, his voice exhausted, drifting over his shoulder. “Before you get hurt. There’s nothing for you here.”

          Ouch. 

          Damn. 

          I don’t need to read between the lines. 

          I’m not wanted. I know it. 

          But I can’t stop thinking about easing his pain. 

          One thing’s for sure: I don’t believe him anymore when he says he’s not a hero. 

          * * * * 

          Okay, so I haven’t left. 

          Hear me out. 

          It’s not because of Blake, I swear. 

          I swear. 

          I just... can’t walk away. Not without seeing that everyone got out safe. 

          This town isn’t even my home. 

          Even so, I can’t stand seeing innocent people suffer. It’s a relief when the last of the flames are doused and a final inspection declares the building empty, check-ins ensuring everyone’s accounted for and no one’s still missing inside the charred, waterlogged brick building. 

          The back of the candy shop took some real damage, too, a strange-looking blast of black char that looks almost like it burst against the brick, but the worst of it is the clothing store by far. 

          Good news: there were no lives lost today, and that matters. 

          Bad news: a town that’s apparently already had some big fires recently just had one more. 

          Oh, and I managed to make a royal freaking bonehead out of myself. 

          Maybe it’s the hippie kid in me. Lack of attachment to material things. Flower on the wind. 

          But things can be replaced. So can wounded pride. 

          People, on the other hand, can’t. 

          I’ve managed to find myself a corner farther down the alley, well out of the way of the work that’s being done to investigate the debris and figure out how the fire started. Rich and a few others duck in and out of the building, conferring with their heads held close. 

          I’m still not supposed to be here. 

          I’m trying to be invisible. 

          And I’m ready to get chased off when Justin appears from the mouth of the alley and his gaze gravitates to me. 

          He’s just as dirty and disheveled and scorched as Blake, but where it makes Blake look rugged and dark and so God-like I could just lick him clean... 

          It just makes Justin look young, tired, and out of his depth. 

          But he offers me a friendly smile, pushing his mop of curls out of his face as he steps closer. “Hey, Peace.”

          I hold both hands up. “I’ll go,” I say. “You don’t have to tell me twice.”

          “Nah.”He tosses his head back in the direction he just came. “The chief wants a minute with ya.”

          I blink, doing a double take. 

          “With me?”I ask, squinting one eye up. “Are you sure?”

          Justin grins wearily. “Nobody else here he calls Broccoli, is there?”

          “Fair point.”I snort. 

          I shouldn’t be so nervous I’m barely even peeved over the stupid nickname. 

          Blake probably just wants to give me a lecture on fire safety, the hazards of diving into an active scene. 

          Honestly, I’d probably deserve it. 

          With my stomach leaping and fluttering like the flames they just put out, I square my shoulders and lift my chin. 

          Then I march off to face my fate, leaving Justin pacing the alley behind me, taking photos of the blast marks on the wall with his phone. 

          More for his album, I guess. Or maybe he’s trying to document stuff for the investigation, what with those strange marks. 

          Fate, right? 

          It’s waiting. 

          My fate, however, is currently sitting on a stretcher with one leg hanging off and his bad leg propped up in front of him. He looks as grumpy as a bear with a burr up his butt, and his leg is so stiff it looks like a lump. 

          That position isn’t good for you, I want to tell him, but I don’t think it’s something he wants to hear right now. 

          Curling my hands in their gloves, I venture, “Listen, Blake, I’m sorry for being so reckless—”

          He cuts me off with a snort, almost amused. “Broccoli, since I found you down the side of the mountain next to a burning van, can’t say I’m surprised ’bout you being reckless,”he says dryly—but not without some warmth. 

          God, I could bask in those lilting, deep rolling syllables like they’re a glowing hearth, even with the crackling edge of pain in them. “Am I really so obvious?”

          “Yeah, darlin’, you sure as hell are. And you don’t get to apologize when I’m trying to do the apologizing.”

          I blink, staring into flashing blue eyes shadowed by the sharpness of his brows. 

          Laugh lines, I decide, tracing the furrows in his brow around his eyes, his mouth. 

          Even if I’ve barely even seen him smile, I know that look. 

          Blake looks like he’s got a face meant to laugh. 

          Only, he’s not laughing now while I stare at him, dumbstruck. “Um. Why are you apologizing to me?”

          “’cause you keep catching me at a bad time, and I damn near chewed your head off. Again.”He grinds his teeth, jaw working back and forth, and looks down, hands gripping his thigh tightly to either side. He kneads himself so lightly it’s easy to see he’s struggling not to flinch at the slightest pressure. “You’re not the only one who’s obvious. I ain’t good at dealing with pain, lady. Especially not when I go ass over elbows in front of someone else. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you like a pissed off wolverine. You seen the shit those things can do?”

          I almost choke on a laugh. “Wolverines? I—”

          “Never mind. Point is, it wasn’t right of me. Not today or the night your ride went kaboom. I’m sorry for slinging so much crap your way.”His gaze sharpens. 

          “Oh.”I can’t stop my smile. I probably look like a total dope since I can’t seem to look away from him. “It’s fine. I mean, I’m used to getting snarled at by big man-babies who can’t handle a little pain.”

          He lifts a brow. 

          I raise my hands, flexing my purple-coated fingers. “I’m small, but I’m fierce. I’ve done a lot of massages. Over a thousand. I’ve even taken down bigger men than you with these hands.”

          He’d started to scowl when I said man-babies, but as he stares at my fingers, his lips twitch briefly—before he ducks his head with a sound suspiciously like a repressed laugh. “Okay, little fuckin’Broccoli Girl.”

          Bad move. My hands drop, bunching up at my sides. 

          “Don’t call me that,” I say, my voice flat. 

          “Don’t call me a man-baby.”

Review: 

Peace is a free-spirit. Never one to settle down for long periods, she flits from town to town, making her living as a massage therapist. She also dabbles in singing, hoping to be more of a songwriter than a performer, but that doesn’t stop her from singing if given the chance. Stranded in the middle of small-town Heart’s Edge, she quickly realizes that the sexy late-night radio host is also her Fire Captain rescuer. And from there, everything begins. Peace seems to find herself near or in the middle of each deliberate fire set within the town, which also lands her up close and personal with the broody Blake. Determined to break through the tough-guy exterior, Peace digs in and decides to just be herself, knowing that usually, that’s all it will take. But Blake is a tough nut to crack and just when she’s sure he won’t make a move, she ends up with everything she’s been desiring with this reluctant hero. Be careful what you wish for …

Blake is smitten from the get-go. Ever the rough and gruff beast of a man he has become, he seems to just keep screwing up each of their interactions. He wants to tell her more but always says the completely wrong thing. Luckily, the bright spitfire isn’t showing signs of giving up on him despite all of his glaring flaws. Of course, she’s got nowhere to go with no vehicle for the time being, so he’s got a little time. She’s also taken a liking to his headstrong daughter and connected with her on a level he hasn’t been able to achieve in quite a while. Without even trying, Peace quickly barrels past every single barrier Blake has erected. But Heart’s Edge has suffered a lot of devastation recently and the town has a lot to recover from – not to mention they still haven’t caught the arsonist who has been plaguing them. There is also all of Blake’s baggage, guaranteed to send any woman in her right mind running for the hills. But Peace seems to genuinely be interested in Blake for who he is as a person, rather than the hero status that’s been thrust on him. And interest in him despite all of the crap is something he’s having a hard time wrapping his head around. He just has to trust enough to take the leap despite their large age difference.

I think I am going to start a new section in my reviews for a vocabulary word. It might even be a word I know, but maybe lesser-known. My reasoning is because I have never heard of a rabe of broccoli before. How? I have no idea. Luckily the author helped me out quite well, but it definitely inspired to me make a fun change to my reviews. So thank you, Ms. Snow, I appreciate you!

I have never before read Ms. Snow’s work, so neither have I read any of the previous books in this series. I am thrilled to report that I did not have to be familiar with this series to find enjoyment within this book. And dang! Did I ever find enjoyment! This book hits all the feels! It’s real and gritty and contains characters that I could easily see existing in the small town that I reside in. Blake isn’t who I would describe as book smart, but he’s quite adept in every area he regularly interacts with in his daily life – fire-fighting, welding, radio host, armed forces background – to call him well-rounded in his abilities would be an understatement. I also love that he picks up on Peace’s last name, Rabe, and immediately takes to calling her broccoli. The endearment was both touching and amusing. Blake has a rather tragic past that ranges from losing his wife, his messed up childhood, and even a bad leg injury involving shrapnel which constantly pains him. As a fixer, Peace immediately wants to help him. She knows she can, but getting the bear to retracts his claws and capitulate will be a huge undertaking. What she doesn’t realize is how badly Blake wants her. But he’s hung up on his past and their 15ish year age gap. Blake also knows Peace isn’t the type to settle down, let alone plan a future with someone like him and his teenage daughter. But Blake is exactly the guy Peace has been waiting for and it isn’t too long before she’s seriously considering that scenario exactly. Overall, Blake just sees himself as damaged and can’t even begin to fathom why this young, vibrant, gorgeous woman wants anything to do with his version of messed up. While Peace may have both positive and negative tendencies as a fixer, the thing she wants the most is to help Blake find happiness. She also knows what she wants and tends to just go after it full force. Her impulse driving her toward Blake is no different. There are a lot of assumptions to work past, but once they do … Explosive attraction and passion that will make you blush!

I had such a fantastic time with these characters, I was sorry when the book ended. There was quite a fabulous epilogue that helped to wrap things up and cuts to 5 years later. I wonder, since the arsonist is revealed in this book, if that will be all for the Heroes of Heart’s Edge. It seems that it would be possible to continue with the series, but maybe more of a spin-off given the dramatic (and gross) conclusion with the villain. Of course, I am merely speculating and have only read this book, so I might not have any clue what I am rambling on about. I will say that given my lack of knowledge with the previous books in the series, when the characters from those books reappeared, I didn’t feel an overwhelming to connection to any of them. My focus was entirely on Peace and Blake. Had I read the books in order, I am sure that lack of connection would have been much different. My advice to those who have yet to start the series is to start from the beginning. If you happen to start somewhere else as I did, everything will be just fine. However, given the lengthy back story and returning characters, I am positive that reading from the beginning would be the best way to enjoy this series. Either way, I absolutely enjoyed getting to know Peace and Blaken as well as Blake’s daughter (Andrea). Each of them is raw and relevant, sucking the reader into all of their twisted paths, praying that each of them can find redemption in one another in some way. If any character I have read about ever deserved their own happily ever after, it’s this rough, broken, man who has had more than his quote of heavy to last a lifetime. Ms. Snow is an amazing author and I feel fortunate to have been a part of the book tour, which led me directly to this book – and now, the rest of this series. And … The passion is just as intense and all-consuming as these remarkable characters are. I plan to make my way through Heart’s Edge from start to finish, and I will definitely be giving this book another read when the time comes. It is that damn good!

Kindle version provided by Xpresso Book Tours/Author in exchange for an honest review.