Love on the Rise: Book Two of The Against All Odds Series

by Gemini Jensen

  A hundred promises are whispered between us without saying a word as we cling to each other, grasping and clawing, desperate to get closer any way possible. I undulate my hips, picking up my pace as I slam down to meet him thrust for thrust. He growls at my change of pace, his teeth marking my lip and not letting go. The heat inside my body begins to unfurl, and I violently clench around his hard length, crying out. The next time I slam down to meet him, Gray flips me over in one fell swoop, trading places as he drives home, wringing the last of the earth-shattering orgasm from me.

  “Come again,” he commands, his face taking on that pinched look it always does when he’s on the precipice of pleasure. “Come with me, baby.” Leaning forward, he lowers the neck of my dress, peeling the cup of my bra back, before he clamps down on my nipple, flicking his tongue over and over to quell the ache. His thumb finds my clit at the same time, playing me like he’s a musician and I am his favorite guitar. Seconds later, his own orgasm begins to quake, my body convulsing with him and bucking against him wildly.

  It takes minutes to come down, for our heartbeats to slow, and our breathing to mesh into one steady pattern. But once my mind clears, I realize something.

  It’s over. We’re together and now nothing will stand between us.

  Everything about this moment resonates in my soul. This is the end of one life, but it’s also the beginning of a better one. Gray and I have been tested in almost every way a couple can be tested.

  But we made it…

  Against all odds.

  A Note From The Author

  You might be thinking, “WHAT THE HELL?!!! You left so many unanswered questions!”

  It’s probably irritating, but I promise, I did it with the best of intentions. If you stick with me through the series, every question will be answered, all loose ends tied.

  There were a few times after I started writing Love on the Run, that I almost went back and changed EVERYTHING. I came this close to focusing on Althia and Jameson instead of Valley and Gray, because to me, their story was just as intriguing. Which is ultimately how the idea for the Against All Odds series was born.

  Althia’s story is up next in Rivalry of Love, and I’m so excited to give light to her perspective. Her and Jameson’s story spans over two decades, and so far, it’s proving to be a beautiful challenge to write. I can’t wait for you to read it! It’s especially forbidden, which if you know me, is my favorite kind of love story.

  Then, we have Lyra’s story. I hinted about her love interest a few times, especially in Love on the Run, but will Nash be who she ultimately ends up with?

  And finally, I have somewhat of an announcement to make. I started the Against All Odds series with a duet, so it only felt right that I end it with one. If you read this story and you were intrigued with Pierce Wilder, you’ll be pleased to know, his story will conclude the series… And if I’m being completely honest, his story is maybe the one I’m most eager to tell. It’s a friends-to-enemies-to-lovers revenge type of story and it’s going to be angsty AF—quite a bit different from the other books in this series. As of this moment, I plan to wrap up the series by the end of 2019.

  Acknowledgments

  “It takes a village to raise a child.” For some reason that phrase keeps flowing through my mind as I sit here trying to write this page. It’s the same for a book. So many wonderful people were involved in getting this story out into the world in some roundabout way. And, for all intents and purposes, this is my child—my book baby—so with that in mind, the phrase definitely applies.

  To my editor, Kristen, you fucking rock! I came to you, begging that you fit me in somewhere, so I could stick to my deadline, and you surpassed my expectations and got the thing edited ahead of schedule. Which, let me just say, is no small feat with the mess I gifted you to correct. You made my words prettier, and improved my story my leaps and bounds. I can’t wait to work with you on future projects.

  To my cover designer extraordinaire, Lee, you are amazing! I probably gave you the longest email in history with fonts and colors and instructions—I’m sure you cringed when you saw it, lol—and you exceeded my expectations. I can’t wait to work on Rivalry of Love’s cover with you soon!

  The utmost gratitude to my team of beta readers for this book: Jessica Beach, Devon Allison, Crystal Cogdill, Linzi Mason, and Sandra Bunn. I read your suggestions, took them to heart, then added some 20,000 more words in trying to get it right. I hope this new and improved version does you proud. Without you guys, I’d probably have a stale and flat manuscript.

  Thank you to all the book bloggers out there who spend their precious time posting, promoting, sharing, and everything in between—all out of your love for reading. Without you all, the indie book community would probably cave in on itself and collapse. You guys propel things along and keep it afloat, spreading excitement and positivity all the while.

  A special shout-out to the Three Witches Reading Room—Carmel, Erica, and Q.B. You three are some extremely talented and lovely ladies, and the way you offer support to your fellow authors each and every day, is commendable and completely appreciated.

  Also, Caitlinn Ashley of Cait’s Creatures: Thank you for your support! And I can’t wait to read that story you’re currently writing!

  I’ve been blessed to meet so many other talented authors in my journey who have welcomed me into the indie book world with open arms. A special shout-out to the insanely talented Rebecca Robertson! A lot of times I was in a writing slump, not wanting to write a single sentence, then I read a kind word from you and it was just what I needed to stop moping around and get back to work. This story is for you ;)

  And I can’t really write an acknowledgments page without saying something to my family, who had to pick up my slack in some way. Kayden, who did the laundry for me sometimes as I sat writing or doing take-overs. You’re going to be a woman’s dream man some day, trust me. Jesslyn, basically you are the most thoughtful soul I’ve ever met, and I’m still kind of awe-struck that you came from me… Always taking over tasks and insisting I let you do it, so that I can write more… Asking if I need more coffee or a snack. You and your brother are both Heaven-sent. PJ, you basically do it all… and then you don’t get to sleep because I wake you up at 2 a.m. when my alarm goes off so that I can write. Sorry about that, you’ll get used to it eventually, haha. Love you.

  To my Romance Suite peeps, thank you for your endless support.

  Most of all, thank you, my dear readers, for making my dream come true. If it wasn’t for you, none of this would be possible, much less, worth while. You make it happen every time you take a chance on me, every time you leave a review or share news about my books, or even make a book suggestion word-of-mouth.

  Titles by Gemini Jensen

  AGAINST ALL ODDS SERIES

  Love on the Run- Valley and Gray Part 1

  Love on the Rise- Valley and Gray Part 2

  Rivalry of Love- Althia’s Story (Coming early 2019)

  Recompense for Love- Lyra’s Story (Coming Spring 2019)

  There is No Love in Retribution- Pierce’s Story Part 1 (Coming late 2019)

  There is No Retribution in Love- Pierce’s Story Part 2 (Coming late 2019)

  Stalk Me

  Stay updated

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  About Gemini

  GEMINI JENSEN’s love for reading began at a young age, and her love for writing was born not long after she learned how to put pen to paper. When she was in 2nd or 3rd grade, she won a poetry contest for all the elementary students in her county.

 
; She has a passion for all things romance-related, particularly angsty, forbidden, and slow-burn romances. An avid reader, she’s been enjoying the romance genre much longer than she should be able to admit, stealing her mom’s books and returning them before anyone noticed they were missing.

  Born and raised in Western North Carolina, she still resides there with her family. She enjoys anything related to creativity, Disney, and cooking.

  A Special Request…

  This book was a labor of love, and hate, at some points. I woke up sometimes as early as 1:30 a.m. just so I could write before I went in to work at my “second” job. I sat, lap-top in hand, as I waited for my kids to get off the bus. I scribbled down plot points and things to add into the story, on the back of my note-pad at work when no one was looking. I listened to my WIP playlist every time I got in the car—just to try and keep myself in that certain mood for the story I was writing.

  All that, yet it still took a little longer to get out there than I originally anticipated. But finally, here we are. It’s in your hands or at your fingertips. Why am I telling you this? I want to know what you thought! Writing books is a lonely, and tiring job. Sometimes I thought I’d go insane, sometimes I even fell asleep writing and awoke to screens full of the same letter which I had to go back and erase—only to fall asleep and do it all over again.

  Reviews make or break an author. So, if you have the time, please take a moment to leave an honest review of not just this book, but every book you read. The author appreciates it, much more than you will ever know.

  Thank you so much!

  Continue reading on for a little excerpt of my upcoming novel, Rivalry of Love…

  Excerpt from Rivalry of Love

  (NOTE: THIS IS A RAW, UNEDITED EXCERPT, THAT IS SUBJECT TO CHANGE.)

  Jameson

  July 1996

  I stand at the front of the aisle, my black tuxedo stiff like papier-mâché, like sandpaper against my skin and a constant reminder of impending doom. And this shit cost well over a grand?

  What a rip-off.

  It’s nothing more than a glorified straight-jacket.

  My button-up shirt is complete with a red silk tie that perfectly matches the red rose boutonniere that’s pinned at my left pec. Every time the little flower catches my eye, I fight the urge to wrench it away from my body, shred it up, and stomp on it a few times…Mostly because the perfectly symmetrical bud reminds me of her. The petals so soft and delicate; the crimson hue so vivid, signifying passion.

  The longer I stand here, the more I feel as if I’m suffocating. I can practically picture the tie closing in around my neck like a noose, and at this point, I’d gladly let it take me. At this point, I’d gladly let it take me. Sweat beads at my forehead, slashing across my brow as it drops to the floor.

  “Chill out, J. I know you don’t like crowds, but you look nervous,” my cousin, Drew, says as he elbows me. Dominic, my brother from another mother—literally, although we do share the same father— shoots me a blasé glance, his attention drawn to me from Drew’s words. Thankfully, as with all things, he loses interest pretty quick. But it’s enough to remind me of where the Hell I’m at, and what the Hell I’m doing.

  Fuck. Pull it together, the nagging voice inside my head scolds.

  The voice is—annoyingly—right. I need to get my shit together, keep my cool, and accept what’s to come. I can’t change it. There’s not a damn thing I can do. The sooner I realize that, the easier this transition will be.

  Letting everyone around me know I’m feeling anything other than excitement and goodwill about today’s events would at the very least be improper—a faux pas.

  I fight back a scoff at the terminology. Faux pas my ass. That’s putting it lightly. What I’m feeling is more along the lines of disdain. Contempt. A slow melancholic rebellion.

  They say of all the important events in your life, weddings and births will sit at the very top of the list. This isn’t my wedding, yet the same concept applies. This wedding will probably be more important than my own, should I ever choose to get married. At this point, it’s not looking very likely.

  An unhurried melody begins to waft through the air causing me to shift my weight from one foot to the other. The bridesmaids begin to file out, timing their strides to the beat; their crimson organza dresses swishing with each onward step.

  I wish they’d walk slower.

  I wish there was some way to prolong this…prevent this.

  To make time stand still. Better yet, to turn it back.

  Before I know it, they’ve formed an arc directly across the aisle from where I stand, red petals littering the path where she’ll walk next.

  Red. So much red. Like there’s romance and passion between the two of them or some shit. What a fucking joke.

  Why the fuck am I even here? To torment myself? No. Duty is my reason. Duty to my brother—a man I hate for multiple reasons, yet, also experience a compelling need to be loyal to.

  The tune advances through a smooth transition before turning into the universally known opening of “Here Comes the Bride.”

  The transition is a signal that the ceremony is about to begin.

  And I’m not ready for it to.

  I’ll never be ready for it to.

  I’d just as soon stand up here frozen in time—waiting—for the rest of my life. Anticipation threatens to claw its way up my throat. My stomach burns with dread. Pain is slaughtering me from the inside out. My body might legit begin shutting down if my mind doesn’t beat it to closing up shop first.

  The oohs and ahhs of those around me call my attention to the head of the aisle.

  Like an angel cocooned in warm light, she appears. And just like the first time I ever saw her—and countless times thereafter—she steals my goddamn breath right out of my lungs. She always has been a thief like that. First my breath. Then my heart. Then my fucking sanity. Now, my beautiful bandit is about to snatch all the happiness right out of my life. She’s about to rob every last piece of me until only the dark and vacant carcass of my former self remains.

  And she doesn’t even know it.

  Would she still proceed with this if she did?

  Probably not. And her choosing not to hurt me, would ultimately end up hurting her.

  I steal a glance at my brother. The look on his face screams of boredom. He doesn’t feel the way I feel about her.

  No one could be this far gone.

  My hand itches to knock him upside the head. He’s too damn stupid to even bother being respectful enough to appear excited, and he’s fully capable of pulling out all the brakes for her. He’s the best actor I know.

  Then again, he’s also the most selfish, insolent bastard I know. Even if I am a close second, I’d still be making her feel wanted right now. Because I do want her. So. Fucking. Bad.

  He’s a bastard of the highest caliber. And yet, he still gets the ultimate prize. He still gets the girl but he doesn’t even appreciate her. Sure, he thinks she’s beautiful—what straight guy with a decent set of eyes doesn’t? But he views her as a tasteful and well-rendered piece of art. At best.

  I view her like she’s the sum of every piece of artwork in every museum across the planet. Like she is the planet.

  In short, he takes her at face-value. She’ll become his new possession; something to wear on his arm the same way a woman carries an expensive name brand purse—with giddiness to show off the fashionable accessory because it makes the carrier feel more confident. Until it becomes out of season and loses its appeal. Then it—or she in this instance—will be discarded and replaced by something newer and “better.”

  But I see what he’s not capable of. I see what’s hiding behind that pretty veneer. Her natural beauty mixed with everything deep inside her; the essence of what makes her…well…her.

  What Dominic fails to understand, or maybe he does and is just to vain to care, is that one day that fine and ornate outer-shell is going to fade. And when that happens, it’s
going to peel away until the only thing remaining is what’s on the inside.

  I already know what’s there, and it’s a beautiful thing.

  She’s on my radar more so than the brightest star in all the universe—completely and utterly impossible to ignore.

  My eyes skitter back over her again. Her plump, mauve lips are just breaking into a timid smile. Althia loves fashion, and all things girly. While she might be enjoying showing off her dress and the way she’s been made-up like old Hollywood glamour, she is still shy about doing so.

  It may be her wedding, her big day, but she isn’t wearing loads of make-up. That would be a futile point anyway. Smooth, creamy skin that positively glows. Perfectly arched brows. Thick, dark lashes that fan across high-cheekbones. Lips I want to take between my teeth. Those are all the features women try to improve upon, but she was born with them. Her silky hair is pinned up in a loose up-do; a messily sexy low-bun with wisps breaking free in several places.

  Of course, she’s staying true to her everyday style. The dress she’s wearing is a twist between modern fashion mixed with classic elegance. The satin fabric clings to her body, showcasing her delicious curves until it flares out from the knees down. While it’s a little flashy, and could perhaps be considered risqué, there’s a lace overlay that looks old-fashioned, bringing it down a notch. It’s completely her. Soft and feminine, yet enticing and inviting.

  As if she can feel me watching her every move intently, like the creep I am, her steel eyes flash to my face and linger there long enough to make me squirm.

  Can she read me?

  Am I looking at her with my whole fucking heart in my eyes? Because it sure as Hell feels like I am.

  A soft, rosy blush spreads across her cheeks.