My rating: 5 of 5 stars
I'm addicted to this series. I want MORE! Someone needs to turn this two book series into a cable TV show! Aleatha Romig is brilliant. Full review to follow.
Title: Away from the Dark (The Light #2)
Author: Aleatha Romig
Release Date: October 18, 2016
Away from the Dark is nothing short of a suspense-packed, e-reader induced heart attack. I had to stop myself from peeking ahead.
I'm utterly addicted to The Light series. I knew going in that this would be a two book series, but here’s the thing… I want MORE! I’m begging you Aleatha. Someone needs to turn this series into a cable TV show!
In Away from the Dark, Aleatha brilliantly tied up all of the questions and loose ends from Into the Light. While this second and final book did a great job wrapping us this series, the possibilities are endless for where this story could go if Aleatha chooses to continue this story.
In Into the Light (Book #1) Aleatha spun an intricate web infused with mystery, murder, and suspense wrapped around a love story.
In Away from the Dark, Aleatha unraveled the labyrinth of twists and turns that were laid out in the first book.
I love her writing. Aleatha is my go-to author when I want a smart, sexy, unputdownable suspense story. Please read book one before reading Away from the Dark. You might as well buy them both at the same time since you will want to binge read to the conclusion.
This review appears on www.kindlecrack.net, www.facebook.com/kindlecrack, Goodreads, Amazon, Pinterest, Google+ and Twitter. A review copy of this book was kindly provided by the author in exchange for an honest review.
Shrill screams echoed throughout our dimly lit bedroom, accelerating my heartbeat and pulling me from the terrible nightmare. I waited for more, until the realization struck. The screams were my own.
“Jacob?” I called, my voice shaking with dread as I reached for my husband. Instead of reassurance, my fingers met cold empty sheets. He was gone—still away at another campus.
What just happened? Was it a dream?
I clung to the covers as I puffed my cheeks and slowly exhaled. While each breath helped to still the chaos, the exercise wasn’t enough.
Who am I? Who is he?
Jacob’s questions from months ago came back. They were my security. They’d worked before.
I am Sara Adams and my husband is Jacob Adams.
Pushing the images from my dream, or nightmare, away, I imagined Jacob’s comforting embrace. Slowly I threw back the down comforter and willed the cool air to soothe my perspiration-drenched skin. From the way my heart galloped in my chest, I might have been running a marathon, not sleeping.
In my sleep I’d been battling to escape a vehicle, and then an explosion of heat.
It had been a dream, I reassured myself—a nightmare. The accident I’d had, nearly nine months before, had been different. I couldn’t remember it, but I’d been told that I’d been injured and gone unconscious. In the nightmare I had been out and away from the wreckage.
I shook my head.
It seemed so real.
In my dream I hadn’t been able to see past the darkness, yet I’d known I wasn’t injured.
My arms surrounded my midsection as the memories replayed like pictures in my mind. Someone was hurting me—purposely harming me, and there was a voice—a deep voice.
No. He wouldn’t hurt me.
My entire body shuddered as goose bumps peppered my skin. Sitting upright, I reached for the bedside lamp. With trembling fingers I turned the knob and my eyes adjusted as the soft light combined with the sun’s perpetual summer glow.
I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate on Jacob’s questions.
Who am I? Who is he?
This time I said the words aloud, praying that if I spoke the truth, the images would disappear. “I am Sara Adams. He is my husband, Jacob Adams.” I pulled myself from the bed and walked to the bathroom. Turning on the light and the faucet, I cupped the cool water and splashed my face. As I reached for the cup and began to fill it, a metaphoric dam that had been constructed to hold back my past burst.
My mind was flooded—no longer with simple images, but with scene after scene.
For the first time since I could recall, I knew the woman in the mirror.