Cover
Reveal
The Weight Of Rain
The Weight Of Rain
by
Mariah Dietz
Mariah Dietz
 |
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release
Date: October 27, 2015
|
~ Synopsis ~
I've dreamed of him since before I
was old enough to form memories. I'm as sure of this as I am of breathing.
When I close my eyes, my mind
paints a picture of his smile and shades the contours of his hands, the deep
scar around his bicep.
People say that I'm an artist, yet
my mind is vacant, my hands unsteady. With his presence, he has unknowingly
broken that something inside of me that makes me who I am, because being around
him is like standing in a rainstorm.
First the drops tickle my skin, and
then they coat me, refusing to be ignored. Finally, it seems they soak into me,
reaching parts of me I don’t think anyone has ever touched. I’m not certain how
he’s capable of doing so—I’m not sure that he even realizes it. Sometimes I'm
terrified that it’s apparent in my reactions: other times—I really hope that it
is.
I've been waiting for this. For
him.
But I never knew it would come with
such a price.
~ Excerpt ~
“Ben, Brian, Benny, Brent, Bailey?”
“Isn’t Bailey a girl’s name?” I
ask, my eyebrows drawing down in question though I’m tired of playing this
game.
“No, I’ve known guys named Bailey.
It’s one of those names.”
Charleigh twists in the driver’s
seat, arching her eyebrows at me knowingly. I catch her glasses sliding down
the bridge of her nose and her hand brushing blonde hair from her face before I
turn to watch the road.
“One of those names?” My
voice is surprisingly even as we dangerously near the median.
“Yes. One of those names.
You know, where a boy or a girl could have it. Like Charleigh.”
“It wasn’t Bailey. I would have
remembered that name for sure.”
“You were pissed! You can’t even
recall how you got home!”
“Drunk,” I reply automatically. “I
was drunk.”
“Drunk, pissed, same difference.”
“Only you Brits think pissed means
drunk. Here in America, we all think it means angry. We’ve gone over this.”
“Yeah, yeah, stop changing the
subject. Brandon, Brad, Bobby, Benedict?”
“Benedict?” I ask, my neck snaps to
face her.
“Yes, Benedict.”
“Who names their kid Benedict?”
“Plenty of people!”
My eyebrows rise as I look to her
with disbelief that she returns with a glare.
“Did he tell you where he lives?”
Charleigh asks, undeterred by my attempt to change subjects.
My index finger slams against my
chest. “Drunk. Remember?”
“At least you remember what counts
I suppose.”
“I don’t remember his name,
Charleigh!”
“But you remember that he made you
see stars!”
“Stop! You make me sound like a
floozy.”
“You were a floozy. You got pissed
and slept with a complete stranger with good teeth.”
“He did have great teeth,” I agree.
“At least we know he has good
hygiene, that’s a plus.” I groan, slapping a hand across my eyes to hide from
my own embarrassment. “I’m just teasing. I’m proud of you, Crosby, you finally
got a piece! It’s been over a year since the last time someone dusted your
hallway.”
“Stop!” my objection is met by
laughter which has my eyes rolling.
“Don’t get your knickers in a
twist. I’m just teasing you. I’m glad you found someone you’re interested in.”
Her focus moves back to the windshield for a moment and then turns to me, her
lips pressed tightly into a hopeful smile. “We could try changing the last two
digits and try dialing the number, see if we get anything.”
I look down at the palm of my left hand that’s been scrubbed clean. Two weeks
ago I woke up with a pounding headache, a hazy recollection of events that
involved meeting a guy with auburn hair, warm amber eyes, and some of the
straightest, whitest, most even teeth I’ve ever seen, along with a phone number
that was half smeared/half worn off of my palm. I vaguely recall mentioning to
him that it was hard to read at the time and him smiling at me, offering me
more water. My memories contained blurbs including people dancing and me
laughing, but the bright smile, and eyes that held so many unspoken words that
I could vaguely recall trying to pull out of him, were the most potent. The memories
grew clearer and clearer as the night went on, including one where I definitely
remember convincing him I was sober enough to have sex.
I, Lauren Crosby, convinced a complete
stranger to
sleep with me at a house party.
~ About the Author ~
Mariah Dietz lives in Eastern
Washington with her husband and two sons that are the axis of her crazy and
wonderful world.
Mariah grew up in a tiny town
outside of Portland, Oregon where she spent the majority of her time immersed
in the pages of books that she both read and created.
She has a love for all things that
include her sons, good coffee, books, travel, and dark chocolate. She also has
a deep passion for the stories she writes, and hopes readers enjoy the journeys
she takes them on, as much as she loves creating them.
~
Connect with Mariah ~
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