New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Jay Crownover continues her delightfully sexy Saints of Denver series with the next thrilling standalone, SALVAGED! Order your copy today!
OUR REVIEW:
Shel: Honestly, when I go into a Jay Crownover reading experience I know that I'm going to get an ending that feels right, so that's not the mystery I'm waiting to unlock in her novels. What I'm always eager to see is how, exactly, Crownover is going to get us to that ending. Court: Amen, because she might put our hearts together by the end but it doesn't mean she doesn't hold it in her hand and squeeze on it for a bit while we're reading, and that is just the best!
Shel: For me, Salvaged, started exactly right--with an author's note; her author's notes not only get me excited for the characters' journeys but they always endear me to Crownover and her process and this novel continued with this tradition. Court: I love the inside edition as well. I like knowing a teeny glimpse at the process, and how Jay's own experiences might tap into the characters story a bit. It is a beautiful thing to see how much she genuinely cares and is invested in her story and giving us as the reader a beautiful story.
Shel: And then the novel started and I could feel myself sink further into the couch and become completely sucked in; I was finally getting to two characters who've intrigued me from the very beginning of this series--Poppy and Wheeler. As you know, if you've followed them through previous books, they're both survivors of bad experiences (and that's the biggest understatement ever, especially in the case of Poppy) and while we get a lot of their insight as to how and what they're feeling about those experiences, this novel feels more devoted to their working past those bad times...with each other. I'm not sure if two characters were better built for each other; they're they ultimate partners--examples to us all of what it means to be "all in" with your person. I loved how well they read each other and could anticipate what the other needed. I also loved that neither of them were there to fix the other but instead wanted to support and assist, as needed. I think, though, one of my favorite things about both Poppy and Wheeler was that both of them put each other first, no matter what--no matter how small or large the situation was, and I couldn't help thinking about what a shining of example of selflessness and love they were. Court: And Happy. But yes, Shelley said it beautifully. These two complemented each other in a way that I haven't read in a while. It wasn't trying to fix the problems, erase the past and act like it didn't exist. It was a story of sort of literally grabbing the bull by the horns so to speak, acknowledge it, learn from it and just live life the best you can. I wasn't sure how I would feel reading this book because our previous views of Poppy have been quite sad, but I'm so glad she got her book, and I'm so glad that Jay was the one to give it to her. Whew, it was a wild ride.
Shel: As the novel continued, I felt this unconscious sigh of relief; Salvaged's angst factor was fairly low and I thought it was the right call. This novel had an end point but it was the fairly smooth journey to the end that was important. I think that had Crownover put Poppy and Wheeler through much more than they already had would've felt wrong; instead she made the tension and conflict more in keeping with their issues of trust and desire for family and love and rather than waiting for some major drama, I felt I could really enjoy their discovery of each other. I should note for those who may think that all this sounds too easy or without enough action, there are outside conflicts and issues to be resolved but it never felt manufactured or too much. Court: Agree as well. Having too much angst, and nonstop drama can wear on us, and since we had an idea of the stuff going on in their heads already, I was glad how the plot went on. There is new issues, and a runaway puppy, and a few scenes of characters we know and love so that was nice. I really like The Saints of Denver, and am glad I read this book. The cars, and the knowledge of that was awesome too as I'm currently stuck in binge watching a Discovery channel street racing show so I'm all gear-head-at-the-moment. Right up my alley at the perfect time...isn't it weird how that happens!
Shel: So this leads me to the end. I said earlier that I never leave a Jay Crownover novel feeling anything less than 100% satisfied and the epilogue in this novel was epic---so much good stuff was packed into it that I feel like I may need to reread it. And while I feel like this may be the end of an era with these characters and this city, I can't help but wonder if there's any possible way we might get one more novel with Kallie (finger's crossed). I think the door's been left open a crack for her story..or maybe that's my wishful thinking. At any rate, I know that whatever is on the Jay Crownover horizon is will be something that I'll want to sink my teeth into because it always is. Court: And a bonus epilogue! I too think a teeny ray of light is coming out of that door or it is set up that way if she wanted to. I will await it as patiently as always for what comes next because I love Jay Crownover's style, her writing, her honesty and honestly she nails the sexy times (heh!) every single time. Gimme more, ladybug!
Hudson Wheeler is a nice guy. Everyone knows it, including his fiancée who left him with a canceled wedding and a baby on the way. He’s tired of finishing last and is ready to start living in the moment with nights soaked in whiskey, fast cars, and even faster girls. He’s set to start living on the edge, but when he meets Poppy Cruz, her sad eyes in the most gorgeous face he’s ever seen hook him in right away. Wheeler can see Poppy’s pain and all he wants to do is take care of her and make her smile, whatever it takes.
Poppy can’t remember a time when she didn’t see strangers as the enemy. After a lifetime of being hurt from the men who swore to protect her, Poppy’s determined to keep herself safe by keeping everyone else at arm’s length. Wheeler’s sexy grin and rough hands from hours restoring classic cars shouldn’t captivate her, but every time she’s with him, she can’t help being pulled closer to him. Though she’s terrified to trust again, Poppy soon realizes it might hurt even more to shut Wheeler out—and the intense feelings pulsing through her are making it near impossible to resist him.
The only thing Poppy is sure of is that her heart is in need of some serious repair, and the more time she spends with Wheeler, the more she’s convinced he’s the only man with the tools to fix it.
Excerpt:
I rounded the corner at the end of my block and came to a
halt. The puppy took that as a sign that we were done playing outside and
started jumping all over my lower legs and pawing at my shins. He whined at me
until I picked him up, and as soon as he could reach my face, his little tongue
started darting all over my chin and cheeks. I wondered if he could feel the
tension that made my limbs stiff and the anxiety that tightened all my muscles.
I felt my breath catch in the back of my throat and there was no stopping my
eyes from rapidly blinking to make sure what I was seeing was real and not a
figment of my imagination.
He looked like one of those black-and-white art prints that
hung in every diner and restaurant I’d ever eaten in. The one that was a throwback
to another era when cool was something you had to cultivate and couldn’t buy on
Amazon. He was leaning against a black-and-silver car that looked like it
should be on the cover of a hot-rod magazine and not parked on a busy and
crowded Capitol Hill street. He had on dark jeans and a dark canvas jacket that
had the logo of his garage embroidered on the front. His ankles were crossed on
the curb in front of him and one booted foot bounced up and down, giving the
impression that he’d been waiting for me for a while. His arms were crossed
over his chest and his eyes were locked on mine as I stood still, unsure what
to do. He had an effortless kind of charisma that radiated off of him. It was
equal parts intimidating and irresistible. I was unsure if my feet wanted to
rush me toward him or run me as far from him as possible.
The puppy made the decision for me. Seeing another human,
and thus another opportunity for pats and rubs, he threw his wiggling little
body out of my arms before I could react. He hit the ground with a little yelp
and then bolted right for Wheeler. I let out a gasp and took off after him
thinking I could catch the end of the leash that was trailing behind him. I
didn’t want him to run into the road or veer off into a yard where he didn’t belong.
I was light-years away from being able to handle a confrontation with a hostile
stranger that didn’t want the puppy in their space.
I didn’t need to worry because Wheeler pushed his long, lean
frame off the polished side of the car and reached the scrambling animal within
just a few strides. He crouched down as the puppy hurled himself into his arms
and scooped the excited bundle up in one fluid motion. Then he was rising back
up to his full height, which meant he was towering over me when I made my way
over to where he was standing. I was embarrassed at how out of breath I was. I
was supposed to be stronger than I was before, but I could hardly handle a
little jog up the block or the way my heart raced at the sight of him.
I shook my head and put my hands on my hips as I looked up
and into those arctic eyes. He was scratching the puppy under the chin and
looking at me from under lashes that had the barest hint of red to them. “Why
don’t you have a coat on?”
It wasn’t what I was expecting but his question reminded me
that I was cold and that the lightweight hoodie that had the Saints of Denver
logo on it wasn’t doing much to keep the bitter chill in the air off my skin.
The shirt came from the tattoo shop where both Rowdy and Salem worked and was probably
the most exciting garment I had in my closet. It was the only thing I owned
that was bright and colorful. I rubbed my arms up and down and fired my own
question right back at him. “What are you doing here?”
The puppy barked like he was telling me not to be rude but I
was unsettled by Wheeler’s unexpected appearance, and not the typical unsettled
that I struggled with because he was a man that I didn’t know. It was the kind
of unsettled that made parts of my body I forget could react to an attractive man
feel warm and tingly. The kind of unsettled that had me involuntarily leaning
closer to him as he started to shift so that he could pull his heavy jacket off
one arm without letting go of the dog.
“I wanted to talk to you about the dog. Did you find someone
to take him yet?” He shifted the puppy to his now bare arm as I watched the
endless amounts of ink that covered his skin move and flex as he shook his
other arm free of the coat.
“Uh…not really.” The truth was I hadn’t really put that much
effort into finding someone because I didn’t want to let the puppy go. In just
a few days I’d grown surprisingly attached even though I knew I wasn’t allowed
to keep him in my apartment. I’d already asked since Dixie was allowed to keep
Dolly, but the landlord informed they were grandfathered in before the laws
surrounding pit bulls in Denver changed. My little guy wasn’t that lucky.
My response made Wheeler chuckle. He stared at me silently
as he held out the coat he’d taken off in his free hand.
“Put this on.” I stared at him like he’d suddenly started
speaking Russian until he shook the coat again and frowned at me. His voice was
serious and left no room for argument when he repeated the command. “Put this
on, Poppy.”
Jay Crownover continues her Saints of Denver series with SALVAGED, available June 20, 2017
Enter your name, email address, and the order number from your pre-order receipt on the form to receive an advance excerpt of DIGNITY and a Saints of Denver Doodle download to print at home.
Entries must be received by midnight PST on June 19th to be eligible.
The print-at-home Doodle and Dignity excerpt will be emailed the week of June 20th.
Jay Crownover’s SALVAGED – Review & Excerpt Tour Schedule:
June 12th
June 13th
June 14th
June 15th
June 16th
June 17th
June 18th
June 19th
June 20th
June 21st
June 22nd
June 23rd
June 24th
About Jay Crownover:
Jay Crownover is the
New York Times and
USA Today bestselling author of the
Marked Men,
The Point, and the
Saints of Denver series. Like her characters, she is a big fan of tattoos. She loves music and wishes she could be a rock star, but since she has no aptitude for singing or instrument playing, she'll settle for writing stories with interesting characters that make the reader feel something. She lives in Colorado with her dogs.
EXCERPT:
I didn’t want her to be scared of anything ever again.
Things at home had been rocky, rougher than class-five rapids in winter, but I was paddling for my life and prepared to ride it out. I couldn’t let go. I wouldn’t let go. I saw Poppy the day she walked through my shop and I started to feel how sore my hands and my heart were from holding on.
Her head was down, focused on the tips of her shoes. Her shoulders were hunched over and her long hair hid her face. She was skinny, so skinny, nothing but skin and bones. She was nothing that I should have noticed, not because she was clearly doing everything in her power to be invisible, but because I was supposed to have my eyes locked on my future and doing whatever I could do to salvage it. But I did notice her and I couldn’t look away once I did.
She was obviously terrified, clearly out of her element and uncomfortable, but it wasn’t her unease that called to me…it was her loneliness. I could feel it filling up the space that separated us. Stretching, growing, expanding until it was all I was breathing in and exhaling back out. It was bitter on my tongue and heavy across my skin because I knew the feeling well. I lived with it pressing me down and pushing me forward every minute of every day. The reason I was so set on the way things had to be, the reason I was singlemindedly set on settling down and building a life with the girl that was slipping through my fingers was because I never again wanted to be as alone as this girl was. I didn’t want to be left and forgotten. I’d barely survived it the first time.
I did my best to sell her a car that was as beautiful as she was…a classic with clean lines and a flawless finish. She picked something practical and boring but that was ultimately safe and reliable. I understood her choice but it grated and annoyed me long after she left the shop. When she wasn’t standing in front of me, she should have been easy to forget; after all, everything in front of me, everything I had been working for and toward, was falling down in front of my eyes. My world was collapsing in on itself and everything I thought I was so goddamn sure about turned out to be nothing more than lies and illusions. In the middle of all of it, I couldn’t forget her sad eyes and shivering, shaking form. Her loneliness clung to me, unshakable and unforgettable. I didn’t think I would see her again and against my better judgment I often found myself wondering how she was doing and if she had gotten a handle on all the things that seemed to be crushing her under their inescapable weight.
I was wrong about seeing her again, just like I was wrong about thinking that doing everything in my life differently from how my mother had lived hers would ensure my happiness and a future built on an unshakeable foundation. I was wrong about hard work and sacrifice being enough. I was wrong about holding on when what I was holding on to desperately wanted me to let go. All I was left with was bleeding palms, rope burns around my heart and scars on my soul.
The next time I saw Poppy Cruz it was my loneliness that was filling up the space, suffocating me, choking me, making me forget to handle her with care. I was nothing more than a vast, open wound. One that was raw, aching, throbbing, and leaking my heart and shattered emotions out everywhere. I felt like I’d lost everything, like my entire life had been nothing but a waste of time, nothing more than building blocks knocked over with the swipe of a careless hand. The girl I loved didn’t love me back, my future was ultimately nothing more than a fuzzy, fractured blur. I couldn’t see anything clearly other than waste and ruin.
But I saw her. And I saw that I scared her.
It was the last thing I wanted to do but my loneliness was just as big and just as consuming as hers was. It spread out, hungry and angry, looking to consume anyone that might try and challenge its reign.
I tried to pull myself together, apologized because I knew our paths would cross again now that she lived next door to my best friend. I didn’t want to be another man that she was terrified of. I locked the loneliness down, wrestled it into submission, and tried to quiet down the wild inside of me that was howling, screaming at the loss of its mate. I wanted to be nothing more than gnashing teeth and tearing claws but I swallowed those instincts and allowed myself to be like a kicked puppy that just wanted to whimper and cry.
Poppy had been through more than I could imagine. She was the one I couldn’t look away from, but even then, she managed to slip past me and disappear. She looked like honey but she moved like a ghost. I memorized everything about her even though she hardly let me see her face.
I wasn’t supposed to be looking at anything other than how to salvage the mess my life was in, but she was all I could see.
EXCERPT:
Poppy
I rounded the corner at the end of my block and came to a halt. The puppy took that as a sign that we were done playing outside and started jumping all over my lower legs and pawing at my shins. He whined at me until I picked him up, and as soon as he could reach my face, his little tongue started darting all over my chin and cheeks. I wondered if he could feel the tension that made my limbs stiff and the anxiety that tightened all my muscles. I felt my breath catch in the back of my throat and there was no stopping my eyes from rapidly blinking to make sure what I was seeing was real and not a figment of my imagination.
He looked like one of those black-and-white art prints that hung in every diner and restaurant I’d ever eaten in. The one that was a throwback to another era when cool was something you had to cultivate and couldn’t buy on Amazon. He was leaning against a black-and-silver car that looked like it should be on the cover of a hot-rod magazine and not parked on a busy and crowded Capitol Hill street. He had on dark jeans and a dark canvas jacket that had the logo of his garage embroidered on the front. His ankles were crossed on the curb in front of him and one booted foot bounced up and down, giving the impression that he’d been waiting for me for a while. His arms were crossed over his chest and his eyes were locked on mine as I stood still, unsure what to do. He had an effortless kind of charisma that radiated off of him. It was equal parts intimidating and irresistible. I was unsure if my feet wanted to rush me toward him or run me as far from him as possible.
The puppy made the decision for me. Seeing another human, and thus another opportunity for pats and rubs, he threw his wiggling little body out of my arms before I could react. He hit the ground with a little yelp and then bolted right for Wheeler. I let out a gasp and took off after him thinking I could catch the end of the leash that was trailing behind him. I didn’t want him to run into the road or veer off into a yard where he didn’t belong. I was light-years away from being able to handle a confrontation with a hostile stranger that didn’t want the puppy in their space.
I didn’t need to worry because Wheeler pushed his long, lean frame off the polished side of the car and reached the scrambling animal within just a few strides. He crouched down as the puppy hurled himself into his arms and scooped the excited bundle up in one fluid motion. Then he was rising back up to his full height, which meant he was towering over me when I made my way over to where he was standing. I was embarrassed at how out of breath I was. I was supposed to be stronger than I was before, but I could hardly handle a little jog up the block or the way my heart raced at the sight of him.
I shook my head and put my hands on my hips as I looked up and into those arctic eyes. He was scratching the puppy under the chin and looking at me from under lashes that had the barest hint of red to them. “Why don’t you have a coat on?”
It wasn’t what I was expecting but his question reminded me that I was cold and that the lightweight hoodie that had the Saints of Denver logo on it wasn’t doing much to keep the bitter chill in the air off my skin. The shirt came from the tattoo shop where both Rowdy and Salem worked and was probably the most exciting garment I had in my closet. It was the only thing I owned that was bright and colorful. I rubbed my arms up and down and fired my own question right back at him. “What are you doing here?”
The puppy barked like he was telling me not to be rude but I was unsettled by Wheeler’s unexpected appearance, and not the typical unsettled that I struggled with because he was a man that I didn’t know. It was the kind of unsettled that made parts of my body I forget could react to an attractive man feel warm and tingly. The kind of unsettled that had me involuntarily leaning closer to him as he started to shift so that he could pull his heavy jacket off one arm without letting go of the dog.
“I wanted to talk to you about the dog. Did you find someone to take him yet?” He shifted the puppy to his now bare arm as I watched the endless amounts of ink that covered his skin move and flex as he shook his other arm free of the coat.
“Uh…not really.” The truth was I hadn’t really put that much effort into finding someone because I didn’t want to let the puppy go. In just a few days I’d grown surprisingly attached even though I knew I wasn’t allowed to keep him in my apartment. I’d already asked since Dixie was allowed to keep Dolly, but the landlord informed they were grandfathered in before the laws surrounding pit bulls in Denver changed. My little guy wasn’t that lucky.
My response made Wheeler chuckle. He stared at me silently as he held out the coat he’d taken off in his free hand.
“Put this on.” I stared at him like he’d suddenly started speaking Russian until he shook the coat again and frowned at me. His voice was serious and left no room for argument when he repeated the command. “Put this on, Poppy.”
About Jay Crownover:
Jay Crownover is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of the Marked Men, The Point, and the Saints of Denver series. Like her characters, she is a big fan of tattoos. She loves music and wishes she could be a rock star, but since she has no aptitude for singing or instrument playing, she'll settle for writing stories with interesting characters that make the reader feel something. She lives in Colorado with her dogs.
