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Get Free Read & Download Files Harder Caroline Amp West 2 Robin York PDF. HARDER CAROLINE AMP WEST 2 ROBIN YORK. Download: Harder Caroline. harder robin york is available in our book collection an online access to it is set as public so you Harder by Robin York - PDF free download eBook - . Editorial Reviews. Review. “[Robin] York's beautiful prose and vivid descriptions enhance the realism and impact of Caroline and West's story. Deeper and.

Harder Robin York Pdf

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Deeper by Robin York Extract - Free download as PDF File .pdf), Text File .txt) The more complicated her relationship with West gets, the harder Caroline has. Harder (Caroline and West, part 2). In Robin York's provocative New Adult novel, two young ex-lovers find themselves together again in the shadow of. harder caroline amp west 2 robin Ebook harder caroline amp west 2 robin, Book harder caroline amp west 2 robin, PDF harder.

I don't even care about vengeance. But a 2. But a little begging and groveling are in order. I want passion, I want fireworks, and I want it in every aspect of a romance, not just between the sheets. I want it when they fight, when they kiss, when they breathe. I thought they found that kind of zest for each other in Deeper.

I'm hoping that the second half of this book finds me happier than I am right now. I wanted to jot some thoughts down first. Deeper was one of my favorite books so far this year, and I've been stalking Harder for months One of the things that really struck me about Caroline and West was how much they leaned on one another and filled each other up. From the first moment they met, really, there was that magnetic pull. And when they became friends over time, it was apparent that they found solace in one another.

Both of them were such GOOD people. Regardless of how book one ended, there was no doubt in my mind that they cared for each other deeply. However, after reading what occurs within these pages, I'm not so sure any more. What happened to the strength that Caroline found before?

Where are her big girl panties? Where is her backbone? And West I don't have unrealistic expectations. However, there are certain lines that you just don't cross when it comes to your loved ones. West is in some less than savory circumstances, what with his deadbeat parents and vulnerable younger sister. You have to interrupt the flow if you want to get a word in edgewise. It wasnt Nate. West elbowed me, I think. Neither of us was too sure, actually. Her eyes get huge. You talked to him?

I know what shes imaginingWest and me huddled somewhere private and intimate, and him holding a warm compress to my forehead.

Thats how I met her, in fact. Not really, I say. Thats a good color on you. Its the truth: Bridget looks good in blue. But mostly I tell her because shes a jocka long-distance runner on the track teamand I make a habit of complimenting her whenever she wears normal clothes, just to encourage the practice.

Were making our way down the hot-food line now. Do you have chicken without the fried stuff on? No, just what you see. Okay, thanks.

Shes in training, so shes super careful about what she eats. I take a plate of chicken-patty parmesan and two chocolate mint brownies.

I have bigger things to worry about at the moment than calories. Dont even think I didnt notice you changing the subject, Bridget says when weve made our way from the line to the salad bar, where she loads up on hard-boiled eggs and greens.

I need to know what he said. Like, was he still mad from fighting, or was he nice? Did you guys go somewhere quiet, or were you in a crowd? How upset was he that he hit you? Because Krishna says He didnt say anything, I clarify. He had to leave so he didnt get caught and end up expelled or whatever. But you said you talked to him.

No, I didnt. She rolls her eyes. You implied it, lawyer girl. He wanted to make sure I was okay. Were on to drinks now. Bridget goes for the milk. I get myself a Coke with ice. Did he say anything about why he did it? Did you ask? Did you hear them arguing? Give me something here. Only you could act like West and Nate hitting each other and you getting whacked in the face is no biggie. Hey, wheres your sweater? I had to throw it out. Blood all over it. And, no, I didnt hear them or ask. That sucks.

I liked that sweater. We swipe our cards at the checkout to put the food on our meal plans, and she starts walking toward the closest free table. Looking back at me over her shoulder, she smiles. Want to know what I heard? I set my tray down on the table a little too hard. Her smile falters. Youre upset. Im not. Im just. Somethings going on, and these days when somethings going on, its rarely good.

And if the something involves West and Nate, Im very much afraid I dont want to hear it. We sit down. I brace myself. Just tell me, okay? I heard they were fighting about you. Crappity crap crap crap. Who told you that? Somebody in their class. Theyve got Macro together. Nate and West? She said that after class Nate made some random joke, and West got on his case, and it turned into an argument about you. What did they say? Theres a rock in my stomach, dense and hot. I sip my Coke, closing my eyes against the doomed feeling slipping over my shoulders.

Im not sure. Bridgets tone is cautious. Sierra didnt catch all of it, only your name. I push at my chicken with my fork, but I cant even bring myself to cut it. When I put it in my mouth, it will taste like ashes. The burned-up remains of the life I used to have.

People talk about me. Not to my face, but behind my back? All the time. Id made Bridget promise to tell me whatever she heard, because I need to know. Its the only way I can be sure theyre forgetting, like I want them to.

Im nothing specialjust a normal-looking college girl.

Deeper by Robin York Extract

I should be able to fade into the background if I keep my head down. In a year, Im hoping that barely anyone will remember this. Caroline who? Its not what I had planned, exactly.

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Id thought I might shoot for student-body president my junior year, senior year at the latest. But I can table that ambition if I have to. Id rather be anonymous than notorious. Sierra said it was kind of romantic, Bridget offers.

He was defending your honor. Its such a preposterous ideathat I have honor. That West would defend it. I barely know him. Ive only talked to him one time.

West and I are not friends. And for the past few weeks, the only people who have cared about my honor are Bridget and me. None of my old friends can look me in the eye. I would never do something like that, Nate had said, straight-faced, when I confronted him in front of a bunch of those friends in this very dining hall.

How could you think I would? And then, after I sputtered and he denied for another few minutes, hed said, I guess a lot of those girls just want attention so bad, theyll do anything to get it.

I look out the window at the lawn, unable to chew up and swallow the idea of West Leavitt defending my honor. Unable to process it at all. Last year, when I regained consciousness after fainting by Wests car, the first thing I heard was an angry male voice in the hall.

My dad was shouting, which was nothing new. Hes a judge, so he spends most of his professional time being calm and rational, but outside of work hes the single parent of three young daughters, and he has a tendency to get shouty when he feels threatened.

Which is a lot. You just have to know how to handle him. My oldest sister, Janelle, sucks up. Alison usually cries.

Deeper by Robin York Extract

I present him with reasoned arguments, appealing to the logical brain until the ranty brain calms down. Dad must have been all the way down the hall by the stairs, because I couldnt make out what he was saying.

Occasionally a lower, calmer voice broke into his tirade. Wests voice. I didnt sort all this out until later. At the time, my head felt overlarge and tender, and I asked the girl leaning over me, Who are you?

Im Bridget, she said. Are you okay? You fainted. This cute guy carried you up the stairs, and I dont know what he said to your dad, but your dad is ticked, and is he always that scary? She kept going until the door flew open and my dad came back into the room, red-faced and sweaty under the arms of his golf polo.

He sat beside me on the bed, so obviously agitated that fume lines might as well have been rising off his head. How are you feeling? This was a lie. Im going to get you moved to one of the girls dorms. I sat up abruptly. That boy out therehes not a good influence. You shouldnt be living near a kid like that.

Like what? What did he do? That was the wrong question. For the next several minutes, I learned how entirely alarming it is for a father to leave his youngest daughter for just a few minutes and then rediscover her laid out on the ground underneath an unknown male. Especially when your daughter turns out to be unconscious, the kid has an attitude, and you dont like the look of him.

All of this was compounded, according to my dad, by the drug paraphernalia in the backseat of the punks car. By which I think he meant the aquarium and lights and the bag of dirt, not the Dinty Moore. Although who knows? I was entirely out of my league. I heard the words drug paraphernalia, and I imagined short lengths of thick rubber, bags of heroine, syringes.

My dad was still lecturing when Nate showed up and made everything worse. My dad turned a deeper shade of red. I smiled a lot, making an effort to seem healthier than I felt, because this was the first stage of what would turn out to be an arduous campaign to ensure that when my father leftthree days later instead of one, because the campaign was freaking long and hard foughtId still be in this dorm, in this room, with Bridget.

I won, but West was the necessary sacrifice. My dad wouldnt leave until Id agreed I would have nothing to do with that boy. It was laughable, really, to think I might have.

It turned out Dad was right about the drug thing. West and Krishnas door was always closed, the curtains pulled shut. They had a steady stream of guests, played loud music, and annoyed me with their late hours and the whiff of sandalwood and sticky-acrid smoke from their room that infested our entire floor. West set up that aquarium and those lights someplace secretno one seemed to know whereand grew a bumper crop of weed.

This was according to Krishna, who hung out in our doorway a lot, chatting with Bridget and me. Krishna I can talk to. But West. The way he walksthat swagger that isnt a swaggerits like he knows his way around, even if hes somewhere hes never been before. His confidence makes him seem older than me, and Bridget is always telling me stuff about him that cements the impression.

Apparently he loaned money to this guy in Bridgets psych class so the guy could buy a plane ticket to see his girlfriend. West charged him interest. It makes me wonder whether he breaks kneecaps if someone doesnt pay him back. I confined my relationship with West to staring from afarand I wouldnt have done even that, except I cant help it.

When hes around, I have to look at him. He knows it, too. He smirks at me sometimes. One time, when he was coming down the hall in a towel? I think I was red for an hour afterward.

I never found out what he said to my dad. I have a feeling that, whatever it was, he wasnt defending my honor. Its hard for me to see why he would start now. Maybe I should be grateful, but I cant.

I dont need guys like West Leavitt defending me. Hes infamous. Between the drug dealing and that face, that smile. Hell draw attention to me. My primary purpose in life at the moment is to disappear. When I mentally come back to the table, Bridget is peeling a hard-boiled egg and watching me. Shes gotten used to my long silences. Shes fiercely loyal, endlessly supportive. The best person I could possibly have on my side.

If people want to know what I think about what West did?

I began. Tell them it was all a misunderstanding.

It had nothing to do with me. Her forehead wrinkles. But I figured it was good. Somebody else on our side, right? I dont want to be on a side, Bridge, I say gently. I want people to get amnesia on this whole issue. Fighting tends to be a thing people remember. She bites her lip. I dont need people linking me up with him, okay? I need to keep a low profile.

If thats what you want me to say, thats what Ill say, she assures me. I try on a smile and push my chicken across the tray, then pull my mint brownie closer and sink my fork through the thick layer of frosting. Dark fudgy black over a green so bright its almost neon. Thatll be the end of it.

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I wish I could believe her, but I cant make assumptions like that anymore. Ive learned that when evil crawls out of a snake pit, you have to track it down and squash it. Then you have to assume it had babies and go looking for them. I have a past to erase if Im going to claim the future Ive always wanteda future that requires me to get into a good law school so I can clerk with a great judge and start making the connections my dad says I need if I want to be a judge myself someday.

Which I do. I want to go even further. State office. Washington, D. My dad always says the first step to getting what you want is to know what you want and what it takes to get it.

Theres no shame in aiming high. For my sixth-grade History Day project, I wrote a book of presidential limericks, one for each president. By ninth grade, I was volunteering to canvass door to door, and I got on the mailing lists for the Putnam College Democrats and the Putnam Republicans before I even received my acceptance letter.

I know what I want, and I know what it takes to get it. It takes a lot of hard work and sacrificebut it also takes a clean record. No arrests, no scandals, no sex pictures on the Internet. I dont need anyone going around beating people up on my behalf. I cant chance it happening again. I need to talk to West. Its all journals up here, the shelves shoved together in the middle and study desks lining the outside walls, plus a Xerox machine where I spent way too much time copying literary criticism of T.

Eliot last year. West is standing by a cart full of books with his back to me, shelving a fat red volume of something. It takes me a minute to realize hes him. Id already looked all over the first three floors, and I was starting to panic that he might not be here.

Ive noticed that I often see him with his cart on Thursday afternoons, but that doesnt mean much. Hes got earbuds in, and I dont think hes seen me, so I take a second to think about what I want to say to him. I feel kind of sweaty and unkempt, even though I took time after lunch to change my shirt and slick on lip gloss.

Ive never done this before. Ive never initiated a conversation with West. It feels more intimidating than it should, not only because of who he isthe forbiddenness of himbut also because this is the fourth floor. Its an unwritten rule of Putnam that the fourth floor of the library is a space of sacred silence. West grabs another book. He has to reach above his head to shelve it, which means his shirt lifts and I see hes got a thick brown leather belt holding his jeans up.

It doesnt match. His boots are black, and so is his T-shirt. Its got this big jagged orange seam sewn across the back, as though a shark came along and bit a giant rip in it and then he handed it over to a seven-yearold to fix. I cant imagine how such a T-shirt even happens.

Or why anyone would wear it. Wests clothes are sometimes like that. When he lowers down to his heels and bends over the cart, his shirt rides up again, exposing some of his lower back. I clear my throat, but his music must be too loud, because he doesnt turn toward me.

I step closer. Hes got his head down, his hand reaching for a book on the lower shelf. Now Im so close that Im bound to startle him when he finally figures out Im here. Theres nothing I can do to prevent it. I reach out, meaning to touch him just long enough to get his attention, but I end up pressing my palm flat against his lower spine instead. Its an accident. Im almost sure its an accident. Eighty percent sure. He doesnt jump. He just goes completely, utterly still. So still that I can hear the music playing over his earbuds.

Its loud, with angry vocals and an insistent, pounding beat that matches the sudden pulse between my legs. Oh, I think. Maybe its not an accident, after all. Wests back is indecently hot beneath my palm. I stare at my fingers, ordering them to move for several long seconds before they actually obey. When I pull my hand away, it feels magnetized. Like theres this drag, this force, tugging it back toward West.

Im pretty sure the force is called lust. West straightens and turns around, and I know even before he does it that Ive miscalculated, and now Im totally at his mercy, which means Im doomed. Im not sure he has mercy. He pulls out his earbuds, and I try to think something other than the word doomed.

Doomed, doomed, doomed. I try to remember what I was going to say to himI had a whole speech plannedbut I cant.

I cant. I stare at his belt instead. I think about grabbing it and yanking him closer. As if this is a thing I could do. A thing I have ever done, with anyone, much less West Leavitt.

Hey, he says. Which isnt fair, because it means I have to look up. I do, eventually. Our eyes meet. His pupils are huge, and theres something so intense about the way hes looking at me, its kind of scary. Only scary is the wrong word. Ive felt a lot of scary in the past few weeks, and this is different. This is scary like pausing at the top of the steepest hill on a roller coaster, bracing yourself for the drop.

Hey, I say back. Whats up? Can I talk to you? He considers this request. Its not what I was expecting him to say. All I can come up with is Oh. Then its silent again except for his music, and theres this. I think it must be him. Intense, I guess. Menacing, but without the menace. I have never stood this close to him before. Ive never been alone with him since the day he parked his car right next to my feet and made me pass out.

Ive never felt this excited, awkward, and senselessly worried in my whole entire life. Until he takes a step toward me. Thats worse. Better, too. Its totally a thing. I back up. Hes supposed to stop stepping toward me when I back up, but he doesnt. He keeps coming.

He moves right into my zone of personal space, and I get pinned up against the stacks, my butt pressing against a low shelf, Wests hands braced on either side of my head. Im working, he says. As though Im a book, and hes shelving me. I try to say, Ill come back later, but instead I make this sort of clicking, gargling noise that makes me sound like a bullfrog. I can feel my throat flushingalways a dead giveaway that Im embarrassed. I clear it and manage to say, Thats fine.

I can. Or Ill c-call you. I dont have his phone number. Or any intention of calling him. I dont know why Im imagining I can feel the heat off his skin, because thats impossible. He isnt that close, surely.

I cast my eyes up, trying to visually measure the number of inches between our faces. Its not very many inches at all. The way Nate fell to the floor, heavy and limp. He did that for you, I think. I came here to ask him, but I already know. He did it for me, and this is how he looked afterward.

Dilated everywhere, his skin warm and his breathing rapid and shallow. This is how he would look in bed. I close my eyes, because I need to get my bearings. I had imagined a businesslike talk with West. Please dont do that again, I would say.

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Okay, if thats the way you feel about it, hed reply. Yes, thats the way I feel, I would tell him. Then maybe Id give him a lecture about the importance of settling conflict without violence, followed by a brisk handshake. I didnt imagine the ruddy skin of his neck right by the collar of his shirt. The stubble on his jaw where it curves into his ear. I didnt anticipate his smell, like spearmint and library books, detergent and warm skin.

God, he smells fantastic, but hes also kind of scary, and I have no idea what the rules are right now. No idea at all. I need rules to get through this. Im a rules kind of girl. West, I whisper. Its supposed to sound calm and businesslike, but instead it sounds like Im begging him for something, and I guess he takes that as a cue. He drops his head toward my shoulder. His lips. I cant be sure, but I think his lips are really close to my skin. West, what the hell? Whyd you come here, huh?

And thenthis is the worst-best part, by farhe turns his head and kisses my jaw, openmouthed. Its like satin. Like lightning. I dont know what its like. I do know that its not whats supposed to be happening at all. Except that the atmosphere West is creating makes me feel like this is whats supposed to be happening. West looks edgy, angry at the world. Caroline doesn't fit in. She should be back in Iowa, finalizing her civil suit against the ex-boyfriend who posted their explicit pictures on a revenge porn website.

But here she is. Deeply into West, wrapped up in him, in love with him. Losing each other was hard. But finding their way back to each other couldn't be harder. In Robin York's provocative new novel, two young ex-lovers find themselves together again in the shadow of tragedy--and an intense, undeniable attraction. Praise for "Harder" " Robin] York's beautiful prose and vivid descriptions enhance the realism and impact of Caroline and West's story.I dont even know what I meant.

Im bleeding. Its that I can feel all the energy from the fight coursing through him. Were making our way down the hot-food line now. The thing is, the movie makes him seem like a force of natureunstoppableso the virgin comes off as a total dumb-ass for not checking the forecast to see if it calls for serial murder before she skips off into the night.

I drive because I dont know what else to do. Then its silent again except for his music, and theres this. Error rating book.