Until
You Find Me
Until
You Find Me # 1
By: Amber Hart
Releasing November 11th, 2014
Loveswept: Flirt
Amber
Hart pushes contemporary romance to its wildest limits in this heart-pounding
novel, the story of a girl who travels to Africa to protect the legacy of one
man . . . and stays for the love of another.
Raven
Moore, a twenty-year-old college student from Michigan, feels out of place in
the beautiful, treacherous jungles of Cameroon, staying in the habitat where
her father gave his life to help protect endangered gorillas. He left home
years ago; now Raven refuses to return home until she unravels the truth about
his last days.
Raven
certainly doesn’t count on crossing paths with a handsome young
hunter—especially one as charismatic and intense as Jospin Tondjii. Instantly,
she’s hooked. But Jospin is hiding a dark truth: He is the heir to a powerful
poaching empire, part of a ruthless black market that is responsible for the
dwindling gorilla population.
Their
fathers may have been enemies, but Raven and Jospin forge a bond that goes
beyond blood, a relationship that is tested as Raven draws closer to the source
of her father’s death. Can she and Jospin bear the weight of the secrets of the
wild—and the secrets of their pasts? Or will the rain forest destroy them both?
Advance
praise for Until You Find Me
“If
you think the jungle is hot and dangerous, wait until you meet Jospin. He and
Raven turn up the heat to scorching and burn the jungle down!”—Lisa Desrochers, USA Today bestselling
author of A Little Too Far
“A
beautiful, unconventional story that takes you to the jungles of Africa to fall
in love, Until You Find Me contains the perfect balance of angst,
thrills, and page-turning appeal.”—K.A.
Tucker, USA Today bestselling author of Ten Tiny Breaths
“Wonderfully
unique and utterly unputdownable, Until You Find Me is a breath of fresh
air. Each page is sexier than the one before.”—Lauren Layne, author of Isn’t She Lovely
I take a step. Crack. The noise makes me jump.
Probably a twig. Or a crumbling animal bone. I try not to think too much. Plush
moss skims my leg. My hand is a flyswatter, parting the air. Mosquitoes. So
many mosquitoes. It’s a sweltering June day in Cameroon. The jungle clasps
droplets of water in its leafy hands. Flies splash in the drops as if swimming
in tiny pools. The liquid will soon be lost, consumed by greedy rays of sun. I
take another sip of water. Relish how it slides down my throat, tingling with
cold. A beetle crawls on my boot, worries at my laces as though they are the
strangest terrain it has ever navigated.
I understand the feeling.
Why my dad chose to live in this alien African jungle,
instead of remaining in Michigan with Mama and me, is beyond my comprehension.
But that’s why I’m here, to understand. To trace the paths that Dad has walked.
To get a feel for the jungle, his jungle. Today is my first time venturing away
from the compound that houses Heart for Habitat, the rehab center Dad founded
for young or injured apes. The surrounding land is thick with mystery.
One more sip and I put my water away. I try not to touch
anything.
Yellow flashes in my vision. I look up, and I’m momentarily
blinded by the sun. The yellow comes back into focus, bananas rocking on their
branch like a child in a swing. I scour the green canopy for the source.
Bananas do not move of their own accord.
Thump, thump.
Fruit hits bark. Blood dashes in my veins, a mad race of
sorts. My heart knocks against the door of my sternum. I know it could be
anything, any number of creatures. I consider standing still, but chances are
that whatever caused the swaying has already spotted me. I can only hope that
whatever stirred the fruit does not follow me. I move on.
And immediately spot the biggest snake I have ever seen.
I clamp both hands to my mouth. Smother a scream. Varying
shades of brown cover the serpent like a patchwork quilt. It slides past, a
slow crawl, paying me no attention.
My breathing slows as it leaves.
I wriggle my compass out of my pocket and check my
coordinates. The aging silver of the casing catches the sun at just the right
angle, reflecting speckles of light the size of grapes. The speckles dance on
the forest floor. I twist the compass until the needle points in the right
direction. I nearly smile. And they thought I wouldn’t be able to navigate the
jungle.
As I shove the compass into my pocket, sticky strands of
hair fall from my ponytail, tickling my face like fingers. Exasperated, I root
around for a clip, somehow vanished in the depths of my bag.
That’s when I feel its eyes on me. My gaze shifts. Breath
catches in my throat.
About twenty feet away crouches a huge gorilla. A fine mat
of gray hair across its back reveals it as a silverback. Long face. Deep-set
eyes. His coiled muscles wrap around his body like five hundred pounds of
boulders. He is able to move faster than I can. If he chooses to.
I panic. My breath comes in gasps. I try to remember Dad’s
words of advice.
Show submission.
I need to submit. But how? I can’t think.
The male can reach me in ten bounds. He can break me with
two hands. He can kill me with one snap of his jaw.
Submit.
The gorilla needs to feel confident that I’m not a threat.
My five-foot-three frame hardly intimidates; what more can I do? Curl into a
ball? No, wait. I think that’s for a bear. My body spasms, torn between moving
and not moving. Don’t look it in the eyes, I think. But I can’t be sure.
In the few seconds it takes for these thoughts to bounce
around my head, the silverback has raised himself. He is now on two legs—six
feet of hostility directed at me. I drop my eyes to the ground, sweat running
down my nose. Hear the thud of the gorilla beating his chest. The pounding
reverberates. He is a sharpshooter and I am his target.
Next comes a bark-like sound: another sign of aggression. I
look up again and see his nostrils flare. He swipes an arm out, uprooting a
bush.
I need to get out of here. I glance around quickly.
The gorilla shifts.
I run.
I know I am no match. He outweighs me by hundreds of pounds.
He is instinct and intimidation. I am weakness and fear. I jump over a stump.
Twist my ankle in the off-balance landing. But I can’t stop.
Vines snag my clothing. Sharp foliage smacks my face and
chest, leaving small stinging cuts. There is no way to tell if I am heading in
the right direction.
I run through brush and webs and rocks. I make my own path.
Hope I lose him.
He knows this jungle better than I do and catches me in no
time. I scream as I am lifted by one shoulder. Stars explode in front of my
eyes as I slam against the trunk of a tree. It feels as though every bone in my
body has snapped on impact. I grunt. Roll to my side. Retch from the pain.
The gorilla stands above me, roaring. He bares two fanged
teeth, each several inches long.
I can’t catch my breath. I try to push off the ground. Fail.
I’m trapped.
He swings a hand at me, raking nails across my arm. My
compass sails through the air. I hadn’t even realized I was clutching it. It
lands with a distant shatter. My vision is going dark. Something wet oozes down
my skin. It takes me a minute to realize that it’s my blood.
The silverback’s face is so close to my own that we share a
breath. This is it. My last moment. As I lie here, I can think of only one
thing.
I can’t believe the monster who is about to take my life is
the very creature my dad died trying to protect.
Author Info
Amber Hart is the author of Before You and Until You Find
Me. She grew up in Orlando, Florida, and Atlanta, Georgia, and now resides on
the Florida coastline with her family. When not reading, she can be found
writing, daydreaming, or dipping her toes in the sand.
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