TO HAVE AND LET GO is both wonderful and heartbreaking at the same time. I was moved to tears, yet smiling and laughing throughout. By the end of the journey, I was emotionally but pleasantly exhausted. I would call this book, women’s fiction with substance. Julieann Dove never fails to write authentic characters who are relatable to all of us. Keep your tissues close by as you are going to need them through this heart-tugging story. I'm not ashamed to admit that I cried my eyes out. TO HAVE AND LET GO is such a heart-wrenching story that you will absolutely love.
TO HAVE AND LET GO is the second book I have read and enjoyed by Julieann Dove. I totally cried my eyes out for the last ten percent of this story. I love it when an author can do that to me! To be honest, I don’t think Julieann Dove gets the amount of attention she deserves among women’s fiction writers. Her stories are just that wonderful and if you haven’t read at least one of them yet, you are truly missing out. I like picking up her books when I am feeling stressed out. I also have quite the backlist of her books to get caught up on and that makes me happy.
While reading TO HAVE AND LET GO I became emotionally invested in all of the characters. They are all flawed, real and lovable! Chelsea is going back to Boone County to bury her mom. She is struggling with the somewhat distant relationship they had. She also finds a stranger living in her mother's home, Patrick. While cleaning out her mother's home, secrets are uncovered. Holy cow people, you are not going to believe where Chelsea's story goes! Once I started reading, I was instantly hooked. I devoured every page and could not wait to see what was going to happen next.
Do yourself a favor, grab this wonderful book, your favorite drink, and get on your couch and read it. It’s the perfect way to spend the day!
I received a complimentary copy of this book from Fresh Fiction. Opinions expressed in this review are completely my own.
“I think I better go.”
He pulled me by the arm. “No, don’t.”
I tried to free myself. “I don’t think this is going to—”
Before I could finish, he kissed me. I put my hands against his skin but he pulled me closer. I was stuck in the middle of wanting more and walking out, only to regret it. Finally, history won out and I freed myself.
“Fine, walk out,” he said, winded from the ordeal. “But don’t think this was my fault. Don’t think—”
I swung around and pushed my finger into his hard chest. “Listen, this is what happens. It doesn’t work. Not with me. I make sure it doesn’t.”
What in the ever-loving-world was I saying? What was possessing my mouth to say these things? My eyes darted left and right.
“What?”
I took a step back and took a few deep breaths. I looked anywhere but in his eyes. I flinched when he touched my shoulder.
“I don’t want you to leave.”
I buried my head in my hands and started to break down. Crap. I never break down. Not even when I should. When people die. When people dump me. I wait. I even shop first. Get a new shirt and feel good about retail therapy. Search for the perfect movie that will give me cause to shed a tear. But this? What was happening?
He pulled me to him slowly. Like a feral cat you’ve waited weeks and given milk to, seeing whether the charm of a warm chest and head rubs will finally[FW1] win over the flight reaction.
I buried my face into his chest and cried quietly. Maybe it was a release for all the times I should have. Maybe he possessed something no one else did. A chance at something going further than a third date and possibly ending up questioned by Interpol.
I apologized.
“Will you stop,” he said, caressing my hair. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”
Those three words put a halt to everything. I backed up and looked at him. That symbol of possibility. That understanding, even though I’d just insulted him. The unconditional of it all. “I can’t do this.”
“What?”
“Do you see me?” I pointed to myself like it was a quiz. “I safeguard myself for investment. Pick out guys I know can’t go the second mile. What’re you doing here?” I turned my finger on him. “What’s this exactly?”
“I know you, Chelsea. At least, I’m figuring you out. I think. But I’m different. I won’t hurt you. You don’t have to put up a defense shield. That felt good. You…leaning on me for comfort. You can depend on me.”
“No. You see, every guy has a flaw. You’ve got a flaw. I thought it was Josie. But she’s…no, maybe she’s not. Maybe you’re just fooling yourself. Oh, I see. I fall in…well, I give you a try, she shows back up, and—”
“And, I tell her it’s over. That’s what happens.”
“I think I’ll stick to breaking my heart before you can.”
He pulled me close and stared into my eyes. “I will not break your heart. Will you believe me?”
I studied his face. His sheer look of determination. Taking a stance for all the failed relationships I’d weathered without so much as a scratch. Except the Ryan one. Did he realize what he was doing? Did I?
“Will you just date me, for crying out loud? Give me a try? I tell you what, if I do something stupid, I’ll kick my own self out, deal?”
“What kind of stupid?”
He glanced toward the ceiling. “Oh, say I don’t take your feelings to heart? Don’t remember you love chocolate cake? Or forget to pick you flowers on your birthday? Which, by the way, when is it? I want to get a head start on things.”
I smiled. He remembered the chocolate cake. And my birthday? The last two I’d spent on my own. In between failed relationships. His talk of : 'doing' things for me scared the bejezus out of me. “It’s August 27.”
He hit his head. “Man, I just missed it.”
“Yeah.”
“Well, maybe we can turn back time and do something about that.”
I was still smiling. Damn, this man. “Nah. I don’t think I want a redo. Let’s just get through this date with Birdie.”
“Sounds like a deal.” He pecked me on the lips. “And just so it isn’t awkward or anything, I can hold your hand, right? I mean, we’re going as a couple, right?”
My heart fluttered. “Uh, yeah. I suppose so.”
He kissed me again and we danced to a Coltrane song before I went back inside the house. My head was spinning by the time it made it to the pillow. This was not in the plans. None of it. I went to sleep and wondered how much more of "not in the plans" would get done before I picked up the phone and told work and Darren I might not be returning.
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