Title: Bent Not Broken
Series: A Cedar Creek Novel
Author: Julia Goda
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: April 17, 2015
Life has taught Ivey Jones early on that with trust come pain and betrayal. Out of survival she has created walls around her to keep anyone from getting too close. Though she lives in her dream house in the Rocky Mountains and loves being the owner of the town's quirky little bookstore Serendipity, her life is narrow and governed by strict rules that she never deviates from…until Cal Bennett enters her life.
For the past nine years Calvin “Cal” Bennett has stayed away from Ivey, thinking she deserved better than to be saddled with a single dad who has never been good at relationships. Until a few chance encounters show him what he’s been missing and he can’t stay away any longer.
Little does he know he’s got a fight on his hands that he might not be equipped to win. Shadows from Ivey's past lurk in the dark, ready to strike and bring her low once and for all. But Cal swears he will do whatever it takes to break through that wall of steel to win Ivey’s heart and keep her safe.
Strength.
Was does that mean really?
Does it mean you can keep standing after someone punches you in the face? Does it mean you don’t make a sound when he kicks you in the gut when you can't keep standing? Does it mean you hold on to hope though you know there is none?
Or does it mean you leave it all behind, you give up and run and never, ever again open yourself up to anything that can hurt you?
If only I knew.
I have tried door one, two, and three.
But no more.
If that is strength, then I want to be weak. Weak is better. Weak is good. Weak is going to make all the pain and bruises disappear. It cannot fix what is broken inside, but at least nobody can see that.
On the outside I will look like any other twenty-eight year old woman. Nobody can see what’s hiding inside.
What they left me.
What I will never be able to get rid of.
What is now a part of me.
Hidden by the mask of being normal. Of being content. Hidden behind smiles and chatter and maybe even a laugh. But all that is empty.
The way I see it empty is better.
Empty is good.
Just like weak.
Because it cannot hurt you.
It cannot take from you.
And that’s good, because I have nothing else to give.
Everything else has been taken from me, so empty is all I have left.
And I am content with that.
Now, maybe if I keep telling myself that, I’ll eventually believe it too.
Was does that mean really?
Does it mean you can keep standing after someone punches you in the face? Does it mean you don’t make a sound when he kicks you in the gut when you can't keep standing? Does it mean you hold on to hope though you know there is none?
Or does it mean you leave it all behind, you give up and run and never, ever again open yourself up to anything that can hurt you?
If only I knew.
I have tried door one, two, and three.
But no more.
If that is strength, then I want to be weak. Weak is better. Weak is good. Weak is going to make all the pain and bruises disappear. It cannot fix what is broken inside, but at least nobody can see that.
On the outside I will look like any other twenty-eight year old woman. Nobody can see what’s hiding inside.
What they left me.
What I will never be able to get rid of.
What is now a part of me.
Hidden by the mask of being normal. Of being content. Hidden behind smiles and chatter and maybe even a laugh. But all that is empty.
The way I see it empty is better.
Empty is good.
Just like weak.
Because it cannot hurt you.
It cannot take from you.
And that’s good, because I have nothing else to give.
Everything else has been taken from me, so empty is all I have left.
And I am content with that.
Now, maybe if I keep telling myself that, I’ll eventually believe it too.
“Someone hurt you.” A statement, not a question. Ivey tensed but said nothing.
“Someone hit you.”
There. Something. A flicker of pain. But still she said nothing, just kept her eyes locked on his. The image of someone hitting her that flashed before his eyes gutted him, but he pushed through that and kept going.
“Someone beat you.” She closed her eyes in defeat, then slowly nodded.
“More than once,” he gritted through clenched teeth, keeping a loose hold on his control, which he knew was essential in this moment to make her open up to him.
Another nod, then a stray tear ran down her cheek, gutting him even further.
Someone had beat his woman.
More than once.
It didn’t matter that it had happened before she had been his woman, before he had even known she existed. The rage that seared through him took his breath away. He wanted to hunt that asshole down and give him a taste of his own medicine.
And he would, but not right now.
Right now he had to take care of Ivey. She was his first priority.
I have been writing stories in my head since I can remember. Much to my teachers’ dismay, given the task of writing a short essay I would always come back with way too long and detailed stories. Many discussions (I have always been somewhat of a smart-aleck) and bad grades were the result, so that for most of my life I thought I couldn’t write worth a damn and pursued other careers. But the dream of being an author wouldn’t be ignored and kept lingering. With a little help from my fantastic husband, who gave me the necessary kick in the behind, I was finally brave enough to start writing my first novel and finished it only a few short weeks later—well, the first draft, that is. The seal was broken.
My novels jump genres and touch on all kinds of different topics, but the things I try to focus on no matter what are romance, strong women, and a good sense of humor.
Now, when I’m not in my writing cave, spinning the tales that have been hounding me or editing (yes, I am also a professional editor, guess that degree in Literature and Linguistics turned out to be useful after all!), I enjoy reading, drinking coffee, eating good food, and listening to rock music.
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