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Title: Thick Love (Thin Love, #2)
Author: Eden Butler
Genre: NA | Contemporary Romance
Release Date: August 31, 2015
He doesn’t ask their names.
He doesn’t deserve to know them.

Ransom Riley Hale's friends think his life is charmed: first string as a freshman on a championship-winning college football team. A father with two Super Bowl rings. A mother with platinum albums and multiple Grammies under her belt. But that brilliant shine on the surface hides the darkness beneath; it's all Ransom has ever known.

Despite the shadows he walked in, once there was a blinding light fracturing the darkness. It brought the promise of hope and happiness. He’d been careless, filled with pride and stupidity and lost that light. Ripped it from the world.

Now, the shadows are dimming again. Aly King surges into his life threatening to pull him from the darkness. She is everything Ransom can never be again. Her light feels too warm, promises him that there is more waiting for him beyond the shadows.

But the shadows are relentless, resurfacing when he thinks he is safe, and Ransom knows he must keep Aly from them too before he pulls her down into the darkness with him.
Pre-Order Thick Love → Amazon | Amazon UK | B&N | Kobo | iTunes
“Well, that was kind of bad ass too, you muscling around a man whose about forty years older than you.”
Ransom shrugged, disregarding my compliment and then his face became serious. “You sure you’re gonna be okay here on your own?” He nodded toward the staircase behind me then moved his gaze around the empty parking lot. There were no other offices on this lot, just the dance studio and my loft above it but all around us were high-end buildings with new paint and stucco and perfectly manicured landscaping. It was a safe area; still, Ransom didn’t seem able to keep the worry out of his tone. 
“I’ll manage,” I told him, wanting to disappear for a little while, to recover from the embarrassment my father’s outburst had caused. “Don’t worry about me.”
“Well,” he said, walking me back to the staircase, “I kind of have a soft spot for bad ass women wanting to make it on their own.” His shrug, that lazy smile, were both relaxed, and I wondered how he could manage to pull off that ‘it’s nothing’ movement and still look so intimidating. 
“Mama’s boy?” I teased, knowing that the famous songwriter Keira Riley, Ransom’s mother, was, in fact, a badass.
“Yeah. Maybe a little.” Again he shrugged and stepped closer like he didn’t realize he’d moved at all. “I just think it’s cool when a woman knows what she wants.” He looked down at me for a few seconds longer, then blinked as though he’d come back to his senses. “My mom and my uh, girlfriend, they’re both badasses.”
Girlfriend?  Modi. Of course he had a girlfriend. Someone as big and good-looking and sweet as him? What else could I have expected? Still, my heart plunged into my stomach.
But, I managed to hide my disappointment well, brushing past it by stepping up on the stairs. “Whatever it takes, I guess. Thank you though, I really do appreciate it.” 
Again Ransom looked around and scowled. “I still worry about you being around here on your own.” He looked up at me. “Don’t forget about the dead bolt and make sure the windows are locked too.” I laughed and Ransom shook his head. “Sorry. It’s not my business, but I can’t seem to help myself.” 
“I’ll take care of it, don’t worry,” I told him walking backward up two steps before I turned away from him. 
“Um, okay. If you’re sure.” I was almost to the top before he called after me. “I forgot, I can’t get the bed for you until tomorrow. Is it okay if I drop by then?”
I didn’t understand why my heart fluttered a little when he asked that. He’d offered the second-hand bed set that morning and I thought that once he’d delivered it, I’d likely not see him around much. But him coming back, well. That had my hopes higher than they had any business being. Ransom was still in high school. He was a full year younger than me. He was my boss’s cousin and he had a girlfriend. He was just being nice, I knew that.  
“Sure. I’ll be around,” I told him, waving him off before I went into my apartment. But as I went inside and moved to the window overlooking the parking lot, I couldn’t make the smile leave my face or keep my heart from racing as I thought of seeing him again. 
He’d rescued me when no one ever had before and all I’d thought about watching him pull his Mustang out into the street, was how the hell I’d ever be able to return the favor.
I wouldn’t. Not until nearly two years later. And when I did, it would change us both. Forever. 


September, 2015
Shadows have weight. They reach and cover, they devour. Sometimes they seem insurmountable, all consuming. Every failure, every struggle, allows them to grow.  
I was covered in shadows. I wore them like a grungy, dirty coat. 
But that night, after our third straight win, I didn’t let the shadows overtake me and the only thing devouring me was the hot steam of shower water. It was the day, the worry that I’d fail, the relief that I hadn’t and the overwhelming reality of the clusterfuck my life was turning out to be that had me wanting to never leave that spray. 
The hot water hadn’t taken the headache from my skull or lessened the constant bump of the bass line downstairs. Fuck, how I hated being forced to listen to Chris Brown.
After the game and telling my parents I just wanted to decompress at the team house, I’d managed to get away from Ronnie Blanchard and the bullshit music he liked to play by leaving the party. Nearly a month into my first college football season and I’d already learned one thing about Claiborne-Prosper University: these assholes considered partying a God-given right. But then, this was New Orleans. Partying was sort of an expectation. 
The bathroom was small, with barely enough room for my big body and a full tub and shower and the hot water fogged up the mirror, filtered the air with heat so thick I hastily wrapped one towel around my waist and grabbed another one for my face, and swung the door open before even attempting to dry off. It didn’t matter. No one would see my naked ass in this room. It was mine, private—large enough for a queen-sized bed, oak dresser and desk—just one of the perks of having a high ACT score and a coaching staff that hoped I’d play as well as my father had when he was on the defensive line. Didn’t hurt that my father was now coaching that defensive line. 
My dad’s shadow was massive, just like him, just like I was going to be someday. He was not an easy man to follow. His athletic records, his successes were overwhelming achievements fueled by the fear of loss, by desperate ambition. He’d struggled. He’d lost some big damn battles and somehow those hurdles urged him on, made him want more, need more. He’d told me once, “If you’ve ever been hungry, you’ll never be full.” That didn’t come from him. My father isn’t a philosopher. What he is, what added weight to that shadow of his, was accomplishment, gratification and the seemingly impossible reality of real, all-consuming, uncontrollable love.  
Something I couldn’t have. Not again. That shit doesn’t come twice in one lifetime. 
I left the bathroom, scrubbing the hand towel over my face to be rid of the internal bullshit whining, ready for a long sleep on my big bed, but stopped short, dropping the hand towel to the floor. “Private room” didn’t always equal privacy, a fact that became abundantly clear when I found a pretty girl I didn’t know sitting on the edge of my bed.
Why do they always send me the redheads?
I knew why. I always knew why, but wouldn’t think about it. Not Emily. Not now. It was pointless anyway. 
The girl on the bed had really red hair, more auburn than orange, and it fell past her elbows with a wind-tossed vibe working through the strands. Her eyes were dark, like the color of wet sand that glinted against the street light beyond my window. She looked scared, like seeing me in nothing but a towel with water dotted over my shoulders and chest was some sort of threat to her. Hell, she was in my room and I still got that don’t hurt me vibe from her.
But I never could take a nervous woman; couldn’t stand to be the reason for making anyone uncomfortable, so I pushed aside that little flicker of irritation in my brain and tilted my head, hoping the smile I gave her came off as genuine. “You lost, sweetheart?” 
“No.” That answer was barely a squeak and figuring she might be more relaxed if I wasn’t naked, I moved to my dresser to fish out a pair of boxers and a t-shirt. Her voice came out louder, clearer as she moved from the bed. “They said…well, that Trent guy said you might…want to…” She stopped her explanation as a low grunt moved from my throat.
Trent Damn Marshall. That prick was always tossing girls in my room, knowing I wouldn’t be a bastard to them. “He trying to hook up with a friend of yours?” I watched the girl in the mirror over my dresser, tried to pull up my boxers without dropping the towel. But, shit, maybe I should scare her off. She didn’t even look legal.

“How did you know?” Tone light, distracted, her gaze lowered, following the towel as I dropped it. It wasn’t something that surprised me. Girls watched. They liked to pretend they didn’t, but they always watched. I turned to face her and the redhead jerked her attention back to me. “Um. He said I was your type.”

Books in the Thin Love Series

Thin Love My Beloved THICK_LOVE_COVER
Thin Love Series Purchase Links → Amazon | Amazon UK | B&N | Kobo | iTunes
Want more? Head to The Book Vigilante Reviews tomorrow (August 26th) for the next installment. The blog will be revealing the next section of the prologue and chapter one of THICK LOVE. If you haven't read the first part of this sneak peek make sure to head back to Totally Booked Blog and be sure to stop by the other stops on August 27th and August 28th for the rest of the sneak peek.
August 24thTotally Booked Blog
August 27thShh Mom's Reading
August 28thAs the Pages Turn
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About Eden Butler

Eden Butler PicEden Butler is an editor and writer of New Adult Romance and SciFi and Fantasy novels and the nine-times great-granddaughter of an honest-to-God English pirate. This could explain her affinity for rule breaking and rum. Her debut novel, a New Adult, Contemporary (no cliffie) Romance, “Chasing Serenity” launched in October 2013 and quickly became an Amazon bestseller.

When she’s not writing or wondering about her possibly Jack Sparrowesque ancestor, Eden edits, reads and spends way too much time watching rugby, Doctor Who and New Orleans Saints football.

She is currently imprisoned under teenage rule alongside her husband in southeast Louisiana.

Please send help.