Tuesday, July 31, 2018

Release Blitz & Giveaway: No One But You by Alexandra Silva (Contemporary Romance)




Title: No One But You
Author: Alexandra Silva
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: July 27, 2018



Blurb

QUINCY

They say bad things happen in threes… 

I made a mistake. I kissed the right boy, but married the wrong man. They were friends. Best friends. Until my life fell apart.
Everything changed.
Something was stolen and then something was given in its place. 
I had so much in my grasp, maybe it was too much because everything started slipping. 
My son.
My husband.
My sanity.
Only one thing remained the same.
My first crush.
My first kiss.
My first love.

JAMIE

They say you can’t miss what you’ve never had…

But I swear I had her. At least for one kiss.
I left the right girl and tried to replace her with the wrong woman.
It didn’t work because I still missed her.
I promised my best friend I’d always look after his little sister. And our other best friend promised to never break her heart.
He lied.
I didn’t.

We have circled each other all our lives but our time never came. 
We’ve never had our moment until now.


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Purchase Links

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Excerpt

“A penny for your thoughts?”
I swear every time he talks to me my heart just about explodes out of my chest. Jamie’s voice is so different. It’s changed. It’s deeper and rumbly, and it makes me think and imagine things that I don’t usually go out of my way to think about let alone imagine. It makes my belly do acrobatics and my mouth water.
How is that possible? How can his voice alone do that to me?
“Are you still angry with me?” He asks as he sits on the edge of the hot tub my parents had installed on the first floor balcony.
It’s such a pretty view. The water and the trees that surround one side of it with all the beautiful grey, white and light blue lake houses that line it in a cosy and enclosed U. You can just make out the green rolling hills surrounding us with the large church spire just about breaking the treeline. It’s just so wonderfully beautiful.
“I’m not upset with you,” I hear myself reply even though I am a little.
To be honest I think I’m a little more heartbroken that he’s leaving than I am angry. I was so looking forward to having Jamie around at Oxford, but he’s going to do an Overseas Exchange to UCLA so he can learn from some great minds like Doctor Wilson Weller—a teaching and practicing Neurosurgery god. Or whatever Jamie calls him. Phillip decided to stay close to home at UCL even though he got an offer to Oxford just like Jamie and Richard did three years ago. He doesn’t want to leave his new girlfriend, Jamie’s sister and one of my best friends, behind. I think I’m a little bit jealous of them, even if am happy for them. Jamie is just coming round to the idea, and I know that the only reason why he came to find me is probably because he still doesn’t know how to handle them being so touchy and lovey dovey with one another.
“You’re not?” He shuffles closer until the side of his thigh touches mine.
His legs are different too. They have a light smattering of hair that kind of matches his chest and the trail down from his navel. I can’t help but run my eyes down his slightly defined torso and down the light trail of fuzz that leads down to the top of his shorts, all the way down his shorts to his thighs and knees.
I’m so distracted by all his golden skin that I don’t even realise how fast my heart is beating until I feel the hammering in my chest pulsing up my neck to the back of my throat.
 Seriously?
My skin heats as he wraps his arm around my bare shoulders. His thumbs lightly strumming the string holding my bikini top up around my neck. It’s like the sun shines brighter in that moment and the UV rays become laser strong and solely focused on me.
“Then why did you throw the Uni hamper we gave you in the bin?”
“Because it’s stupid. I don’t need wine and condoms and…”
“You say that now, but when you get there you’ll be thankful. You don’t want to be caught short, the dial-a-condom service isn’t as discreet or anonymous as you think.”
“Guys don’t even look at me like that.” I shrug.
He goes super still next to me. His arm becomes slightly heavier on my shoulders and his thumb tucks under the halter neck string of my red bikini top. He clears his throat and I can hear his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows.
“Quincy, that’s not true. Believe me, my sisters have made it a point to tell me every chance they get.”
He pulls me closer to him so that I have no other option but to rest my head on his shoulder.
“Why would they do that?” I mumble into the soft skin of his shoulder.
It’s shiny and taught. It wraps flawlessly around his lean muscled arms with the odd sun freckle here and there. He smells briny and citrusy. A combination of his cologne, sweat and the lake water.
I inhale deeply as his shoulders shake with humour.
Wait, why is he laughing at me?
“Why are you laughing at me?”
He clears his throat again before he sighs, “You have no idea.”
“No idea of what?”
Our eyes lock as I look up at him. His bright blue eyes are like ocean blue sparkling glass as the sun lights them up. They have these silvery grey flecks that bleed to the edges of his irises and form these thin dark rings that are only marginally lighter than his pupil.
“You’re so pretty…so beautiful…”
It’s like he can read my mind and steal the words on the tip of my tongue as he reaches for my hair with his hand and wraps it with my long tresses.
And if my heart wasn’t already hammering into my ribcage it’s now batter ramming its way out like it’s trying to break free or get closer to his heart.
I don’t know. All I know is that I can’t actually say anything. I can’t verbalise with the way that he’s looking at me. The way his eyes are eating up every inch of my face and the way they flitter down to my chest and then up to my lips.
His wet and shiny pink tongue darts out and moistens his lower lip before he draws said lip in with his teeth and bites down so hard that the blood and colour drain around the trenches his teeth have made.
I can’t help but mimic him with my own tongue and lips and teeth. He gasps lightly and as my eyes meet his again the pupils are so big that there is only a perfectly slim ring of silver speckled cerulean surrounding them. And I can’t breathe. The air feels too hot and dry. And thick? Why does the air feel so thick? It feels like I’m filling my lungs with invisible oil. My lungs feel so full that they have to push the air back out in deep and long unsteady breaths.
The arm around my shoulders falls and he brings his hand up to cup my cheek. And I know what’s happening because I’ve seen it in films and I’ve seen other people around us kiss. I can even kind of picture it in my mind—what we must look like right now. But I still can’t quite comprehend why he’s coming closer to me. Why his breathing is just as manic as mine. I can’t understand why he’s about to kiss me with wide eyes and desperate breaths. The hand in my hair tugs slightly and my face tilts marginally so that our lips touch.
Oh, God.
His warm lips are so soft and so tender as they brush over mine and I want to throw my arms around his neck, straddle his lap and just fucking devour him.
Fuck, I’m like some lust crazed person.
I don’t even know how I manage to stay so still with all those thoughts and all the electricity zapping through me.
I don’t know what to do next. If I should open my mouth or lick his lips. Whether I should touch him. I want to touch. I am touching him.
He’s groaning as he licks my lips and as my hands hold on to his waist so tight that my nails bite into his flesh. But then it’s not just my nails biting into his skin, it’s his teeth sinking into my lower lip. It’s his hand cupping my face so hard that I know it should hurt, I know that it’ll leave a mark, but I don’t care because it feels so fucking good. It’s his fingers weaving so tightly into my hair that the sting makes me want to pull on his hair too.
I can’t help the strangled moan that escapes my mouth as he slips his tongue inside and licks my own.
I’ve never kissed or been kissed like this before and even though I’m unpractised and new to this, my hands seem to be in the know as they travel brazenly down his sides to the top of his swimming shorts and as unsure as I am, I know that I want to slip my hands under the elastic and become acquainted with every last inch of his sexy skin.
Shit, I don’t think I’ve ever used that word to describe another person, let alone a boy…a man. Jamie.
He grumbles a shallow growl right at the back of his throat as my fingertips skim around the navy elastic of his shorts. His tongue licks deeper and twirls around mine.
I want more. I want to tell him that I want it too, but I don’t want to stop kissing him back and I have this unsure tightness in chest that makes me bashful and fearful that he’d reject me anyway.
I want him to touch me in ways that I’ve only heard other girls boast and brag that they’d been touched. I want his mouth and his tongue to taste a lot more than just my own.
Before I even realise it we’re both standing in the middle of the warm, soft rolling water and his hands are squeezing my bum cheeks to the point that I think they’ll leave bruises. And it makes me feel excited in ways that I’ve never felt before and it makes me feel like a livewire.
All this and he never stops our kiss. His tongue tastes mine with a ferocity that feels like years of need all at once. I rove my hands up his sides and his back, relishing the feel of his muscles pulling and tightening under his hot skin. By the time my hands round to his chest and travel up to his hair our bodies are completely flush and my boobs feel even bigger and heavier than they already are. My nipples feel sore like they’re being pinched and pulled and there’s this familiar, yet new ache that’s building between my legs and the bubbling water is only making that ache stronger whilst making it feel better at the same time.
I’ve never felt the arousal of a man, but I can feel his and it’s pressing deliciously to my lower belly. I feel the heat creep up my neck and flush my cheeks and all I want to do is find a way of getting closer. My fingers tighten their grip in his sun bleached brown hair and I can’t help but pull him down to me, even as I feel him softly pull away.
No. Please don’t stop.






Author Bio


Alexandra Silva is a lover of words and romance. She blames the classics and a nutty English teacher for her obsession with books and fiction. Come rain or shine with either coffee or wine in hand you can find her with her nose stuck in a book and her head in the clouds. She lives in London outnumbered by her very loud boys, with her very own hero and their two wild cats—Jack and Jill.



Author Links

Blog Tour: Scene of the Crime by Jennifer Chase (Mystery)


SCENE OF THE CRIME by Jennifer Chase, Mystery, 300 pp., $.99 (Kindle)



Title: SCENE OF THE CRIME
Author: Jennifer Chase
Publisher: JEC Press
Pages: 300
Genre: Mystery Suspense

A calculating cold-blooded predator closes in…

When a community has barely recovered from a ruthless serial killer six months earlier; now two more horrifying murders hit the radar again. It leaves police burdened with two of the most shockingly contaminated crime scenes ever documented in California’s law enforcement history. The Slayer works behind the scenes as a sinister puppet master, precisely pulling the strings, taunting the police without leaving any viable evidence, and orchestrating his killer hit squads.

The sheriff and district attorney bring in the best investigators. Reunited again, Dr. Chip Palmer, a reclusive forensic expert, joins DA Inspector Kate Rawlins to sort through the crime scene aftermath in search of the truth—all without a probable suspect or a solid motive. Complicating the investigation—sparks reignite between the two.

Ratcheting up the suspense, Chip suffers a nasty fall hitting his head, impairing his perception and giving him a mind-blowing ability for specific detailed recall. Palmer and Rawlins assemble an unusual team including a rookie detective, a forensic supervisor, and an ex-military operative turned bodyguard. After one of their own is kidnapped and the investigation is taken over by the FBI, the now rogue team must pull together their own resources—alone—with a killer waiting to take each one of them out. Scene of the Crime takes no prisoners and leaves everyone fighting to stay alive.

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Chapter 1

NOTHING CAPTURED HIS ATTENTION. IT wasn’t as if he wasn’t looking for anything specific or that he didn’t care about anything, but everything became like white noise. Looking down, he spotted a couple squashed beer cans, which had resulted from the constant compression of car tires repeatedly running over them. Now they lay in the gutter unnoticed—as discarded litter. Out of boredom, he kicked the aluminum pancakes with his worn out running shoes. The compressed disks clattered a ways before landing back in a different part of the same gutter, just as his life.
Roger Case was in one of those moods where everything seemed futile. It was a time when his temperament plummeted; he entertained the spirit of defeat, which was becoming more common these days. His concentration slipped farther into the dwindling mindset of drugs and crime to the point of mania. Rationalizing his motives, he preferred to enact self-medication.
He needed something strong to take away his thoughts of negativity. The repetitive movements of his hands and arms worsened. He wanted anything that would take away his fears, his depression, and his unrelenting obsession for the next quick fix. Roger knew that even when he felt the most empowering high that there was a high price to pay—and it was predictable and inevitable—the hard, downward crash.
Roger hadn’t always been teetering on that slippery slope, dangling over the life of crime; in fact, he still remembered when things were normal and even mundane. He grew up in a typical middle class family with his mom and dad, along with his older brother and sister. Reflecting on those memories now, he would trade just about anything to have those times back.
Now he waited with anticipation for his contact. It was going to make everything better—at least for a while. He convinced himself that just a little bit of crystal meth would help him get back on track—to see things clearly again. It wasn’t as if he was a full-blown addict, he just needed something to help motivate and push him in the right direction.
He heard a hollow scraping noise and stopped to listen. Standing quietly, still straining to hear, but that sound never repeated. He looked around. Curious. The sound seemed to resonate in his head instead of around the street. Upon further inspection, he realized it came from inside the cement structure.
The old water treatment plant had been decommissioned by the county some time ago, now outdated, and was nothing more than an eyesore gathering the grime and deteriorating aspects of time gone by. Something loomed in Roger’s vision and waited in darkness—he strained his eyes looking into the long structure that seemed to lead to nowhere.
Maybe his connection made a change of plans and the meeting place was at the cement sinew, and out of sight from any onlookers, or cops happening by on their route. It was possible. At this point in Roger’s life, anything was possible.
Roger contemplated his options for a moment and then decided to check it out. He turned toward the water treatment plant and headed inside. The first thing he noticed was the temperature difference—cold and damp compared to the warmer street areas.
He slowed his pace, unsure if he should call out or announce his presence. Fidgeting nonstop with his hands, pressing his fingers tighter and then releasing them, Roger moved farther into the tunnel.
A shuffling sound came from the other end.
“Hello?” he finally said, his voice weak and tinny which made him unconsciously twitch.
A muffled dragging sound was the responded answer. It resonated from the back-left area.
“Hey, I don’t have time for this… you either want the money or not.” He tried to sound tough but his nerves were frayed. It wasn’t something he was used to feeling. In fact, Roger couldn’t remember the last time he felt scared, frustrated, angry or anxious.
The damp cement tunnel seemed to pull him closer to the heart of it—into the bowels of no return. Instead of turning around and leaving, Roger slowly moved deeper into the cavern. It was as if someone or something else had control over his body. His insatiable curiosity had put him in troubling situations throughout his life. It contributed to him getting into deep trouble with a growing rap sheet to prove it.
Most memories had a calming effect on Roger, which had initiated his fidgeting to cease and his hesitation to subside. He didn’t understand many people’s fears and phobias, most things were just benign and didn’t amount to anything remotely scary or debilitating.
There it was again—a dragging sound followed by what he thought were hushed whispers.
Kids.
He would smack a kid if they jumped out at him or gave him any crap. Most likely, they were tagging gang symbols and looking to get into trouble.
There was the distinct sound of two people whispering to each other.
Roger tried to sharpen his vision but the darkness played tricks on him with weird shadow figure apparitions. He blinked his eyes quickly trying to concentrate on the area and where the kids were hiding; his eyes began to water from the extreme effort. Wiping away the aggravated tears, Roger felt his surroundings close in tightly around him as his perception changed. The darkness seemed to give a strange rippled effect.
The voices became louder. There was nothing sinister about the voices, but they were speaking faster with more of an urgent tone.
“Hey, you little maggots, I know you’re here,” stated Roger.
He stopped and stood still.                                                         
The darkness still loomed around him, but there was a quietness that overcame him.
A brief hundredth of a second, a peculiar whizzing noise filled Roger’s ears and then a brutal blow struck his head and knocked him off his feet. With a ringing in his head and a groggy consciousness, he tried to sit up but more savage blows pummeled his body. It sounded as if a tree splintered just before it fell in the forest. His breath caught in his lungs. Everything went dark.
The anonymous whispers stopped.
All buzzing in his ears stopped.
Roger Case’s heart stopped too.


Jennifer Chase is a multi award-winning and best-selling crime fiction author, as well as a consulting criminologist. Jennifer holds a bachelor degree in police forensics and a master’s degree in criminology & criminal justice. These academic pursuits developed out of her curiosity about the criminal mind as well as from her own experience with a violent sociopath, providing Jennifer with deep personal investment in every story she tells. In addition, she holds certifications in serial crime and criminal profiling.  She is an affiliate member of the International Association of Forensic Criminologists, and member of the International Thriller Writers.

WEBSITE & SOCIAL LINKS:

WEBSITE | TWITTER | FACEBOOK

Other Books in the Series

Body of the Crime


 





Jennifer Chase is a multi award-winning and best-selling crime fiction author, as well as a consulting criminologist. Jennifer holds a bachelor degree in police forensics and a master’s degree in criminology & criminal justice. These academic pursuits developed out of her curiosity about the criminal mind as well as from her own experience with a violent sociopath, providing Jennifer with deep personal investment in every story she tells. In addition, she holds certifications in serial crime and criminal profiling.  She is an affiliate member of the International Association of Forensic Criminologists, and member of the International Thriller Writers.

WEBSITE & SOCIAL LINKS:

WEBSITE | TWITTER | FACEBOOK

 

Monday, July 30, 2018

Book Blitz & Giveaway: Paralucidity by Stephen H. Provost (New Adult, Fantasy Romance)


Paralucidity
Stephen H. Provost
Publication date: July 15th 2018
Genres: Fantasy, New Adult, Romance
Somebody wanted Minerva Rus dead. They succeeded. But Minerva isn’t letting a little thing like death stop her.
After the dangerous adventure that killed her in Memortality, Minerva Rus has reconciled herself to being dead. She and her also-dead boyfriend Raven share an amazing gift that allows them to bring the dead back to life―including each other. Now that Jules, their most dangerous enemy, has been banished from reality and trapped inside her own mind, Minerva and Raven plan on enjoying the eternity of their unnatural lives.
But immortality isn’t safe. Minerva and Raven’s life-giving powers mysteriously fade, forcing them to take refuge in The Between, a shadowy realm of memories that lies between life and death. What’s more, their old adversary Jules is on the loose, partnered with a resurrected Nazi scientist planning a monstrous experiment that will change the destiny of the human race. And now it’s up to a 21-year-old dead girl to save the world―again.
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Join the blog tour here!


Author Bio:
Stephen H. Provost is a veteran editor, reporter and columnists with more than 30 years of experience at daily newspapers in California. He’s currently the managing editor of The Cambrian on the Central Coast, as well as a columnist and assistant city editor for The Tribune in San Luis Obispo.
As an author, he has written historical nonfiction (“Fresno Growing Up” and “Highway 99: The History of California’s Main Street”), novels (“Memortality” and “Identity Break”), while also exploring the realms of mythology, fable and ancient history.

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Friday, July 27, 2018

Release Blitz & Giveaway: The Heart of Aleppo by Ammar Habib (Young Adult, Coming of Age, Contemporary)

About the Book

Title: The Heart of Aleppo
  Author: Ammar Habib
  Genre: Young Adult / Coming of Age / Contemporary
  Page Count: 235
 After standing for over 7,000 years, Aleppo’s ruin came overnight. Separated from his family during the night the rebels attacked the city, thirteen-year-old Zaid Kadir is lost in the middle of a war zone.

Alongside his friends, he is forced to survive the dangers of a civil war he does not even fully understand. Zaid witnesses the destruction of the brutal Syrian Civil War as it grows more deadly by the day and rips his city apart. However, as he braves this destruction, as he desperately tries to survive this catastrophe, he discovers something.

Zaid realizes that it is in the darkest hours when humanity’s spirit of hope burns brightest.  


Links


About the Author

Ammar Habib is a bestselling and award-winning author who was born in Lake Jackson, Texas in 1993. Ammar enjoys crafting stories that are not only entertaining but will also stay with the reader for a long time.

Ammar presently resides in his hometown with his family, all of whom are his biggest fans.

He draws his inspiration from his family, imagination, and the world around him.    



Social Media


Website:www.ammarahsenhabib.com
 Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ammarahsenhabib
 Twitter: https://twitter.com/AmmarAHabib1 @AmmarAHabib1
 Blog: www.ammarhabibblog.wordpress.com
 Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/Ammar_Habib
 Instagram: https://instagram.com/ammar.a.habib/ @Ammar.A.Habib

Giveaway


In conjunction with the release of The Heart of Aleppo, Ammar is running a giveaway from July 26th to August 3rd. The prize of the giveaway is a signed copy of his national award-winning novel, Memories of My Future. Memories of My Future is a historical/inspirational novel that was published in 2016. It received several accolades after its release, including the Independent Press Award in May 2017. Go here to visit the giveaway!    

Why Ammar wrote The Heart of Aleppo:


I personally believe that the Syrian Civil War is one of this generation’s greatest tragedies. With the way it is proceeding, it’ll be remembered by future generations in the same manner that we remember the Rwandan genocide and the Bosnian War of the 1990s.
The motivation for writing The Heart of Aleppo was simple: I wished to bring more global attention to this crisis. Although the characters are fictitious, this novel accurately depicts the events that transpired in Aleppo during the summer of 2012. I hope that reading this will lead readers to have a greater understanding of the plight those in Syria face, as well as those in other war-torn regions. If this work helps garner more attention for those in Syria, then I will have considered this project a success.
In an over-politicized world, my wish is for this work to humanize those we call “refugees”. The Heart of Aleppo is not about the politics of the Syrian Civil War or any other conflict. Its aim is not to convince readers to support any faction or political party. Instead, this story is about the unbreakable spirit of humanity.  It is about how humanity often shows its true strength during the darkest times.

I truly hope that these themes of hope and strength will resonate with readers. I know that simply writing this The Heart of Aleppo changed me as a person, and it made me more aware of everything that transpires in the world around me. Although the world will never be perfect, I believe that if we keep our faith in the human spirit and keep striving to always better ourselves and those around us, then we can create a little piece of heaven on earth. 

Writing Playlist for The Heart of Aleppo


 
  1. “Sadness and Sorrow”
Youtube  
  1. “Sound of Hugh Glass”
Youtube  
  1. “Despair”
Youtube  
  1. “Man of the World”
Youtube  

First excerpt from The Heart of Aleppo:


Two days before Nabeel leaves for the last time, I find him standing at the kitchen counter with his friend, Zakariah. I don’t know his rank, but Zakariah serves directly under Nabeel in the army and only lives two miles down the road. The two of them always seem to be on leave at the same time. 
Their voices are low, almost secretive, but I catch the look in Nabeel’s eye. Except back then, I didn’t recognize it.
“What are you guys talking about?”
Seeing me enter and hearing my voice, they both look my way before exchanging glances. That gleam in Nabeel’s eyes disappears.
I excitedly run up to the two of them. “Tell me!”
Nabeel looks back down at me as he stops leaning against the counter. Reaching down, he ruffles my hair. “You’re too young to know about that, Zaid.”
“Aww, what’s that about? I’m not part of the group now—”
My brother playfully flicks me on the forehead as he crouches down a little. “I’m sorry, buddy. Maybe next time.”
“You’re always saying that.”
Zakariah laughs as he comes closer to me. He puts his hand on my shoulder. “That’s just not fair, Nabeel. You’re a horrible brother for leaving Zaid out like that.”
I see a concerned expression momentarily wash over Nabeel’s face.
However, Zakariah glances up at Nabeel and shoots him a quick wink as he continues. “Why don’t I just tell you then?”
My eyes light up. “Really! You’re the best, Zakariah.”
Coming to his knees, he puts his arm around my shoulders and leans close, acting as if he is about to tell me the world’s biggest secret. “You see, Zaid, your brother and I were having a discussion about which one of us would win in a wrestling match. We all know that I’m stronger, but he just won’t admit it.” He sighs and shakes his head as he looks back at Nabeel. “But you agree with me, don’t you, Zaid?”
I don’t hesitate to respond. “No way!”
He moves his head back in surprise. “Huh?”
“Sure you’re pretty strong, but my brother would beat you!”
Zakariah is slow to reply, taken aback by the statement. “C’mon, Zaid. You do realize that I’m older than him—”
“Age has nothing to do with it, Zakariah! My brother was the school’s wrestling champion. He wouldn’t lose to you.” I whip my head to look back at Nabeel. “Right, big brother?”
Nabeel is slightly smiling now.
With a chuckle, Zakariah rises back to his feet. “Alright, alright. Well, I best be off, Nabeel. We can finish our little discussion next time.”
Nabeel shakes his hand. “Give my greetings to your folks.”
“I will.” Zakariah grabs my shoulder and gives it a squeeze. “See you, Zaid—no, sorry: Dr. Zaid.”
Did he really just call me that? How did he know?
Hearing Zakariah’s footsteps grow faint, I turn back to Nabeel. He opens the fridge door and rummages through it.
“You told him?” I ask.
Nabeel doesn’t look my way. “I tell everyone.”
I watch him pull out a pound of chicken meat rolled up in brown paper as he turns back to me.
“Aisha is visiting her parents tonight and Abbi and Ummi are having dinner with friends. So looks like it’ll just be you and me.” Nabeel shoots me a wink. “I’m going to make some shwarma for dinner. Just the way you like it: tomatoes, lettuce, onions, lots of chicken, and even more spices.” He starts setting the ingredients on the countertop. “I went by Sohail’s shop today. The mangoes he was selling were ripe, so I picked some up. We can have them for dessert. That is if we have room.”
He looks back at me with a smile, but it fades when he sees my expression.
“What’s wrong, Zaid?”
I glance at the ground before replying, “I don’t think I want to be a doctor anymore.”
“Why not?”
“…I don’t think I can.”
He takes a few steps towards me before crouching down to come to my eye level, urging me to continue.
“Ms. Farooq said I’m not smart enough.”
“She did?”
“I got the lowest score in the class on the last math test. She said I’m not cut out for it.”
“I didn’t realize Ms. Farooq could tell the future.”
I don’t respond.
“Did you tell Abbi or Ummi?”
I shake my head.
He takes a deep breath and glances down at my feet. His eyes look like he’s weighing something, wondering if he should say it or not. When he does speak, his voice is different. It’s no longer speaking to me as his younger brother but as his friend. “You know, Zaid, Zakariah was joking about what we were talking about.”
“Really?”
He nods before his gaze focuses back on me. “Not even a few weeks ago, my soldiers and I were in a bit of a… well, situation.”
“What happened?”
“We were in Homs. The people we were fighting—the rebels—had heavy control of some neighborhoods. We were trying to take them back. It was…”
A silence ensues as he searches for the word.
“Difficult.” Nabeel pauses. “Some soldiers were pinned. The army tried an airstrike to break the rebel lines. It was a heavy bombardment that leveled entire streets. The cost was high. But we couldn’t break their lines.”
I don’t interrupt him.
“Our intelligence said it was a lost cause. We were ordered to abandon the soldiers. They said we would lose more men than we would save. But even the army’s ‘intelligence’ doesn’t know everything.” He looks away. “Zakariah and I disobeyed our commanding officer. As did our men. Those soldiers that were pinned weren’t just men. They were my friends… my brothers. And I would never abandon them, even if it led to…”
For a moment, his eyes again display that same gleam, but it disappears as quickly as it came.
His gaze again meets mine. It’s firmer this time, stronger. “It doesn’t matter what people say, Zaid. It doesn’t matter what the facts say. All that matters is what you say. And, maybe more importantly, what you do.”
I hang on his words, unable to say anything.
“Why do you want to be a doctor, Zaid?”
“I’ve always wanted to.”
“But why?”
“Because… I don’t want to see people suffer. I… I want to be the one to help others. I want to save lives, make a difference and put others before myself. I want to make this world a better place. Just like the Imam always talks about.”

Nabeel smiles. “Never forget that. And never go back on your word. No matter what happens. Please never forget one thing, Zaid: I love you. No matter the circumstance—no matter if I’m so far from you that you may never see me again, know that I’m with you.” He presses his finger against my heart. “I believe in you, Zaid.”