My mom’s life was riddled in pain that spilled over to my sisters and me. The pain of my mother’s life still affects me, despite all her attempts to conceal it. I love her. I admire her. I want to understand her. But mostly, I want justice for her. Even though she tells me she’s okay, and I need to let it go, I can’t.

Let it go? How can I let it go, knowing such horror and evil still exist in the world?

But what can I do? Having barely graduated college with a journalism major, I know how to tell other people’s stories, but the one I want to tell most of all is my mother’s. I have nothing to go on and even less information. The more I inquire about it, the less she’s willing to share. My parents would lock me in my room if they suspected what I want to do. But even that won’t stop me. Not if I can find a way. And then I meet Ramiro Vasquez, and learn some of his secrets, secrets that bind his family to mine. Sometimes, the past is not really dead. Sometimes, it can still destroy you and the ones you love most.


“No. I get it. He’s worried about your safety. Not sure why he’d trust me with it, however.”
“Because you defended me tonight.” I glance down, almost embarrassed now by the intensity of his gaze. “You protected me. That means something to my dad.”
“And to you? Does it mean anything to you?”
I suck in a breath, wondering how to reply. I hold his gaze, swallowing hard. I feel almost flushed by the intensity of what he says. Caving, I drop my gaze.
His hand is on the counter, close to mine. I feel his pinkie finger touching the side of my hand. My entire body tenses and reacts to his little finger. It’s crazy. He’s doing almost nothing but I suddenly flush and my stomach tightens. It seems like so much more. So, so, so much more. I can’t get a grip. I’m blushing and too embarrassed to glance up at him. “Yes. I’m glad you were there and here, too.”
My pinkie moves and hooks onto his. It’s so juvenile. And innocuous. Then I straighten up and try to get a grip and act my age. We sit down to tacos and refried beans. I feel Ramiro’s gaze on me when I realize what my mom is slicing the lettuce up for. His mouth curls up. It’s kind of funny, considering. Ramiro sees the irony and it makes him laugh too. I like that about him. I like the way we can stare across a table and communicate with only our eyes. Simple, ordinary interactions with Ramiro are usually tinged with teasing and fun. He makes my stomach ache from laughter sometimes and I roar at all the jokes. There is a crazy connection between us.

— Buy The Book —

— Add to your TBR —

“I have read all of them and believe me when I say this is a series you really should read. Leanne Davis is a phenomenal writer. She’ll make you happy, she’ll make you laugh, she’ll make you mad and she’ll make you cry. There are so many levels in each of her books. You can’t just read one. The Daughter’s series, and particularly Emily, was amazing.”


Goodreads Reviewer

“Both Emily and Ramiro beliefs in many matters are completely changed by the end of the book. Fate and destiny play a huge role in their relationship. Theirs was a sweet love story beating what could have been insurmountable odd against them.”


SnS Reviews

“Loved this one. Emily’s story was my favorite of the Daughters series. It was real, and moving. A great follow up on lots of the characters I loved from both the Daughters and Sister series.”


Goodreads Reviewer


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