Today we have the Blog Tour for A Wish For Us by Tillie Cole! Check out the tour and grab your copy today!
Tittle: A Wish For Us
Author: Tillie Cole
Release Date: June 11th 2018
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Blurb
From the author who brought you A Thousand Boy Kisses comes the new emotional novel, A Wish For Us. A story of music. A story of healing. A story of love conquering all. Nineteen-year-old Cromwell Dean is the rising star of electronic dance music. Thousands of people adore him. But no one knows him. No one sees the color of his heart. Until the girl in the purple dress. She sees through the walls he has built to the empty darkness within. When Cromwell leaves behind the gray skies of England to study music in the South Carolina heat, the last thing he expects is to see her again. And he certainly doesn’t expect that she’ll stay in his head like a song on repeat. Bonnie Farraday lives for music. She lets every note into her heart, and she doesn’t understand how someone as talented as Cromwell can avoid doing the same. He’s hiding from his past, and she knows it. She tries to stay away from him, but something keeps calling her back. Bonnie is the burst of color in Cromwell’s darkness. He’s the beat that makes her heart skip. But when a shadow falls over Bonnie, it’s up to Cromwell to be her light, in the only way he knows how. He must help her find the lost song in her fragile heart. He must keep her strong with a symphony only he can compose. A symphony of hope. A symphony of love. A symphony of them.
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Review
Do you hear that? Yes? No? Well, it is my heart beating as fast as the wings of a little hummingbird. A Wish for Us by Tillie Cole has left me with a deep hole in my soul that is eating me out slowly in the best way possible. This is the first time I read a book written by Tillie and I wonder if I lived under a rock like a starfish because I have missed so much about her work. Why did nobody warn me that her books are a roll coaster of emotions? She played with my heart. She broke it and put the pieces back together like nothing happened.
M*rde! I still have puffy eyes after all the tears I shed because of the beautiful and heart-warming story inside the pages of this book. I can’t tell you the number of times it felt like my heart was outside my chest. A Whish for Us consumed me, mind and soul. Piece after piece made me feel a lot. I felt utterly and completely embedded in the story!
Bonnie and Cromwell will have a special place in my heart. Their love story is like no other. Their souls met in the right moment. Their passion for music sealed their fate and their love wrapped them in hope.
The pacing is fast, the plot is all-consuming and the characters are fiercely complex, well developed and they are too real. I laughed, I cried and I shed many tears by their side. Each chapter made me fall deep into the story that was created by a talented lady who knows pretty well how to play with her readers’ heart. This book gave me so much feels. Tillie has managed to reduce me to tears and heart soar with hope as she delivered a unique and overwhelming story through the voice of such wonderful and strong characters!
I love the writing, the angst and the drama. Everything was perfectly packed in order to create a wonderful masterpiece. It is an authentically page-turner! A Wish for Us blew me away!
The heroine of this book is a strong fighter and a dreamer. Music is her life and her love for his twin brother is deeper. She has a weak heart but music runs through her blood. When she was a little girl she was inspired by a talented child. His passion made her fall in love with music. I find myself quite indentified with Bonnie. She is not fragile, she is strong. Meeting that boy will change radically her world.
Cromwell is a tormented musician who tried to hide his passion for classical music. He is the bad boy of the music, a marvellous and talented composer. He sees and feels the music in a different way. The colours guide him and heighten his emotions. He is cocky, sinful and hot AF! And did i mentions that he is British? Yup! He is exactly the kind of hero that has the power to break your heart. Let him seduce you with his beats and music!
Bonnie and Cromwell are like the moon and the stars. They shine in the darkest moments. At first, they don't tolerate each other. But the attraction between them will pull them like magnets.
This book is about music, true love, hope, friendship, dreams, colours and unbearable chemistry. It is a unpredictable journey with a lot of twits and turns that leave you breathless and wanting more.
How can a broken heart love with the intensity of million stars? How a broken boy can repair a heart? Hope is the answer.
I implore you to read this book. Tillie has bewitched me with her elegant and emotional writing. I promise this is not going to be the last time I read Tillie’s books because from now on I won't miss any of them. She took the enemies-to-lovers-romance to a new sinful and emotional level.
Advice: Don’t forget lots of tissues because you will shed many tears and will end with a snotty nose! This book could break your heart but don’t be afraid, your soul will crave more!
Rating
Five colourful stars! Let Cromwell seduce you with his beats and music!
Excerpt
I let the rush of nicotine fill my lungs and closed my eyes. As my eyelids shut, I heard quiet music playing somewhere nearby. Classical. Mozart. My drunken mind immediately drifted off to when I was a little kid . . . “What do you hear, Cromwell?” my father asked. I closed my eyes and listened to the piece of music. Colors danced before my eyes. “Piano. Violins. Cellos . . .” I took a deep breath. “I can hear reds and greens and pinks.” I opened my eyes and looked up at my father as he sat on my bed. He was staring down at me. There was a funny expression on his face. “You hear colors?” he said. But he didn’t sound surprised. My face set on fire. I ducked my head under my duvet. My father pulled it down from my eyes. He stroked my hair. “That’s good,” he said, his voice kind of deep. “That’s very good . . .” My eyes snapped open. My hand started to ache. I looked at the bottle in my hand; my fingers were white as they gripped the neck. I sat up, my head spinning from the mass of whiskey in my body. My temples throbbed. I realized it wasn’t from the Jack, but from the music coming from further down the beach. I pushed my hair back from my face then looked to my right. Someone was only a few feet away. I squinted into the lightening night, summer’s early rising sun making it possible to make out the features of whoever the hell it was. It was a girl. A girl wrapped in a blanket. Her phone sat beside her, a Mozart piano concerto drifting quietly from the speaker. She must have felt me looking at her, because she turned her head. I frowned, wondering why I knew her face, but then—“You’re the DJ,” she said. Recognition dawned. It was the girl in the purple dress. She clutched her blanket closer around her as I replayed her accent in my head. American. Bible Belt was my guess, by her thick twang. She sounded like my mum. A smile tugged at her lips as I stayed mute. I wasn’t much of a talker. Especially when my gut was full of Jack and I had zero interest in making small talk with some girl I didn’t know at four in the morning on a cold beach in Brighton. “I’d heard of you,” she said. I stared back out over the sea. Ships sailed in the distance, their lights like tiny fireflies, bobbing up and down. I huffed a humorless laugh. Great. Another girl who wanted to screw the DJ. “Good for you,” I muttered and took a drink of my Jack, feeling the addictive burn slide down my throat. I hoped she’d piss off, or at least stop trying to talk to me. My head couldn’t take any more noise. “Not really,” she shot back. I looked over at her, eyebrows pulled down in confusion. She was looking out over the sea, her chin resting on her folded arms that lay over her bent knees. The blanket had fallen off her shoulders, revealing the purple dress I’d noticed from the podium. She turned to face me, cheek now on her arms. Heat zipped through me. She was pretty. “I’ve heard of you, Cromwell Dean.” She shrugged. “Decided to get a ticket to see you before I left for home tomorrow.” I lit up another cigarette. Her nose wrinkled. She clearly didn’t like the smell. Tough luck. She could move. Last time I checked, England was a free country. She went quiet. I caught her looking at me. Her brown eyes were narrowed, like she was scrutinizing me. Reading something in me that I didn’t want anyone to see. No one ever looked at me closely. I never gave them the chance. I thrived on the podium at clubs because it kept everyone far away, down on the dancefloor where no one ever saw the real me. The way she was looking at me now made nervous shivers break out over my skin. I didn’t need this kind of crap. “Already had my dick sucked tonight, love. Not looking for a second round.” She blinked, and even in the rising sun, I could see her cheeks redden. “Your music has no soul,” she blurted. My cigarette paused halfway to my mouth. Something managed to stab through my stomach at her words. I shoved it back down until I felt my usual sensation of numbness. I sucked on my cigarette. “Yeah? Well, them’s the breaks.” “I’d heard you were some messiah or something on that podium. But all your music comprised was synthetic beats and forced repetitive bursts of unoriginal tempo.” I laughed and shook my head. The girl met my eyes head-on. “It’s called electronic dance music. Not a fifty-piece orchestra.” I held out my arms. “You’ve heard of me. Said so yourself. You know what tunes I spin. What were you expecting? Mozart?” I glared at her phone, which was still playing that damn concerto. I sat back, surprised at myself. I hadn’t talked that much to anyone in . . . I didn’t know how long. I took in a drag, breathing out the smoke that was trapped in my chest. “And turn that thing off, will you? Who the hell goes to hear a dance DJ spin, then comes to a beach to listen to classical music?” The girl frowned but turned off the music. I lay back on the cold sand, closing my eyes. I heard the soft waves lapping the shore. My head filled with pale green. I heard the girl moving. I prayed she was leaving. But I felt her drop beside me. My world darkened as the whiskey and the usual lack of sleep started to pull me under. “What do you feel when you mix your music?” she asked. How the hell she thought her little interview was a good idea right now was beyond me. Yet, surprisingly, I found myself answering her question. “I don’t feel.” I cracked one eye open when she didn’t say anything. She was looking down at me. She had the biggest brown eyes I’d ever seen. Dark hair pulled off her face in a ponytail. Full lips and smooth skin. “Then that’s the problem.” She smiled, but the smile looked nothing but sad. Pitying. “The best music must be felt. By the creator. By the listener. Every part of it from creation to ear must be wrapped in nothing but feelings.” Some weird expression crossed over her face, but hell if I knew what it meant. Her words were a blade to my chest. I hadn’t expected her harsh comment. And I hadn’t expected the blunt trauma that she seemed to deliver right to my heart. Like she’d taken a butcher’s knife and sliced her way through my soul. My body itched to get up and run. To pluck out her assessment of my music from my memory. But instead I forced a laugh, and spat, “Go back home, little Dorothy. Back to where music means something. Where it’s felt.” “Dorothy was from Kansas.” She glanced away. “I’m not.” “Then go back to wherever the hell you’re from,” I snapped. Crossing my arms over my chest, I hunkered down into the sand and shut my eyes, trying to block out the cold wind that was picking up and slapping my skin, and her words that were still stabbing at my heart. I never let anything get to me like this. Not anymore. I just needed some sleep. I didn’t want to go back to my mum’s house here in Brighton, and my flat in London was too far away. So hopefully the cops wouldn’t find me here and kick me off the beach. With my eyes closed, I said, “Thanks for the midnight critique, but as the fastest-rising DJ in Europe, with the best clubs in the world begging for me to spin at their decks—all at nineteen—I think I’ll ignore your extensive notes and just keep on living my sweet as fuck life.” [if !supportLineBreakNewLine] [endif]
About the Author
Tillie Cole hails from a small town in the North-East of England. She grew up on a farm with her English mother, Scottish father and older sister and a multitude of rescue animals. As soon as she could, Tillie left her rural roots for the bright lights of the big city.
After graduating from Newcastle University with a BA Hons in Religious Studies, Tillie followed her Professional Rugby player husband around the world for a decade, becoming a teacher in between and thoroughly enjoyed teaching High School students Social Studies before putting pen to paper, and finishing her first novel.
Tillie has now settled in Austin, Texas, where she is finally able to sit down and write, throwing herself into fantasy worlds and the fabulous minds of her characters.
Tillie is both an independent and traditionally published author, and writes many genres including: Contemporary Romance, Dark Romance, Young Adult and New Adult novels.
When she is not writing, Tillie enjoys nothing more than curling up on her couch watching movies, drinking far too much coffee, while convincing herself that she really doesn’t need that extra square of chocolate.
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