Découvrez également un extrait en exclusivité de WALK THE EDGE de l’auteur américaine Katie McGarry sur BOOKS&LOVERS !


Un seul moment d’abandon va changer leur vie à jamais.

Intelligente. Responsable. C’est le rôle de Breanna, 17 ans, dans sa famille nombreuse et que Dieu la préserve si elle ne file pas droit. Jusqu’à ce qu’une nuit de débandade mette Breanna dans le champs de mire d’un cyberbully et pousse son camarade de classe, Thomas Turner alias « Razor » du club Reign of Terror, à intervenir.

Razor vit pour son club de motards Reign of Terror et les gentilles filles comme Breanna ne font pas partie de ce monde. Or, lorsqu’il apprend qu’elle subit du chantage à cause d’une photo compromettante d’eux deux – une photo d’un moment innocent mais spécial pour les deux adolescents – il n’a pas d’autre choix que de briser quelques règles.

Ils décident donc de conclure un pacte. Il l’aidera à faire tomber la personne qui lui fait du chantage et en échange, elle l’aidera à trouver les réponses derrière le mystère qui le hante – celui dont les membres de son club ne sont pas prêts à discuter avec lui. Plus le temps passe, plus leurs sentiments grandissent. Ils en apprennent bientôt sur qui ils sont, ce qu’ils veulent et où ils veulent aller.


Extrait : (en anglais)

School starts in a few days and tonight is senior orientation. My parents are currently in a meeting with my guidance counselor while I’m being propositioned.

                Propositioned. My lips tilt up sarcastically.

                My goal for this evening was to be noticed. Guess I succeeded. I was noticed, but not for my new choices in clothing, hair style, or because I dumped my glasses for contacts. Nope, I was hunted for my brain. All exciting and swoon worthy romance novels start off this way, right?

                Kyle misreads my body language and his dark eyes brighten. “So you’ll write my English papers for the year?”

                Fifty dollars per paper-that’s his offer. Standing in my sister’s second generation hand-me-downs of a sleeveless blue blouse, shorter-than-I’ve-ever-worn jean skirt and platform sandals causes me to consider his proposal if only for the course of a heartbeat. I’m the middle of nine children and, I’ll admit, new and shiny gains my attention, but this…this is wrong.

                “Do you know this is the first time you’ve spoken to me?” I say.

                He laughs like I told a joke, but I’m not kidding. Snowflake, Kentucky is a small town and everyone tends to know everyone else, but just because we breathe the same air doesn’t mean we communicate, or act like everyone else exists.

                “That’s not true,” he retorts. “We sat at the same table in fourth grade.”

                I incline my head to the side in a mock why-didn’t-I-remember-that-bonding-moment? “My, how time flies.”

                He chuckles then scratches the back of his head causing his styled hair to curl out to the side. “You’re funny. I didn’t know that. Look, it’s not my fault you’re quiet.”

                Kyle’s right. It isn’t his fault I became socially withdrawn. That blame falls solely on me. It’s a decision I made in seventh grade when I was publicly crucified.

                Blending into paint for the past couple of years has kept me safe, but it creates the sensation of suffocation. Everyone says the same thing: Breanna’s smart, she’s quiet. On the inside, I’m not at all quiet. Most of the time, I’m screaming. “I’m not writing your papers.”

                Kyle’s smile that had suggested he had a done deal morphs into a frown and acid sloshes in my stomach. Denying Kyle isn’t what bothers me as much as it worries me what he’ll mention to his friends. They’re the reason why I went voluntarily mute in seventh grade.

                Heat races up my neck as the repercussions of refusing sets in, but I don’t even consider agreeing. Cheating is not my style.

                Kyle surveys the hallway and, it it’s privacy he’s searching for, he’ll be sorely disappointed. He slides closer and a strange edginess causes me to step back, but Kyle follows. “Fine. One hundred dollars per paper.”


                “You don’t understand. My grades have to improve.” Easygoing Kyle disappears and desperation is hardly attractive.

                I steal a peek into the school’s main office, hoping my guidance counselor will beckon me in. Half of me hopes she’ll have life altering news for me, the other half hopes to end this insane conversation. “What you’re asking for is crazy.”

                “No, it’s not.”

                In an answer to the one million prayers being chanted in my head, my guidance counselor opens her door. “Breanna.”

                Kyle leans into me. “This conversation isn’t over.”

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