When Kyle Calloway died, he took a part of Nell with him. She wasn’t the only one left to pick up the pieces, however; Kyle’s death left a gaping hole in the hearts and lives of his parents and his older brother Colton, and ultimately broke the will of the girl he loved.


Becca de Rosa is Nell’s best friend. When Kyle died, Nell was so devastated that no one could reach her, not even her best friend Becca. As she tries to help Nell through her grief, Becca’s own life is thrust into turmoil, and everything she knows is changed.

Jason Dorsey asked Nell out the week after her sixteenth birthday, but that date never happened. Instead, he ended up going out with Nell’s best friend, Becca. He had no way of knowing, then, how that one date would send him on a life-long journey with Becca. He had no way of knowing the tragedies and triumphs he would experience, or that in Becca, he might find the love of a lifetime.


**Peeking out from under my bed** Yes. I admit that this is the first book by Jasinda Wilder that I have read. **Ducking now** I know, I know, where have I been? Trust me I’ve been wracking my brain asking myself that very question!!! I have most of her books on my Nook, but for whatever reason have never read them. Well, I am coming out from under the rock that I’ve apparently been living under and that my friends, is about to change. This book rocked my world!!! I read a lot, but this was one book I literally read from beginning to end in one day. I got so lost in Jasinda’s words that I left my heart in the pages of this book. I loved it, and can’t stop thinking about it! Falling Into Us truly touched me in way that not many others have. I seriously have a major book hangover. It’s a beautifully heartwarming story of coming of age and true love.

“I can’t promise you forever, because that’s not long enough.”
Oh my god! I can not shake this book. I can’t shake these characters. I dare you, yes, I dare you to read this and not fall in love with Jason and Becca. I dare you to read this book and not fall in love with Jasinda. Jason Dorsey and Becca de Rosa are two of the most identifiable characters that I have ever encountered. Neither of them are perfect, quite the contrary, both are flawed and somewhat broken. We meet them as they go on their first date and get to follow their amazing journey of growing up and falling in love. We are fortunate enough to witness their progression and are with them for many of their “firsts.” Jason is whoa-swoon-worthy. He’s sweet and loving, yet real and raw. (Yes please. Where in the hell are these men?) The love he has for Becca is evident on every page, and Becca flourishes with him by her side. His love is what she needs, and he loves her with every fiber of his being. Becca has insecurities, but a good head on her shoulders. She knows who Jason is, and loves him through it. Their relationship is one of compassion and understanding. They show us love in it’s truest form. These two make us believe that in an vastly imperfect world, sometimes true love can and does, conquer all.
“I knew I’d never love anyone the way that I loved Jason, and I knew I’d never try.”
Jasinda’s knack for pulling us in to their story is amazing. I was there, every word. That was my story. I had butterflies in my stomach and tears in my eyes (more then once). I cried, I laughed, I screamed, and I just down right hurt. I felt it all and I still do. Her writing style is beautifully eloquent and her words perfection. Each paragraph was succinctly laid out and each scene magnificently scripted. This was absolutely a “story I never imagined,” because I never imagined falling so head over heels in love with a book or an author. **giggle** Yup. Jasinda, I’m pretty sure I have a fan girl crush. I big red heart adore you and you’ve got a fan for life! You are AMAZING!!!!!
Now, should anyone need me I will be reading Falling Into You. Something tells me I will be rereading Falling IntoUs, and rereading them both ~ multiple times! Just sayin…

5+++ Stars
I fingered the keycard in my pocket as I sat in my truck, waiting for Becca. We’d planned this out, and now we were going through with it. My nerves were jangling, and I wondered if Becca felt the same way. I was sure she did. I had a CD player plugged into the lighter outlet and the tape deck, an old-school arrangement that I only used when I was in the mood for something specific. Today it was Johnny Cash, and currently playing was “God Is Gonna Cut You Down,” which seemed unfortunately ironic given the circumstances, but it was still a kick-ass song. 
Becca came out just as the song was ending, and I clicked the radio off. She hopped into the cab and closed the door behind her, letting in a cold blast of frozen air. It was a bitterly cold day, the sky clear blue, the sun distant and watery, the air so still and so cold each breath hurt. She smiled at me, and I was struck by how beautiful she was. Her hair was loose, a white knit cap pulled low on her head, a stark contrast to her tan skin and blue-black hair. She had on a black pea coat that came to mid-thigh, and a pair of tight gray yoga pants. 
“Ready?” I asked.
She gave me a small nod and reached for my hand. I twined our fingers together, hers icy from the walk from house to vehicle. “Yeah, let’s go.”
“Where’d you tell your dad we were going?”
“Great Lakes Crossing.”
“So should we go there first?”
She nodded. “Yeah. I do actually have a few things I want to get.” She gave me a cryptic smile.
When we got the mall, we strolled around for a while, chatting and browsing, but then we passed a store and Becca split away from me, telling me to meet her at the food court in half an hour. I knew she was up to something, but I went along with it, spending most of the time in the athletics store. I ended up with a new pair of cross trainers for the spring, and was waiting by Aunt Annie’s with five minutes to spare. She showed up with a wide grin on her face but no shopping bag.
“Didn’t get anything?” I asked.
She shrugged. “No, I did.”
I frowned. “What was it, then?”
She wrapped her arm around my waist, fitting herself against me. “You’ll see. You’ll like it…I hope.” When my confused look didn’t go away, she just smirked at me. “Here’s a hint: I’m wearing it.”
I started to get an inkling then. I gulped a little, wondering how I could ever have mistaken Becca for shy.
“What are you grinning about?” she asked as we drove to the hotel where I’d rented a room.
“Just that I used to think you were shy.”
She laughed. “I am shy, just not with you.”
“So…what color?”
She ducked her head, and her cheeks darkened a little. “Not telling. You’ll have to find out.”
We reached the hotel after a short drive, but we sat in the car in tense silence before getting out.
Becca wasn’t looking at me, scratching at her knee intently. 
“I don’t want you to think…” I sighed and started over. “I mean, we don’t have to do this now. We can go back to the mall, or a movie. Or just home.”
She shook her head but still didn’t meet my eyes. “No, I want to. I’m just…nervous.”
I expelled a breath of relief. “Me, too, Beck. Me, too.”
“Do you think that means we’re not ready?” she asked, finally lifting her dark eyes to mine.
I shook my head. “I think we’d be nervous no matter how long we waited. I think it’d be weird if we weren’t nervous.”
She nodded. “Let’s go in. We’ll just…take it one step at a time.”
I got out and circled around to open her door while she was still unbuckling. She took my hand, cold fingers slipping neatly into my palm. Her teeth were white as she smiled at me, a private, brilliant, beautiful smile just for me. The concierge, a dour older man, gave us a hard, disapproving stare as we strolled past him to the elevators. We stood outside room 425, the keycard held in my suddenly sweating and slightly shaking hand, my eyes on hers, asking her silently if she still wanted this. She leaned into me, her arm going around my waist, low, her hand on my hipbone.
I slid the card into the lock and pulled it out, shoving the door open when the green light flashed. The room was dark, shadowed by the drawn curtains, a gleaming crack of light showing. I fumbled in the darkness, finding a switch and illuminating the room. A single bed, king-sized and enormous, took up most of the room; I’d splurged on a fairly nice hotel and an upgraded room. 
I turned around from switching on the light to find Becca peeling her coat off, revealing a tight white V-neck T-shirt that clung to her curves, the “V” dipping low enough to show me a mouthwatering glimpse of her cleavage. Yoga pants, tight T-shirt? Oh, god. She noticed my gaze raking over her body and gave me a surprisingly shy smile, then turned around, posing for me. She clenched her gluteus muscles, the yoga pants clinging like a second skin to her generous hips and ass, and all I wanted to do was run my hands over her. I stifled the urge for about six seconds before remembering why we were there, alone in a hotel room on a Saturday evening. 
I crossed the space between us to stand a few inches away from Becca. She started to turn around, but I stopped her with gentle hands on her shoulders. She turned her head to watch me, her chin on her shoulder. I slid my palms down her sides, feeling her breath catch as I carved my hands along the bell-curve of her hips, then slid them around to cup her backside. She released her breath, her eyes sliding shut briefly.
“I love your ass. Especially in yoga pants,” I murmured.
Her brown-black eyes flicked up to mine. “I know. That’s why I wore these. I had to kind of sneak past my father before he saw how tight they are.”
My hands explored the taut, supple curves of her ass, down her thighs, up her hips. I grew a little daring and slid my middle finger up the crease where the stretchy fabric clung between her cheeks. She gasped when I did that, so I did it again, letting my finger drive a little deeper, until she pulled away with a breathy laugh.
She stepped away from me and turned around, sliding her knit cap off her head and shaking her curls. “Sit down on the bed, Jason.” Her voice held an odd note of command, and I couldn’t help but obey.
“Don’t interrupt, and don’t laugh,” she said. “I want to do this for you, but I know I’m going to feel silly.”
“Do what?” I kicked off my ADIDAS cross trainers, and then peeled away my socks.
She tilted her head back, eyes closing, hands pushing up through her springy mass of hair. “This.” She let her hair fall and slid her hands down her waist, much as I’d done, and then crossed her hands in front of her body to grip the hem of her shirt.
I swallowed hard, and felt the blood rush out of my brain to pool in other areas of my body. Noticeably so, I was sure.
And then, oh, lord god, she glanced at me with heavy-lidded eyes, and slowly peeled her shirt upward. When she reached the underside of her breasts, she paused, drawing out the moment. She wasn’t dancing, wasn’t trying to do a striptease, she was just being…naturally sexy. Giving me a show. And oh, god, what a show. I could see her hands trembling on the hem of her shirt; I could see her knees shaking, just a little. 
She tugged the shirt up farther, and the white fabric was so tight against her skin that her breasts were drawn up and pressed against her chest, only to fall free with a luxurious bounce. I hardened even further at that bounce. I stopped breathing once I registered what she was wearing. It was strapless and pink with black lace curling around the bottom edge, the cups split apart between her breasts, her tan flesh barely contained. I struggled to swallow past the lump in my throat, to breathe at all at the sight of Becca in nothing but a bra and yoga pants. She stood with her hands at her sides, taking long pulls of air, each breath swelling her breasts even larger. I couldn’t help but adjust myself, and her eyes followed my hands. 
“Want to see the rest?” she asked.
I nodded. “Y-yes.”
She smirked at me. “Now who’s the one stuttering?”
“Me. God, Becca. What are you trying to do to me?” I meant it as a rhetorical question, but she answered anyway.
“I’m trying to turn you on.” She pivoted on her heel, presenting me with a fine view of her ass and her back with the slight sway inward, the strap of the bra dimpling her supple skin. 
“All you have to do to turn me on is be you,” I said. “I’m turned on every time you so much as take a breath. This? What you’re doing? You’re killing me. I’m going to explode. You’re too fucking sexy for me to be able to take it.”
“Well, I’m not done yet.” She ran her hands over the curve of her backside, then hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her yoga pants. “Do you want to see the panties I got to go with it?”

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Jasinda Wilder is a Michigan native with a penchant for titillating tales about sexy men and strong women. When she’s not writing, she’s probably shopping, baking, or reading.

Some of her favorite authors include Nora Roberts, JR Ward, Sherrilyn Kenyon, Liliana Hart and Bella Andre.

She loves to travel and some of her favorite vacations spots are Las Vegas, New York City and Toledo, Ohio.

You can often find Jasinda drinking sweet red wine with frozen berries and eating a cupcake.

Jasinda is represented by Kristin Nelson of the Nelson Literary Agency.