Slammed colleen hoover pdf free

Many products that you buy can be obtained using instruction manuals. These user guides are clearlybuilt to give step-by-step information about how you ought to … Falling in love can feel like poetry. Or it can feel like a slam to the heart. Point of Retreat — Colleen Hoover. Colleen Hoover. Beloved 1 New York Times bestselling author Colleen Hoover returns with an unforgettable love story between a writer and his unexpected muse. Fallon meets Ben, an aspiring novelist, the day before her scheduled cross-country move.

Their untimely. Skip to content Slammed colleen hoover pdf free download. Dec 30, St. If you see a Google Drive link instead of source url, means that the file witch you will get after approval is just a summary of original book or the file has been already removed.

Loved each and every part of this book. I will definitely recommend this book to young adult, romance lovers. Your Rating:. Your Comment:. Home Downloads Free Downloads Slammed pdf. Read Online Download. I don't own many winter shirts, besides what I've already worn this week. I choose a purple long sleeved shirt and smell it, deciding it's clean enough. I spray some perfume though, just in case it isn't. I brush my teeth, touch up my makeup, brush my teeth again and let down my ponytail.

I curl a few sections of my hair and pull some silver earrings out of my drawer when I hear a knock on the bathroom door. My mother enters with a handful of towels.

She opens the cabinet next to the shower and places them inside. She sits down on the edge of the bathtub while I continue to get ready. I really never even agreed to the date. She has aged so much in the short time since my dad's death. Her bright green eyes against her smooth porcelain skin used to be breathtaking. Now, her cheekbones stand out above the hallowed shadows in her cheeks. The dark circles under her eyes overpower their emerald hue.

She looks tired. And sad. You've had enough of my dating advice for a lifetime," she says. Don't order anything with onion or garlic, never leave your drink unattended and always use protection. Please don't give Will a recap of your rules.

Does he work? Is he in college? What's his major? Is he a serial killer? I walk the short distance to my bedroom from the bathroom and bend down to search through my shoes. She follows me and sits on the bed. I didn't even know how old he was until he told you. I'm about to be alone with him for hours. He could be a serial killer. That's what first dates are for.

Growing up, my mother did give great advice. She always knew what I wanted to hear, but would tell me what I needed to hear.

My dad was her first boyfriend so I have always been curious how she seems to know so much about dating, boys, and relationships.

She's only been with one person, and it seems most knowledge would have to come from life experiences. She's the exception, I guess. I mean, that's really young to meet the person you spend the rest of your life with. Do you ever regret it? Instead, she lies back on my bed and clasps her hands behind her head as she ponders my question. Questioned it? But never regretted. Regret is counterproductive. It's looking back on a past that you can't change. Questioning things as they occur can prevent regret in the future.

I questioned a lot about my relationship with your father. People make spontaneous decisions based off of their hearts all the time. There's so much more to relationships than just love. She's lost the authoritative, parented edge to her voice, which makes me aware that this conversation is less from a mother-daughter standpoint and more woman to woman.

She pulls her legs up Indian style on the bed and faces me. If you answer no to any of the three questions, run like hell. I'm serious. If you can't answer yes to these three questions, don't even waste your time on a relationship.

I don't interrupt her again. The second question is, if he is the exact same person twenty years from now that he is today, would you still want to marry him? And finally, does he inspire you to want to be a better person? When you were with Dad? She loved my dad. I start to regret bringing it up.

I put my arms around her and embrace her. It's been so long since I've hugged her, a twinge of guilt rises up inside me.

She kisses my hair, then pulls away and smiles. I stand up and run my hands down my shirt, smoothing out the folds. How do I look? It's seven-thirty sharp so I go to the living room, grab the jacket Will insisted I borrow the day before and head to the window. He's coming out of his house so I walk outside and stand in my driveway.

He looks up and notices me as he's opening his car door. I just stand there and fold my arms across my chest. I'm waiting for you to pick me up! He backs straight out of his driveway and into mine so that the passenger door is closest to me. He hops out of the car and runs around to open it. Before I get in I give him the onceover. It's the defined arms that prompt me to return his jacket to him.

He waits until I've buckled up before he shuts the door. As he's walking around to his side, I notice the car smells like Not old, stale cheese; but fresh cheese, cheddar maybe. My stomach growls. I'm curious where we're going to eat.

When Will gets in, he reaches into the backseat and grabs a sack. This is a first," I say as I stare at the items in my hands. He navigates the steering wheel with his free hand as he simultaneously drives and eats. I really am intrigued. We both finish our sandwiches and I put the trash back in the bag and place it in the backseat. I try to think of something to say to break the silence, so I ask him about his family.

We can figure all that out later. Let's make this drive interesting," he says as he relaxes further into his seat. Driving, no talking, keeping it interesting. He laughs when he sees the hesitation on my face and it dawns on him that I've taken what he said out of context. I thought I had found his flaw. It's called 'would you rather. I can honestly say this date has definitely not started the way any of my previous dates have gone. It's pleasantly unexpected though. But you wouldn't be controlling them!

Or worse, you might grab a knife and stab yourself! I barely heard of this game for the first time thirty seconds ago. Give me a second to think of one. I like how easy the transition is, like we've been holding hands for years.

So far, everything about this date has been easy. I like Will's sense of humor. I like that I find it so easy to laugh around him after having gone so many months without laughing. I like that we're holding hands. I really like that we're holding hands. Or would you rather have to pee on someone else? Or is it random people? Would you rather be four feet tall, or seven feet tall?

Would you rather drink an entire gallon of bacon grease for breakfast every day? Or would you rather have to eat five pounds of popcorn for supper every night? I like that I have no idea where we're headed.

So far, I like everything about tonight. We eventually reach our destination and I immediately tense up when I see the sign on the building. I don't dance. I'm not sure who reached out first, but once again our fingers find each other in the dark and he holds my hand as he guides me toward the entrance.

As we get closer to the entrance, I notice a sign posted on the door. I start to inform him the club is closed but he seems like he knows what he's doing. The silence is interrupted by the energy of the crowd as I follow him through the entryway and into the room. There is an empty stage to the right of us, with tables and chairs set up all over the dance floor. The place is packed.

I see a table toward the front that looks like a group of younger kids, around age fourteen or so. Will turns to the left and heads to an empty booth in the back of the room. It's a half circle booth facing the stage so I scoot all the way to the middle to get the best view.

He moves in right beside me. A hot guy who makes me laugh and loves poetry? Someone pinch me. Or not; I'd rather not wake up. I can see the passion in his eyes when he talks about it. You aren't going to hear any Dickinson or Frost here. Normally during a slam, the judges are picked at random from the audience and they assign points to each performance.

The one with the most points at the end of the night wins. That's how they do it here, anyway. Sometimes I judge, sometimes I just watch. Just an observer tonight. I don't really have anything ready. It would be amazing to see him perform on stage. I still have no idea what slam poetry is, but I'm really curious to see him do anything that requires a performance.

I'll take some chocolate milk. No one is in the back of the room where we're seated, so I feel a little silly when I yell 'yeah! I sink further into my seat and decide just to be a spectator for the remainder of the night.

They pick five people at random and move them to the judging table. As Will walks back to the booth with our drinks, the emcee announces it's time for the 'sac,' and chooses someone at random. Somehow, he slides even closer this time.

What if they would have called on me? He takes a sip from his drink then leans back against the booth, finding my hand in the dark. Our fingers don't interlock this time, though. Instead, he places my hand on his leg and his fingertips start to trace the outline of my wrist. He gently traces each of my fingers, following the lines and curves of my entire hand.

His fingertips feel like electric pulses penetrating my skin. I inhale and reach for my chocolate milk with my free hand, downing the entire glass. The ice feels good against my lips. It cools me off. They call on a young woman who looks to be around twenty-five. She announces that she is performing a piece she wrote titled 'Blue Sweater. She raises the microphone and steps forward, staring down at the floor.

A hush sweeps over the audience and the only sound in the entire room is the sound of her breath, amplified through the speakers. She raises her hand to the microphone, still staring down to the floor. She begins to tap her finger against it in a repetitive motion, resonating the sound of a heartbeat. I realize I'm holding my own breath as she begins her piece. Bom Bom Do you hear that? Her voice lingering on the word hear That's the sound of my heart beating… She taps the microphone again Bom Bom That's the sound of your heart beating.

She begins to speak faster, much louder than before. It was the first day of October. The one with a double knitted hem and holes in the ends of the sleeves that I could poke my thumbs through when it was cold but I didn't feel like wearing gloves?

It was the same sweater you said made my eyes look like reflections of the stars on the ocean. You promised to love me forever that night It was the first day of December this time.

I told you I was three weeks late. You said it was fate. You promised to love me forever that night… and boy did you ever! It was the first day of May. I was wearing my blue sweater, although this time the double stitched hem was worn and the strength of each thread tested as they were pulled tight against my growing belly. You know the one. The one with holes in the ends of the sleeves that I could poke my thumbs through when it was cold but I didn't feel like wearing gloves?

That's the sound of my heart beating. There is a long silence as she clasps her hands to her stomach, tears streaming down her face Do you hear that? Of course you don't. That's the silence of my womb. The lights come back up and the audience roars. I take a deep breath and wipe tears from my eyes. I am mesmerized by her ability to hypnotize an entire audience with such powerfully portrayed words.

Just words. I'm immediately addicted and want to hear more. I'm still immobile when Will puts his arm around my shoulders and leans back into the seat with me, bringing me back to reality. I accept his embrace and move my head to his shoulder as we both stare out over the crowd.

He rests his chin on the top of my head. His hand touches the side of my head, leaning me slightly forward as his lips brush my forehead. I close my eyes and wonder how much more my emotions can be tested. Three days ago, I was devastated, bitter, hopeless. Today I woke up feeling happy for the first time in months. I feel vulnerable. I try to mask my emotions but I feel like everyone knows what I'm thinking and feeling and I don't like it.

I don't like being an open book. I feel like I'm up on the stage, pouring my heart out to him, and it scares the hell out of me. We sit there in the same embrace as several more people perform their pieces. The poetry is as vast and electrifying as the audience. I have never laughed and cried so much.

The way these poets were able to lure you into a whole new world, viewing things from a vantage point you have never seen before. Making you feel like you are the mother who lost her baby, or the boy who killed his father, or even the man who got high for the first time and ate five plates of bacon.

I feel a connection with these poets and their stories. More so, I feel a deeper connection to Will. I can't imagine that he's brave enough to get up on the stage and bare his soul like these people are doing. I have to see it. I have to see him do this. The emcee makes one last appeal for performers. Please do one? Please, please, please? Like I said, I don't really have anything new. Just one of them. I suppress the urge, for now, as I continue to plead.

I clasp my hands together under my chin. But I'm warning you, you asked. He stands up, holding his three dollars in the air. Will Cooper! So nice of you to finally join us," he teases into the microphone.

Will makes his way through the crowd and walks onto the stage and into the spotlight. The smile fades from his eyes as he begins his performance. The only thing inevitable in life. Forget about them, moving on to the next one in line. Instead they were met head-on by death, disguised as an eighteen-wheeler behind a cloud of fog. I may have legally been considered an adult at the age of nineteen, but I still felt very much all of just nineteen.

Unprepared and overwhelmed to suddenly have the entire life of a seven-year-old In my realm. Will steps out of the spotlight and off of the stage before he even sees his scores. I find myself hoping he gets lost on his way back to our booth so that I have time to absorb this.

I have no idea how to react. I had no idea that this was his life. That Caulder was his whole life. I wipe tears away with the back of my hand. A side that I'm unfortunately all too familiar with. I'm conflicted, I'm confused, and most of all I'm taken aback.

He was beautiful. He notices as I'm wiping tears from my eyes. He reaches for his drink and takes a sip, stirring the ice cubes with his straw.

I have no idea what to say to him. He completely put it all out there, right in front of me. My emotions take control over my actions. I reach forward and take his hand in mine and he sets his drink back down on the table. He looks at me and smiles as he reaches to my face and traces the side of my cheek. It all seems so fast. We suddenly become the only two people in the entire room; all the external noise fades into the distance.

He takes my face in his hands and I close my eyes. I feel his breath draw closer as he pulls my face toward his. When he touches his lips to mine, he hesitates. He slowly kisses my bottom lip, then my top lip. His lips are warm, still wet from his drink. I try to kiss him back, but he pulls away when my mouth responds.

I open my eyes and he is smiling at me, still holding my face in his hands. He leans in and kisses me on the cheek. He moves his mouth to my other cheek and kisses me again.

I close my eyes and inhale as I try to calm the overwhelming impulse I have to wrap my arms around him and kiss him back. I don't know how he has so much selfcontrol. He presses his forehead against mine and slides his hands down to my arms. Our eyes lock as we open them. It's during this moment that I finally understand why my mother accepted her fate at the age of eighteen. They are announcing the qualifiers for round two when Will grabs my hand and whispers, "Let's go.

I've never experienced anything like what just happened. We exit the booth and our hands remain locked as he navigates me through the ever growing crowd and into the parking lot.

I didn't realize how warm I was until the cold Michigan air touches my skin. It feels exhilarating. Or I feel exhilarated. I can't tell which. All I know is that I wish the last two hours of my life could repeat for eternity. You need sleep. He opens my door but before I get in, he wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me to him in a tight embrace. He runs his hand through my hair as I take in his scent. I try to pull him closer, but we can't seem to get close enough.

Several minutes pass as we just stand there, holding on to the moment. I've always been so guarded. This new side of me that Will brings out is a side of me I didn't know I had. We eventually break apart and get in the car.

As we drive away from the parking lot I lean my head against the window and watch the club as it minimizes in the rearview mirror. I wake up as he's opening my door and we're in my driveway. He reaches in and grabs my hand as I step out of the car. I can't remember the last time I fell asleep in a moving vehicle. Will was right, I am tired. I rub my eyes and yawn again as he walks me to the front door. He wraps his arms around my waist as I raise mine around his shoulders and we embrace again.

He squeezes my waist tighter and moves me closer into him. Our bodies are a perfect fit. A chill runs down my body as his breath warms my neck. I can't believe we only met three days ago; it seems like we've been doing this for years. That's the same length of time that I've known you.

If I know my mother at all, then we've got an audience, so I'm relieved his final kiss is nothing more than a quick peck on the cheek. He slowly walks backwards toward his car, his fingers sliding out of mine, eventually letting go. My arm falls limp to my side as I watch him get into his car. He cranks the engine and rolls down his window. Instead, he slips his hand behind my neck and gently presses me toward him, our lips separating as they meet.

Neither of us holds back this time. I reach through the window and run my fingers through the back of his hair as we continue kissing. It takes all I have not to swing open the car door and crawl into his lap. The door between us feels more like a barricade. We finally come to a stop; our lips are still touching as we both hesitate to part. Our breath rises in small waves of fog as it meets the cold air. He does the same. We continue back and forth until I start to laugh.

He backs out of the driveway and again straight into his own. I'm tempted to run after him and kiss him again to prove his theory. Instead, I avoid temptation and turn to head inside.

Did I leave something in his car? I wait for him to say something else to explain what he's doing, but instead he just smiles as he gets closer. Maybe I was wrong earlier-about me liking the fact that he didn't compliment me tonight. I was definitely wrong. When he gets to his front door, he turns around and smiles before he goes inside. Just like I had imagined, my mother is sitting on the sofa with a book, attempting to appear uninterested as I walk through the front door.

My smile is uncontrollable now. I walk to the sofa opposite her and throw myself on it like a ragdoll and sigh. My mind has been so preoccupied with all things Will, I haven't had time to process my impending doom. Or rather, my first day ever at a brand new school.

Mom and I finally had a chance to go shopping for weather appropriate clothing over the weekend. I throw on what I picked out the evening before and slide on my new snow boots. After I finish up in the bathroom I move to the kitchen and grab my backpack and my class schedule off of the counter. Mom began her new night shift at the hospital last night, so I agree to take Kel to school. Back in Texas, Kel and I went to the same school.

In fact, everyone in the vicinity of our town went to the same school. Here, there are so many schools I have to print out a district map just to be sure I'm taking him to the right place. When we pull up to the elementary, Kel immediately spots Caulder and jumps out of the car without even saying goodbye.

He makes life look so easy. Luckily, the Elementary is only a few blocks from the High School. I pull into the parking lot of what I consider to be a massive High School and search for a spot. When I find one available, it's as far from the building as it could be and there are dozens of students standing around their vehicles chatting. I am hesitant to get out of my car, but realize when I do that no one even notices me.

It's not like in the movies when the new girl steps out of her car onto the lawn of the new school, clutching her books, everyone stopping what they're doing to stare. It's not like that at all. I feel invisible and I like it. I make it through first period math without being assigned homework, which is good. I plan on spending the entire evening with Will.

When I woke up this morning, there was a note on my jeep from him. All it said was, "Can't wait to see you. I'll be back by four. I've missed you so bad. History isn't any harder. The teacher is giving notes on the Punic Wars, something we had just covered in my previous school.

I find it hard to focus as I literally count down the minutes. The teacher is very monotonous and mundane. If I don't find something to be interesting, my mind has a tendency to wander. It keeps wandering to Will. I am methodically taking notes, trying my best to focus when someone behind me pokes my back. I inconspicuously reach for my schedule and fold it up tightly in my left hand.