It's been a year since Eden Munro last saw Tyler Bruce: her stepbrother...and secret love. Although they swore to ignore their feelings and put their family first, Eden can't help but feel excited when Tyler invites her to join him in New York City for the summer.
But it's not like anything is going to happen. Eden is happy with her boyfriend Dean, and she knows gorgeous, green-eyed Tyler must have moved on as well. But as they spend the long, hot summer in the city that never sleeps, it becomes obvious that those old feelings are still there...simmering beneath the surface. Will Tyler and Eden be able to resist temptation?
Did I Mention I Need You? is book two in Wattpad sensation Estelle Maskame's DIMILY trilogy: three unforgettable summers of secrets, heartbreak and forbidden romance.
Hey! I'm Estelle Maskame and I write the DIMILY trilogy! I'm a total bookworm and YA addict, not to mention a hopeless romantic. I've always adored books and writing while growing up, and all throughout primary school I loved to write stories about talking dolphins and pirate ships. Admittedly, I've moved away from the eight-year-old fantasy genre and now focus on writing YA romance.
I grew up in a small town called Peterhead in the North-east of Scotland, and I belong to a huge fishing family! My favourite things include books, hot chocolate (with cream and marshmallows, of course), road trips, new clothes, my best friends, and chicken nuggets. On another note, I absolutely hate terrible drivers, snow, the dentist, and people who wake me up before 10AM.
Social Media Links:
DIMILY Landing Page: http://books.sourcebooks.com/dimily/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/EstelleMaskame
[A] juicy romance…the star-crossed love affair of Eden Munro and Tyler Bruce is a global sensation!” –Justine Magazine on the DIMILY series
“Maskame pays close attention to detail and, as a teen herself, clearly understands her audience… Many teens will relate to the emotional turmoil of blended families, child abuse, addiction, first love, jealousy, messy breakups, and generally, growing up.” –School Library Journal on Did I Mention I Need You?
“Readers will root for them, like they would with Edward and Bella—the mutual attraction and need for one another is palpable. It rings of passion, excitement, and first love.” –VOYA Magazine on Did I Mention I Love You?
“An edgy young adult romance with dark layers” –The Examiner on Did I Mention I Love You?
“A believable coming-of-age story and an unconventional romance, set against a present-day California summer... . The fallout of divorce, the insidiousness of substance abuse and family secrets, and especially the pangs of first love drive this emotionally resonant tale.” – Publishers Weekly on Did I Mention I Love You?
“Written in first person, Maskame’s trilogy opener is an excellent portrayal of a teenage girl’s life in the 21st century. Eden has to adjust to her blended family, try to feel pretty, be body conscious, and make friends, all while falling in love for the first time. She is someone all young people can relate to...Romance fans will be captivated by Eden and her journey to finding herself and true love.” –School Library Journal on Did I Mention I Love You?
My heart skips a beat as my eyes scan the information signs above me. I should stop and figure out where I’m supposed to go, but there’s no way I can delay this any longer. I just want to see him already, so I sling my backpack over my shoulder and follow the people who have gotten off the same flight as me. But with each step, the more nauseous I feel. The more I realize I shouldn’t have come here. The more I believe this is a bad idea.
Of course it’s a bad idea, I think.
As if I’ll get over him by spending time alone with him. If anything, this is going to make it worse, harder. It’s easy for him. He’s probably long over me, and he’s most likely dating some cute girl with a New York accent. And then there’s me, the idiot who’s spent an entire year still thinking about him. I know that when I see him, everything I felt will come rushing back at once. I can feel it already. I can feel that same nervous feeling in my stomach that I always did whenever he smiled at me, and I can feel my pulse racing at the same speed it always did whenever his eyes met mine.
I wonder if it’s too late to turn around.
The group I’ve been following heads down an escalator, but I hesitate at the top and step to the side, lingering for a moment. Maybe this won’t be so bad. I am excited to see him, even if my nerves are outweighing my excitement, and I’ve been waiting so long for this that it’s stupid to be having second thoughts.
I’m just confused and my head’s a mess, but I’m here now. It’s time to see him for the first time in a year.
My grip tightens around the strap of my backpack as I step onto the escalator, and my heart is quite literally thumping against my rib cage. I wonder if the people around me can hear it. It feels like I’m having a heart attack, like I’ll collapse any moment now from an anxiety overload. My legs feel stiff, but somehow I manage to keep moving, somehow manage to get off the escalator and advance across the arrivals level.
I’m half looking for the baggage carousels and half looking for a pair of green eyes. Around me, I can see people hesitating, looking. People in suits holding signs. Families searching the crowds flowing off the escalator. I know exactly who I’m looking for. For a moment, I think I see him. Black hair, tall. But just as my heart’s about to stop, he draws a woman into his arms and I realize that it isn’t him at all.
My eyes return to roaming the concourse as I make my way toward baggage claim, still forcing my feet to move, however numb my legs feel. I’m stealing glances at the line of placards as I pass, taking in the last names and wondering why all those people are traveling to New York. My thoughts don’t last long though, because suddenly one placard in particular catches my eye. It draws my attention, of course, because I see my name scrawled on it in black Sharpie, each letter slightly out of alignment with the next one.
And that’s when I see him.
Tyler.
He’s slowly lowered the placard to reveal his face, and his grin and his jaw and the color of his eyes and the way one eyebrow slowly arches reminds me of some of the many things I used to adore about him. Perhaps I still do love these things, because now my feet are moving again. And fast. I make my way straight over to him, gaining speed with each step, my eyes locked on him and nothing else. My beeline forces the people around me to move out of my way, and now I’m running. The moment I reach him, I throw myself into his arms.
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