Blackout: Lost Girls, #1

By Chris Myers

No restraining order will stop Dare from protecting Teal. 

New Adult Romantic Suspense. 

Steamy psychological thriller for 18 and older. 

Praise for Chris Myers's New Adult Romantic Thriller Blackout 

5 STARS ...the story is so intense, i was on the edge of my seat..it's incredibly sexy and hot! By Niccis Book Blog 

5 STARS Wow, this was a fantastic book! ...Enough drama, mystery and steam to keep to keep the readers wanting more! By Eat Sleep Read Blogger 

5 STARS Holy mother of all books - I could not put Blackout down! Maine Book Momma Blogger 

4.5 STARS Honestly, if you haven't yet discovered Chris Myers, it's time you do so! Rolo Polo Book Blog 

The blackouts started happening when Teal was eight. There are long periods of her youth she doesn't remember. She has woken up in strange places, feeling disoriented and unaware of how long she's been out. 

After two years abroad attending a private school and sessions with a top-notch psychiatrist, she's been deemed cured. The blackouts have ceased, or so Teal thought, until she wakes up in a ditch back home in North Carolina. Dare, the man pulling her broken body from the wreckage, has a restraining order against him. He's no longer the clean-cut boy she went frog gigging with but road-hardened. His lean, muscular arms, riddled with tats, drag her out of the SUV. She should fear him, but instead, his touch sparks memories that tell her she once worshipped him with all her heart. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Books on the Edge
• Release date: Jul 16, 2017
• ISBN: 9781942630029

Book preview

Chapter 1

The one memory I have from that day in the swamp lies hazed in fog and plays in my mind like a recurring nightmare. I’m eight, and I’m running for my life.

I feel him drawing nearer, so I don’t stop. I scramble over tree roots and trip on berry bushes. When I stumble, they scrape my hands and burn my knees. My heart thumps so loudly it almost drowns out the bugs’ annoying song and frogs' croaking.

Don’t let him get me. Don’t let the monster hurt me.

The swamp smothers me with its decaying stink and damp heat. The afternoon light slants through the white cedars, casting shadows that spook and send me tumbling into the brier.

I can’t stop. I have to go right quick. I have to run.

From the dark brown ponds, black gum trees grow trunks as wide as tractor tires. Their gnarled branches snag my clothes, slowing me down and shredding the new blouse and shorts Daddy bought me.

Blood mats my hair into a sticky mess. My head pounds, like the surf during a hurricane. Tears sting my eyes, blurring them. A scene of crimson gore fills my vision—so much blood flooding my thoughts.

I glance over my shoulder—nothing behind me but plants growing wildly out of control, bugs that bite and suck the life out of me, and the flicker of daylight in the trees. And a shadow, unmoving, quiet and deadly.

Is that the monster? Terror scrabbles up my throat. I keep running.

The gravel path leading out is dead ahead of me, and it’s another short jog or so to my bike. I bolt down the road until something snags my collar from behind.

It got me. No. No. No.

Fear takes over, and I scream. The arm spins me around, and I stare into Dare’s green-brown eyes. He looks at me as if I’ve lost my mind.

But that don’t matter to me right now. Fright rises up inside me and strangles my thoughts. Don’t let him get me, I cry, even though Dare’s not big enough to help me this time. He’s only eleven. The monster will get him too.

His gaze runs along my muddy, torn clothes and the blood smeared all over my shorts. My shirt hangs off one shoulder, exposing my lack of boobies. I jerk up my shirtsleeve to cover myself, like Mama taught me.

What the hell happened to you, Teal?

I tug on his arm to get goin’. He’s gonna get us.

Biting and licking his lower lip, he scans the area behind me. Fear spreads like an unstoppable fire in his eyes. There’s blood all over you. Your head is…why did somebody try to kill you?

I reach for the top of my head, a throb pulsing there.

Don’t mess with it, Dare says, shackling my hand with his. It’s bad. Talk to me, Teal.

Tears flood my eyes. I don’t remember. Everything has gone missing from my head, except running. I’m not even sure what I’m running from anymore, but it’s very bad and hairy. My head thumps loudly.

He plants his hands on both my shoulders. Calm down.

I spin back toward the swamp. It’s alive, shadows sweeping over it while clouds scud across the sky. Puke climbs my throat, and the swamp twirls around me. My knees suddenly give out, and the world goes dark.

When I come to, Dare is gone, and black spots creep along the edges of my vision. I’m cuddled up in his jacket in the hollowed out tree where we sometimes hide from his big brothers.

Dare, I whisper. It’s grown dark, so I can just make out the shapes of trees and I can hear the nearby river and the hum of insects.

Where did he go? Did the monster get him?

Terror pumps my body into action. I have to run. I have to get out of the swamp. I scramble to a standing position. My head’s hurtin’ so bad stars halo my vision. Just as my legs take flight, Dare steps out of a clump of knobby cypress knees, holding a flashlight. Blood drips off him, and his hands are shaking.

I take a step back. There’s so much blood. My knees wobble, so I lean against a tree for support.

Buzzing inside my head overloads me. Make it stop, I cry. I slow my breathing before the menacing darkness and the dreadful noise can gobble me up again.

Dare doesn’t speak. He just stares blankly ahead. He isn’t even blinking. His shoulders sag, and his mouth gapes open, like the cat’s got his tongue.

I walk slowly toward him and shake his trembling arm. Dare?

To the left of him, lights glimmer in the woods. Teal, several people shout. Teal?

My hand slips into his, grazing the bands of friendship bracelets that he holds sacred. I stand stock-still and tightly squeeze his hand.

A bloodhound sniffs his way toward me. When he starts to howl, a deputy restrains the dog. About twenty men and women carrying flashlights plod into the clearing.

Daddy jogs toward me and picks me up. Oh my sweet darlin’. I was so worried about you.

I let go of Dare to wrap my arms around Daddy’s neck. Oh, Daddy. Don’t let him hurt me.

He studies me for a moment and glances accusingly at Dare. What happened to you, honey? Who hurt you?

I don’t know. I don’t know. Caked mud on my cheeks catches the torrent of tears bursting from my eyes.

The deputy studies Dare. How’d ya get all covered in blood, son? Is that the girl’s? What did you do to that girl’s clothes?

Dare doesn’t move, and he doesn’t speak. Blood pools at his feet.

I’m speaking to you, son, the deputy barks, shaking Dare’s shoulder until Dare loses his footing and falls.

Don’t hurt Dare, I yell, the agonizing pain searing my head.

What did you do to my little girl? Daddy shouts at Dare. Answer me. What did you do?

Dare’s mouth hangs open, the blood dripping from his fingertips. My head swims. I don’t feel so good, and fuzzy spots creep along the outskirts of my vision. Don’t let everything go all black again.

The deputy grabs Dare roughly by the arm, hauling him upward. You’re coming with me, son.

Leave him alone, I scream. He didn’t do anything.

Let the deputy do his job, Daddy says, picking me up and cradling me in his arms.

The deputy takes Dare away. He glances back at me. From the dread in his eyes, I know he’s seen the slaughter too.

Chapter 2

Ten years after

In the dark, I walk outside of the Raleigh airport, allowing the heat and humidity to suck the breath from me. Stepping onto North Carolina ground is like walking on razor blades, each step slicing me to the bone. I can do this. I’m cured.

Home, sweet home, I mutter.

I keep telling myself that coming home is for my grandmother Lulu who’s partially blind, but it’s also for me.

Dad had someone drop off the Range Rover somewhere in the parking lot.

I swivel around. Where the heck is it? I vaguely remember where he told me. Aisle eight or eighteen?

It’s been two years since I stepped foot in this state, and already my nerves fire with trepidation.

After twenty minutes of hunting, I finally find the black SUV. It’s not a good color for the oppressive Carolina sun that’ll soon climb over the horizon. My skirt hitches up as I slide into the car, and the leather sticks to my legs. I unglue my legs by gathering my skirt under my thighs.

The stale scent of her perfume that she spilled years ago wafts off the seats. If I don’t remember what Mama looks like, how can I recall the Chanel Number 5 she wore?

When I was eight, she left without a word and without a trace, no goodbye, no address, just gone. I should feel something like anger, hate from being abandoned, but I don’t. I feel nothing for her.

She left a few days before search and rescue found me in Gator Swamp. That’s when the blackouts started—my lost moments in time. I’d give anything to remember something about her, other than the scent lingering on her skin. That’s not much of a memory. I don’t even know if I liked her at one time.

Because of the treatments for memory loss, I probably have more headshots than the Mona Lisa, which I’ve seen in the Louvre a dozen times over the past two years. The doctors don’t really know what caused my blackouts. Some think epilepsy. I’ve had one seizure, and that occurred shortly after the day I was found in the swamp.

One believed I was schizophrenic, which could be the case. I felt crazy when all I wanted to be is normal. At one time, I most certainly fit part of the description—lose touch with reality, blackouts. I definitely had panic disorder because when the flashes of light and jumbled images swirled in my head, I freaked because I knew what was coming next—another moment in time gone, completely erased from my memory bank, a blackout.

While Dad and I lived in Paris, the blackouts disappeared. I’ve been deemed cured by French doctors with no explanation, no solid diagnosis, and no recovered lost memories. No one has ever told me why part of my life is a blank canvas.

Dad remains in Paris, finishing up his work at the consulate. I volunteered to fly home to care for Lulu and endure her crude jokes.

As I pull out of the parking lot, sweat beads on my forehead. It could be the thick-as-spit humidity, but the itchiness spreading over my arms like poison ivy tells me it’s my raw and shattered nerves. I’ve driven all over Europe but never in the States, so that must be the reason.

Using hands-free, I call Dad. I found the SUV.

Glad to hear you made it there safely. I’m in a meeting, so I will call you later. Love you, Darlin’.

Love you too, Dad.

The drive from Raleigh to the coast brings back some memories, countless days on the beach, boogey boarding, the kids torturing me when I blacked out.

Many memories remain lost and buried. As hard as the shrinks tried to dig them out from the dark recesses of my mind, they never surfaced. The doctors told me I could live with that.

I drive toward the Outer Banks. My nervousness doesn’t ease, so I tap on the steering wheel without the rhythm of music.

Before college starts in the fall, I have to get through the whole summer with kids I no longer know, but at least it won’t be with a bunch of Parisians correcting my French or teasing me about my drawl. I never really fit in Paris, but many times, it was far worse here.

I cross over the Alligator River, closing in on Kill Devil Hills, my home. I can almost smell the sea breeze lifting off the water and feel the scorch of sand between my toes. I miss the beach and the water curling around my feet like soft slippers.

The Alligator River National Park stretches before me. Its swamp grasses are thick with gators, snakes, and yellow and deer flies that could chew off a man’s arm.

The morning sun climbing the horizon bathes the long, thin blades of sawgrass in its golden glow. I used to love the swamp’s haunted beauty of black gum, Atlantic white cedar, and cypress trees decorated in Spanish moss and loblolly pines reaching for the sky, but now the swamp settles into my gut like rotted meat. I stomp on the gas to race through it as fast as possible.

A flash of light peeking through the dense canopy of trees temporarily blinds me. Another flash sparks in my eyes—only this time it’s filled with splashes of images—a palmetto fan, a water lily, a dragonfly, and blood oozing from the muddy banks of a pond concealed by scum the color of sour apples. My foot searches for the brakes before I succumb to the blackout. My mind and foot do not connect.

A river of cold chills snakes along my arms. The sweat percolates into a steady stream and runs into my eyes, burning them.

I gulp in air, swallowing so much oxygen my head spins. I try to slow my breathing. No, no, please no. This can’t happen, not now. More nonsensical images jumble together in my vision along with sounds, a high-pitched whine and a razor buzz that bristles the hair on my arms, and smells, the rotting bog and the burn of a cigarette.

My heart jackhammers in my chest. Sweat rolls off me in waves. Those horrid black spots cloud my vision. The darkness searches for me. This can’t be happening. The doctors promised it wouldn’t. Before my foot finds the brakes, the void takes and blankets me.

Chapter 3

When I come to, warm, sticky blood dribbles down my forehead and into my eyes, and my world is tilted sideways. The SUV leans on its side—the driver seat barely jutting out of the green-scummy bog.

My sunglasses have shattered, and the plastic has embedded into my eyelids. In fact the whole front windshield has fallen into my lap and the front bucket seats. I rotate my sore neck to the side—make that one bucket seat. The passenger side is crushed beyond recognition by a several hundred-year-old black gum tree almost as thick around as the SUV once was.

Swamp juice pours in through that side, soaking me up to my waist. My left arm is wrenched at an unnatural angle behind me. Pain spikes into it.

The stench of gasoline, smoke, and damp swamp fill my nose, causing me to choke. The mud and peat suck on the SUV, drawing it down.

It’s happened again, and the last shrink said it wouldn’t. He swore it wouldn’t. I’m supposed to be cured. My lungs gasp for air as I try to squash another panic attack where the dark walls close in to smother me, probably even sooner than the swamp will.

If I don’t want to die slurping on mud, I need to escape the Rover. Now. My good arm claws at the seatbelt to undo it. When I rotate, I twist my broken arm and cry out.

A pathetic Help escapes my lips. This is a well-traveled road, so someone should be by any minute, even if it’s only six o’clock in the morning. But will anyone see me?

The muck sucks harder on the Land Rover. The water rises up another couple inches. The bog can swallow whole trucks so that they’re never seen again.

Help, I scream louder this time. My arm hurts like hell.

I don’t want to die. I don’t want to keep losing my mind. I struggle with the buckle, wrenching my bad arm further. My fingers fumble with the belt latch. Dammit, come on.

I twist to see my arm better. Jagged edges of bone poke through the skin. Nausea scrabbles up my throat, so I push the bitterness back down and continue fiddling with the buckle. It’s been smashed. I jam my thumb down harder.

Bending my arm, I grit my teeth to endure the pain and struggle with the seatbelt. This time, I slam the heel of my palm down onto the release. It doesn’t give, but the SUV sinks further into the muck with that same sickening, gulping sound.

The low rumble of a muscle car slows, stopping somewhere behind me. A car door opens and slams shut.

There’s a black Range Rover on its side in the swamp, a deep, whiskey voice rumbles. About a mile or two to the causeway. Need an ambulance and a tow truck.

I’m over here, I cry out. I crane my neck, but the only things I see are khaki-covered legs and a pair of work boots that tromp toward me.

What’s hurt? he asks, his gravelly voice branding me.

It oddly comforts me, and the panicked hyperventilation eases. I want to see his face, but I can’t from the awkward angle my body is wedged into the car.

My arm’s broken. I stretch my neck and wiggle my butt. My back must be all right. My forehead hit the windshield or it hit me.

He laughs huskily.

That wasn’t meant to be funny, I hiss.

But it was, he says.

When the swamp makes the sickening gulping sound, I claw at his arm.

We can’t wait on the tow truck, he says. In another few minutes, your Range Rover could go under. I’m getting you out.

The sooner the better, I say testily.

Don’t get your panties all bunched up, girl. His southern drawl settles on my tongue like the taste of sweet tea. I’ll get you out.

When his head pokes into the open driver side window, I tense. That wild thatch of dark hair and hazel eyes remind me of my childhood, frog gigging, fishing, and teasing gators. It wasn’t the smartest of pastimes, but they belonged to us.

His eyes are bloodshot, like he’s been out all night partying.

Dare? I say meekly. It’s been almost ten years. Is it really him?

Nobody calls me that anymore. He sounds taut now, edgy. Darius is stitched onto his work shirt pocket.

Okay. We haven’t spoken in so long. What do I say?

He doesn’t look at me but wrenches the SUV driver side door open and reaches around my waist to unbuckle my seatbelt. Grease permanently stains the fingernail quick and tips. Even though he loves cars, he told me he’d never work for his dad at his auto repair shop. Its logo is sewn onto the back of his shirt. What changed his mind?

One thick leather band, two seashell bracelets, one plastic, and two woven bands circle his left wrist. The pink plastic one memorializes his mother’s lost battle with breast cancer. His many close friends gave him the rest. The girl of his dreams, Lisa Skittleharp, gave him the one made from cowry shells. I always wanted a shell bracelet, like the one he strung together for her.

Goddammit, the buckle’s jammed. He looks at me, not with the teasing expression he gave me when I was a kid trying to keep up with his long, solid legs. For the first time ever, he notices that I’m a girl. His gaze rakes over me, sending rivulets of chills into my chest or that could be shock from my broken arm, staking its claim on me.

He stares at my face for what feels like minutes but is only seconds. Shit. Teal Covington? He studies me, like the old me is somewhere in there.

My hair is long now and copper-colored. When I was eight, it was bobbed and bleached white from the sun.

I shouldn’t be here, he says as if a doubled-edged sword lies between us, promising to slice us both if either of us budges an inch.

Would he really leave me stuck here? So you’re just going to let the mud suck me under so I suffocate?

His brow narrows. I probably should.

Besides the pain in my arm, his words bite, so I blink back tears. We used to be friends. Why? What did I do? I’m the one with the messed up head.

His head withdraws from my SUV coffin, and he jogs away.

Dare, please don’t leave me. I struggle with the belt buckle holding me captive.

The swamp gulps down the whole hood of the SUV. Dare, I scream at the top of my lungs. Terror stands with both feet on my chest. Darius Arlen Tucker, don’t you dare leave me.

I scoot down in the seat in an attempt to escape the restraint. It’s too snug across my chest for me to escape. Panic ripples through me. Don’t let me black out.

Dare returns with a toolbox, fishes out a box cutter, and leans over me. He snorts out a laugh. You actually thought I’d leave you here. Though it would serve you right, I won’t let the gators gnaw on you for breakfast, Teal Elizabeth Covington. Disgust plasters his face. I may hate you, but I would never hurt you.

Hurt crinkles the skin around my eyes. He’s grown as mean as his older brothers. His oldest brother Sam is the best-looking Tucker, though he’s as ornery as the hungry red wolves wandering the swamp. Dare now closely resembles Sam with that same sneer permanently slanting his lips.

When I was eight, I so wanted his older brothers not to call me Dare’s Tagalong. I wanted them to notice me because Dare always stared stupidly at Lisa. That girl had boobs at age eleven.

Dare’s firm chest presses against mine as he saws through the belt. None of the boys my age in France are built like this, so it only slightly explains the electricity firing in my nerves and the warmth surging in my blood.

I have to move your arm, and it’s going to hurt like a mother, he says.

I thought you’d never hurt me.

You can go down with the SUV if you’d like. Pick your poison.

He straightens my arm, and pain shoots into it, like a gator ripped it from the socket. I cry out.

Look at me. Dare leans his head against mine. You’re going to be okay.

His eyes stare into mine, causing turmoil in my stomach.

His gaze darts away as he crushes my chest with his. Heat flares in my breasts and cheeks. I’ve had guys feel me up, slept with my boyfriend Henri in France, though I don’t remember it. I blacked out shortly after we were curled together on his bed and he told me he loved me. Your first time is supposed to be special—mine was anything but. I woke up sore between my legs and a headache from drinking red wine.

The swamp eats another few inches of the SUV. One well-muscled and heavily tattooed arm slips under my thighs. A hammerhead in colorful ink chases a parrotfish around his solid forearm. He told me he’d never suffer through being inked like his older brothers had. Liar.

His other arm slides under my broken wing.

Would you grab my purse? It should be on the front seat. That no longer exists.

He pulls me out and gently sets me down onto the tall grasses crushed by the SUV’s route into the swamp. He returns to the SUV where his hand plunges into the goo, rummaging around until he fishes out my Louis Vuitton bag I bought in Paris. It’s no longer gold but a sickly green.

Dare sets the bag onto my lap and carries me to the restored Shelby. I’d heard from my best friend Kami he’d bought the rust bucket for a song four years after my dad put a restraining order on him. That was the only time in eight years she ever mentioned him.

Dare’s about to put me in his car, when I snap, Don’t get your car all dirty. Put me on the ground.

We’re both covered in swamp cider, so he carefully props me up against the Shelby on the shoulder of the road. Have it your way.

He holds my broken arm. Look away.

Why?

Just do it Teal. His brow scrunches up. When you were a kid, you never argued with me.

That’s because I kissed the ground he walked on. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m no longer a child.

He smirks while his gaze glosses over my soaked blouse, completely see-through now. That’s true.

I smack him with my good arm. I have a face.

Dare laughs, gets up, and opens his car. He pulls out a light jacket and drapes it on my shoulders. I forget how you like to cover up.

I hide my soaked shirt. I hate feeling exposed.

A memory surfaces. That day in the swamp, I wore the shorts and top so Dare would see how differently I dressed. What an odd memory.

He points at the road leading out of the swamp. Now look over there.

When I turn my head, the sound of bone against bone scrapes in my ear. I scream and clamp onto him with my good hand, spinning back around. What the hell?

Ow, he says, unclasping my hand from his arm.

The bone is no longer poking out.

I had to set the bone to stop the bleeding. He douses my arm with hydrogen peroxide, presses a sterile pad on my arm, then wraps it with tape.

So now you’re a doctor? When we were kids, he wanted to be a vet. Dare loves animals and cars and Lisa Skittleharp, prettiest girl in the county and just as sugary as the candy. Everybody loves her. She was even nice to me, patting me on the head, like I was Dare’s pet. I didn’t really like that.

Thanks to you, I’ll never be one. He takes another bandage to slow the bleeding on my forehead.

I didn’t do anything to you.

Dare flashes and narrows his eyes shadowed by thick lashes. You really haven’t grown up, have you?

What are you saying? I have boobs now. I look down to make sure. They aren’t huge like Lisa’s, but they’re nice.

You just never grew up—mentally that is.

Screw you.

It’d be the best night of your miserable life. I should’ve let the swamp bury you.

Damn him. I stare at the Shelby and not at him. At age eight, I kowtowed before him, while I secretly pined over Sam who mercilessly picked on Dare and sometimes me.

Dare examines my broken arm, spotting the long, thin white scar on the inside of my wrist. What the hell? Why would you do this?

My face and neck light up. He doesn’t need to know. Why do you talk like some backwater boy?

Cuz I am one. His gaze bores into me. So that bothers the privileged beach girl’s sensitive ears.

Some of the boys called the girls who lived on the beach high maintenance bitches. Dare must think like the rest of his kind now.

Your car is beautiful, I say, changing the subject. He did save me from a horrible death.

The car is how I imagined it with a pair of gold stripes that race up and over the black hood, just like the car magazines we drooled over until Lisa would pull him away, then I’d vie for his older brothers’ attentions, and that never worked.

His chiseled jaw draws up in a half grin before it completely fades. I shouldn’t be here.

Do I tell him that my dad renewed the restraining order on him or does he already know?

I have to go. He gets up. The ambulance should be here any minute.

Relax. You saved me. I don’t want to be left alone in the swamp. It may still gobble me up.

The flash of red lights approaches us. I want to say more, to apologize for my dad, but the words tangle on my tongue.

Two paramedics dash out of the ambulance, and the blonde bitch Nan checks my vitals.

Her straw-colored ponytail bounces off one shoulder. She’s a few years older than Dare and was the head cheerleader before Lisa went to the county school.

When I’d blacked out at a party, she was one of the ones who’d graffitied my face, like it was an inviting inner-city concrete slab. I glance at the scar on my wrist and bite back the emotional scar she helped leave. The next day Dad finished packing our bags, and we left for Paris. I was supposed to finish out the school year in the Outer Banks, but I didn’t.

Her focus is completely on Dare. She eyes him like she’d scoop him into an ice cream bowl. How did she become a medic? I didn’t think she had the mental stamina for it.

Anything hurt? Nan asks, not looking at me.

Hello? I lift my broken arm and cry out from the pain. My arm.

The other paramedic glances over at the SUV. Only the roof is visible amongst the algae skimming the surface of the water. You’re lucky.

Not really. My blackouts are back. I’m not cured, not even close, but I won’t run this time. And why haven’t I felt dizzy since Dare has showed up? Why hasn’t the swamp stolen my mind, like it did the last time.

Nan glances up at Dare leaning against his Shelby, her eyes lingering a tad long on his eyes, his chest, and every other part of his sculpted body. Tucker, you saved me some work. Thanks.

Dare opens the driver side door. I’ve gotta get to work.

You should become a paramedic and join us, she says, splinting my arm.

He glares at me. You know I can’t.

What did I do? He can go to school if he wants to.

Nan smiles while helping the other medic walk me to the ambulance. Me and the girls will see you at the racetrack this Saturday.

I’ll be there. His fingers rake through his thick hair. See y’all.

Dare races now? He’s probably good at it. He’s good at everything he does.

When the sheriff pulls over on the side of the road, Dare slips into his car. Sheriff Tate is no longer the buff man who used to chase us off private property.

Reviews for Blackout

[fpdyme · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I received this book in return for an honest review.Super enjoyed reading this book! Edgy, intriguing characters, and a well developed plot (unraveling the mystery of the what causes our protagonist's blackouts while simultaneously following the mystery of who is following her and why keeps the reader engaged the whole book through). There were a few grammatical errors, but I will forgive them in light of how much I loved the book. I definitely need to read more by this author!

[zachrissy-1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This is the first book I've read from Chris Myers, so I didn't know what to expect. I love discovering new authors, especially ones that can keep me guessing... and this one did. I will definitely be checking some of her other books out.When 8-year old Teal Covington is found in the woods having been brutally attacked, all eyes fall to Dare Tucker, her childhood friend standing next to her covered in blood. Since that night, Teal has experienced blackouts. The story picks up after she moves back home from living two years in Paris and being "cured". Problem is, as soon as she's back the blackouts start again and the one person she is supposed to stay away from is the only one who can help her find the truth about what really happened to her.I enjoyed this book. There were a few inconsistencies and some grammar problems, but it does not take away from the story. Most stories are predictable, but this one kept me guessing. I thought I had it figured out a few times, but then something else happened to change my mind. I liked the romantic relationship between Teal and Dare, but thought the ending should have been different. It was a touch unbelievable. But as stated, I enjoyed the book and would recommend it.I received an ARC from the author in exchange for an honest review.

[digilormo · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I received a copy of this book for a honest review.This is not a book I would typically pick out. I am glad I requested a copy though. This was a page turner for sure. Just enough twist to keep you wanting more. I cannot wait to read more by Chris Myers.

[rachkc · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

I was intrigued by the premise of Blackout, but for me, the story fell flat. I felt the characters lacked depth, and I would've appreciated more development. Many of the sentences and phrases were strange to me; they did not fit or describe the situation/circumstance very well. Also, I do not like finding grammar errors, and there were quite a few.***I received an ARC of this book, and in exchange, I have provided an honest review.***

[readinggrrl · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Published independently this book could have used an editor or at least a few more eyes before it went to press, there were typos and other issues that may have been caught.The story itself was really interesting, Teal keeps having blackouts, thinks she is cured until she comes back to North Carolina where the blackouts come back with a vengeance. I think if some of the racy sex scenes and random french words for different body parts were toned down or even eliminated it would have made for a better book. I'm not prudish and I am okay with a good sex scene but these seemed forced. It also seemed like the author was also trying a bit too hard to capitalize on the whole 50 Shades of Grey phenomenon with some of the story line which really seemed a bit forced and the ending while not what I expected seemed a bit under dramatic. Lets just say if I found out what she discovers I would be disgusted, angry and seeking justice, but that got kind of brushed to the side.So how did I like this book? I actually really enjoyed the story, the issues I had with it were mostly easily overlooked. I do wish some of the ending had been more realistic, I'm all for the love story part of it but the horrific crime Teal witnessed just seemed almost inconsequential after she discovers it. So the ending was only partially satisfying. Would I recommend it, yea I think its a great mind candy book and there were plenty of creepy moments.

[arthistorychick · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Blackout by Chris MyersSource: ARC from authorMy Rating: 4½/5 starsMy Review:Teal Covington has some sort of craptastic life!! At just eight years old she was attacked, her head split wide open like a melon, her best-friend was accused of molesting her, her mother disappeared from her life and, she began blacking out. In an effort to shield Teal from the small town fallout and harassment related to the events of her childhood, her father moves her to Paris where she spends two blissful years having only one blackout. Though Teal is thankful for the blackout reprieve she feels far from cured and desperately wants to understand what happened to her that fateful day ten years ago. In order to understand her past, Teal has to confront it and that means returning to the scene of the crime. Returning to North Carolina is not something Teal ever thought she would do but her grandmother (a most delightful, Lulu!) needs her and if she is ever going to be cured, North Carolina is the place to be. Before she can even get home, Teal blacks out and buries her car in the swamp where her nightmare began. Before she can go down with the ship so to speak, Teal is rescued by her one-time best friend, Dare Tucker. The ten years between now and then have been both very good and very hard for Dare. On the one hand he has grown into the sexiest man Teal has ever seen and on the other hand, he has become hardened, cynical and, angry.Dare Tucker only ever wanted to get out of his home town and become a veterinarian. The day he rescued Teal Covington in the swamp changed the course of his life and got him labeled as a sex offender for a crime he didn’t commit. Based on what Dare knows, Teal drove the final nail into his coffin with her testimony to the judge and though he has tried to forgive her, he just can’t forget how she derailed his life. To make matters worse, fishing Teal out of the swamp after her wreck gives Dare a chance to really see her. Dare is instantly struck by Teal’s beauty and though he wants to be mad at her, he just can’t control his body’s and heart’s reaction to her. Within days, Teal knows coming home was the best and worst thing she could have done. She has a new therapist (a seriously funny and caring, Miles!) who is helping her understand the events of her past, she is actively pursuing why Dare hates her and thinks she hung him out to dry and, actively trying to push past her insecurities and stand on her own two feet for the first time in her life. Teal is determined to understand her past and someone is very intent on her not discovering the truth. It doesn’t take long for Teal to realize the closer she gets to the truth the more danger she is in. Her home is invaded, her security is threatened and those she chooses to be close too are in serious danger. Before all is said and done, Teal and Dare will rip the Band-Aid off a slew of old wounds, expose a crazy number of bat-shit crazy people and, find a way back to one another. The Bottom Line: As always, Myers has created a crazy-complicated plot that is surprisingly easy to follow. There are more twists and turns in this plot than a crazy, country road but Myers takes you through it all with the smoothness and ease that only comes from a seasoned writer. Teal is a walking contradiction with her strength and her determination balanced by her vulnerability. She needs to understand her past in order to have any sort of future and she is willing to endure a whole lot of awful to get to her HEA. Dare is the highlight of this read with his actual physical strength balanced by a very caring nature. He and his brothers (whom I would love to know more about!) are a crazy mix of personalities that are ultimately loyal to one another and those they care for. Dare’s past has haunted him for ten long years and if he can do more than lust after Teal, he may have a bright and well-deserved future of his very own. The big reveal in this story is somewhat expected but the extent to which everyone is involved and the activities they were involved in is most unexpected. The reveal regarding Teal’s mother is as interesting as it is abhorrent and adds a whole new level of ick to this read. Finally, there are the naughty bits with Dare and Teal. In general, I was quite pleased with the naughty bits – Dare is quite hot, after all - but some of the language was a bit off putting for me. I don’t mean the dirty words but some of the adjectives used to describe the bits and pieces. No girl’s vagina should ever be referred to as a squeezebox, especially in the midst of sex. With that being said, I certainly didn’t let this one minor element distract me (too much!) from my overall enjoyment of the read. Honestly, if you haven’t yet discovered Chris Myers, it’s time you do so and Blackout is a fine place to start!

[ladtysreflect · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Bravo, Chris Meyers! I read Blackout in a day and a half. To not remember who your mother is, to wake up in a swamp covered in blood and not remember is a great weight to carry. In this story, Teal Covington is the “Queen” of blackouts and the weight of remembering is pushing her to the edge of a deeper hole. Chris Meyers puts us right in the shoes of the main character, Teal Covington. We only know what she knows. I love how as the reader you become Teal feeling just as lost and suspicious. You are on the edge and frustrated. You want to know “what happened?”! When we come across Dare, just as Teal you like him but yet you are still suspicious. Just as her, I said, “He wouldn’t hurt her…would he?” The author somehow creates a sense of peace around Dare but you can’t be too sure. I love the relationship between Teal and Dare. This book has it all suspense, romance, passion, humor and keeps you hooked. This is definitely an adult read as the sexual scenes are intense. This is a quick read that will keep you on the edge turning pages to find out what happens next. I can’t wait to read another book from Chris Meyers.I received this book from Library Things, Member Giveaways in exchange for my honest review.

[kerilynned · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Blackout by Chris Myers is about a young woman who experiences blackouts and isn't sure what causes them. She moves back to her home town where everything started in hopes of figuring out what caused the blackouts to begin with. She had a horrible experience when she was eight and to remember she needs the help of her friend Dare who was with her that day. All in all I enjoyed this book and found it difficult to put down. I like the character development and how the story unfolds. I had multiple guesses on how it would all turn out and I was still surprised which is always fun. The only complaints I have would be some editing mistakes that would take me out of the story and that quite a few times I felt the characters were being pretty immature for their age. I give it a four out of five stars and would recommend it to anyone who likes a good mystery with some steamy romance in it. I received this book for free for an honest review. Thank you!