All the Broken Pieces, by Cindi Madsen is available for pre-order on: Amazon | Barnes & Noble Be sure to add it to your TBR pile on Goodreads!
What if your life wasn’t your own?
Liv comes out of a coma with no
memory of her past and two distinct, warring voices inside her head. Nothing,
not even her reflection, seems familiar. As she stumbles through her junior
year, the voices get louder, insisting she please the popular group while simultaneously
despising them. But when Liv starts hanging around with Spencer, whose own
mysterious past also has him on the fringe, life feels complete for the first
time in, well, as long as she can remember.
Liv knows the details of
the car accident that put her in the coma, but as the voices invade her dreams,
and her dreams start feeling like memories, she and Spencer seek out answers. Yet
the deeper they dig, the less things make sense. Can Liv rebuild the pieces of
her broken past, when it means questioning not just who she is, but what she is?
Excerpt:
Olivia reached up, feeling the tender spots
on her head. Her fingers brushed across a row of—were those little ridges made
of metal?
“Careful. The staples
are almost ready to come out, but it’s still going to be sore for a while.”
Staples?!Her stomach rolled. I
have staples in my head? She
lowered her now-shaking hand. “Can I get a mirror?”
Mom looked at Dad,
then back at her. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Not until you’ve healed a
little more.”
Mom patted Olivia’s
leg. “You just relax. We’ll be back in a few minutes.”
The two of them left
the room, but when Mom swung the door closed, it didn’t latch. Olivia could
hear their voices in the hall.
“I still think we
should…” She couldn’t make out the rest of Dad’s muffled words. “…know if I can
do this.”
“…late for that,” Mom
said. “We’d lose everything, including…” Her voice faded as they got farther
away. “…have to move.”
Olivia could tell the conversation was tense,
but the words were impossible to decipher now. Holding a hand in front of her
face, she turned it back and forth. A plastic tube ran from her arm to a
machine next to her bed. She peeked into her nightgown and stared in horror at
the long red stripe running down her chest.
Sick.
You’re alive. You shouldn’t be thinking about looks.
Lowering her hand, she
scanned the room. I wonder how my face
looks. From the way Dad stared at me, plus the fact Mom won’t let me see a
mirror, it must be bad.
Brains are more important than looks.
That’s what ugly people say.
Olivia
put her hands on her head and squeezed. “Stop it,” she whispered to her arguing
thoughts, hysteria bubbling up and squeezing the air from her lungs. What was
happening to her? Why didn’t she recognize her parents or know where she was? Who she was? Tears ran warm trails down
her cheeks. “Just make it all stop.”
About Cindi Madsen
Cindi Madsen sits at her computer every chance she gets, plotting revising, and falling in love with her characters. Sometimes it makes her a crazy person. Without it, she’d be even crazier. She has way too many shoes, but can always find a reason to buy a new pretty pair, especially if they’re sparkly, colorful, or super tall. She loves music, dancing, and wishes summer lasted all year long. She lives in Colorado (where summer is most definitely NOT all year long) with her husband and three children.
.jpg)
