Blog Tour: Famous Last Words by Claudia Burgoa
I need a new reason to keep breathing.
And I think that reason—is her.
Famous Last Words, an all-new angst filled, emotional second chance, rock star romance from USA Today bestselling author Claudia Burgoa is now available!
I shouldn’t be alive.
I should’ve died in that plane crash.
Instead, I survived.
Thrived, even.
After all, I’m a rock star and a billionaire.
There’s nothing I can’t buy.
Nothing, except peace.
And when it all comes crashing down around me…
The guilt.
The pain.
The sorrow.
That’s when she appears.
The one woman I’m not allowed to love.
I needed her to fill the void after everything was lost.
There she was, ready, and grieving too.
Both of us are broken, shattered people.
So why does she make my heart want to beat again?
I need a new reason to keep breathing.
And I think that reason—is her.
Famous Last Words is a story of pain, forgiveness, and the faint, lingering hope of rekindling a love that once meant everything.
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Keep reading for a look inside Famous Last Words!
Brahms
The disorienting roar of the helicopter blades slices through the air, overwhelming my eardrums. Their constant thwap-thwap-thwap feels like a heartbeat, both steady and frantic, vibrating through my entire body. I try to make sense of my surroundings, but everything feels trapped and anchored. Although my senses blur together in a dizzying swirl, the chilling sensation of the stretcher beneath me keeps me tethered to reality.
Voices and murmurs weave together into a distant hum, but the piercing squeak of the wheels beneath me stands out, a sound I can cling to in this overwhelming whirl of noise. Suddenly, the heavy doors groan open and then slam shut, cutting off the overpowering sound from outside. A brief silence follows, only to be broken by a loud, commanding voice.
“Move it, people,” a man barks, urgency evident in his tone. “Get him prepped, and let’s assess those wounds. And get those X-rays started.”
Another voice, softer but equally concerned, adds, “Contact the orthopedic surgeon.”
The mention of surgery sends cold tendrils of fear down my spine. Surgery? My eyelids, heavy and reluctant, fight to stay open. My mouth, parched and battered, struggles to find words, while the metallic taste of blood serves as a bitter reminder of what I’ve been through. Every inch of me aches, but my mind, my mind is fighting another kind of battle: the past.
The past I’ve tried desperately to forget claws its way back to the surface. Memories from nine years ago flood my mind, as vivid and raw as the day it happened. I can still hear the screams, smell the acrid smoke, feel the flames threatening to lick my skin.
No matter how hard I’ve tried to outrun the past, it always catches up, sinking its teeth into my still-open wounds. Nine years later, those memories have lost none of their terrifying clarity—the sounds of panic, the inferno surrounding us, the realization that we wouldn’t escape unscathed.
And then, there’s the image of him. Zane. My best friend. And suddenly it feels like only moments ago we were side by side among the plane’s wreckage, our breaths shaky, and our faces streaked with sweat and blood. I was certain I wouldn’t make it out alive, but I was praying he would live through it all.
“We’ll get out of here,” he had whispered desperately, pinned down and unable to move. “We have to.”
His last words play in my mind. The broken promises after the losses and the bitter ending. And maybe this is just like that movie Final Destination—the survivors picked off one by one no matter how hard they try to cheat fate. If so, then it’s my turn. This must be the agonizing end I somehow evaded over a decade ago.
Zane’s voice pleading for hope haunts me, intertwined with memories of flames and panic. In my mind I’m trapped between the twisted metal and scarlet stains, certain that this is finally it. Death has come to collect me, just like it took the others.
Knowing this might be my last moment, my mind drifts back to her.
The love of my life.
The woman I lost and can never have because life is too fucking cruel.
She was collateral damage, my rose among thorns, the eye of my hurricane.
I can almost conjure her—midnight hair, brown eyes just as dark that pierced my soul. She was a forest fire—beautiful, untamable, and destined to destroy me with her hate.
She continues to be like a dream forever out of reach, always slipping through my grasping fingers no matter how I chase her. Her memory is a bittersweet agony, a ghost I can never recapture.
Even now, I can almost smell her flowery perfume and feel her touch on my skin. She was a dream I chased but could never hold, always dancing just out of reach, leaving me awake with an aching heart and a broken soul.
Her memory is my only comfort now at the end. Of all the things I’ve lost, she is what I mourn most of all.
She’ll haunt me forever.
She’s my greatest love—my only love.
The greatest regret among many.
For more information about Claudia Burgoa and her books, visit her website:
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