The right words can save your life.
For fans of Nicholas Sparks and Jodi Picoult… A soldier falls in love with his battle buddy’s sister through their letters and returns home from Afghanistan with a secret that could destroy their fragile relationship.
Don’t miss THE LAST LETTER by Rebecca Yarros!
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About THE LAST LETTER
Beckett,
If you’re reading this, well, you know the “last-letter” drill. You made it. I didn’t. Get off the guilt train, because I know if there were any chance you could have saved me, you would have.
I need one thing from you: Get out of the army and get to Telluride.
My little sister Ella’s raising the twins alone. She’s too independent and won’t accept help easily, but she has lost our grandmother, our parents, and now me. It’s too much for anyone to endure. It’s not fair.
And here’s the kicker: there’s something else you don’t know that’s tearing her family apart. She’s going to need help.
So if I’m gone, that means I can’t be there for Ella. I can’t help them through this. But you can. So I’m begging you, as my best friend, go take care of my sister, my family.
Please don’t make her go through it alone.
Ryan
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My Review
For a letter to be the last one, there’s the implication that there were others that preceded it, and that is absolutely the case when it comes to the letters that the main characters wrote and the path that was chosen and taken based on the powerful exchange of words and the honesty woven throughout the sentences and paragraphs that filled the pages. And Rebecca Yarros uses her hero and heroine’s letters to shed light on the journey these two took apart as they weathered their respective trauma and endured more pain and suffering that any one person deserves. Every letter written mattered – each and every insight and truth that found their way onto the paper offered insight into their hearts, their minds, and their souls, because it was easier to be open and honest when the words are for someone who may know you on a deep level due to what is shared between you, but because there’s not a face to go along with the content of the letters, circumstances allow for the writing to be a cathartic act, and due to the nature of the lives that these two have had to live and struggle through, there’s no greater peace than sharing your heart and your soul with someone who doesn’t have the chance to fracture the remaining pieces of a more than fragile being…at least that’s what Ella thought…
There are a tremendous amount of layers to Ella and Beckett’s story, and the creative way that Yarros integrates the present-day moments that Ella and Beckett share with the intimate letters of the past allow readers to clearly see and understand just how embedded these two are in each other’s lives and have been so for quite some time, even when they’re thousands of miles away from one another and at least one’s identity is concealed for reasons that are explored and explained as the story continues.
Ella and Beckett are completely broken characters dealing with loss – coping in the only ways they know how – living with regret, with grief, and with overwhelming loneliness. Their pain resonates from the pages of the book; in fact, it’s so thoroughly fleshed out that pain becomes its own antagonizing and cruel character, holding on as tight as possible to these two struggling souls. Readers feel the intense emotions that the characters experience…every fracture made…every tormented thought that exists in their psyche and it’s difficult to not get lost in the maelstrom of feelings, thinking that there is no way out for these two…no way to deal with everything in a completely productive way, which means that Ella and Beckett will have to delve even further into the darkness, closing in and pressing on their hearts and their souls, before ever finding their way back to the light…before …to the hope they once had.
The Last Letter is so much more than a military romance…it’s so much more than two broken souls finding their way to one another despite the pain and grief that haunts them daily. It’s an overwhelmingly emotional journey – one realistically portrayed to convey life’s hardships…life’s cruelties…but also life’s second chances. It’s a story of lessons…a story of life…a story of loss, but ultimately, it’s a story of family…of brotherhood…of finding hope in the darkness…of realizing one’s worth. The characters’ journey becomes ours as we weather the storm with them, experiencing the highs and lows of their lives
Rebecca Yarros knows her way around military romances because she lives that life every day and has for decades, and while she may not have endured the level of loss and devastation that her characters have, it’s easy to tell from the story itself and the emotions that it evokes that Rebecca Yarros lived and breathed this book, opening herself in ways that not many authors can do, especially when it comes to devastating and traumatizing situations.
The Last Letter is hauntingly beautiful…it’s raw and resonating…it’s a story of friendship, of perseverance, of commitment, but in the simplest terms, it’s a story of love…love of self…love of family…love of a lifetime.
5+ Poison Apples
“I cannot imagine a world without this story.”
– Hypable
“A stunning, emotional romance.”
– Jill Shalvis, NYT Bestselling Author
Excerpt
“Ella.” It was a plea to speak, to not speak. Hell, I didn’t know anymore.
“You don’t see me like that. I totally get it.” She reached for the TV remote.
“How exactly do I see you? Please, enlighten me.” I leaned forward, stealing the remote. She’d opened this box and had better well dish it.
She huffed in annoyance. “You see me as a mom. As Colt and Maisie’s mom. And of course you do, because that’s what I am. A mom with two kids.”
“Well, yeah,” I said. Her motherhood—that selfless devotion she had to her kids—was one of her most attractive attributes.
She rolled her eyes with a little sigh, and the metaphorical light bulb went off in my head.
“You don’t think I want you.”
She shot me a look that confirmed my guess and blushed the same crimson of her couch. “You know, you’re right. It’s late.” She faked a yawn. “Suuuuuuper late.”
“I want you.” Damn, it felt so good to say the words.
“Yeah, okay.” She gave me a goofy look and a thumbs-up. “Please don’t make me feel any more idiotic than I do right now.”
Yeah, enough of this bullshit.
I pounced in one smooth motion, taking her back to the couch, sliding over her as I gathered her wrists in one hand above her head and settled between her open thighs.
Home.
“Holy shit, you move fast.” There was no fear or rejection in her eyes, just surprise.
“Not in every arena,” I promised.
Her lips parted.
“Ella. I want you.”
“Beckett…you don’t have to.”
Yeah, that soft little sigh she did was going to be my undoing.
I let go of her wrists, letting my fingers trail down her arm until I had one hand weaving my fingers into the hair at the base of her scalp and the other at the curve in her waist.
“Feel this?” Then I slid forward, letting my dick stroke along the seam in her pajama pants hard enough for her to gasp at the contact. I couldn’t remember ever wanting to shred a piece of fabric so much in my life. “I’ve never wanted a woman as much as I want you.”
I moved again, and her eyes slid shut as she let loose the sweetest moan.
My dick throbbed, knowing everything I’d fantasized about for the better part of the last eight months was one decision away.
“Beckett.” Her hands found my biceps, her nails digging in.
“Don’t ever think that I don’t want you, because if things were different, I would have already been inside you. I would know exactly how you feel, and what you sound like, look like, when you come. I’ve thought about it at least a hundred different ways, and believe me, I’ve got a great imagination.”
She rocked her hips against me, and I locked my jaw to keep from giving her exactly what her body was asking for. “Ella, you have to stop.”
“Why?” she asked, her lips dangerously close to mine. “What do you mean if things were different?” Her eyes flew wide. “Is this because I have kids?”
“What? No. Of course not. It’s because you’re Ryan’s little sister.” Before I could do any more damage, I got the hell off her and sat back on my side of the couch.
“Because…I’m Ryan’s little sister,” she repeated, scooting so she sat upright, facing me. “And you think he’d, what? Haunt you?”
Three things: The letter. The cancer. The lie.
I repeated those in my head until I was certain I could look at her and not drag her back under me.
“Beckett?”
“When I was growing up, if I wanted something, I took it. Immediately. I had sex at fourteen with a girl in my foster home of the moment. I opened Christmas presents early if I was lucky enough to get one, and it was usually from my social worker or some charity.”
“I don’t understand.” She wrapped her arms around her knees again.
“I took it immediately because I knew if I didn’t, chances were I wouldn’t get it. It was a now-or-never kind of thing—there weren’t second chances.”
“Okay.”
“I can’t touch you, can’t talk about it, because I’m afraid I’ll act on it.”
“And why does that matter if I want you to?”
“Because I won’t get a second chance. And I’m crap with people, with relationships. I’ve never had one that lasted more than a month. Never loved a woman I’ve slept with. And chances are I’d do something to screw this up, because it’s not just my dick that wants you, Ella.”
That O popped right back onto her face, and I closed my eyes to keep from lunging across the distance and kissing her. Knowing she’d let me—that she wanted it—sent my need from a bullet to a nuclear missile.
“And when I’d screw it up, because it would happen, trust me, it would hurt Colt and Maisie, too. You’d be on your own again, because there’s no chance you’d let me hang around and help you out like Ryan asked.”
“And there it is.”
“There it is. You’re Ryan’s little sister.”
“There were only five years between us. Not so little, you know.” She reached for the remote.
“I’m well aware.”
“So if Ryan were still alive…” She shot one last look at me.
I let everything slip for a millisecond, letting her see it all in my eyes, how badly I wanted her, and not just for her body. “Everything would be different.”
“Everything?”
“Everything but the way I feel about you, which he probably would have killed me for. Where does that leave us?”
“You mean besides me being a dried-up spinster and you being honor-bound to a ghost?”
“Something like that.”
She rolled her head along the back of the couch, muttering something that sounded like a curse word under her breath. Then she sat up straight and powered on the TV with a click of her thumb. “That leaves us choosing a movie on demand. Because I’m not letting you walk out that door right now.”
“You’re not?”
“Nope. You walk out now, you might get all weird about this and not come back. Honor is a fabulous thing, but sometimes pride can be a lot stronger, especially when you convince yourself it’s for the good of the other person.”
Damn, the woman knew me.
“So movie it is,” I agreed. “Just…stay on your side of the couch.”
“I wasn’t the one who crossed the center line,” she teased with a smile that got me hard all over again.
Movie chosen, we sat and watched, both of us stealing sideways glances. There was that saying…the horse out of the barn. Yeah, the horse was out of the barn, and it wasn’t going back in. Not no way. Not no how.
That horse was running amok and screwing with my carefully constructed control.
But I didn’t complain when she moved over. Or when she pressed against my side. Nope. I lifted my arm and savored the feel of her curves, her trust. Still didn’t complain when she lay down in my arms. Hell no, I held on and memorized every second.
“This story gripped me from start to finish. The Last Letter is poignant, heartfelt and utterly consuming. I loved it!”
– Mia Sheridan, NYT Bestselling Author
“Hands down, the best book I’ve read all year.”
– Fic Wishes
About Rebecca Yarros
Rebecca Yarros is a hopeless romantic and a lover of all things coffee, chocolate, and Paleo. She is the author of the Flight & Glory series, including Full Measures, the award-winning Eyes Turned Skyward, Beyond What is Given, and Hallowed Ground. She loves military heroes, and has been blissfully married to hers for sixteen years.
When she’s not writing, she’s tying hockey skates for her four sons, sneaking in some guitar time, or watching brat-pack movies with her two daughters. She lives in Colorado with the hottest Apache pilot ever, their rambunctious gaggle of kids, an English bulldog who is more stubborn than sweet, and a bunny named General Fluffy Pants who torments the aforementioned bulldog. Having adopted their youngest daughter from the foster system, and Rebecca is passionate about helping others do the same.
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