![\"RETRIEVAL_EXCERPT](\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.escapistbookblog.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/09\/RETRIEVAL_EXCERPT-1.jpg?resize=640%2C237&ssl=1\")
<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Prologue<\/b><\/em><\/p>\n Roman<\/b><\/p>\n The house was dark when I quietly twisted the lock so as not to wake her. God knows she needed the sleep. I didn\u2019t know how she still functioned when her days were filled with tears and her nights weren\u2019t much better. It was precisely the reason I stayed gone as much as I did. Or so I\u2019d thought as I\u2019d thrown myself into work. Money couldn\u2019t solve my problems, but it might have been able to solve hers.<\/span><\/p>\n My body ached, and my lids barely stayed open despite the pot of coffee I\u2019d downed not even an hour earlier. It was a miracle I had been able to drive at all. I should have just crashed at the office, but after yet another failed prototype, I\u2019d needed an escape.<\/span><\/p>\n Instead, I\u2019d gone home\u2014the very place I\u2019d spent so many nights trying to avoid.<\/span><\/p>\n Only one foot was over the threshold when I suddenly froze.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cElisabeth?\u201d I called, flipping the overhead light on.<\/span><\/p>\n My shoulders fell as I found her sitting on the sofa, her long, blond hair curtaining her face and suitcases surrounding her feet.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cWhat\u2019s going on?\u201d I asked as my gut wrenched, already knowing the answer.<\/span><\/p>\n I had no right to be surprised. I\u2019d all but forced her hand. If I was honest with myself, it was what I\u2019d wanted\u2014for her. However, none of that made the pain of reality any less agonizing.<\/span><\/p>\n My heart raced. \u201cElisabeth?\u201d I prompted again, needing to hear her say the words almost as much as I dreaded it.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cI can\u2019t stay here anymore,\u201d she whispered at the floor.<\/span><\/p>\n Acid rose in my throat.<\/span><\/p>\n Out of habit, I dropped my keys into the basket she\u2019d bought when we\u2019d first moved in. \u201c<\/span>If you fail the key basket, the key basket will fail you<\/span><\/i>,\u201d she\u2019d announced with an infectious smile the day we had become homeowners to the two-bedroom-two-bath starter home we could barely afford. It was just seconds before I\u2019d swept her off her feet and made love to her on the hardwood floor of our foyer in the middle of the day.<\/span><\/p>\n But such was life as a newlywed.<\/span><\/p>\n Inside that house with her was the only place I\u2019d ever wanted to be.<\/span><\/p>\n Until the fantasy of forever had worn off and the walls of real life had closed in on us. Once my refuge, our home became an inescapable prison with bars built of my failures.<\/span><\/p>\n I couldn\u2019t breathe inside that house any more than I could look her in the eye. <\/span><\/p>\n We\u2019d only been married for five years. But, seeing her now, I felt like it\u2019d been a lifetime since I\u2019d peered into her eyes, promising to love her in sickness and in health.<\/span><\/p>\n But it wasn\u2019t like she was the same woman, either.<\/span><\/p>\n Over the last six months, she\u2019d wasted away both physically and mentally in front of my eyes.<\/span><\/p>\n And I\u2019d done absolutely nothing to help her.<\/span><\/p>\n But how do you throw a lifeline when you yourself don\u2019t even have a rope to hold on to? I might have been able to keep her afloat for another day, but I\u2019d never have been able to pull her back to me.<\/span><\/p>\n We merely existed on the same plane. Living under the same roof, eating meals at the same table, sleeping in the same bed. But we were far from sharing our lives together.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cAre you coming back?\u201d I asked, not willing to accept the truth that lingered in the air around us.<\/span><\/p>\n Her deep-green eyes lifted to mine\u2014the red rims and the dark circles doing nothing to hinder her beauty. Swallowing hard, she shifted her gaze to the mantel on the other side of the room. I knew what she was looking at, but I refused to follow her into the past.<\/span><\/p>\n That might have been our biggest problem of all.<\/span><\/p>\n She was still living there.<\/span><\/p>\n And I refused to go back.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cElisabeth?\u201d My voice softened, but the question remained the same. \u201cAre you coming back?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cNo,\u201d she replied, swiping the tears from her cheeks.<\/span><\/p>\n A thousand arrows fell from the sky, searing into my soul. My breath hitched, and my lungs burned. This was it\u2014the end of my life as I knew it. But, in that moment, with her shoulders hunched forward in defeat, I realized that it was the end of hers, too.<\/span><\/p>\n Why did that realization hurt more than the lifetime of loneliness that was awaiting me when the sun rose?<\/span><\/p>\n I lifted a hand and rubbed my chest, hoping to ease the mounting pressure threatening to overtake me. \u201cDon\u2019t do this,\u201d I mumbled through the pain.<\/span><\/p>\n I wasn\u2019t sure who I\u2019d meant that for though.<\/span><\/p>\n Was I chastising myself for having asked her to prolong the inevitable just because I wasn\u2019t ready to lose her yet? Or was I asking her to stay in this sham of a marriage for even one day longer?<\/span><\/p>\n Probably both.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019ll be okay,\u201d she assured me, pushing to her feet and gathering her bag, complete with our Yorkie, Loretta, tucked in her mesh dog carrier.<\/span><\/p>\n My pulse quickened, nature\u2019s fight-or-flight finally kicking in. But I\u2019d been in flight mode for entirely too long. There was no fight left.<\/span><\/p>\n I stepped into her path. \u201cElisabeth, please.\u201d I wasn\u2019t sure why I kept saying her name. I secretly hoped that it would snap her out of it, bringing her back to the reality of it all. But it was the reality that was killing us.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ll take off work tomorrow,\u201d I pleaded. \u201cWe can talk. Figure things out.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n It was selfish. Completely and utterly selfish. But that was nothing new for me.<\/span><\/p>\n Her chin quivered as a steady stream of tears fell from her eyes. \u201cPromise me something, Roman.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n I would have promised her the entire fucking universe if it had made her stay one night longer. But who was I kidding?<\/span><\/p>\n We were over.<\/span><\/p>\n We both knew it.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cAnything,\u201d I whispered, reaching down to take her hand, desperate for the connection I didn\u2019t deserve.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cRemember to live.\u201d Her voice caught, and a silent sob tore through her.<\/span><\/p>\n Cupping the back of her head, I pulled her into my chest.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cI can fix this,\u201d I swore, but it was yet another lie. \u201cWe just need time.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n Her shoulders shook as she cried in my arms. \u201cWe\u2026we promised. We told him we\u2019d live for him.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n I closed my lids and clung to her tighter.<\/span><\/p>\n We were supposed to be fighting and screaming. That was what soon-to-be-divorced couples did. But that wasn\u2019t us. We didn\u2019t hate each other. Elisabeth was my soul mate on every level.<\/span><\/p>\n And she was paying the price for that.<\/span><\/p>\n Minutes later, the tears stopped and she backed out of my arms. I fought the urge to regain my hold, forcing her to stay. But her sad resolve as she hurried to the mantel and then to the door made it clear it\u2019d be a wasted effort.<\/span><\/p>\n Never in a million years had I thought I\u2019d be standing there, watching her walk away.<\/span><\/p>\n But, then again, I\u2019d never expected her to have the urn of our only child cradled in her arm, either. A reminder of just how much I hadn\u2019t been able to give her. How much I\u2019d <\/span>never<\/span><\/i> be able to give her.<\/span><\/p>\n My past, present, and future were walking out of my life, and I stood immobile as every fiber in my being screamed for me to drop to my knees and beg her to stay.<\/span><\/p>\n To take her in my arms and tell her that we\u2019d figure it out.<\/span><\/p>\n To reclaim my life once and for all.<\/span><\/p>\n But how would that have helped <\/span>her<\/span><\/i>?<\/span><\/p>\n Staying wouldn\u2019t magically bring back her smile. Nor would it make her look at me with those bright-green eyes that made me feel as though I could conquer the world.<\/span><\/p>\n It wouldn\u2019t give me back the crazy woman who argued with her whole heart and loved with her entire soul. No. Those days were gone. <\/span><\/p>\n I\u2019d lost that woman somewhere in the bitterness between grief and blame.<\/span><\/p>\n We\u2019d been happy once.<\/span><\/p>\n But we\u2019d gotten greedy and tried to start a family.<\/span><\/p>\n That was her future. Not mine. Regardless how desperately I longed to give it to her\u2026and then selfishly take it for myself.<\/span><\/p>\n Sex. That\u2019s how babies are made. Children as young as elementary school are taught the simple biological facts of reproduction.<\/span><\/p>\n But what they never tell you is that, for one in six couples, having a baby goes a little differently.<\/span><\/p>\n For Elisabeth and me, it looked more like this:<\/span><\/p>\n Thirty-six months of crushing disappointment.<\/span><\/p>\n Three miscarriages.<\/span><\/p>\n Hundreds of tests our insurance company refused to cover because the inability to reproduce was not considered a health condition.<\/span><\/p>\n Countless tears.<\/span><\/p>\n Helplessness.<\/span><\/p>\n Failure.<\/span><\/p>\n Failure.<\/span><\/p>\n Failure.<\/span><\/p>\n Her broken heart.<\/span><\/p>\n My empty chest. <\/span><\/p>\n Thirty-seven thousand dollars we didn\u2019t have.<\/span><\/p>\n In vitro fertilization.<\/span><\/p>\n A sperm donor.<\/span><\/p>\n A handful of hope.<\/span><\/p>\n A positive pregnancy test.<\/span><\/p>\n Five months of utter bliss.<\/span><\/p>\n Earth-shattering devastation.<\/span><\/p>\n A funeral for a child I would never get to see grow up.<\/span><\/p>\n A job that became my only reprieve from reality.<\/span><\/p>\n And now\u2026losing the only woman I would ever love.<\/span><\/p>\n I\u2019d always been amazed by how much punishment a heart could take. I was broken, battered, and destroyed. And yet, much to my dismay, as I watched the front door close behind her, my heart kept beating. <\/span><\/p>\n I proposed on our first date. It was a life I couldn\u2019t give her, not for lack of trying. Fertility just wasn\u2019t on our side. We sought out doctors and treatments. Spent money we didn\u2019t have. Lied to our families. Smiled for our friends. Put on a brave face for a world that didn\u2019t understand.<\/p>\n Finally, we were successful\u2026 We were left broken, battered, and destroyed. This is the story of how I took back what had always been mine. After some encouragement from her friends, Aly decided to add \u201cAuthor\u201d to her ever-growing list of job titles. Five books later, she shows no signs of slowing. So grab a glass of Chardonnay, or a bottle if you\u2019re hanging out with Aly, and join her aboard the crazy train she calls life.<\/span><\/p>\n WEBSITE<\/a>\u00a0|<\/b>\u00a0<\/span>FACEBOOK<\/b><\/a>\u00a0|\u00a0<\/b>TWITTER<\/b><\/a>\u00a0|\u00a0<\/b>GOODREADS<\/b><\/a><\/p>\n
\n![\"RETRIEVAL_COMING_SOON](\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.escapistbookblog.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/09\/RETRIEVAL_COMING_SOON-1.jpg?resize=500%2C281&ssl=1\")
<\/h4>\nBlurb<\/strong><\/h4>\n
\nShe laughed and told me I was insane. Less than a day later, she said yes.
\n<\/span>It was a whirlwind, but we were happy\u2026
\n<\/span>Until we got greedy and wanted a family.<\/span><\/p>\n
\n<\/span>Until we were forced to bury our son.<\/span><\/p>\n
\n<\/span>They say love is in the details, but it was the details that ruined us.<\/span><\/p>\n
\nThe <\/span>retrieval<\/span><\/i> of <\/span>my<\/span><\/i> wife and <\/span>our<\/span><\/i> family.<\/span><\/p>\n
\nONE STORY. TWO COUPLES.<\/strong><\/h4>\n
The Retrieval Duet by Aly Martinez is a two part series releasing September 2016.<\/strong><\/h4>\n
RETRIEVAL (Part 1) releases on September 13th and will bring readers the first part of this emotional second chance romance. \u00a0\u00a0<\/strong><\/h4>\n
TRANSFER (Part 2) will release on September 27th!<\/strong><\/h4>\n
Pre-order The Retrieval Duet TODAY!<\/strong><\/h4>\n
You will not be disappointed.<\/strong><\/h4>\n
![\"retrieval](\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.escapistbookblog.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/08\/retrieval-duet.jpg?resize=500%2C375&ssl=1\")
<\/p>\nRetrieval (Part One)
\n<\/strong>Amazon US<\/a>\u00a0|\u00a0Amazon UK<\/a>\u00a0|\u00a0iBooks<\/a>\u00a0|\u00a0Kobo<\/a>\u00a0<\/strong><\/h4>\nTransfer (Part Two)
\n<\/strong>Amazon US<\/a>\u00a0|\u00a0Amazon UK<\/a>\u00a0|\u00a0iBooks<\/a>\u00a0|\u00a0Kobo<\/a><\/strong><\/h4>\n
\nAbout\u00a0the Author<\/strong><\/h4>\n
![\"ali](\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.escapistbookblog.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/08\/ali-martinez.jpg?resize=200%2C150&ssl=1\")
Born and raised in Savannah, Georgia, Aly Martinez is a stay-at-home mom to four crazy kids under the age of five, including a set of twins. Currently living in South Carolina, she passes what little free time she has reading anything and everything she can get her hands on, preferably with a glass of wine at her side.<\/span><\/p>\nFor more info on Aly’s books, check out our\u00a0Aly Martinez Author Spotlight<\/a><\/strong><\/h4>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"