Before I Let Go by Kennedy Ryan
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Before I Let Go

by

Kennedy Ryan

(Author)

4.6

-

12,425 ratings


“Real, raw, magnificent—Before I Let Go is the beautiful angst I love to read.” —Colleen Hoover, #1 New York Times bestselling author

A Good Morning America Book Buzz Pick!

Their love was supposed to last forever. But when life delivered blow after devastating blow, Yasmen and Josiah Wade found that love alone couldn’t solve or save everything.

It couldn’t save their marriage.

Yasmen wasn’t prepared for how her life fell apart, but she’s is finally starting to find joy again. She and Josiah have found a new rhythm, co-parenting their two kids and running a thriving business together. Yet like magnets, they’re always drawn back to each other, and now they’re beginning to wonder if they’re truly ready to let go of everything they once had.

Soon, one stolen kiss leads to another…and then more. It's hot. It's illicit. It's all good—until old wounds reopen. Is it too late for them to find forever? Or could they even be better, the second time around?

Award-winning and bestselling "powerhouse" author Kennedy Ryan is at her absolute best in this compelling, scorching novel about hope and healing, and what it truly means to love for a lifetime (USA Today).

  • Book of the Month Club selection
  • NPR Best Books of 2022
  • Entertainment Weekly Best Romances of 2022
  • Washington Post 10 Best Romances of the Year
  • Women's Health Best Books of the Year
  • Publishers Weekly Best Romance Books of 2022

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ISBN-10

1538706792

ISBN-13

978-1538706794

Print length

400 pages

Language

English

Publisher

Forever

Publication date

November 14, 2022

Dimensions

5.65 x 1.25 x 8.25 inches

Item weight

12.5 ounces


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Popular Highlights in this book

  • I was no walk in the park, Merry. Who wants to walk in the park? I think that man would run wild with you.

    Highlighted by 1,506 Kindle readers

  • That’s the part of depression people don’t consider, that at times it physically hurts.

    Highlighted by 1,468 Kindle readers

  • If I waited until I don’t have feelings for Yasmen before I moved on, I tell Vashti as gently as I can, I never would.

    Highlighted by 974 Kindle readers


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ASIN :

B09TZZKY5V

File size :

1718 KB

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Editorial Reviews

“Real. Raw. Magnificent!”―Colleen Hoover, #1 New York Times bestselling author

“Kennedy Ryan pours her whole soul into everything she writes, and it makes for books that are heart-searing, sensual, and life affirming. We are lucky to be living in a world where she writes.”―EMILY HENRY, #1 New York Times bestselling author

“Breathtaking, gut-wrenching, viscerally romantic. I want to curl up and live in this book.”―Talia Hibbert, New York Times bestselling author

“Before I Let Go is a masterpiece, and one of those books that you finish reading and just know you'll go back to many, many times. A beautifully honest portrayal of love in its many forms, and the most raw, poignant, and romantic journey of healing I've read in a long time. Kennedy Ryan has a fan for life.”―Ali Hazelwood, New York Times bestselling author of Love on the Brain

“I am a sucker for high-stakes, once-in-a-lifetime soulmate love–and Before I Let Go hits every spot! Yasmen and Josiah’s story is emotional, raw, real, grown-up, and it perfectly crystalizes the idea that real, lasting love is an imperfect journey of patience. Forgiveness. Healing. And, of course, wildly hot, steamy sex! Kennedy Ryan has gifted us with yet another addictively delicious read.”―TIA WILLIAMS, New York Times bestselling author

“A knockout.”―Publishers Weekly, starred review

“A gorgeously poignant story of healing, family, and love. Kennedy Ryan is a true artist.”―Helen Hoang, New York Times bestselling author

“Ryan always manages to ring her heavy stories with an aura of hope and a propulsive narrative that makes them impossible to put down. Grade: A”―Entertainment Weekly

“Ryan is a fantastic storyteller and superb writer.”―NPR

“A story of resilience, redemption and second chances; it’s heavy but hopeful. With meticulously detailed prose, Ryan creates characters who are deeply relatable, so compelling and lushly drawn that they feel like old friends.”―BookPage

“A stunning look at the nuances of grief, healing, marriage, and love.”―Women's Health

“Ryan crafts a heroine who is empowered, inspiring the men in her world to do whatever it takes to keep that connection alive.”―Ebony

"BEFORE I LET GO is the kind of beautiful, heart-felt love story that stays with you. The only thing that rivals Kennedy Ryan's stunning prose is Yasmen's journey itself--raw and moving and relatable. This book is a must read!"―Lexi Ryan, #1 New York Times Bestselling Author

“Kennedy Ryan has written the type of romance you want to slowly savor, yet can’t help but devour. Every page is perfection."―Farrah Rochon, USA Today Bestselling author of The Hookup Plan

"Fans of Colleen Hoover will love this beautiful, unforgettable, oh-so-real second-chance romance whose characters will stay in your heart long after reading. Kennedy Ryan is a brilliant storyteller who can make you cry one moment and snort-laugh the next.”―Jill Shalvis, New York Times bestselling author

"SPECTACULAR! Kennedy is doing something no one else in romance is doing right now. If you love angst with the most satisfying payoff, Before I Let Go is for you."―Christina Lauren, New York Times bestselling author

"Ryan is a powerhouse of a writer."―USA Today

"Before I Let Go takes readers on an emotional rollercoaster."

TIME Magazine 50 Best Romance Novels to Read Right now―TIME Magazine

"Kennedy Ryan writes modern romance with such emotion and beauty. Her stories are guaranteed to break your heart and then they heal it, each and every time."―Kylie Scott, New York Times bestselling author

"Kennedy Ryan is one of the most talented writers writing today, and Before I Let Go is another showcase of that talent. This book is challenging, bracing, so evocative, and so REAL."―Kate Clayborn, author of Love Lettering

“Kennedy Ryan crafts characters and stories that stay with you long after you’ve turned the last page. Before I Let Go is a beautifully told story full of hope, sorrow, and healing, a true testament to the power of love, family, community, and soul food. I smiled, pined along with Yasmen and Josiah, and rooted for their reunion. A great read.”―Alexandria House, bestselling author of Let Me Love You

"Kennedy writes these gripping, touching, romantic, transporting books every single time."―Denise Williams, Author of How to Fail At Flirting

"Devastating, thought provoking, and so hopeful, this deeply romantic second-chance love story brought out all my emotions. This book is stunningly beautiful."―Farah Heron, author of Kamila Knows Best

"The queen of hard-hitting romance books."―The Culturess

"Before I Let Go is pure magic. Kennedy poured herself in this raw, real, second-chance love story that will reach out and touch you to your soul. I read this story with my heart in my throat, enraptured by every word. A stunning, stellar, must read." ―A.L. Jackson, NYT & USA Today bestselling author

“A must read for lovers of It Starts with Us by Colleen Hoover and Seven Days in June by Tia Williams.”―ZibbyMag

"This novel of rediscovered love is highly recommended." ―Library Journal, starred review

"Kennedy Ryan captures so many topics in this book from grief, loss, community, and friendship to learning how to forgive yourself, speak your truth, and ask for what you want. It’s a book where you can easily find glimpses of yourself among the pages.”―Conde Nast Traveler

“Kennedy Ryan is frequently compared to bestselling author Colleen Hoover, and for good reason. She writes heart-wrenching romances that are sexy and modern.”―Men's Health

“Ryan masterfully builds complex female characters and she does it again here, crafting a lead who’s as invested in her own personal journey as she is her romantic one.” ―USA Today

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Sample

Chapter One

Yasmen

You rarely see good things in the rearview mirror.

A lesson I should have learned by now, but I flick a glance to the back seat anyway, watching my daughter break the rules. Her brother in the passenger seat beside me is just as bad.

“Guys, you know it’s not screen time.” I split my attention between the interstate and the two of them. “Put your phones away, please.”

“Mom, seriously?” My daughter Deja’s sigh is heavy with a thirteen-year-old’s exasperation. “I just finished school and dance lessons. Gimme a break.”

“Sorry, Mom,” Kassim says, lowering his phone to his lap.

Deja expels another breath, like she’s not sure who irritates her more, me for making the rules or her brother for following them.

“Brownnose,” she mutters, gaze still fixed to her screen.

“Deja,” I say. “That phone is mine if you don’t put it away.”

Her eyes, dark and gold-flecked, clash with mine in the mirror before she sets the phone aside. It’s like staring back at myself. We’re so much alike. Skin as smooth and brown as polished walnut. Her hair, like mine, prone to coil and curl, always contracting at the slightest bit of moisture in the air. Same stubborn chin hinting at a will to match.

“She’s just like you,” my mother used to say when as a toddler Deja barreled into mishaps despite my warnings to take care. When she’d pull herself up to run off again with fresh scrapes and bruises. “Serves you right. Now you’ll see what I had to put up with raising you.”

I always thought it would be a blessing, mother and daughter, two peas in the proverbial pod. And for a long time, it was…until thirteen. God, I hate this age. I can’t seem to get anything right with her anymore.

“So how was your day?”

I ask because I want to make good use of all this time we have in the car commuting. They’ve only been back in school for two weeks, and I should start this year as I mean to go on.

“Jamal brought his lizard to school,” Kassim says, his amused eyes meeting mine in a brief sidelong glance. “And it crawled out of his backpack in class.”

“Oh, my God.” I laugh. “Did he catch it?”

“Yeah, but it took like twenty minutes. He’s fast. The lizard, I mean.” Kassim twists a button on the crisp white shirt of his school uniform. “Some of the girls started screaming. Mrs. Halstead stood on her chair, like it was a snake or something.”

“I might have freaked out too,” I admit.

“This one was harmless. It wasn’t like a Gila monster or a Mexican beaded lizard,” Kassim says. “Those are two of the poisonous types found in North America.”

I catch Deja staring at the back of her brother’s head like he sprang from Dr. Who’s TARDIS. With Kassim’s constant stream of factoids and fascination with…well, everything…it probably sometimes seems like he did.

“Never a dull moment with Jamal,” I say with a chuckle. “What about you, Deja?”

“Huh?” she asks, her voice disinterested, distracted.

When I check the mirror again, I only see her profile. She’s studying I-85 through her window. The six o’clock traffic is basically a parking lot, a fleet of Atlantan commuters inching forward and negotiating tight spaces in a game of vehicular Tetris.

“I was asking how your day went,” I try again.

“It was all right,” Deja says, eyes fixed on the traffic beyond her window. “Dad’s at the restaurant?”

So much for connecting.

“Uh, yeah.” I tap the brakes when a Prius cuts in front of me. “You guys can eat dinner there and your dad’ll take you home once you’re done.”

“Why?” Kassim asks.

“Why what?” I wait for the Prius to decide what he wants to do.

“I mean where will you be?” Kassim presses.

“It’s Soledad’s birthday,” I tell him, carefully switching lanes. “We’re taking her out to dinner. Make sure you get your homework done. I don’t want you to fall behind.”

“God, Mom,” Deja sighs. “We’re barely back from summer and you’re already up our asses.”

I ping a sharp glance from Kassim in the front seat to Deja in the back.

“Day, don’t cuss.”

She mumbles something under her breath.

“What was that?” I flash a look at her in the mirror as I pull off the exit. “You got something to say?”

“I said it.” Defiant, resentful eyes snap to meet mine.

“I didn’t hear it.”

“Is that my problem?”

“Yeah, it is. If you’re big and bad enough to say it, say it loud enough for me to hear it.”

“Mom, geez.” She pinches the bridge of her nose. “Why are you so…ugh.”

I have a thousand replies to that, but all of them would only worsen the tension between us. If I had spoken to my mama that way, she would have pulled over to the shoulder and popped me in the mouth. God knows I love my mother, but I don’t want that. I draw a calming breath and try to remember all the ways I promised myself I would do things differently with my kids, landing somewhere between gentle parenting…and my mama.

I stop at a red light, turning to glance over my shoulder, meeting Deja’s hard stare. It always feels like she’s fortifying a wall between us, piling up the bricks before I can touch her on the other side. I miss the girl who loved our pillow fights, s’mores over the backyard firepit, and Saturday morning mommy-daughter manis. Is it all part of growing up, or are we just growing apart? Or both?

“Your dad and I expect you to set a better example for your brother,” I tell her.

“Well, Daddy’s not around as much anymore.” She turns her head, shifts her eyes away from me, and stares back out the window. “Is he?”

Even though Josiah doesn’t live with us, he’s only two streets over and they see him every day. Still, my heart clenches with a guilt-tinged ache because as much as I’d like to believe it’s only the big one-three that eroded things between Deja and me, I can’t lie to myself. The trouble started with the divorce. Those eyes, before never far from sparkling with laughter, now seem too old for the rest of her face, and not just from seeing one more year pass, but from witnessing the dissolution of her parents’ marriage over the last few.

“It’s green, Mom,” Kassim says.

Before anyone can honk, I accelerate with the cars around me, driving past the blue-and-white sign heralding that we’re entering Skyland, one of Atlanta’s most vibrant in-town neighborhoods. My shoulder muscles relax as we shift from the tension of the interstate to the more sedate pace and thinner traffic of Skyland’s narrow roads. It pairs the charm and intimacy of a smaller community with proximity to the explosive energy and limitless options of a world-class city. We drive down Main Street, bordered by cobblestone walkways, boutiques, and cloth-draped tables spilling from the cafés onto the sidewalks. I exit the roundabout encircling the fountain in the center of Sky Square and keep driving until our restaurant, Grits, comes into view.

Downtown Skyland is a perfect blend of preservation and progress. The zoning gatekeepers have preserved many of the historic homes by repurposing them for business. Our soul fusion restaurant, Grits, is a shining example. The two-story Victorian with its wraparound porch stole my heart as soon as I laid eyes on it. The house had fallen into disrepair, but we had a loan from the bank, more ideas than we knew what to do with, and a stack of family recipes. Josiah had the business degree, but I brought the vision for an upscale, “down-home” restaurant that specialized in reinventing old Southern favorites. It took us awhile to get to “upscale.” For a long time we were more “mom-and-pop,” our entire operation squeezed into a small retail space on the south side of Atlanta. So much has changed, been lost, gained.

Besides the two humans in this car, Grits is what I’m proudest of. It’s our baby too. Even when things fell apart between Josiah and me, we still had our three babies. Deja, Kassim, and this place, Grits. When we realized those were the only things holding us together, we knew it would be better to dissolve our marriage than to go on as what we had become.

Well, I knew.

When we arrive at Grits, I pull into a reserved parking space right up front and kill the engine. Kassim opens the door and is out and up the steps to Grits’s entrance without another word. Deja gets out, too, and closes the door. Coltish, all skinny arms and giraffe legs in her plaid school uniform skirt and pink high-top Converse, she pauses to type, already glued to her phone again, before entering the restaurant.

I don’t even have the patience to remind her about screen time. Let Josiah worry about it for the next couple of hours. I grab my suit bag from the trunk, start for the steps, and pull open the heavy front door emblazoned with our logo. As soon as I cross the threshold, a sense of accomplishment rises in me as thick and real as the smell of fried chicken and savory vegetables permeating the tastefully decorated dining room. It’s a full house tonight, though lately every night is a full house. What a difference a year makes.

Across the dining room I spot Deja and Kassim standing with a man I don’t recognize. He’s of middle age and average height, and standing next to a petite woman dressed in a white chef’s coat and slim-fitting pants. Vashti Burns’s reputation and culinary expertise helped pull us back from the edge of ruin. Her dark brown skin is a gorgeous contrast to the auburn-colored natural hair she wears cropped close. Having less hair gives her high cheekbones room to show off. Her full lips spread, flashing straight, white teeth in a smile up at the tall man beside her.

Josiah.

My ex-husband is one of those guys. A man who captures your attention with the breadth of his shoulders and a purposeful stride, long legs devouring each step like he needs to get someplace but won’t be rushed. I was a restaurant hostess when we first met. Josiah, waiting for a table with a group of friends, seduced my ears before I even laid eyes on him, that rich laugh of his unfurling like black silk ribbon and making heads turn. Turned my head. Not that he’s had much to laugh about the last few years. Hell, none of us have, but he’s laughing now, with our pretty new chef.

A group of laughing women spill through the front door, the perfume-scented clique of stilettos and body-con dresses crowding around the hostess podium. At Grits, your jeans are just as at home as your Sunday best. Or your in da club best in their case. Offering them a smile as the hostess checks them in, I walk toward Josiah and the kids. When I’m just a few feet away, Josiah glances up and his smile does that thing where it freezes at the sight of me and then melts completely into a neutral line. It stings a little, that the ease we used to share is gone. It’s one of the things we never recovered from the most painful season of our lives. That ease came with love, with passion, with partnership. At least we’re still partners, even if only in business and raising these kids.

“Hey,” Josiah murmurs when I join their little group, his voice a low, deep, familiar rumble. “I didn’t realize you were here. Thought you’d dropped them off.”

“Uh, no.” I pat the suit bag and angle a polite smile to Vashti and the stranger. “Just need to change before I go.”

“Let me introduce you,” he says. “Yasmen, this is William Granders, a food critic for the Atlanta Journal-Constitution. William, Yasmen Wade, my business partner.”

A food critic. So that’s why he’s at Soigné, our best table.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Granders,” I say, extending a hand to him. He returns the handshake with a smile before taking a sip of his Bordeaux.

“Good to see you again, Yasmen,” Vashti says, her voice well-modulated and pleasant.

“You too.”

Even though Vashti’s been here for about a year, we don’t know each other that well. I was still on hiatus when Josiah hired her after a string of replacements failed following Aunt Byrd’s passing. Vashti has the culinary training and that something-something Byrd used to say the most gifted cooks are born with. She’s been a lifesaver, but something I can’t put my finger on has kept the two of us from becoming friends. The customers and staff love her. My kids love her. Josiah…rests one big hand on her shoulder. The touch is innocuous. Platonic, but something about it…niggles.

“Hey, kids, let’s grab a table so you can eat and get started on homework,” I say, offering Mr. Granders a smile. “Hope you enjoy your meal.”

“How could I not?” He shoots Vashti an admiring look. “You’ve got yourself a rare gem here. Haven’t had chicken and dumplings like this since…well, ever.”

“We’re very lucky,” I agree with a smile.

“There’s a booth at the back near the kitchen,” Josiah says, dropping a quick kiss on Deja’s hair. “I’ll check on you guys in a bit. Decide what you want.”

“Ribs,” Kassim pipes up, licking his lips.

“Boy, you’re gonna turn into a rib.” Vashti laughs. “You get them every time. When you gonna try my chicken-fried steak?”

“Next time?” Kassim shrugs, his smile sheepish. If Deja’s my mini-me, Kassim is Josiah’s.

“Kids, let’s go so Mr. Ganders can finish his meal,” I say, looking back to the critic. “It was nice meeting you.”

Once we reach the booth Josiah reserved, I grab two menus from the table and hand them to the kids.

“Figure out what you want,” I say. “Your dad will come over to get your orders.”

“I’m starving.” Kassim opens the menu, eyes wide and scanning all the options.

“Eat. Home. Homework,” I remind them, looking from one to the other. “In that order. Got it?”

“Got it,” Deja says, her face obscured by the open menu.

“All right.” I shift the suit bag over my shoulder. “I need to change.”

I pick my way through the tables and smile at a few regular customers, but don’t stop. The phone vibrates in my purse, and I know it’s my friend Hendrix wondering where I am. I reach for my cell to reassure her I’m coming, but my steps falter midstride and I stand paralyzed in the empty corridor. To anyone else, it’s just a stretch of hardwood flooring, the wide planks dark and polished, but my mind’s eye superimposes an old stain spreading beneath my Nikes. And even though the floor has long since been scrubbed clean, I still see my sorrow embedded in the woodgrain. For months I couldn’t walk through this place without my breath growing short and my head spinning. My pain was plastered in these walls. My ghosts and grief gathered around these tables. A knot of anxiety burgeons in my belly, and panic strangles me so tightly I can barely breathe, but I do what my therapist taught me.

Deep breath in, slow breath out.

Deep breath in, slow breath out.

At first I can only manage tiny sips of air and my head spins, but each breath deepens, lengthens, deploys life-giving calm to my tingling extremities. Repeating that cycle a few times slows my heartbeat and loosens the band manacling my throat. I’ve exorcized a lot of my demons. Not all, but enough to at least walk into Grits without running right back out. I’m ready to reclaim the space that loss and shit luck tried to take from me.

When I open my eyes, it’s just a floor, polished to a high shine. There was a time I would have fallen over that cliff, breath-deprived and panicked, and let my demons chase me from this place I love so much. A tiny smile crooks the corner of my mouth and I take one step and then another.

So this is what getting better feels like.

Headed for the office, I pass the clamor of the kitchen. The clang of pots, the tantalizing scents, the raucous laughter and raised voices drift from the space that had always been Byrd’s domain. I offer a quick wave to the crew as I stride toward the office.

“Private” is discreetly sketched into the gold plate on the office door. I walk in, closing the door behind me. Josiah is a man of order and discipline, and the office reflects that. When we shared this space, it was never this orderly. My side of our bedroom always looked like a natural disaster, while his side looked like…well, like this. Even though I’m getting back into the swing of things here at the restaurant, I haven’t been using the office. And it shows.

The desk is clear, except for a few papers sorted into neat piles, edges lined up just so. Not a speck of dust would dare reside on any of the shiny surfaces. Josiah would be pulling his hair out if he saw our bedroom right now. I’m not one of those people who make the bed every morning. I mean, no one’s in my room all day and I’m just climbing right back in at night. I like my bed waiting for me all rumpled like it was when I crawled out of it. Josiah? Sheets tucked tight like a can of sardines, corners sharp as a Swiss Army knife. He’s one of those people who actually knows how to fold a fitted sheet into a tiny square.

Freak.

I walk into the en suite bathroom, shut the door, flop onto the closed seat of the toilet.

And sit.

Life comes at us fast. Responsibilities, kids, opportunities—it all rushes at us with projectile force. With all the things flying my way, I’ve learned to stop and check for dents and bruises. I’ve been the walking wounded before with disastrous results. Now I always pause just one damn minute to make sure I’m actually okay. Sometimes I gotta have a seat on a toilet, hoarding breaths, surviving between seconds. For mere moments, insulated by thin walls and a closed door.

After a few restoring seconds of silence, I stand to peel off the day along with my jeans and T-shirt. I search under the sink, praying I’ll see the emergency deodorant I used to stash there.

“Yes!”

With a little sashay of my hips I apply the deodorant. My face is bare, so I pull out my “glam in minutes” kit and at least apply some coverage, color, and lashes. I washed my hair this morning, and the leave-in conditioner still tames my natural hair into a mostly curly, not-yet-frizzy, Afro-halo.

I may be winging it with my hair and makeup, but at least I know this dress is classy with a dash of freakum. Pink hibiscus flowers bloom across the emerald-green skirt and the bodice cups and molds my breasts like a lover. Not that I’ve had one of those since my divorce. I lift my arms, squinting into the bathroom mirror.

“Can you tell I didn’t shave?” I ask the woman looking back at me. Eyes shining. Curls popping. That matte pink lippie is on point. Brows, fleek-ish. And yoga has done her body good. I’ll never be the size I was before I had kids, and I’m fine with that. My health isn’t a number on the scale or on a tag in my jeans. I feel good about my body because it gets me through this life. I want to be around as long as possible to see my kids grow up, so I take care of it. I can’t remember when I last felt like this. I feel like…

“Myself.” I give the woman in the mirror a grin. “I feel like myself.”

My purse vibrates.

“Dammit.” I grab the phone and sure enough. “Hendrix, hey.”

“Where are you?” My friend’s husky voice holds an edge, but it always does. Her high-powered job and warp-speed life usually make her sound like she’s poised to pounce on anyone she’s talking to.

“Leaving Grits now. If I can ever get this dress zipped.” I press the phone between my ear and my shoulder and stretch to reach my back. “You already at Sky-Hi?”

“Yeah. Walking in now.”

“It’s just up the street. Be there in less than ten.”

“Okay. Bye.”

I turn my focus back to the zipper, which stubbornly stays put at the middle of my back.

Screw it.

I’ll ask the hostess to zip me up. I grab my stuff and leave the bathroom just as the outer office door opens and Josiah walks in. His glance skitters over me, starting with my curly hair and sliding to my bare toes.

“Sorry. I didn’t realize you were in here.” He strides over to the desk, opens a drawer, and retrieves a small stack of cards. “Granders wanted a business card.”

“People still actually use those?”

The powerful shoulders shrug in the confines of his well-tailored suit.

“Apparently he does. I’ll carve my name into a stone tablet if it means he’ll write us a good review. We could use the visibility.”

“Are things…”

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About the authors

Kennedy Ryan

Kennedy Ryan

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Kennedy Ryan writes for women from all walks of life, empowering them and placing them firmly at the center of each story and in charge of their own destinies. Kennedy and her writings have been featured in NPR, Entertainment Weekly, USA Today, Glamour, Cosmo, Ebony, TIME, and many others. The audio edition of her novel Reel received the prestigious Audie® Award, and her Skyland series is currently in development for television at Peacock. The co-founder of LIFT 4 Autism, an annual charitable book auction, Kennedy has a passion for raising Autism awareness. Dubbed "Queen of Hugs" by her readers, she is a wife to her "lifetime lover," and mother to an extraordinary son.

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Reviews

Customer reviews

4.6 out of 5

12,425 global ratings

T. Gray

T. Gray

5

Captivating page turner

Reviewed in the United States on June 30, 2024

Verified Purchase

This book came highly recommended from a very good friend. She knew I had a best friend that was going through and experiencing her own grief with loss. I bought this for myself and BF to read together, we both finished the book in less than 3 days. Even though spoke of loss and depression, the author was so thoughtful and sensitive to the subject and really pulled you into the storyline and family. Even though the story speaks about a couples love and loss, there was a very well rounded storyline and the author does a well job of keeping the readers engaged! Can’t wait to read her other books!

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4 people found this helpful

Q. Moore

Q. Moore

5

The Power of Therapy

Reviewed in the United States on June 3, 2024

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It is always good to dive into a new author's masterpiece. I have seen this book float around on Goodreads and Amazon but never indulged in it. I finally took the leap, and I have to say I enjoyed this work of art. This book is an exemplary example of how powerful therapy can be for a grieving family. Although Yasmen suffered from depression more than anyone else in her family, she was still a powerful, strong mother, wife, and business owner. Josiah may not have understood everything Yasmen was experiencing. However, he knew that his wife was mentally ill. Yasmen and Josiah both knew in the depths of their hearts that their flame for each other had not died. They just had to figure out how to manuever through their new norm. I was glad when they finally found their way back to each other. They needed each other along with the kids needing their parents. The split affected the kids more than either parent realized.

After immersing into this masterpiece, I can see how this book has so many reviews. It deserves every last one of them. This book not only introduces us to Yasmen, Josiah, Kassim, and Deja but Soledad and Hendrix as well. It leaves you to anticipate how the love lives of Soledad and Hendrix fold out. It seems that Soledad may be having some issues in her marriage already. I am looking forward to reading the next installment in this series. I want Soledad to get her happily ever after like Yasmen did.

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2 people found this helpful

Mrs. Lakes

Mrs. Lakes

5

So real so powerful, Inspiring

Reviewed in the United States on August 1, 2024

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I love this love story I wish my own love story could have turned out this beautiful. Such a great read, love the character development. A true depiction of the power of love, friendship, family, open and honest communication, and a good therapist.

♓ ManiLovesBooks ♓

♓ ManiLovesBooks ♓

5

Grief, Mental Health, and Second Chances All Written With Grace

Reviewed in the United States on December 5, 2022

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+🛑SPOILERS🛑 ⭐️: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️/5

ONE OF MY TOP READS OF 2022!

I read this book as a buddy read and started the book on Saturday night. It's Monday afternoon and I finished it!

To say this book is amazing, sad, beautiful, loving, and more is an understandment. First of all I love the name Josiah and Yasmen! I just had to throw that out there 🤣. Second when the book first started I am glad it started with Yasmen being happy with herself and loving who she is. It was a journey still for her and I enjoyed the aspect of therapy and how it has helped her. She was a great mother, business women, and lover who just lost her way. I liked that she told Josiah she never stopped loving him, but she needed to learn to love herself. I've heard so many people say that and I didn't know what it meant until recently. It's the truth, though I didn't agree divorce was the right decision, something Yasmen admitted. She needed the separation and I just wish her and Josiah would have been able to communicate that without having to divorce.

Kennedy Ryan has a way of writing men that you fall in love with.

Josiah has literally stolen my ❤️!

He was everything you want in a man. A great father, loving, sweet, and supportive. One thing I loved the most about him is taking accountability. Yes, Yasmen asked for the divorce, however, he was being emotionally resistant and never truly showed emotion for the lose of his aunt and son. That affected Yasmen who didn't have support and felt alone. Even denying going to therapy which in the long run he found to help him and his family. The scene when he was speaking to his therapist and finally let his tears go was beautiful to see.

Society has set into men they have to be strong and withhold there emotions, but in reality you are setting them up to suffer silently which leads to worse circumstances mentally.

I relate to this book on the spectrum of therapy. I was resistant at first because I thought people would label me crazy and more. But, after going it had helped me so much. I now have methods of breathing to calm myself down and turn to positivity at my darkest times.

Before I Let Go is about second chances and finding love again that has never went away. Also, anxiety and depression which millions of people suffer from on the daily. Not to mention Si and Yas kids were a true telling of the story as well and I liked the way Kennedy explained ways divorce can affect children especially ones who are older. Deja I understand her anger with her mother and I was proud to see them make up at the end. Even Yasmen holding herself accountable and talking to her daughter. The son Seem is a son I would dream to have!

However, this book is a solid ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ for me and I recommend everyone read this book. It respectfully explores the topic of grief, mental health, and more. Also, shows therapy in the positive light that it is!

Read this book because you will not regret it. I look forward to the next book in the series!

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26 people found this helpful

Kindle Customer

Kindle Customer

5

Ohmahgaaaaaawwwsshh

Reviewed in the United States on June 24, 2024

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Swoonworthy! Heartfelt! Love reunited! Ughhh, I loved this book so much. I loved the effort this author took to paint such a descriptive masterpiece that transported me to smack dab in the middle of this story. I lived and breathed Yas and Josiah's love story as if I was living it with them. A love story about true love that lost its way as it became entangled with anger, pain, and bittersweet memories. I agonized and cried as I felt the pain Yas went through battling depression, loss, and grief. I felt hope blooming out of my chest as she recognized the new person she was becoming, a woman who was on a healing journey to being healthy and whole. I whooped with pride every time Josiah had a breakthrough and crumbled brick by brick the walls that he constructed around his hurt. This book was ABSOLUTELY amazing.

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3 people found this helpful

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