Category: giveaway

If
faced with your worst fear, what would you do? Would you run or would
you fight?

 

Camryn
Hamilton is a fighter.

A
thirty-something mother of two, Camryn appears to have it all: a
husband, plenty of money, and children she adores. When she returns
home to spend Christmas with her family, her perfect world she has
created begins to crumble, thrusting her face to face with the only
man who truly knows her.

Holden
Patrick will fight harder.

A
powerful, handsome attorney, Holden left town after his adoptive
parents’ death. In his time away he almost managed to forget the
girl who ran away with his heart. At least until a turn of fate
brought him back to Mantoloking, and back to Camryn.

But
are they willing to fight for each other?

Faced
with a tragic past that they both wanted to forget, they struggle to
protect their hearts from being broken again. Will their love be
enough to get them through another tragedy, or will they close
themselves off and run away again?

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RECOMMENDED
FOR AGES 18 AND UP DUE TO SEXUAL SITUATIONS AND STRONG
LANGUAGE.

 

Imagine
that you were married to the love of your life and had a happy
family. Now imagine everything was destroyed in an instant, making
you question who you are and how you can possibly go on once the one
person you truly love is gone.

It
is a rare thing to find your soul mate, but Jess found true love in
Dave when they were only teenagers. They’ve built a happy life
together in a small shore town, becoming pillars of the community and
making everyone around them envious of the perfect life they have
built together. Their love is something that seems like it can only
exist in a fairy tale. But what happens when the fairy tale is
broken?

Jess
has always been the life of the party, and Dave was always there to
reel her in and keep her safe. But one night, while on duty as the
town Sheriff, the unimaginable happens, altering the directions of
their lives forever.

Jess
is now forced to dig deep in her soul and find herself again. When
love tries to chip away at her frozen over heart, she struggles to
fight the guilt of moving on while keeping the memory of her perfect
love alive.

This
is a story about finding love, having it all taken away, and
discovering that moving on doesn’t mean forgetting the
past.

***This
is the second book of the A Broken Fairy Tale series, but can also be
read as a stand alone

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Kat
Pierce is a fiercely independent thirty something who knows Joey’s
womanizing ways far too well. When she lands a teaching job and moves
into her cousin’s house at the shore, she finds herself with Joey
more than she would like. There’s always been an attraction betweenthe two of them, but Kat knows better than to act on her feelings.
Her heart has been broken before, and she knows Joey is a one way
ticket to having it broken again.

Will
Joey and Kat find the love they are looking for?

HIS
JAR OF HEARTS is the third book of the A BROKEN FAIRY TALE SERIES.

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S.P.
Cervantes’s new dystopian romance, AN IMPOSSIBLE WORLD, will be
released on July 25th.

S.P.
is also the author of the highly rated Young Adult Romantic Fantasy
trilogy Secrets of Shadow Hill. “Always and Forever”, “The
Prophecy”, and “War of Wizards” that has been
described as “Twilight Meets Harry Potter”. It’s not your
typical romantic fantasy.

S.P
Cervantes lives in Orange County, California with her husband and
three children, where she is a teacher. She enjoys spending time with
her family, writing, reading, and running, but is always thinking of
an idea for her next novel.

Jar of Hearts Excerpt:

When the song ends, I move to go sit over on the seats he has set up for us, but he doesn’t
let me. “Kat.” He says my name as if it’s the one thing he needs to survive. He turns me back to
him and lifts my chin so I have no choice but to be captivated by his intense eyes. He leans down
and feathers a kiss on my lips. I want so much more. He pulls back, as if asking for permission. I
don’t need to say anything. He can see it. He kisses me again, raking his fingers through my hair,
pulling me into his kiss like a swirling black hole of pleasure. If there was ever a kiss that could
make me lose it all, this is it. His tongue brushes across my lips, parting them, causing a moan of
pleasure to escape when I oblige with need. His hands move down the sides of my body and all I
want is for him to touch me everywhere. But I remind myself that I can’t move too fast with him,
even though my body wants him everywhere.
I’m dizzy with pleasure, not able to think of anything but how perfect this kiss feels.
Although I’ve kissed Joey before, it’s never been like this because I’ve never let myself believe
that his kiss means something. Being with Joey could be the one thing that could mend my
broken heart.I can hardly keep busy enough at work today. I’d hoped there be more action with
summer only a few weeks away and vacationers already taking advantage of the early heat wave.
I wonder whether being away from Kat will always be this hard, or whether it will get easier as
time passes. I never minded being gone from home for weeks at a time, but as the fire season
draws near, the times where I’m away for weeks at a time will feel nearly impossible. I know the
way I’ve been thinking about Kat and a future together is crazy, but these days, I can’t imagine
one more day without her. Being in love is so much more all-consuming than I expected, I’m
glad that it didn’t happen for me until now. Because now, I have no doubt that I will do anything
it takes to spend the rest of my life with her. I have no questions whether there’s someone else
out there for me. I’ve been with all kinds of women before, but not one has touched my heart the
way Kat has, or even come close.
She’s.
My.
Plaster.

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Refusing
to believe the rumors that the European prince she was forced to
marry had died in a far-off land, the princess, Sierra, sets sail to
America, bent on revenge and determined to learn the truth. Because
she will require a scout to guide her through the wilderness, she
calls in a favor from the man who had betrayed her long ago, the man
she had once loved deeply and had hoped to wed, the noble Cheyennescout, High Wolf.

Many
years before, a European prince had invited High Wolf to travel an
ocean and as a brother, to live as a member of the royal family.
There High Wolf had fallen in love with the princess, Sierra. But
instead of an engagement and the planned wedding, the princess had
treacherously married his friend, the prince. Betrayed and
broken-hearted, High Wolf sailed back to America, determined to
forget the princess. But a promise given to her years earlier brings
her back into his life, igniting a desire he must resist, for to
surrender to her again is unthinkable.

Forced
into one another’s company, with the threat of life or death around
every corner, overcoming their prejudice might be their only means of
survival. But can either of them trust in a love, once betrayed? Or
will their past force them apart again, this time forever?…

This
book has been previously published.

Warning:
A sensuous romance that might fan the flames of desire. Be warned.
You might fall in love all over again.

All
of her books concern the Native American culture, and says Karen,
“With the power and passion of romance, I hope to bring about an
awareness of the vital forces that helped shape the American Indian
culture. There are some things that should never be forgotten.”

Website
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Enjoy this excerpt from The Princess and the Wolf

“The housekeeper tells that ’ tis well known the prince would divorce her,
were he here,” said the kitchen maid.
“Aye, that he would,” replied the housemaid. “And good riddance, says I. It
was she that drove him away. That she did.”

Gossip between servants at
Prince Alathom’s Castle

“Do you wish anything else before we go ashore?”
“No, Maria,” answered Princess Sierra, watching from her perch high above
the dock, as Governor Clark stepped from the carriage, accompanied by an Indian
maiden. “I do not require anything else at the moment. You’ve done quite well, my
friend, despite the demanding conditions of this vessel.” She gave Maria a brief
smile. “Would you please find Mr. Dominic and inform him that I am ready to
leave this ship?”
“Yes, Your Highness. At once. Do we go to greet Governor Clark, then?”
“I believe so,” said the princess. “And for this task, I will have need of you
both to accompany me.”
“Yes, Your Highness,” Maria said, curtsying before she turned to do as bid.
Sierra smoothed a white-gloved hand over the blue and white muslin of her
very full skirt, pulling the lace that bordered her walking dress into place.
Straightening her shoulders, she settled her blue and white-lace mantle over the

double bouffant of her sleeves, buttoning the mantle’s closure at the neck. Briefly,
she touched her wide belt, which was made of the same light blue color as her
dress, pulling it a little more tightly around her waist so as to accentuate its most
tiny aspect. A white straw bonnet, adorned with ribbons of blue and tied at the
neck, completed the image of the fashionable royal that she was.
Opening her blue and white parasol, Sierra narrowed her eyes, placing a hand
gently over her forehead as though it were an extra shield from the sun. She
frowned.
From her view of it, there seemed to be no sign of the man she had instructed
Governor Clark to hire. Had she needlessly tortured herself over this first meeting
with High Wolf?
Perhaps he hadn’t yet arrived.
Or maybe, she thought on a grimmer note, he wasn’t coming. Had he mayhap
learned that it was she behind the request?
For a moment, she worried over the possibility. As absurd as it might appear,
such a thing was possible: He might know of her coming. He’d always seemed to
have ways of gleaning information about things—ways that she had never
understood. Perhaps he had discovered her scheme well ahead of the fact.
At that thought, Sierra tried to swallow her disappointment.
It wasn’t that she was looking forward to seeing him again. No. It was only
that he, and he alone, could lead her to Prince Alathom, and it was Prince Alathom
she needed to find and challenge, Prince Alathom whom she would repay in
kind…if need be…
Squaring her shoulders and setting her features into as delightful a smile as
she could, Princess Sierra pulled unconsciously at her mantle, noticing as she did
so that her fingers shook with the effort.

It was then that she caught sight of something in her peripheral
vision…something familiar. She turned her head carefully to the left, her eyes
colliding with and staring hard at a pair of dark eyes looking directly back at her.
Her stomach flipped over twice before it at last performed a dive toward her
toes. She inhaled swiftly to try to quell the reaction.
It was he, High Wolf. He had come, after all.
As impossible as it might seem, she stared back at a face that she had once
thought never to see again. Yet, there he was; there, across a very short distance.
And unable to curtail it, she was suddenly awash in nearly palpable relief.
Relief? Nonsense. It was probably more to the point to say that she was glad
that her scheme now contained the element of possibility, the possibility of
success.
But if he were to be caught looking up at her, she would be staring back down
at him as well, almost as though she were hungry for the sight of him…although
she corrected herself, this last thought was ridiculous.
Again, she reminded herself that he, as well as the prince, had betrayed her. In
different ways, perhaps. But betrayal was certain treachery after all, regardless of
the circumstances. And faith, once lost, could never be restored.
Still, despite the intervening years, an all too familiar pain shot through her,
and without her conscious will, she found herself scrutinizing the man she had
once thought herself to be in love with…a man who had left her for no more than
three hundred gold dukaten.
He looked much the same as he had ten years ago, yet different. Whereas
High Wolf had been little more than a boy then, he was now very much a man, and
he looked bigger somehow, though he was still extraordinarily slim. Perhaps it was
because his chest was wider, larger…or perhaps he was more muscular.

He looked…better, more handsome, more virile.
Sierra grimaced at her thoughts and decided to scrutinize something else less
potent…his manner of dress, for instance…
Gone were the fashionable trousers and high leather boots that she
remembered him wearing in the past; in their place were buckskin leggings,
breechcloth and moccasins. Gone also were the carefully stitched linen shirt and
cravat so precisely tied, supplanted now with a long buckskin shirt, fringed, with
the bottom of it hanging down almost past his breechcloth. An ornament of what
looked to be a concatenation of beads and bone, in the shape of a breastplate, hung
down over his chest. It was a sight she had never beheld until this moment.
Instead of a hat, however, he now wore feathers on his head—or at least there
was one feather sticking straight up behind him. And his hair…
Relegated to the past was the fashionable haircut she recalled so well,
displaced now by long, black hair that hung well past his shoulders.
He looked…Indian, alien from all she had ever known and loved. Yet his
countenance was, contrarily, as familiar to her as a well-rehearsed play.
And she wondered: Despite their past, would he help her?
Not if he knew her purpose.
Only too well, she recalled that High Wolf considered the prince to be more
than a friend. To him, and perhaps rightly so, Prince Alathom was a brother, a
brother in fact as well as in deed. Besides, High Wolf would hardly condone her
murderous plan…a scheme she fully intended to execute if the prince refused to
return to the Continent, whereupon he would take up his responsibilities.
Indeed, she would be satisfied.

Those at home thought she knew nothing of their wagging tongues; they
believed their whispered insults were discreet. But Sierra did know. She did care.
And he would pay.
Oh, yes, he would pay.
Which meant, she realized, that the real reason for her journey must remain a
well-guarded secret; from Governor Clark, from her guides and especially from
High Wolf.
She only wondered if she could successfully hide her motives from High
Wolf. After all, as she had already surmised, High Wolf was an extremely
perceptive man. Might he guess?
Well, it was up to her to keep her secret well hidden. She only hoped she was
up to the task.

***

He stared at her as though he had come face-to-face with his worst
nightmare—or maybe his best fantasy. Princess Sierra? Here? Now?
His heart skipped a beat, then picked up its pace, pounding onward in triple
speed. High Wolf caught his breath before forcing himself to breathe in and out. In
a daze, he stared up at her, feeling as though he were caught in an illusion.
Had she come for him? Had she traveled all this distance to reach out to him,
realizing after all this time that she could not live without him, as she had once
proclaimed?
Or was she a mere mirage, the same sort of image that haunted his dreams?
Without warning, the desire to run to her, to take her in his arms and embrace
her, was almost more real than the solidness of the ground beneath him. Of its own
will, the memory of the taste of her, the scent of her, the sweetness of her embrace,
overwhelmed him.

And he knew he needed, he wanted to kiss her. Now. In truth, so strong was
the desire, he had taken a few steps toward her before he became once more fully
aware of himself, and stopped.
The prince. How could he have forgotten the prince—as well as her
duplicity—so easily? Where was the prince?
Odd, he thought, how the mind could forget the pain, the anguish, the loss.
For a moment, all had been gone, replaced by the simple joy of seeing her again.
Odd, too, how his body was even now reacting, that most manly part of him
pulsing with every pounding of his heart, remembering, anticipating…what could
never be.
He groaned. He had to bring himself, his thoughts, his body under control,
quickly.
Concentrate on her faithlessness, he cautioned himself. Hers and Prince
Alathom’s.
He glanced to the side of her and all around her. Where was the prince?
And then, as though it came through the fog cluttering his mind, a thought
came to him. Governor Clark had hired him, had told High Wolf that he was to
escort and protect a royal party, one that was coming to the Americas for a wild-
game hunt.
It was the prince and princess . It had to be.
Had the two of them asked for him, personally? For old time’s sake? Was that
why Clark had sent for him?
Or was this mere coincidence?
Coincidence? He sneered. High Wolf knew there was no such thing.
Had the two of them no compassion? No pity?
Surely they were aware of what the mere act of seeing them
again—together—would do to him.

Or did they think that they could renew friendship? That he would have
forgotten?
Well, he had not forgotten; he could not.
Breathing in deeply, High Wolf calmed himself. He was letting his emotions
take control of his mind, even of his body. It was possible, he conceded, that he
was not thinking clearly, putting elements together that did not necessarily go
together.
Besides, he didn’t have to take the job at hand. He had not pledged his word.
And it wouldn’t be as if he were deserting the prince and princess, either.
After all, there were these two disreputable trappers that Clark had hired as well.
Wearily, High Wolf glanced at the two shabbily dressed men. Yes, let them
have the assignment…while he, High Wolf, quietly disappeared…
Surely, that would be best. For indeed, if this were his initial reaction to the
princess—and at this great a distance from her—what would be his fate if he were
to witness her beauty closer to hand?
At that thought, a rush of desire swept through him that was as uncontrollable
as it was unwelcome. In truth, so swift was his reaction, he rocked back on his feet.
The response shocked him as much as it excited him. And High Wolf knew he
had best renew his intention to leave—quickly…
Yet he didn’t budge so much as an inch. In faith, he could not have turned
away from her now had he been a saint. Not yet.
Contrarily, another part of him reasoned that little harm could come from
feasting his sights upon her for a while longer. Perhaps the image gained could
serve to fuel the fiber of his imagination in the lonely nights ahead of him.

Make no mistake, Princess Sierra had always been the most beautiful creature
he had ever seen, and it appeared she had changed little, except to have blossomed.
More curves, more womanly features.
As he stared, his heart warmed to his subject. Dark curls bounced around her
face while her bonnet hid the rest of her coiffure. Oval face, high cheekbones, eyes
that he knew were as green as a prairie in spring. Even from this distance, he could
attest that her skin still glowed with health and vitality. It was one of the features
he remembered most about her. Her skin had been luminous, clear; had shone with
a radiance even under cover of darkness, as though she might be lit by a fire
within.
How he had loved to run his hands over her face, her neck, those curves…
Cease this, he cautioned himself, letting out his breath.
Yet the mind was often a mysterious thing, and despite himself, his thoughts
rambled on. At five foot four, she had always been a slender little thing. He
recalled that he had once spanned her waist within the outstretched grip of both his
hands. They had laughed about it. All three of them. Himself, Prince Alathom and
the princess.
Odd, how close the three of them had once been, so close they had shared
most everything.
High Wolf sighed.
Perhaps it was the way of the world that some things—even good
things—were destined to end. Maybe that was why one should reach out for all the
happiness he could have, while it still lay within his grasp.
Taking a few steps away, High Wolf at last turned his back on the sight of
her. Best to disappear now, as quickly as possible. For of one matter he was

entirely certain: He would not escort the princess and the prince. Not now. Not
ever.
He took a few steps away.
“High Wolf!”
His insides plummeted at the sound of her voice. Yet he remained steadfast in
his decision and kept walking, ignoring the call.
“High Wolf, don’t go!”
Don’t listen to her, he counseled himself. Go now, before she has a chance to
weave her spell around you. Go at once .
But even as he thought it, an odd music, a rhythm perchance, began to pound
through his mind, reminding him of other places, other times…

Followthe tour HEREfor exclusive excerpts and a giveaway!

As
you get to know Simon and the Rage that he carries with him, you will
find there is a lot more to this man than some random serial killer.
He is a man with very unique “problem solving” skills and he
really enjoys his work and the mission he has taken on to help rid
the world of some really unnecessary… bad drivers…

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On
September 16, 2015, Amanda’s husband Kevin was on his way home from
work late one night and was waiting for traffic to clear in the left
turn lane about a mile from their home.  A drunk driver coming
from behind Kevin, at what was estimated 75 mph in a 45 mph zone,
veered out of the travel lanes and struck Kevin in the rear of his
Dodge Neon with a full-size SUV.  Kevin was killed instantly inthe crash.

Road Rage: Unleashed
I have tried everything to control the rage, I work out like crazy, eat right, have tried yoga and meditation and yet the rage is
always there, on a hair trigger. People are so oblivious and wrapped up in their own lives that they don’t even know that there
are predators like me all around them and yet they drive like they own the world. My fondest hope is that my work will make
people stop and reevaluate how they drive and become more aware of others. All I am asking for is some basic courtesy and
the simple manners that should have been taught to you when you were younger. If you were not blessed with a strong role
model, you should have at least picked up on the fact that your choices have consequences. That is a word that I don’t think
people really appreciate and I am going to take great care to make sure that you all fully understand its meaning by the time our
project ends. Everyone is so wrapped up in their own lives with social media, texting and virtual interactions that they don’t
understand there are consequences to their actions, good or bad. I read about these kids that cyberbully others into committing
suicide, consequences. I don’t think if these kids actually understood what the consequences are for their actions that they
would do these things, at least I hope so.
I am not a monster, not entirely anyway. I truly believe that the mission I am embarking on will serve humanity more than if I
were to just kill myself and be done with the pain and struggle to try and contain the rage. I really don’t care if you or anyone
agrees with me, as long as you drive like you should, we will likely never meet. Likely….

Followthe tour HEREfor exclusive excerpts and a giveaway!

Thirty-something
paralegal, Hadley Beckett and charismatic, local
sportscaster/daredevil, Finn Wilder, disagree about how they should
share their lives together. Having been together for three years,
Finn increasingly pressures Hadley to move in with him, but being
unusually traditional, she wants to be married first, adhering to her
moral beliefs, just as he clings to his own religious upbringing when
it comes to procreating with her. Each is unwilling to negotiate orconcede marriage to the other. Complicating matters is Finn’s
seemingly double life, keeping his private life hidden to the point
of convincing his viewers—Finnatics—and even his coworkers, he’s
single, amid Hadley’s objections. Yet despite their immense
disparities, they are determined to make their relationship work,
even if it means Hadley has to take their future into her own hands.

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“Some of these people here are scary as hell, Hadley.”
“Morgan, get off of me!”
“The closer I am to you, the further these people are from me.”
“Honestly, I think you’re being a tad dramatic, don’t you think?”
“Not a chance. I should’ve stopped by an urgent care on the way here and got myself a damned
tetanus shot.” I nudge her away and she scornfully asks, “Where’s your man anyway?”
I impatiently state the obvious, “He’s racing on his dirt bike, Morgan. Where in the hell has your
mind been all this time?” I sigh as I crane my neck to see if I can see him anywhere. It was such
a mistake bringing my best friend with me. She definitely isn’t cut out for live sporting events. If
it’s not college football or basketball on TV, she’s not interested. My longtime boyfriend, Finn
Wilder, is participating in a dirt bike race about half an hour outside of where we live in
Richmond, Virginia. In the past, he’s raced in amateur motocross events, but today, he’s racing
for charity, not to mention the event is being covered by the very same Richmond TV station
where he is their star sportscaster. When he’s not risking his life.
“I’ve been here. I’ve just been distracted by Ma and Pa Kettle over here fighting over the last dip
of snuff!” she criticizes loudly, turning up her nose and leaning onto me again, clutching my arm
tighter.
“Morgan!” I hiss, looking past her to see if anyone heard her mouth. She drags her wavy, dark
hair with one hand, draping it over a shoulder, using it as a privacy barrier between her and
the riff-raff, as she referred to them earlier. “Why did you come with me if you don’t want to be
here?”
“Something to do while Ivan is working.” She cringes as she’s jostled. Ivan’s her personal
trainer, as well as her boyfriend who works at the gym we belong to. “Excuse you!” she shouts
to a group of kids walking down the wooden bleachers.
“Morgan, stop!” I again shake her off and stand to see if I can see Finn’s black and blue bike.
Morgan tugs on my arm and I plop back down beside her.
“What?” I edgily ask.
“Have you talked to Finn?” she asks, digging into her purse.
“About?”
“Hadley, do not play dumb with me. You know what I’m talking about.” I glance down at her
duffle bag-sized designer purse as she continues to rummage through it. Oh, yes. Talking to
Finn. Nope. Not looking forward to that.
“I did not,” I say, returning my attention to the track.
“Why not? There it is!” I look over at her to see she’s holding a silver compact. “Now to find my
lipstick.”
“I have a couple questions. One: Why do you have a purse that big if you can never find
anything in it? Two: Why do you need lipstick at a racing event?” Morgan’s mouth drops open
and she gives me a look that’s a cross between incredulity and disgust. She rolls her eyes and
hands me the mirror.“Here, hold this. I can’t believe you actually asked me that question, Hadley Beckett,” she
scolds and recommences excavating her bag. “A woman must always look her best, no matter
where they are.” She stops searching and gives me a roaming, disapproving look. “You should
try it sometime.”
Miffed, I automatically look down at my clothes. I’m wearing a light blue t-shirt with small, dark
blue sequins scattered throughout, and blue jeans. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” I ask,
confusion painting my tone.
I assess what she’s wearing: a dark blue blouse with dramatic ruffles cascading down the front,
khaki capris, and brown-heeled sandals. Her outfit’s very classy, as usual for Morgan, but not
practical for watching a motorcycle race.
“It’s not just your clothes,” she distractedly answers towards her purse. I tug at my light brown
ponytail self-consciously and scowl at her. “What do you mean?”
“Please, girl. Have you seen your boyfriend lately?” I glance to the track at the mention of him,
but from where we’re sitting, I can’t see my #35 yet.
“I see him often.” I grab her purse and put it on the other side of me.
“Hey!”
“I want you to tell me what you mean by that statement. You can’t just say that and expect me
to not want you to explain yourself.”
“I mean that you look as homeless as some of these people sitting here.”
“Shit, Morgan! Keep your voice down!” I loudly whisper, imploring her as I look around us.
“Oh, who cares?” Morgan dismisses the people around her with a wave of her hand, her orchid
nail polish shining in the sunlight. She lifts up her dark sunglasses so I can see into her dusky
brown eyes. “I mean, you’re dressed rather plainly. You have a hotter-than-fuck boyfriend. You
should be dressing up your equally hot, little body so it doesn’t look like he’s dating a 12-year
old.” My mouth pops open at her observation. “You also could use some more makeup and a
cuter haircut.” Her eyes float down to my fingers. “And stop wearing black nail polish. You’re not
in a satanic cult, a heavy metal band, or a victim of teen angst.”
“Morgan Yates!” I shriek, but the sound of roaring dirt bikes drown out my protest. A flurry of
motorcycles emerges through the small tree grove the track snakes in between, and I, along
with everyone else in the stands, minus Morgan, jump up and cheer. She reaches around me to
snag back her purse.
Finn’s bike is near the front, so I squeal as I hop up and down, clapping around Morgan’s
compact still in my hand. The riders begin their last circuit and we all take our seats again.
She says, “You didn’t answer my question, bitch.”
I irritably scoff, “After all of your gushing flattery concerning the clothes I’m wearing and my
overall horrid appearance, I forget what you asked.” I glance down at my shiny, black-polished
nails before I curl my fingers under my hand. What’s wrong with my nail polish?
“You know I love you, Hadley. I’m only trying to help you keep your man.”
I morosely glower at her. “I don’t need help.” Do I?
“Really? So how come you won’t answer me? Why haven’t you talked to Finn?”
I sigh heavily and slump my shoulders. “Because we’ve had similar talks in the past, Morgan.

He doesn’t want to get married. He has said that repeatedly.”
“Hadley, you’ve been dating him for three years and living apart from each other, at that. When
are you two going to grow up and stop the weekend-only fuck fests?”
I wince. “Do you have to put it that way?”
“Don’t tell me that isn’t what you and that fine specimen aren’t doing every weekend,” she
poses dubiously.
“No, we knit,” I mutter and look away from her. I practically hear her rolling her eyes at me.
“You need to talk to him again, Hadley. Three years is enough for you to have wasted your time
on a man who isn’t going to commit to you or give you the children that you want. You’re 33-
years old. Won’t he be 34 in a few months?” I swing my head back to her and nod. “His sperm
will last forever. You, on the other hand,” she raises an eyebrow and shakes her head sadly,
“are in a time crunch. Those eggs of yours aren’t going to wait around forever, you know.” So
says the woman who is almost four years younger than me.
Annoyed, I reply, “I know this, Morgan. It’s all I think about lately, but I can’t force him to change
his mind and propose.”
“Then, you do it.”
“No. I can’t do that because I know what his answer will be.” He’d reject me without a second
thought.
“Well, you have your answer then. If he said no to your proposal, then you would break up with
him and move on.”
“With whom? I’m in love with Finn. He’s all I want.” I stare at her waiting for her to elaborate, her
dark skin glowing in the sun, no doubt from wearing a dark color on an unseasonably warm,
mid-April day.
“He is not all you want. You want a marriage and kids. He doesn’t. But for some ridiculous
reason, you let him string you along, and who knows how long he’ll do that to you. He may
never grow a pair. It could be indefinitely, Hadley. I don’t want that for you. You need to give him
an ultimatum.”
I shake my head furiously at her. “I won’t do that to him. I know he loves me. He just…” I
aimlessly look to the track as we wait for them to finish the race.
She finishes my sentence with what I was not going to say. “He’s just getting his milk for free.”
I look over at her, frowning. “Thanks for calling me a cow.”
Morgan laughs, but the smile soon fades from her face. “You are so stubborn,” she accuses me.
She sighs. “Remind him of what you want. You deserve happiness. Talk to him, Hadley. Your
eggs are going to dry up and blow away.” I know. That’s what I’m afraid of each passing day.
“Talk to who?” a familiar voice asks from above me. I angle my head up, squinting, to see my
friend Rod.
“Nothing,” I dismissively mumble, looking down as he scoots closer to me.
“Come on, Hadders. What’s up? Sorry, I’m late. I had to do a couple things and they ran over.”
“It’s a Saturday, Rod. What the hell were you doing?” Morgan asks, pushing me forward so she
can see him.

He taunts her, “None of your bees’ wax. Are you going to cast a spell on me now?” Morgan
reaches behind me and punches Rod’s arm.
“Ow!” he cries, rubbing where she hit. “You’re a lawyer, Morgan! You should know that’s assault
and battery!”
She starts to protest, but I sit back and put my arms out to restrain the both of them. “Come on,
you two! Cut it out!”
He clutches my shoulder. “What’s going on with you, Hadders? Is your man losing the race? I
know what you could do to make him feel better,” he merrily insinuates.
“Shut up, Rod.”
“What? I was going to say buy him an ice cream cone! Damn! You’re bitchier than your friend
Morgan over there. Are you on your period?” I shove Rod as he shakes his head, his short,
brown hair lightly blowing in the breeze. He laughs while looking over at Morgan, who flips him
off.
Those two are natural-born frenemies. I know there is some love there, but not a lot of it lost,
either. I’m always the buffer. I love them both, yet it does get tiring refereeing their fights.
Greg Rodwell has been a friend of ours, mostly mine, since he started at the law firm where
Morgan and I work, Rhodes, Dryden, Charleton & Associates, about two and a half years ago.
She’s a lawyer and I’m a paralegal for one of the partners, Val Dryden, while Rod assists Amos
Vaughn. Rod’s first name is in fact, Greg, but nobody has called him that since Morgan started
dubbing him as Rod shortly after being hired as a paralegal. Now, everyone calls him Rod at
work, even Fred the mailman and the people who work in the building’s cafeteria.
He sneers to Morgan, “By the way, cool shades. It’s so nice seeing you out in the daylight with
the rest of us lowly mortals. I thought you’d be sleeping in a coffin, or hanging upside down from
a tree branch or a belfry. What gives, Elvira?”
“I’m here supporting my best friend and her boyfriend, Ass Rod.”
He huffs, “Name calling. How mature of you, Morbid.”
I intervene, “Please! You two are acting like bratty children!” Leaning forward, I rest my head in
my hands.
Rod bumps my arm with his. “What were you talking about before I got here?”
“Hadley won’t give Finn an ultimatum,” Morgan interjects before I can blow him off again.
He asks, “An ultiwhatum? I’ve never heard of that one before. I’ve heard of a rusty trombone, a
Hot Carl, a Dirty Sanchez, and an Abe Lincoln, but not whatever you just said. Does Wilder do it
to you or do you do it to him?”
I immediately straighten. “Oh, my God! Shut up!” I demand as I move closer to Morgan.
“That’s disgusting,” Morgan says as she finally takes her compact out of my hand.
“You would know that shit.”
“What shit?” Rod asks innocently, genuinely looking confused.
Instead of elaborating, I answer Rod’s original question, “Morgan wants me to tell Finn that
either we get married or break up.”

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Almost.

 

Out
of nowhere, Elle receives a phone call from Luke’s mother. Luke has
been in a horrific car accident and, a month later, has just awoken
from a coma. However, instead of celebrating, his family is stunned
to learn that Luke is suffering from amnesia and only remembers his
life as it was before his breakup with Elle. Not wanting to tell Luke
that he and Elle aren’t together anymore for fear it may compromise
his recovery, Elle is asked by Luke’s family to come to the
hospital to see him. Their hope is that she will slowly be able to
jog his memory and cushion the blow.

Guilt-ridden
over how their relationship ended, Elle readily agrees, finding
herself transported back in time with Luke to the life they once
shared and the future they could have had together.

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The early spring sun swiftly set on the horizon behind the splendor of the Allegheny
Mountains, a welcome change from the relatively flat lands of southern Indiana,
where a long drive was bound to put you to sleep. Seeing them in all their splendor,
the remaining ghosts from my past came rushing back to haunt me, reminding me of
the drives Luke and I used to take at my insistence. He’d grown up here, while I had
only been in town long enough to attend—and eventually drop out of—Cogsworth
University after two years. He’d chuckle to himself as I’d gazed awestruck at the
emerald expanses towering around us as far as my eyes could see. Never
condescending of my obviously sheltered life prior to arriving in Roanoke, he’d just
smile whenever I would comment on how his growing up surrounded by such beauty
must have been comparable to waking up in a fairy tale every morning.
And it was here in Roanoke where he was awaiting my arrival, completely unaware
that his heart was destined to be broken by me once again.

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