A sound emitted from his throat he was pretty sure was a growl.
“I loved you,” Sadie said, her eyes wide and earnest. “And you blew it.” That said, she tugged the shirt to her waist, flopped onto one side, and pulled the covers over her head.
Aiden’s shoulders slumped, heavy from the weight of her admission. She loved him. Or at least she used to. He’d had his suspicions but had never known. Would it have changed how he ended things between them? Would he have confessed the same?
Of course he would’ve.
And you blew it.
He had. Completely effing stepped in it.
And now it was too late. Sadie probably never would have told him what she just had if she hadn’t been marinating in champagne tonight. As much as he’d love to deny hearing her say it, there was a part of him glad to know the truth. The masochistic part of him, apparently. He’d earned the pain fair and square, but Sadie… Sadie had come out the other side. She was okay now, or would be after a couple of Advil in the morning. Her journey with him in it had reached an end. Now he was a bystander and couldn’t allow himself to be anything more. Asking her to take another chance on him was wrong. Maybe more wrong than the way he’d ended things with her last year.
After several seconds, he finally stood from the edge of the bed, as heavy as if he’d strapped a pair of anvils onto his back. At the door, he hesitated over the switch, watching her take a few deep breaths. One night, a long, long time ago, he’d been right next to her, feeling as hopeful about their future as he felt devastated now.
If only time were reversible. If only he knew then what he knew now.
If only.
Most useless two words ever.
* * *
Stupid champagne.
Sadie downed the last sip of her coffee and dragged her suitcase to the car. She hauled it ungracefully into her trunk and vowed to call Crickitt and give her what-for for pulling the Aiden-and-Sadie-slumber-party bit.
Only she couldn’t. Because Crickitt and Shane were on their honeymoon having the blissful, married time of their lives. She stalked back into the house, doing a once-over to make sure she hadn’t left anything behind. That’s when she spotted Aiden’s T-shirt.
When she’d woken up wearing it, she’d tossed it aside and run around packing with the one single goal: get the hell out of the cabin before he woke up and offered breakfast. The morning was already beginning to smack of the morning they’d spent together a year ago—a morning she wouldn’t dare repeat.
She held the soft cotton between her fingers, recalling the night he’d tenderly dressed her and curled up next to her to sleep. That morning she’d woken to his shirtless back, traced the length of the scar with her fingers, and come to the terrifying realization that if he’d died in that motorcycle accident before she met him, she’d have missed out on knowing Aiden Downey.
Yeah. Well. He’s fine, she reminded herself. And so are you.
Yippee-skippy. Everyone was fine.
She tromped to the room he’d slept in. Empty. Turned out Aiden was an early riser nowadays. She threw the wadded-up shirt onto the rumpled bedding, shutting out the memory of what the length of his seminude body looked like taking up half a bed.
Time to go.
Outside, she shut the trunk and reached for the driver’s side door handle. Aiden’s motorcycle, Sheila, stood on the driveway, her orange glittery paint job sparkling in the sun. She shook her head. Just seeing it there reminded her that Aiden had wrecked once before. Damn death machine. Why did he ride it all the way down here? Wasn’t there a safer mode of transportation for a six-hour trip?
She reminded herself she didn’t care. Couldn’t care. Not after what had gone down between them. Not after the phone call that tore her heart out, left her weeping and curled into the fetal position.
But then you got up.
Hell yeah, she did.
Aiden appeared from the woods wearing a white shirt with the sleeves cut off. She could see the entire length of his torso as he jogged to her and a flash of something… a tattoo? Doesn’t matter. His steps slowed, and he palmed his side, puffing and watching her as if he was afraid to come any closer.
That’s when the memory of what she’d said to him last night hit her like a freight train. She’d looked into his ethereal green eyes and confessed she loved him. Wow. Stupid.
By the hurt-slash-reproachful look on his face, it was the moment he was recalling now, too. He started walking toward her, but before he got any closer, Sadie clambered into the car, started it, and drove down the lane. She stopped short of turning onto the steep mountain road and allowed herself a final glance back. In the rearview mirror, she saw Aiden pace over to his bike, run a hand through his long hair, and then, noticing her hesitation, raise a hand and wave good-bye.
Sadie didn’t wave back, turning down the tree-lined road and driving as fast as she dared. Good-bye between her and Aiden had happened a long time ago.
And that was something else she wasn’t willing to repeat.
THE DISH
Where Authors Give You the Inside Scoop
From the desk of Debbie Mason
Dear Reader,
While reading CHRISTMAS IN JULY one last time before sending it off to my editor, I had an “oops, I did it again” moment. In the first book in the series, The Trouble with Christmas, there’s a scene where Madison, the heroine, senses her late mother’s presence. In this book, our heroine, Grace, receives a message from her sister through her son. Grace has spent years blaming herself for her sister’s death, and while there’s an incident in the book that alleviates her guilt, I felt she needed the opportunity to tell her sister she loved her. Maybe if I didn’t believe our departed loved ones could communicate with us in some way, I would have done this another way. But I do, and here’s why.
My dad was movie-star handsome and had this amazing dimple in his chin. He was everything a little girl could wish for in a father. But he wasn’t my biological father; he was the father of my heart. He came into my life when I was nine years old. That first year, I dreamed about him a lot. The dreams were very real, and all the same. I’d be outside and see a man from behind and call out to him. He’d turn around, and it would be my dad. I always said the same thing: “You’re here. I knew you weren’t gone.” Almost a year to the day of his passing, my dad appeared in my dream surrounded by shadowy figures who he introduced to me by name. He told me that he was okay, that he was happy. It was his way, I think, of helping me let him go.
I didn’t dream of him again until sixteen months ago when we were awaiting the birth of our first grandchild. I “woke up” to see him sitting at the end of my bed. I told him how happy I was that he’d be there for the arrival of his great grandchild. He said of course he would be. He wouldn’t be anywhere else.
A week later, my daughter gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. When I saw my granddaughter for the first time, I started to cry. She had my dad’s dimple. No one on my son-in-law’s side, or ours, has a dimple in their chin. He used to tell us the angels gave it to him, and we like to think he gave our granddaughter hers as proof that he’s still with us.
So now you know why including that scene was important not only to Grace, but to me. Life really is full of small miracles and magic. And I hope you experience some of that magic as you follow Grace and Jack on their journey to happy-ever-after.
From the desk of Kristen Ashley
Dear Reader,
Usually, inspiration for books comes to me in a variety of ways. It could be a man I see (anywhere), a movie, a song, the unusual workers in a bookstore.
With SWEET DREAMS, it was an idea.
And that idea was, I wanted to take a hero who is, on the whole, totally unlikable, and make him lovable.
Enter Tatum Jackson, and when I say that, I mean enter Tatum Jackson. He came to me completely with a kapow! I could conjure him in my head, hear him talk, see the way he moved and how his clothes hung on him, feel his fru
stration with his life. I also knew his messed-up history.
And I could not wait to get stuck into this man.
I mean, here’s a guy who is gorgeous, but he’s got a foul temper, says nasty things when he’s angry, and he’s not exactly father of the year.
He had something terrible happen to him to derail his life and he didn’t handle that very well, making mistake after mistake in a vicious cycle he pretty much had no intention of ending. He had a woman in his life he knew was a liar, a cheat, and no good for anyone and he was so stuck in the muck of his life that he didn’t get shot of her.
Enter Lauren Grahame, who also came to me like a shot. As with Tate, everything about Lauren slammed into my head, perhaps most especially her feelings, the disillusionment she has with life, how she feels lost and really has no intention of getting found.
In fact, I don’t think with any of my books I’ve ever had two characters who I knew so thoroughly before I started to tell their story.
And thus, I got lost in it.
I tend to be obsessive about my storytelling but this was an extreme. Once Lauren and Tate came to me, everything about Carnal, Colorado, filled my head just like the hero and heroine did. I can see Main Street, Bubba’s Bar, Tate’s house. I know the secondary characters as absolutely as I know the main characters. The entirety of the town, the people, and the story became a strange kind of real in my head, even if I didn’t know how the story was going to play out. Indeed, I had no idea if I could pull it off, making an unlikable man lovable.
But I fell in love with Tate very quickly. The attraction he has for Lauren growing into devotion. The actions that speak much louder than words. I so enjoyed watching Lauren pull Tate out of the muck of his life, even if nothing changes except the fact that he has a woman in it that he loves, who is good to him, who feeds the muscle, the bone, the soul. Just as I enjoyed watching Tate guide Lauren out of her disillusionment and offer her something special.
I hope it happens to me again someday that characters like this inhabit my head so completely, and I hope it happens time and again.
But Tate and Lauren being the first, they’ll always hold a special place in my heart, and live on in my head.
Happily,
From the desk of Rebecca Zanetti
Dear Reader,
I’m the oldest of three girls, and my husband is the oldest of three boys, so we grew up watching out for our siblings. Now that we’re all adults, they look out for us, too. While my sisters and I may have argued with one another as kids, we instantly banded together if anybody tried to mess with one of us. My youngest sister topped out at an even five feet tall, yet she’s the fiercest of us all, and she loses her impressive temper quite quickly if someone isn’t nice to me.
I think one of the reasons I enjoyed writing Matt’s story in SWEET REVENGE is because he’s the eldest of the Dean brothers, and as such, he feels responsible for them. Add in a dangerous military organization trying to harm them, and his duties go far beyond that of a normal sibling. It was fun to watch Matt try to order his brothers around and keep them safe, while all they want to do is provide backup for him and ensure his safety.
There’s something about being the oldest kid that forces us to push ourselves when we shouldn’t. When our siblings would step back and relax, we often push forward just out of sheer stubbornness. I don’t know why, and it’s sometimes a mistake. Trust me.
SWEET REVENGE was written in several locations, most notably in the hospital and on airplanes. Sometimes I take on a bit too much, so when I discovered I needed a couple of surgeries (nothing major), I figured I’d just do them on the same day. Why not? So I had two surgeries in one day and had to spend a few days in the hospital recuperating.
With my laptop, of course.
There’s not a lot to do in the hospital but drink milkshakes and write, so it was quite effective. Then, instead of going home and taking it easy, I flew across the country to a conference and big book signing. Of course, I was still in pain, but I ignored it.
Bad idea.
Two weeks after that, I once again flew across the country for a book signing and conference. Yes, I was still tired, but I kept on going.
Yet another bad idea.
Then I returned home and immediately headed back to work as a college professor at the beginning of the semester.
Not a great idea.
Are you seeing a trend here? I pushed myself too hard, and all of a sudden, my body said… you’re done. Completely done. I became sick, and after a bunch of tests, it appeared I’d just taken on too much. So at the end of the semester, I resigned as a professor and took up writing full time. And yoga. And eating healthy and relaxing.
Life is great, and it’s meant to be savored and not rushed through—even for us oldest siblings. I learned a very valuable life lesson while writing SWEET REVENGE, and I’ll always have fond memories of this book.
I truly hope you enjoy Matt and Laney’s story, and don’t forget to take a deep breath and enjoy the moment. It’s definitely worth it!
Happy reading!
RebeccaZanetti.com
Twitter @RebeccaZanetti
Facebook.com
From the desk of Shannon Richard
Dear Reader,
When it comes to the little town of Mirabelle, Florida, Grace King was actually the first character who revealed herself to me, which I find odd as she’s the heroine in the second book. I knew from the beginning she was going to be a tiny little thing with blond hair and blue eyes; I knew she’d lost her mother at a young age and that she was never going to have known her father; and I knew she was going to be feisty and strong.
Jaxson Anderson was a different story. He didn’t reveal himself to me until he literally walked onto the page in Undone. I also didn’t know about Jax and Grace’s future relationship until they got into an argument at the beach. As soon as I figured out they were going to end up together, my mind took off and I started plotting everything out, which was a little inconvenient as I wasn’t even a third of the way through writing the first book.
Jax is a complicated fella. He’s had to deal with a lot in his life, and because of his past he doesn’t think he’s good enough for Grace. Jax has most definitely put her on a pedestal, which is made pretty evident by his nickname for her. He calls her Princess, but not in a derogatory way. He doesn’t find her to be spoiled or bratty. Far from it. He thinks that she should be cherished and that she’s worth everything, especially to him. I try to capture this in the prologue, which takes place a good eighteen years before UNDENIABLE starts. Grace is this little six-year-old who is being bullied on the playground, and Jax is her white knight in scuffed-up sneakers.
Jax has been in Grace’s life from the day she was brought home from the hospital over twenty-four years ago. He’s watched her grow up into the beautiful and brave woman that she is, and though he’s always loved her (even if he’s chosen not to accept it), it’s hard for him think that he can be with her. Jax’s struggles were heartbreaking for me to write, and it was especially heartbreaking to put Grace through it, but this was their story and I had to stay true to them. Readers shouldn’t fear with UNDENIABLE, though, because I like my happily-ever-after endings and Grace and Jax definitely get theirs. I hope readers enjoy the journey.
Cheers,
From the desk of Stacy Henrie
Dear Reader,
I remember the moment HOPE AT DAWN, Book 1 in my Of Love and War series (on sale now), was born into existence. I was sitting in a quiet, empty hallway at a writers’ conference contemplating how to turn my single World War I story idea, about Livy Campbell’s brother, into more than one book. Then, in typical fashion, Livy marched forward in my mind, eager to have her story told first.
As I pondered Livy and the backdrop of the story—America’s involvement in WWI—I knew having her fall in love with a German-American would provide inherent conflict. What I didn’t know then was the intense prejudice and persecution she
and Friedrick Wagner would face to be together, in a country ripe with suspicion toward anyone with German ties. The more I researched the German-American experience during WWI, the more I discovered their private war here on American soil—not against soldiers, but neighbors against neighbors, citizens against citizens.
A young woman with aspirations of being a teacher, Livy Campbell knows little of the persecution being heaped upon the German-Americans across the country, let alone in the county north of hers. More than anything, she feels the effects of the war overseas through the absence of her older brothers in France, the alcohol troubles of her wounded soldier boyfriend, and the disruption of her studies at college. When she applies for a teaching job in hopes of escaping the war, Livy doesn’t realize she’s simply traded one set of troubles for another, especially when she finds herself attracted to the school’s handsome handyman, German-American Friedrick Wagner.
Born in America to German immigrant parents, Friedrick Wagner believes himself to be as American as anyone else in his small town of Hilden, Iowa. But the war with Germany changes all that. Suddenly viewed as a potential enemy, Friedrick seeks to protect his family from the rising tide of injustice aimed at his fellow German-Americans. Protecting the beautiful new teacher, Livy Campbell, comes as second nature to Friedrick. But when he finds himself falling in love with her, he fears the war, both at home and abroad, will never allow them to be together.
I thoroughly enjoyed writing Livy and Friedrick’s love story and the odds they must overcome for each other. This is truly a tale of “love conquers all” and the power of hope and courage during a dark time in history. My hope is you will fall in love with the Campbell family through this series, as I have, as you experience their triumphs and struggles during the Great War.
The Millionaire Affair (Love in the Balance) Page 28
