by Viv Daniels
I took another sip of wine. “We can talk about my major later, Dad. But I will be taking the screenwriting class this semester.”
“Hannah!” he growled. “You can’t keep doing this. You need your degree.” He looked at Boone. “Don’t you think?”
“No,” said Boone. “I never went to college, myself. If she wants one, fine, but that’s up to her. Personally, I’m thinking if she wants to go into film, maybe Canton isn’t the best place for her.”
My father was officially flabbergasted. “Canton is where all the Swifts go.”
“Don’t worry, darling,” Mom broke in, glaring at my father. “Even if Hannah leaves, I’ve little doubt your legacy will remain intact.” She handed him her glass, while he stared at her with an open mouth. “Go get me another gin and tonic, and stop harassing our daughter.”
Still speechless, Dad wandered off.
“Mom,” I breathed.
But she wouldn’t even meet my eyes. “Oh look, it’s Mary Ann. Excuse me, dear.”
Boone turned to me the moment we were alone. “I missed something, I think.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, then finished off my wine. “I have no idea what I’m doing anymore. Who am I keeping this secret from, Boone? I think…I think my mom knows about Tess. I think she’s always known. So if she knows and I know and he knows we both know…what is this all about?”
“Appearances? You can all still pretend that everything is fine, as long as no one talks.”
I groaned. “I’m so done with this. Secrets, lies…”
Boone lifted his hands. “Hey,” he said. “I was done with it years ago. You want to walk out of here now, I’m fine with that.”
I shook my head. “And what? Run away? You tried that. I tried it, when I went to Europe. All our problems were waiting for us when we got back.”
Boone considered this. “Maybe that’s our problem.”
“What?” I asked.
“Coming back.”
I looked around the party. At my mother, silently living with secrets for what she no doubt thought was my own good. At my father, who was trying to make my choices as well as Tess’s. At the faceless club friends and gym buddies, grown-up versions of the people who’d left me on the floor of a restaurant bathroom and never even bothered to call and check. I looked across the crowd at Suzanne Gardner, who let her only son fend for himself on the streets and still would not call him by his chosen name. Boone, who knew from hard experience who he should run away from, but had come back time and time again to me.
I set my wineglass down on the nearest flat surface and held out my hand.
“Then let’s go.”
He stared at my hand, then took it. “Okay.”
As we headed for the door, I asked, “Was your father really kidnapped by pirates?”
“Yeah,” he replied. “It’s a long story. I’ll tell you sometime.”
“It sounds like a screenplay.”
“I have the feeling everything sounds like a screenplay to you.”
I smiled at that. Maybe. Maybe it was.
As soon as we were outside, I headed across the lawn toward his truck in my parents’ driveway. But right there on the border between the two properties, he stopped me, pulling back. “Are you serious about not coming back?”
“I’m done.” I shook my head. “I’m just done. Your mom is throwing a party to show off that beautiful patio, but she’s embarrassed that you’re the person who built it. My parents won’t even listen to me talking about the one thing that would actually make me excited about school.”
The sun was setting over the treetops, bathing the lawn and Boone in a delicious, rosy light. The magic hour, as filmmakers called it. The hour it had been the first time I was with Boone.
“You’re right,” he replied. “It sucks.” He looked more gorgeous than ever right now. My bit of rough. My trusted friend. My man, if I dared enough.
“And you’re right. They aren’t going to change. We come back because we love them, and we want them to love us. But they can’t even begin to love us if they refuse to accept who we are.” I took a deep breath. “Like you love me. Like I love you.”
Boone’s eyes widened. “Hannah—”
“Maybe I’m not ready, or I’m too screwed up to do it right, but I know what I want, Boone. I want you.”
He was silent, staring at me, his bright eyes alight with some emotion I was too terrified to name.
I swallowed, suddenly unsure. “Do you—is that okay?”
“Okay to want me?” He smiled.
“Okay to love you.”
He caught me up in his arms. “Say it again.”
“I love you, Boone.”
“I love you too, Hannah.” He kissed me. “The rest we can just figure out as we go.”
Three Years Later
From EW.COM
* * *
Ten Facts About This Summer’s Surprise Indie Horror Smash, DEAD TIDE.
* * *
It was filmed for a shocking $40,000 over a four-week period, breaking profit records held by previous low-budget hits like The Blair Witch Project ($60k), and creeping up on the all-time record held by Paranormal Activity ($15k).
The screenwriter, Hannah Swift, is both the youngest and the top-grossing female horror screenwriter/director and producer in movie history.
Co-producer Sam Rowlands originally met Swift at a screening for his first film, Render. (Render went on to have modest success and became a perennial Redbox favorite rental.)
Prior to writing screenplays, Hannah Swift had a popular horror movie review blog called The Final Girl, which is still up and running today.
To keep costs low, the production team reportedly worked using a barter system, paying cast and crew in everything from French lessons to home renovation!
Hannah Swift never took a single screenwriting class until her junior year of college. She still hasn’t graduated.
Lightstorm, James Cameron’s production company, is said to be in talks of buying the property and developing sequels. Asked for a comment, an executive at Lightstorm said, “James likes boats.”
Swift says the screenplay was based on a conversation she had on her first date with her now-fiancé, Boone Smith, when he took her to see a broken-down boat he had just inherited.
The entire movie was shot on that same boat, which Boone Smith spent almost two years refurbishing.
Swift and her fiancé are getting married on the boat next month. We hope they don’t anger any sea spirits during their ceremony!
From Viv
Thank you so much for reading Sweet & Wild. This book was a long time in the making (a few years, one baby, and an entirely different series) but I’m glad I could finally bring you Hannah’s happily-ever-after.
In case you’re wondering, the tattoo on Boone’s body is indeed a poem by Welsh poet Sir Lewis Morris (1833-1907). But, if you Google, like Hannah does, it the quote “They only live who dare” is regularly misattributed to Voltaire on Pinterest pages and Etsy products. Careful what you read on the internet, folks!
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Reviews are the lifeblood of the indie author, so if you enjoyed this book, please take a moment to leave a review. Thanks for reading!
The Canton Series
Book 1: One & Only (Tess’s Story)
Book 2: Sweet & Wild (Hannah’s story)
Book 3: Tried & True (Sylvia’s Story, Coming Soon!)
About the Author
Viv Daniels is a pen name for critically acclaimed author Diana Peterfreund, who has written nine books for adults and teens that span the gamut from post-apocalyptic science fiction to contemporary fantasy about killer unicorns.
Yes, really.
As Viv, she writes love stories. She hopes you love them.
Viv lives in Washington, D.C., with her husband (whom she met in college) and their daughters. You can learn mor
e at vivdaniels.com.
