Welcome to the world of strong female characters and sweet romance with just a touch of heat.
Postcards from Paris Series
Elijah Baker and Rochelle Addams had no idea when they met in college they would spawn a legacy through history and beyond.
“I’ve suffered many romantic breakups in my short life, but none of them were so painful, so gut wrenching awful, then that one that got away. I realized that sometimes those awful romantic comedies are right. In a romantic breakup, you both went your separate ways, it hurt at first, but time eventually healed the wound and you live and learn. In a friendship break up, it was ten times worse, because you had to watch every horrible moment where they slipped through your fingers. Every time I tried to connect with her, she was busy, and it killed me. Every moment without her was a loss that I didn’t even have words to describe.
You never forget a girl like Rochelle. Not in one year or ten.”
“I tossed another destroyed card in the bin and put my head in my hands. The gray scene of Paris in its finest reflected how I felt without him. Complete, but void of color. This one I couldn’t ruin with my secret, as I had the others. That was my secret alone. Now it was mine, and Marceau’s. At a loss for words, I sketched a picture instead, of the skyline outside my window. I signed it simply, “miss you, buddy.” I tucked it in my pocket to mail in the morning. Marceau snored softly in my bed, silky black hair spread over closed eyes that ended in long lashes. His breath was as sweet as his heart. I shed tears for my own heart that couldn’t let go.”
**INTERLUDE: THIS IS THE SEQUEL TO POSTCARDS FROM PARIS AND SHOULD BE READ BEFORE POSTCARDS FROM AMERICA**
“Rochelle, please know that I love you. I always have. I’m such an idiot that it took me this long. I pray it’s not too late.”
“On that particular Saturday, I woke to find the curtains thrown back and a green vase on the windowsill. The sun refracted green prisms of light around the white walls and held pink apple blossoms, yellow tulips, and a few dandelions. I smiled because I knew it was Michael. My father had always brought me roses and tiger lilies because he knew they were my favorite. In a more personal gesture, Michael always picked blooms from the front lawn. I pushed out of bed. Something felt different. I glanced over at the flowers, and my heart swelled. Oh no, I said to myself. Don’t you dare, Elise! I checked my thoughts. Jon was still there. His smile that touched his eyes behind his glasses. His soft touch, and his lighthearted laugh. And something happened: I smiled. For the first time in six months, I didn’t cry. My thoughts of Jon weren’t happy, not yet, but they were fond, and that made me feel better. But Michael? Oh, God, help me. I was falling for him, and I didn’t know what to do about it.”
“Vasily’s face softened, with no effort to mask the hurt in his eyes. It was different than the pain I saw that day outside Sasha’s room. This was more than betrayal; I’d wounded him, kicked him like a dog that was already down.
“What a fool you are, that you didn’t know when we wrote to each other I was falling in love with you,” he said softly, shaking his head. “You had everything you ever wanted; you even had me. You threw it all away for what, Jaqui?” His voice trembled and his lower lip shook. I could see the tears clearly in his eyes.
“Just leave me alone!” I screamed at him.
“I will always do what you ask of me, Jaquellyn Arnolt,” he whispered.
My heart crumbled around me, shattering like pieces of a broken glass. I sat down, shocked, at what he had just confessed. I had been wrong about everything; I had confused his despise for respect. He had treated me the right away, and he was absolutely right. I threw it all away for nothing. I sobbed harder than I had in my life, and he stood there, staring.”
COMING SOON: Postcards from Montreal!
Stand Alone Novels
“Lincoln nodded, a half smile on his face. “Well, at least you got what you wanted with Sean, and I made out okay with Rachel. We both ended up … happy.”
I winced at the pain in his voice as he forced out the last word, but remained silent. In another time, another place, this would all be different. But there was nothing I could do to change the past. I always thought I loved Lincoln, but not in the way I loved Sean. Sean was exciting, adventurous, and dynamic. Lincoln was … comfortable. I wish I could make up my mind.
“I’d do anything for you, Lincoln,” I said before I could stop my betraying heart.
He kissed my forehead lightly, abruptly distracting me from my conflicted heart. “Thank you, Lydia, you already did. The day I met you.”
I squeezed his hand and smiled. I didn’t know what to say. We sat in silence for a while, lost in our thoughts. My knees still propped up; my cervix will spread open, covered only by a thin sheet. In a million years I would have never imagined being in this sterile room in such a condition, let alone with Lincoln by my side.”
“My run was cool and freeing in the crisp morning air, the slight mist rolling in from the ocean. The low-laying fog was still burning off, and tendrils of sunlight broke through across the sand here and there. Soon the sun would burst forth, another rare sunny day in Oregon. For now, the fog that surrounded me was like a comfort, a mirror of the swirling emotions in my head. I tried to clear my thoughts, let the ocean sounds soothe me. The farther I got from the house, however, the worse it was. It was finally real; I was finally leaving; without Levi. I was leaving everything behind, and I didn’t know if I could do it.”
“Micah, you don’t remember any of this but we were so happy once. We both worked amazing jobs, we had a huge house, my parent’s house in fact, that you remodeled,” I twirled the device lightly around with my fingertips. “We drove brand new cars. We planned a vacation, and adoption. Even the sex was -” Whoa. I reeled from the memory of being bent over in an office bathroom. Had we really done that? “- great,” I finished lamely.
The hurt flashed in his eyes and I was sorry I’d added the last line. “It wasn’t perfect, but I didn’t see how it could get any better, then.”
“I sense a ‘but’ in here somewhere.”
I grabbed his hand. “But I’ve been happier here with you. Taking care of you, running in the park, going to the carnival, even our trips to the mission to volunteer, I want all of it, with you. I don’t want to go back to my own time. I want to stay here.”
“Rose looked out the window at the overcast, quickly darkening twilight. It threatened the colder weather, though Rose prayed it would hold off. Her whole life Oklahoma had temperamental weather. Some years it rained so hard the roads flooded. Snow would mean Alejandro couldn’t come into town, and they had made such progress in just the last month of July.
Just then the warm croon of Bing Crosby pleading for charms came over the radio. Rose reached around Alejandro and turned the volume up. Their eyes locked. His wavy black hair framed his face, the blue eyes hidden under his bushy brows. His suit coat was thrown to the side, and he wore just a simple white work shirt, tucked into dusty black slacks.
Kiss me, like you did at the theater, Rose silently begged. Like Bing says, tell me you love me too. Bing’s short song ended and Connee Bosswell sang of the falling leaves, and reminder that summer was quickly ending … for both of them.”