"Playing With Fire" by Rose Francis (Contemporary Romance)

Genre:  Contemporary Romance

Summary:  Despite dumping her unfaithful fiancé, Janet Cooper has a hard time getting rid of him as he continues following her around, begging for her forgiveness.

Janet soon realizes her troubles are just beginning, especially since her new business partner Eric is an irresistible hunk and she has promised herself a three-month hiatus from sex.

But as her ex-fiancé gets more and more aggressive in his pursuit of her, she turns to Eric for strength and friendship, sending her ex into jealous rages.

The least of her problems becomes her fantasies of Eric and resisting her urges as she begins to see that playing with fire could leave her scarred for life.

Playing With Fire is the first in the Sweet Redemption series.

Excerpt:


As Janet reached the elevator and the doors were about to close, she heard a male voice call out:

“Wait!”

She held the elevator.

For a moment, she wished she had let it close when the man entered, for she was struck by something she hadn’t felt since she was eighteen when she fell madly and completely in love for the first and only time with a guy who broke her heart irreparably a few years later.

The vision before her was a man like she thought only existed in movies, and only then with the right lighting and camera angles: tall, broad shoulders, smoldering blue eyes, thick, glossy dark hair.

When he smiled at her, she thought for a moment that she had literally turned into a puddle. Then she felt silly when she realized her eye level hadn’t actually changed and she was still human, so she managed to smile back.

Her embarrassment didn’t help—she knew her cheeks had flushed at being stuck in such a small space with such a specimen, and that it would show even through her brown skin.

She couldn’t think and felt like her brain had shorted and shut down. She could only feel, emotions whirling in side of her for the minute or so it took to get to the seventh floor. At least it felt like a minute, as her body screamed at her—desire, longing, and shame coursing through her.

She tried not looking at him, focusing on the elevator buttons, then the floor—everywhere but at the Adonis next to her in a suit. But even his smell mocked her valiant efforts. His cologne, after-shave—whatever it was almost made her dizzy.

She thought she saw him smiling at her discomfort out of the corner of her eye, so she looked directly at him and immediately regretted her mistake.

His devastating grin erased her plan to firmly and confidently say hello.

How am I suddenly fourteen? she wondered. Some cute guy, clearly very fit under his suit with a firm jaw, and a beautiful smile, standing about six feet four and looking the epitome of an alpha male—and she loses it?

Get it together! she told herself as the elevator door opened.

The man indicated for her to exit first and she managed to do that, but she stood there, trying to get her bearings and remember why she was on this floor in the first place.

“708,” he said in a voice that climbed up her spine. “I take it you’re here for the Cooper reception?”

She nodded dumbly, then fell into step with him.

Buy this story on Amazon, Barnes and Noble or Smashwords.

"Never Again" by Gabriella Mahoney (Historical Romance)

Genre:  Historical Romance

Summary:  Book 4 of the Spinster Series

A youthful romance that ended badly has rendered Mabel Hughes incapable of ever loving another man. Or so she thought. A self-portrait she painted and sold years ago crosses paths with wealthy businessman, Thomas Torrens. He is captivated by the hauntingly beautiful woman in the picture and is determined to discover her identity. Little does he realize that artist and subject are one in the same...

This novelette is approximately 13,000 words.

Excerpt:

“I can, of course, bring you more selections, Mr. Torrens.”

Thomas raised an amused eyebrow at the aging art dealer. He was driving the man to the point of distraction and they both knew it. Mr. Simmons had been contacted a fortnight ago with a request for a selection of art from a variety of contemporary artists. A promise to make the effort worth his while made him reluctantly agree.

Thomas was used to the type of reaction the Mr. Simmons was giving him. An untitled man was never afforded the same respect as that given to a peer. It didn’t matter that Thomas Torrens happened to be richer than most of the English aristocracy. New money was almost always viewed with contempt.

“The selections you brought me are just fine. I can tell that you went to some trouble to acquire a few of these pieces. I’m merely taking my time. One should never take the job of patron lightly.”

Simmons sighed and took a few steps back as Thomas resumed his careful scrutiny of each piece. His approach was unusual since very few aristocrats actually bothered to become educated in the field of art. They supported artists as a matter of show rather than principles.

But Thomas took pride in his carefully acquired artistic taste, having originally spent his younger days as a painter’s apprentice. Ambition made him cut his art career short. He was tired of going to bed hungry and wanted his impoverished parents to live out their remaining days in comfort. Scraping together every shilling he could muster, he had eventually made his fortune through ruthless stock trading, loans and banking. His entire life now revolved around numbers. The occasional painting project in his precious few free hours was the only way he still felt human. Art and his daughter, Annabelle, were his two reminders that there was goodness in this life.

He wasn’t quite sure if his decision to become an art patron stemmed from his passion or his guilt. His career demands up until this point had made it impossible for him to do anything other than collect the occasional piece. But at seven and thirty years of age he decided enough was enough. It was high time he started doing something with his money other than buy yet another lavish country estate.

His eyes narrowed as he examined the work in front of him. It was a painting of a bustling dock at dawn. Fishermen setting sail and their wives cutting up the latest catch. The artist had done an exquisite job capturing all the unassuming details of the scene. His technique was flawless. It lacked… depth. Thomas could immediately tell that the artist felt no connection to these people.

He didn’t want to pick just any artist to sponsor. He wanted the artist to have that special something in their work. He wasn’t sure what that was but he would know it when he saw it. Scowling at the dock scene, he moved on to the next display. So far all of these artists struck him as the same: skilled but soulless. Was it really so much to—

His internal tirade was cut short as his eyes took in the next painting. He felt himself inhale sharply. Of all the paintings put on display around his library, this one was the smallest and most unassuming. It was the portrait of a beautiful woman with auburn hair and green eyes a shade or two lighter than his own. The artist had made no attempt to disguise the age. The subject was no simpering debutant but a fully mature woman with a mind of her own.

What arrested Thomas was the sadness. Few artists could capture such a rich and complex emotion. The woman was not blatantly crying. In fact, she was smiling slightly. But underneath that smile was the pain of disappointment and hurt. The kind of sadness one hopes to eventually overcome but never does.

Ridiculous ideas began to form in Thomas’ brain. He wanted to know more about the artist who painted this piece and, more importantly, he needed to know who the woman in the painting was. Was she a real person or a figment of the artist’s imagination? His eyes shot to the right hand corner, desperately searching for a signature.

“Ah, you have excellent taste, Mr. Torrens,” the Simmons ventured, seeing his chance to finally make the sale. “That painting is by M. Hughes.”

“What do you know about him?”

The dealer shrugged. “Not much. Keeps to himself mostly in a village called Bibury. I’ve never spoken to him in person. All of our business is done by correspondence. He doesn’t seem to have any notion to make a public figure of himself which is a shame because every time I get one of his pieces it sells almost immediately and for a very nice price.”

“I’ll triple whatever you’re asking if you tell me how to contact this artist.”

Simmons lurched in surprise. “I can’t give you much, Mr. Torrens…”

“A mailing address will do.”

“Very well. Does this mean we have a deal?”

The two men shook hands but Thomas barely noticed as he continued to stare at his new acquisition. This sudden obsession came as a complete surprise to him. He had no logical explanation for it. All he knew was that he needed to uncover this lady’s secrets.

Buy this story on Amazon or Barnes and Noble.

"Hardly a Lady" by Gabriella Mahoney (Historical Romance)

Genre:  Historical Romance

Summary:  Book 3 of the Spinster Series

As the illegitimate daughter of an earl, Elizabeth Smith has little hope for a respectable marriage. Tired of living under the dictates of a disinterested father, Elizabeth decides to take matters into her own hands and find herself a rich protector. If no one will have her as a wife then she could at least acquire some wealth being a kept woman. But an old childhood friend comes for a visit and reveles that he has no intention of letting her go so easily...

This novelette is approximately 14,500 words.

Excerpt:

Almost the very hour Elizabeth Smith turned twenty-six she decided that some changes to her life were in order. She was tired of living under the rule of others and she wanted to lose her virginity. Shocking notions to be sure, but Elizabeth never did anything in half measures.

Considering her present situation, it was really no surprise that such ideas had popped into her head. She was spending yet another birthday taking care of her elderly cousin who had just come down with a chill. Last year she had been in the same position and the year before that she had been caring for her elderly aunt who had come down with a severe headache. This was certainly not the most cheerful way to mark the anniversary of one’s birth.

Her cousin was sleeping peacefully now that Elizabeth had carried her to the bed and wrapped some extra blankets around the frail creature. She sat in the corner chair idly twirling a loose strand of dark hair while watching the second hand on the clock tick away, a grim reminder that she was not getting any younger.

Her whole life she had been passed around like this. Never wanted and sent to take care of people that no one else wanted to bother with. She was the illegitimate offspring of an earl and the actress he had happened to be keeping mistress at the time. Her mother had adopted the dramatic stage name of Louisa Mancini but Elizabeth had been given her mother’s real and far less distinguished last name of Smith.

She supposed she should feel a certain amount of gratitude. Often in cases like this the bastard ended up in an orphanage or worse. Since Louisa had neither the time nor inclination to care for a young infant, her father sent her away to the country to be raised by a farmer family on his estate.

As far as childhoods went Elizabeth had little to complain about. The Morgans were good, simple folk that accepted her into their family and raised her with their two sons, William and Edward. Granted, they did not have much choice in the matter. But Elizabeth was fully aware of the fact that they could have easily taken the money provided by the earl and made her life a living hell.

Growing up on a farm surrounded by boys had taught Elizabeth hard work, dedication and how to wrestle. Some girls received etiquette lessons and were instructed in musical instruments while growing up. Elizabeth learned how to sow a field and could lift a fifty-pound sack of potatoes by the time she was ten.

Elizabeth had always been aware of her station in life, even from an early age. The Morgans never brought the subject up but Elizabeth knew that she was not one of them. In all likelihood she probably would have found some farmer to marry when she came of age in order to relieve the Morgans from the burden of caring for her. But was not what the fates seemed to have in store for her.

When she turned seventeen she received a letter from her father telling her that her services were required at a relative’s estate. Being young and inexperienced, Elizabeth had at first been excited over the prospect of traveling somewhere new. But the excitement quickly wore off when she realized that she had been placed in the role of caretaker, a job that was tedious and required she spend most of her time inside.

The drastic change in lifestyle was a difficult adjustment. Going from virtual freedom to having to monitor how loud her footsteps were grated on her spirit. But she never once complained to anyone. She was not being mistreated or starved. Any woman in her station would be grateful to live in such comfort.

The sound of her cousin snoring made Elizabeth’s mind wander back to the present. She wasn’t quite sure why this particular birthday seemed more significant than any of the others. Perhaps she had finally reached her full maturity or perhaps she was simply fed up with the monotony of her life. All she knew for certain was that it was time for a change.

Buy this story on Amazon or Barnes and Noble.

"Beckoning Spirit" by Stacey Coverstone (Paranormal Romance)

Genre:  Paranormal Romance

Summary:  Following a year of one disappointing turn after another, Devin Fuller has been dreaming for weeks of a mysterious woman in white beckoning to her from atop the island lighthouse. On the anniversary of her grandma's death, Devin feels a supernatural push to visit Grandma’s grave on Monhegan Island. However, the last ferry has been cancelled due to an approaching storm. In steps local Maine fisherman, Kipp Sullivan, who offers to ferry her across the bay. Although they’ve never met, both feel an immediate connection the moment they look into each other’s eyes, as if they’ve always known each other. When their hands touch, an electrical charge jumps between them, and time and space blend.

Once they cross the storm-tossed sea and reach the island, Devin has an eerie encounter with ghosts, and she and Kipp become acutely aware of the strange coincidences piling up around them. The lighthouse, an old oil painting, and spirits from beyond the grave appear to be pieces of a puzzle meant to bring the couple together. But do they believe in reincarnation? And if so, can the mistakes of the past lead to happily ever after in the present?

Excerpt:

Devin lifted her head as a sudden cold gale carried an eerie whistle upon the wind. As though she were a puppet on a string, her neck rotated toward the abandoned lighthouse. The light was on in the tower.

How could the light be on? She knew the light hadn’t worked in years.

Stumbling to her feet, she dashed between the maze of headstones and out the cemetery gate. In the manner of a typical island storm, the wind and rain blew into a frenzy within moments. She jerked off her sandals and ran barefoot to the base of the lighthouse. Shaking from sudden exposure, she stared up at the small oval window fifty feet above. A jagged bolt of lightning sliced through the darkened sky, and in one sharp instant, Devin saw her. The woman stood at the window, her shadowy face staring down. Rain slashed at the glass, and the small window rattled wildly in its ancient casing, caught in the fury of the burgeoning storm. With a blink of her eye, the vision was gone.

Her fist flew to her mouth. Had she really seen someone? Or was her imagination playing tricks? Thunder boomed and another jagged flash lit up the sky, illuminating the window again. The figure was still there! The woman’s long auburn hair lay curled around her shoulders, and the wide lace collar of her white dress accentuated the slender arch of her neck.

Devin stood trancelike as the ghostly shape of a man magically appeared at the woman’s side. He placed a spectral arm around her waist. His hair was dark and he wore an odd-looking shirt with a ruffle down the front. His face, like hers, was cast in long shadows. An icy thread wound its way up Devin’s spine when he tenderly took the woman’s chin between his fingers and brushed his lips against hers.

Another clap of thunder wrenched Devin from her trance. She jumped and blinked, and the two smoky shapes dissipated into thin air.
“No! Come back!” she shouted.

She pounded her fist upon the small lighthouse door. It was padlocked. “Open up!” she called desperately into the wind. She pounded again, and the lock magically broke apart and the chain thudded to the ground. With her mouth open in shock, she flung the door open and planted one foot on the bottom step of the old wooden stairs. Her gaze lifted at the exact moment the two phantoms glided down the staircase, hand in hand.

Buy this story on Amazon and be sure to check out the author's website.

"Transforming Love" by Debra Smith (Paranormal Romance)

Genre:  Paranormal Erotic Romance

Summary:  Jenny never expected her thirst for freedom to lead to her capture. Family secrets prevent her from running from the only man tempting enough to make her submit to her body's desires.

Gryph is dark, sexy, and determined to win Jenny in the Slag, a contest revered by his kind. As the leader of his Clan he's used to getting his way, until her. Can he give Jenny her freedom while winning her heart?

Excerpt:

Gryph pointed at Jenny, “You come with me before you start a riot.” He grabbed her by the hand and pulled her to the door in the back of the bar. He opened it roughly and the hinges squeaked in protest.

He motioned to the sturdy black leather couch. “Sit.”

“I would prefer to stand, if you don’t mind.” She stuck out her chin, tired of pushy males.

“Sit. Down.”

Okay, so he minded. Jenny decided not to anger the only chance of help she had. Jeez, she felt like she was in the principal's office after her senior prank. It wasn't her fault the chickens pooped all over his brand new leather interior. He shouldn't have left the top down on his Mustang. She figured the chickens would all sort of…hop out. Gryph growled, low and menacing. She blinked, drawn back to the present.

“Fine, I would love to sit.” She took a deep breath.

“How did you get here? And don’t say you walked.” He leaned against the large wooden desk and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Well I did walk, but before that I drove.” She shrugged, still distracted by her hunger.

Gryph clenched his jaw. “Let’s start with something easy. What’s your name and where are you from?”

“I’m Jenny, well Jenifer, but I like Jenny better. I’m from Colorado.”

“What’s your clan name?”

Jenny scrunched her eyebrows. This guy was crazier than a roped mustang. “Clan?”

“Yeah, your clan. What do you think I would want to know, your shoe size? You walk into my bar, looking like you do. Are you really that stupid? Most of the males here don’t have mates, and honey, you're ripe for the picking.”


Yep, he was totally crazy. She needed to get the hell out of there and fast.

“Look, I’m leaving.” Jenny stood, and before she could open the door, he had her pinned to the wall. Her heart raced as she struggled against his crushing grip. His scent hit her nose, sending heat to pool in her belly. Her head spun trying to decide what it was, undeniably something dark and dangerous. His lips grazed her ear, and his breath fanned along her flushed skin.

“You expect me to believe you really have no idea what I’m talking about? That a female in your state just happened to walk through my door? Your leader is either stupid or playing with fire. I can't believe he thought I would fall for a scrawny thing like you.” Gryph bristled.

“Listen, I have no idea what you are talking about. I have no clue what town or even what state I’m in right now. I just want to go home.” Tears began pooling in her eyes. So much for being independent, once again she’d bitten off more than she could chew.

“Sit down.” Gryph shoved her in the direction of the couch.

She eyed the door, ready to run back to her car. His lips tilted in a knowing smile, saying just try it. Fear made her mind hazy, like everything played in slow motion. She could still feel the heat left by his touch. God. She was crazy just for thinking of her jailer in a sexual way. She could use a drink, or the next best thing, chocolate. Jenny looked through her purse for the rest of her candy bar. She needed some comfort, and it was all she had. She watched Tall, Dark, and Scary step over to the front of a large wooden desk and braced himself on his hands. He shook his head, deep in thought. She took a moment to look at his features: his body was all powerful muscle, the tight black t-shirt did nothing to hide the flexing muscles of his back and his ass was incredible. He looked like walking, talking sin.

“What’s your last name?”

She narrowed her eyes, “Why?”

“Do you want to go home or not?”

“Fine, Koning. My last name is Koning.”

“You have to be fucking kidding me.” He ran his hand through his hair.

“I assure you, it’s true. I can get my driver's license if you would like.” Jenny grabbed her wallet and handed to him. Gryph looked at her ID and closed his eyes.

"Shit."

She was the one being held against her will, and he was upset about her name. It certainly wasn’t her problem if he believed her or not. She genuinely didn’t see why it mattered. She was hungry, tired, and with a lunatic. She bit down on her candy bar and let the flavors give her brief moment of peace. God if she ever saw that used cars salesman, she was going to have her dad take him for a shovel ride. You know the real fun kind where only the shovel comes back. She opened her eyes, and he was staring at her with a familiar heat in his eyes. Her body responded with a heat of its own, and she squirmed in her seat.

“Can I have a taste?”

She almost said no, but she actually did need his help. If giving him the rest of her chocolate bar would influence his decision, it was a sacrifice she was willing to make. She nodded and held out her candy.

She shook it impatiently, almost regretting her choice to share. It was Lindt Milk Chocolate, for Pete's sake, as close to heaven on earth as you could get. His lips curved into a seductive half smile. Before she knew what was happening, he grabbed her outstretched hand and pulled her off the couch and up against his body. He had her trapped, caged by his thick arms, and drugged by his intoxicating scent. He was warm and smelled like crushed pine needles and mountain air.

“W-what are you doing?”

“I’m going to taste you.”

Buy this story on Amazon.  Check out the author's site.

"Guilty Pleasure" by Gabriella Mahoney (Historical Romance)

Genre:  Historical Romance

Summary:  Book 2 of the Spinster Series

After the death of her parents Harriet Hughes devoted herself to a life free of temptation. Any activity that could lead to an excess of emotion was strictly avoided. She never questioned her way of life until a chance encounter with a dashing young naval officer who may turn out to be just too much temptation to resist...

This novelette is approximately 13,000 words. 

Excerpt:

If someone had asked Harriet Hughes on Monday to imagine all the possible situations she could be in at the week’s close, what she was doing right now would have been last on that list. The small bouquet of freshly picked wildflowers didn’t stand a chance under the force of Harriet’s death grip.

For the umpteenth time that hour her sister, Mabel, came up to her side and whispered, “Are you sure you want to do this, Harriet? You know that I would always take care of you, your reputation be damned.”

“Mabel!” Harriet hissed through her teeth, quite shocked. “You’re not supposed to swear in church! In fact a lady shouldn’t be swearing at all!”

“Well not every lady’s sister is forced to marry a complete stranger against her will!”

“I’m not marrying Captain Fletcher against my will. You said it yourself that this is the only option.”

“Yes, but that was yesterday. I’m having second thoughts today and I think you should too!”

Harriet’s featured softened as she met her sister’s gaze. Mabel had every right to be worried. Six years Harriet’s senior, Mabel had automatically assumed the role of mother when their parents had died of consumption. Mabel was also extremely jaded when it came to men after having her heart broken by a scoundrel. So it was only natural that she would question Harriet’s decision.

“I’ll be fine, Mabel. I’m twenty-two, certainly too old to be swept away by childish fantasies. Captain Fletcher is merely a solution to a problem. He seems to me to be a reasonable sort of man and we both will go our separate ways when this is all over. Then life can go back to normal.”

Mabel gave her a skeptical glare then squeezed Harriet’s hand reassuringly before taking her place to one side as witness for the ceremony. The only other person in attendance was Harriet’s best friend, Jane, who also happened to be married to Bibury’s pastor, John Cooper.

Harriet glanced nervously at her friend and Jane tried to give her an encouraging smile. Just slightly over one year ago Jane took a chance and married the man that everyone had thought she couldn’t stand. Theirs had been a love match with emotions that Harriet knew she could never hope for with her own marriage.

Her gaze shifted to her intended. At least Bryce Fletcher was not an eyesore. He had thick brown hair and was well muscled from his years of military service. He was average in height but still several inches taller than Harriet. Though in the past Harriet never had any intention of ever getting married, Captain Fletcher seemed to be the embodiment of what she would consider physical perfection in the male form.

Not that she had ever had such thoughts. To think about a man in such a way would be wrong and against everything her parents had ever taught her. And she refused to soil their memory with a stray moment of lust.

“Are we ready to begin?” Mr. Cooper asked while giving Harriet a pointed look.

Harriet didn’t miss the inflection in his question. Mr. Cooper was a good man and wanted to make sure his wife’s friend was not being forced into an unwanted situation. “Yes,” she said with more calm than she really felt. “You may begin at any time, Mr. Cooper.”

She felt her hands shake and she gripped her bouquet even tighter. She didn’t even really hear what the pastor was saying as he read the vows from his book. Through all the haze a warm, steady hand slipped under the bouquet and gently held her fingers. Harriet looked suddenly at Bryce and he smiled at her. It was not a mocking smile or an insolent grin. It was a caring smile, the kind that would pass between two friends that were going to get through this ordeal together.

Harriet’s hands stopped shaking and she felt the knot in her stomach begin to unravel. Maybe… just maybe this marriage really wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Buy this story on Amazon, Barnes and Noble or Smashwords.

"Forever Love" by Melissa Keir (Contemporary Romance)

Genre:  Contemporary Romance

Summary:  Fifteen years ago, Syndie Wilder left her small hometown- Amherst, Ohio- to escape the pain of losing her best friend and boyfriend. Deciding that Chicago offered more for an up and coming jewelry designer, she enjoyed the big city life until she chooses to return and care for her father. Taking care of her father and relocating her internet business, Syndie has no time or desire for romance but fate has a way of playing with best-laid plans.

Thom Johnson broke Syndie’s heart all those years ago and regrets it every day. As a firefighter, Thom sets out to protect Amherst and redeem himself for his bad choices. However, he never has forgotten Syndie and the hurt he caused her.

When a chance meeting happens, can the two former friends allow themselves the chance to become friends again, or will the sparks turn a childhood friendship into a forever love?

Excerpt:

After getting out of my car, I hiked down the stairs. It was a mild September day, and the beach was fairly empty—just myself and a few seagulls. I walked slowly along the shoreline with my head down, not noticing the person swimming in the water until he began to climb out of the surf.

A dark, cropped haircut framed a face so beautiful that it could be described as the face of a Roman god. He had a strong nose and jawline that showed just a sprinkling of whisker stubble. However, it was his body that made me pause. His muscular shoulders and upper arms looked like they could carry a girl off to bed. His wet torso was covered with hair that immediately drew my eyes and tempted me to caress it. The chest hair tapered down his narrow waist and seemed to lead the way to paradise. I stopped walking and just stared. God, please let there be no drool dripping off my chin. This guy was smokin’ hot! Then he smiled and I noticed his face, complete with a little dimple in his chin. He seemed familiar, but I wasn’t sure where I recognized him from. When he saw that I noticed him, he winked as if he recognized me too.

“Hello! Nice day for a walk, huh? The weather has been kind to us this year.” He spoke and my knees wobbled. His voice was like chocolate, smooth and delicious.

“Hi…Yes…I’m glad the weather is nice enough to get out, but isn’t the water too cold for a swim?”

“Not at all. I enjoy my morning workouts after a long shift at the station. You don’t remember me, do you, Syndie?”

My mind was drawing a blank. How did he know my name? Who was this hottie?

“Not really. You do look familiar, but I can’t place you. I’m sorry.”

“It’s been a long time. We grew up together, our parents were best friends. We even went out in high school. I’m not surprised you don’t remember me, you hightailed it out of Amherst like your butt was on fire after graduation. We never saw each other again. I’m Thom Johnson, but everyone called me T.J.”

Oh wow. I’ve got a lot on my plate and he has changed over the years, but to not know someone so connected to most of my life was baffling. This man had been my best childhood friend. I was T.J.’s girlfriend for a while, but he dumped me for someone who put out. Before we went out in high school, I grew up with images in my head of him as the ideal guy. Our families encouraged our dating, thinking we were perfect together. When he dumped me, it broke my heart. I couldn’t stand watching him move on without me.

“Yes, I recognize you now, T.J. I took off because I thought that a big city had more to offer me. Well, it was nice to see you again. I had better get back to my walk, you seem busy.” I took off wanting to escape this awkward moment. Having to explain to T.J. why I was back in town was the last thing on my to-do list today.

“All right, Syn. See you around.” T.J. smiled. “Glad you’re back!”

I began heading back to my car, no sea glass having been found. Instead, I’d discovered the one guy who broke my heart and, based upon my initial reaction to the sight of him, has the potential to do it again. I backed out of the parking spot and headed back onto the main road into town, thoughts of T.J. occupying my mind.

Buy this story on Secret Cravings, Amazon or All Romance.