"We were perfect together. Until we met."
Misha
I can’t help but smile at the words in her letter. She misses me.
In fifth grade, my teacher set us up with pen pals from a different school. Thinking I was a girl, with a name like Misha, the other teacher paired me up with her student, Ryen. My teacher, believing Ryen was a boy like me, agreed.
It didn’t take long for us to figure out the mistake. And in no time at all, we were arguing about everything. The best take-out pizza. Android vs. iPhone. Whether or not Eminem is the greatest rapper ever…
And that was the start. For the next seven years, it was us.
Her letters are always on black paper with silver writing. Sometimes there’s one a week or three in a day, but I need them. She’s the only one who keeps me on track, talks me down, and accepts everything I am.
We only had three rules. No social media, no phone numbers, no pictures. We had a good thing going. Why ruin it?
Until I run across a photo of a girl online. Name’s Ryen, loves Gallo’s pizza, and worships her iPhone. What are the chances?
F*ck it. I need to meet her.
I just don’t expect to hate what I find.
Ryen
He hasn’t written in three months. Something’s wrong. Did he die? Get arrested? Knowing Misha, neither would be a stretch.
Without him around, I’m going crazy. I need to know someone is listening. It’s my own fault. I should've gotten his number or picture or something.
He could be gone forever.
Or right under my nose, and I wouldn’t even know it. Views: 517
1 notorious 1%er 1 innocent trapped in an impossible situation 1 vicious crime lord 3 people who aren't who they appear to be = one big (bloody) mess. Reign is no stranger to the criminal underbelly and hard life, but when a random woman comes (literally) crashing into his life- learning things she has no business knowing, and bringing with her the weight of the city's biggest skin trader, the "hard life" starts to take on a whole new meaning.** Views: 517
Mrs. Pamela Evans lives a lonely new widowhood outside of Baltimore, with only a house full of ticking clocks for company. Then she hires eccentric Elizabeth Abbott as a handyman and both discover that parts don't have to be a perfect match to work.
"Anne Tyler is a magical writer."
LOS ANGELES TIMES
From the Paperback edition. Views: 517
With a disastrous marriage behind him, Wyatt Kent has no interest in getting involved with any woman, let alone his ex-wife's younger sister. But when Calliope Andrews hires him to build an addition onto her day care center, Wyatt can't help but notice she's a desirable woman, as warm and funny as his ex was cold and aloof.
Calliope fell hard for Wyatt the first time he walked through the door of her family's home, and can't believe her sister let him get away. He's still the star of all her fantasies, and she's determined to prove to him she's nothing like his manipulative ex. Wyatt may be all business, but Calliope sees the way he looks at her when he's supposed to be working...
It's not long before Wyatt and Calliope are keeping each other warm on cold December nights. But it's going to take a Christmas miracle for Wyatt to put his trust in love a second time.
**Book 2 of the Kent Brothers Trilogy**
28,000 words Views: 517
Trace Handley hates social events of any kind, but she has reluctantly agreed to go to a Halloween party to deliver an important message. Before she can accomplish the mission, though, she has to identify the intended recipient despite costumes, her own shyness, and the dubious assistance of the source of the instruction, a ghost who wants her to get a message to the man accused of murdering him.A Short Halloween Ghost Story (plus a bonus sneak preview of A Question of Fire)Trace Handley hates social events of any kind, but she has reluctantly agreed to go to a Halloween party to deliver an important message. Before she can accomplish the mission, though, she has to identify the intended recipient despite costumes, her own shyness, and the dubious assistance of the source of the instruction, a ghost who wants her to get a message to the man accused of murdering him.Short Excerpt:"Darling, what a clever outfit."The speaker, who guarded the entrance to the party area, wore an expansive, red-velvet medieval gown. Her gigantic cone hat wobbled and threatened to topple over as she ran a dubious glance over Trace's costume, a hooded brown cloak with a mask that left nothing visible of her face but the eyes, outlined in glowing orange. The woman mustered a smile that probably wasn't any more forced than the several hundred others she'd already conjured that evening. She studied Trace's invitation with almost insulting care before she touched Trace's arm and invited her to join the festivities. "Do come in and enjoy yourself."Trace nodded, although enjoyment wasn't high on her agenda for the evening. She moved to the side of the room where she could scan the other guests. Her ghostly companion perched on a table beside her and crossed his legs.'Darling, what a clever outfit,' the ghost mimicked. "Clever? I'll bet she hasn't seen Star Wars even once. Wouldn't know a Jawa if it bit her on the leg.""I wonder what she made of him, then." Trace nodded toward a tall, well-built man in a Boba Fett suit and helmet. He was talking with an overweight Robin Hood."The knight in rusty armor's got a funny nose?" the ghost suggested, while checking out the room himself. In a ballroom crowded with a couple of hundred people that took a while. "Oh, oh, look over there," the ghost said. "That Little Red Riding Hood will have every big bad wolf in the place running for cover. Whoa, and check it out: Mr. Mayor and wife as Dorothy and the Tin Man. Watch out for flying monkey business.""Enough," Trace said. The combined aromas of food, drinks and too many different, expensive fragrances rolled over her and made her dizzy. "Just point me toward this guy you want me to find and let's get this over with.""Give me a break," the ghost pleaded. "I haven't been out in company for a while. Can't I enjoy myself a little?" "You can enjoy yourself all you want—after we've delivered your message. You were the one said we wouldn't have much time, that he'd leave before the midnight unmasking. It's after ten now. So point this guy, Jeff, out to me.""Can't do. And, hey, I'm not the one who made us late, the one that kept vacillating about coming.""What do you mean, 'can't do?' You said we'd come here and find him, deliver the message and leave. I thought I made it clear how I feel about affairs like this.""Something about shoveling out the barn with a tablespoon, as I recall," the ghost muttered. "Party pooper.""Only when I get blackmailed into attending. Why can't you find him?"The ghost slid out of the way of a woman preparing to set her drink down on the table. "A bit more observation, darling. Halloween party—costumes, masks..." Views: 517
