“Don’t let yourself believe such nonsense, Lizzie,” Ms. Fernsby says. She’s peering through her readers at a paparazzi photo of Bella Patel at a farmers’ market with her new beau. (She and Everett broke up again.) She’s wearing big sunglasses, a T-shirt and jeans, and yet is still standout gorgeous as she scrutinizes a pint of blueberries.
“Trust me, Lizzie.” Ms. Fernsby holds the magazine out for me. “Youwrotesuch a wonderful love story. You made this beautiful girl a star. If anyone can find their way back, it’s you.”
FromBlood Ties:
It was Penny’s need that drove him to the tryst with his optometrist.
One minute, Dr. Griffiths was peering into his eyes with the ophthalmoscope, and then suddenly she was peering into his soul. And then they were having sex in the examination chair, her short, choppy blond hair bobbing, her sleek legs wrapped around him. It was all sweat, and perfume, and office vinyl leather.
As he drives home, where pretty, dependable Penny will have dinner ready on the table, her long, sleek red locks as shiny as his last Bentley model, he wonders if he even has to tell her about the office romp.
Surely, she can’t think what they have is forever.
But she does.
And that’s what worries him.
FromThe Heathcliff Saga:
Cathy never understands how her desires transform in the cave. She loves Heathcliff. But Linwood—the way he defies mortal rules, taking the Fae power for himself—stirs her blood.
Inside Penistone Crags, the outside world melts far away from this world of trickling water and moss. Here, delicate ferns spider out from cracks and crevices, and a sprawling bed of wood sorrel and rose robe spreads at their feet. Linwood spins the Fae energy into glowing orbs high above them, casting light and shadows all around.
Cathy trembles with need in this place, for the beauty Linwood creates. She should leave. Nelly warned her about coming here. But now, in his arms, she can’t move.
“Cathy...” he murmurs, his breath warm on her cheek.
“You’re a devil for summoning this magic.”
“Perhaps. But you’ll stay here nonetheless,” he whispers into her ear. “Remember, you yourself told me if you die, heaven will cast you out and the angels will fling you right back here.”
Her chest heaves, heart beating furiously inside her corset.
He kisses her cheek, lips trailing down her throat, and then she melts, knowing in her heart that she’s part devil too. It’s why she yearns for both these men.
20
The next morning, I find August lounging languidly on a bench in front of the Triton fountain. He’s wearing aviator sunglasses, which add a sexy accent to his scholarly tweed jacket, and holding two iced coffees. He smiles lopsidedly as he hands me mine, and I’m pleased that it’s perfectly flavored—milky, dash of stevia, one pump vanilla.
“Well, this is awkward,” I mutter, plopping down onto the bench. I had articulated a better conversation in front of the mirror earlier, but the words elude me now. Better to state the obvious.
“It sure as hell is.” He smiles and there’s the darn dimple. “But the way I see it, there’s nowhere to go but up now, right? If you want to, at least?”
“Yeah, I think so.” I take a long sip of coffee. The two hours of sleep last night is getting to me. Children around Heathcliff’s age run around the fountain as their mothers and nannies stare at their phones.
“I’m not here much longer, August.”
“This is the second time you’ve brought that up, and yet again, I’m not sure why that matters. Let’s carpe diem,shall we? I’d like to spend that remaining time with you.”
“More writer bonding?”
He leans a little closer. God. His cologne. “You fascinate me more than as a writer, Elizabeth. I’m intrigued by your eccentricities, your cute morbid nature, your splendid spontaneous dancing, and your light Southern accent.”
“I’m not Southern.”
“But you have this little lilt every time you saylight. You must have picked it up from your Philip. You’ve absorbed theSteel Magnoliasvibes.”
My phone dings.Mirabel.I ignore it.
