“Please, God,” she whispered. “Get me out of this tree.”

Her father had believed in God, her not really. Oh, she believed He existed, but not much else. Her mother preached at her constantly about that, and so sometimes she’d pacify her and attend a service. But religious songs and words didn’t mean a whole lot in her profession where training and a sharp eye were keys to survival. God didn’t stop bullets from entering flesh. She’d seen one man die, and she remembered how it had tormented the man who shot him. Where was God in that?

Yet they say, whoever they is, that people always turn to prayer in their time of need. Gio had asked her to pray when he knew they would crash. Of course, she hadn’t. What was there to say? God keep us from these trees? They were inevitable at that point.

You’re alive. The words drifted into her ears, and she startled. Where had that come from? She flicked a glance behind her, but all she saw were sky and leaves.

You’re alive. The voice spoke again. She clenched her hold on the trunk. Alive and going crazy now.

Go, I’ll help you.

Go where? Down. She sucked in her breath. She was hearing voices now; this must be bad. Her eyes burned, and she brushed back the tears. No crying. She wouldn’t start crying.

“Serge?” Gio yelled. He sounded worried.

She shifted her grip on the tree. It was make or break time. She either had to choose to give up or go forward, and here in this tree, there was no giving up. She loosened her fingers still further. No. She was going; she was somehow getting out of this.

“Okay, God,” she said beneath her breath. “I’m going.” But as she flipped herself over the branch and reached her toe for the next limb, her grip slipped.

♥

Somewhere there was a purpose in this. But his doubts rose higher each time Sergeant screamed his name.

Giovanni Cavatelli simply wants to survive this one hour balloon flight. Never mind the girl he’s flying is antagonistic, overbearing, and stubborn. Never mind it’s her birthday. So they don’t get along. He can survive one hour.

But when bad weather sends them crashing into the rural mountainside, one hour turns into three days and a dangerous game with a group of anti-government activists out to destroy them both. Will her courage and skills be enough to save them? Or will something as simple as true love prove far stronger?

*Other ebook retailers includes: Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Apple, Tolino, Vivlio, Smashwords, Gardners, Fable, Everand, Overdrive, Odilio, cloudLibrary, Hoopla, BorrowBox, Bookshop, Vivlio


----------
Suzanne D. Williams, Author
www.suzannedwilliams.com
www.feelgoodromance.com

Grasping the knob, she pushed the door inward. The darkness inside brought her to a stop. Over time, her vision adjusted, and the fixtures in the room appeared in view. A settee, straight ahead, covered in maroon brocade. A pair of straight-backed chairs angled toward a small fireplace. On the left, through a doorway, she glimpsed a large woodstove and the end of a dining table.

A bulbous shape leaned over the table top. Looking harder, the plaid shirt and brown trousers were that of a man … a man of great girth. Who was he?

Audra spun in place, searching her husband’s face. His brow lay creased with guilt. Guilt? What should he have to feel guilty for?

He cleared his throat. “Har-harold? We’ve arrived.”

Harold? Why did he call his own name? Harold Warren was the man she’d accepted, and the name spoken over their nuptials.

He rounded her and pushed through the doorway. There, he came to a sharp halt. “Harold?” He spoke the name again, distress in his voice. Reaching one hand out, he shook the man draped over the table. “Harold. No. No, it cannot be,” he said.

Audra approached the pair cautiously, but didn’t have to go far to notice the man was dead. Grasping her husband’s shoulder, she begged his attention. “Please …” she said. “You are Harold, and I am Audra … your wife.”

His skin washing pale, he gulped and moistened his lips. He nodded toward the dead man. “No. Harold’s my brother,” he said. “I’m Gilbert, and you’re his widow, I … I guess.”

The walls of the room swirled, and her legs gave way. With a gasp, Audra crumpled to the floor.

❤

My Brother's Bride
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He’d gone all these years without companionship, and at this childish gesture felt his masculinity greater than ever before. And strangely, a need for her softness, for the gentle hand and loving gaze a woman would give. As strong as he thought he was, alone, with her, he could be that much stronger.

Audra Pazikas came to America with her Papa for better opportunities, but his drinking and harsh life in the city soon reduced them to a miserly existence. His death, years later, leaves her with no choice but to accept the hand of a gentleman out west, seeking a bride. Perhaps, though, she’ll find success and happiness in a new part of the country.

Family resentment put Gilbert Warren under his older brother’s thumb from the youngest age. What his half-brother was too lazy to do for himself, he’d always force him to do. Including, taking his place during his nuptials. He just wishes his brother’s bride knew he wasn’t her new spouse.

The death of his brother before she can meet him throws their lives into unforeseen disorder. She was his brother’s bride, but the days passing by, more and more, the marriage that should have happened was their own.

*Other ebook retailers includes: Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Apple, Tolino, Vivlio, Smashwords, Gardners, Fable, Everand, Overdrive, Odilio, cloudLibrary, Hoopla, BorrowBox, Bookshop, Vivlio


----------
Suzanne D. Williams, Author
www.suzannedwilliams.com
www.feelgoodromance.com

“Louis.”

Steve rocked forward with the apparent intent to sit up. But Louis waved him back in place, and he collapsed, his grizzled head falling back on the sofa pillow. The television cast flickering light on the walls.

“What you said …” Louis began. He lumbered closer and took a seat on the large ottoman a few feet off. His gaze fell to his hands, the skin scarred from playing football, his knuckles reddened. He made a fist, pictured Drew as he’d been a little while ago, then glanced up. “Almost punched a guy tonight, but at the last second, I couldn’t … kept thinking, ‘Steve was nice to me.’”

Steve’s cheeks flushed pink.

“My mom ever tell you about my dad?”

Steve didn’t respond right away. “She mostly called him names, none I can repeat.”

Louis laughed softly, beneath his breath. In the next second, his face straightened. “He left when I was two. Guess you knew that.”

Steve merely nodded.

“What you don’t know is she blamed me.”

“Louis, I hardly think …”

Louis waved him silent. “It’s okay. It’s true. She called me names … loser, worthless, and a dozen more like it. She told me, if not for me, she wouldn’t be alone. She used to lock me in the closet and go to clubs, bars, for hours.”

Steve attempted to rise, managing only an awkward diagonal. “I never knew.”

Louis made a face. “You wouldn’t. She met you, and I thought finally she’d done something right. You treated me like normal. But then, she left, and I blamed you for it.”

That his stepdad had figured that out was written openly on his face. Louis faced it, unblinking, then said what he should have weeks ago.

“It wasn’t your fault … or mine … and I appreciate what you’ve offered to do. I don’t understand why you want to.”

“That’s easy,” Steve replied. “I loved your mother, and I love you.”

Louis hushed. What could he say to that? He didn’t try, but stood instead. “I have a date tomorrow night.”

“A date?” Steve perked. “Is she pretty?”

A crooked smile formed. When Steve didn’t speak again, Louis turned toward his room. A few feet off, however, he glanced behind. “Thanks,” he said.

❤

The Other Player
Amazon (ebook and paperback)
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Rival teams. A football scandal. A play for her heart.

His face changed then, his expression deepening. He seated himself in front of her, his knees tented. “Beneath that bonnet is a young girl longing to get out.”

She reached up, unthinking, and tightened the strings.

“I can see her face, how pretty it is, but am wondering why she’s so afraid of the rest of her being seen.”

Serefina wrapped one arm across her chest and clasped it over the other, stifling a shiver. He wouldn’t understand that he was the reason. To avoid the fires of hell, she must continually fight against her sinful nature, only by avoiding temptation could she remain pure, because she’d been particularly singled out. The only sign she needed of that truth was her hair.

Matthew sighed and hung his head. “Very well. Have it your way.” He straightened his legs and lay back on the compacted soil. “Think I’ll take a nap if you don’t mind.”

Still, she said nothing, but after he’d dozed off, stared at him longer than she had before. Surely, there was nothing wrong with looking at a man, so long as she made no attempt to go any further.

She curved one hand at her throat and counted the beats of her heart.

❤

~~~

Penniless and alone, Serefina Aguilar has nowhere to go but south to an unknown uncle her recently deceased aunt only ever spoke unkindly about. It seems the downward spiral of her life really is the spiritual test she’s been told. But, as long as she covers her greatest sin, the flaming red locks on her head, she can keep herself pure and make it to heaven. She hopes.

Except a horrible encounter with a bank robber and a handsome man named Matthew Todd seem destined to send her to hell … and worse, take along with her what might be her only chance at love.

*Other ebook retailers includes: Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Apple, Tolino, Vivlio, Smashwords, Gardners, Fable, Everand, Overdrive, Odilio, cloudLibrary, Hoopla, BorrowBox, Bookshop, Vivlio


----------
Suzanne D. Williams, Author
www.suzannedwilliams.com
www.feelgoodromance.com

Marcus started it by telling stories of their youth, all of which ended up being about him.

“The life and times of Lucas McGilley,” he said, as if it were a headline.

Lucas fixed a firm gaze on him, willing him to stop. But he didn’t.

“Lucas McGilley, the malefactor of previous criminal escapades today left a tack on Miss Simpson’s chair,” he continued, adopting a deepened voice. “Miss Simpson has declined to press charges.”

“Oh, oh, I got one,” James said, right on Marcus’ heels. “Lucas McGilley has been found responsible for throwing a wad of paper at Preacher Kaskin’s head while he bent in prayer.”

“Lucas McGilley put a snake in the lunch bag of Fran Pierce, causing her to faint,” William chipped in.

“A snake?” Iris asked, her eyes widening.

“Great big black racer,” Will continued. “And she screeched like a cat in a pail of water then fell straight back and conked her head. Had this ginormous lump.”

The table dissolved into laughter, and Lucas’ stomach twisted. Why did they choose tonight to air all this?

“What about the time he released a rat in the Sunday School room?” This question came from Jesse.

“Or the time he lit a pail of moss on fire behind the church,” Charles added. “They thought the building burned and the flames would spread across town.”

James nodded. “Had everyone in an uproar.”

Lucas met Iris’ steady gaze, and his gut clenched further.

“I heard you were the one who wrote that bit about Ari Meckler.” This statement came from Sam, the least likely one to make fun of him, and as a result, the table grew eerily quiet.

“Who’s Ari Meckler?” Iris asked.

Lucas really wished she hadn’t.

“Jewish kid whose family up and moved afterwards,” Jesse explained. “Someone wrote a bunch of horrible threats on their front door.”

“You didn’t do that did you, Lucas?”

Lucas glanced at his mama, who’d asked, guilt picking at him.

“Lucas?” she prompted.

“The truth?”

Their mama laid her hands on the table, and he noticed for the first time how aged they looked. How much of that was his fault?

“I brought you up to tell the truth.”

He swallowed, heavy, his throat thick. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

Her eyes saddened, and his guilt over the incident amplified. He’d watched the Mecklers pack their things and ride out of town, wanting the whole time to stop them and confess. But his sixteen-year-old brain wouldn’t let him, or his pride. Nanny Peterson had said one day he’d overstep things, and that time, he had for sure.

“Lucas McGilley, all this time, and that family hurting like they were.”

What was there left for him to say? What he’d done had been hateful and immature.

He scooted his chair back. And now he’d been embarrassed in front of a girl whose opinion, God only knew why, mattered to him. Leave it to his brothers to remind him of who he really was.

✿

How had the boy who pulled pranks become a man who talked about lifetimes?

Sent south for the summer, eighteen-year-old Iris Willow expects the next three months to be the worst. After all, there can't be anything interesting about eight brothers raised on a small-town farm. Not when she's met more sophisticated boys in the city.

Yet from the start, the second eldest, Lucas McGilley, seems different. He's handsome and funny and kind. He's dedicated to his family and willing to do what's necessary to make up for his past mistakes. Most of all, he says he's in love with her.

Love that, as the summer ends, can't overcome her world of doubts. Or his older brother's hatred. Or the horrible secret held by his mother.

Bonus Story: Samuel McGilley, as the youngest of eight brothers, often finds himself overlooked. He’s always made up for that by speaking his mind. But when an afternoon’s task for a local widow introduces him to pretty little Anna McIntosh, he finds something he’s good at. Listening. And maybe, with time’s passing, something far more priceless. Love.

*Other ebook retailers includes: Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Apple, Tolino, Vivlio, Smashwords, Gardners, Fable, Everand, Overdrive, Odilio, cloudLibrary, Hoopla, BorrowBox, Bookshop, Vivlio

----------
Suzanne D. Williams, Author
www.suzannedwilliams.com
www.feelgoodromance.com

“My jacket,” she said.

Unsure why she wanted it, he didn’t speak, but obliged her, fetching it from the floor. She dug around in the pocket for a moment then turned an object toward his face.

His eyes spread wide. “A Ranger? You’re a Texas Ranger?”

She nodded. “That doesn’t scare you off?”

His lips pulled back in a grin. “That’s the ultimate turn on. I love a girl with a gun.”

She flung her badge onto the nightstand. “Can I ask why?”

“Mmm, you can ask.”

She returned her hands to his chest. “Okay, why?”

He stuck one finger in his back pocket and dragged out his wallet, flipping it open.

She snatched it from him. “No way. You’re … you’re …”

His grin widened. “F.B.I., and you, Serena, are under arrest.”

❤

Lewis Dauger met Serena Hernandez in a truck stop outside of Amarillo. His reason for being there? To dump a car he’d stolen from an old girlfriend. But chemistry and timing are everything in his life as an F.B.I. agent. So when he learns she’s a Texas Ranger and the pair of them are in the middle of the biggest prison escape in the state, it seems his unthinking ways have once again given him something unexpected. However, this time, it might not involve his career, but instead, the condition of his heart.

*Other ebook librarys includes: Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Apple, Tolino, Vivlio, Smashwords, Gardners, Fable, Everand, Overdrive, Odilio, cloudLibrary, Hooplan, BorrowBox, Bookshop, Vivlio


----------
Suzanne D. Williams, Author
www.suzannedwilliams.com
www.feelgoodromance.com

Such was the way of life. Babies were born. Old folks died. Supposed to be like that, at least. But his Cadence dying was all wrong ’cause she took the baby with her and left him with nothing. Empty hands and an emptier heart.

Jacob Flynn stood over her grave, his wide-brimmed hat crunched in his hands, his hair glued to his scalp in a ring where it’d been. He struggled for a tear. Something. Anything. A pain to alleviate the dead feeling, the feeling he was alone and no one cared.

The preacher read some Psalm that whisked in one ear and out the other, intoned, “The Lord giveth and the Lord taken away. Blessed be the name of the Lord,” and nodded at the boy with the shovel to begin his work.

Thu-thump. Thu-thump. Each shovelful pounded harder in Jacob’s brain. Each one digging him deeper into this dark, black feeling, a feeling he wished to drown with a bottle except he’d promised her. He’d promised Cadence never again.

She’d cleaned him up. Got him to church. Carried their baby. And died.

The sun beat hot on his head, forming drops of sweat on his brow and running down his neck to soak into his shirt. A shirt Cadence made him.

It all came back to that—to her and him. And it all ended in nothing.

A hand on his shoulder turned his head around. The somber face of the physician gazed back. Jacob nodded, unspeaking. He’d tried to save her. Tried and been too late.

“Where will you go, son?” he asked.

Jacob licked cracked, dry lips. “South.”

South to Florida to lose himself in a swamp somewhere and maybe never come out.

❤

Down is a long way to fall, her mama always said. And a long way to climb up from.

Jacob Flynn lost his wife and son in childbirth and fled south to Florida to escape the memories. But in, Aurelia Cotton, the pregnant wife of a kind man who took him in, they come back to him. She’s so very beautiful. Helplessly in love, he finds himself pressed closer and closer to the ultimate act of betrayal, when tragedy strikes. Yet the evil someone meant for selfish gain, just might be their one chance for forgiveness.

*Other ebook retailers includes: Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Apple, Tolino, Vivlio, Smashwords, Gardners, Fable, Everand, Overdrive, Odilio, cloudLibrary, Hooplan, BorrowBox, Bookshop


----------
Suzanne D. Williams, Author
www.suzannedwilliams.com
www.feelgoodromance.com

“Dude, look at me.”

Reluctantly, Elliot obeyed.

“All you see of yourself right now is the junk, but I see someone who wants to live better than the rotten hand he was dealt, someone striving for a good life.”

“How can you possibly see any of that?” No one else did. No one had ever believed in him from his earliest memories.

“You walked here, didn’t you?” Isaiah asked. “I mean, you could have walked anywhere else, a homeless shelter, stayed beneath an overpass. You could have shacked up with a friend.”

“I don’t have any friends.”

Silence claimed the space after that remark, but more the silence of thought than any embarrassment. Isaiah stuck out his hand. Elliot stared at it.

“Shake my hand,” Isaiah said.

Elliot made no effort to do so. “Why?” he asked.

“I’ll be your friend, and if you want to change, I’ll help you.”

“Why would you bother? You have no obligation to me.”

Isaiah’s gaze became reflective. “This isn’t simply a bed to sleep in, Elliot. This is a lifestyle change. Ask yourself what you really want out of life.”

“What I want? I’ll tell you what I want. I want to get up in the morning and not look over my shoulder wondering how wasted my dad is and if he’s violent today. I want money in my pocket and food in my stomach and an end to the pain. I want …”

“To be one of us.” Isaiah finished his thought. “So shake my hand and commit to being one of us. We’ll stick with you no matter what else happens.”

Elliot stared at him. People didn’t do this for others. They were all about how much they could bleed out of you by the end of the day, especially for a boy like him. He’d seen it too many times.

“Take the offer,” Isaiah said. “Insta-families only come once in a lifetime, and this is yours.”

Still Elliot hesitated. “What if the others don’t agree, like your parents?”

“I’ve talked to my parents. They know you’re here. And Denny feels the same as me. As to Indy …” He shrugged. “That’s something you’ll have to ask her yourself.”

Elliot grew quiet and stared unblinking at Isaiah’s hand. What if he took the offer? He hadn’t thought out what he’d do once he got here, only that they’d take him in and he’d have a roof over his head for a while. But what if … what if he stayed? Here was better than some unknown location, broke and starving. If they’d really stick by him, maybe his past could be just that … in the past.

“Don’t be a fool,” Isaiah said. “Shake my hand, and from here on out, you’re as much my brother as Denny.”

Elliot stared at Isaiah’s offered fingers, knowing he’d be an idiot to refuse. At least, if he accepted, he’d have a place to live for a while. He raised his hand and clasped hold of Isaiah’s. “I hope you know what you’re getting into.”

Isaiah’s reply struck him hard. “I don’t, but I know Someone Who does.” And with that, he pointed up.

❤

An abusive past. A new beginning.

Elliot Jersey turned up on the Russells' doorstep, sick with the flu and filled with a lot of secrets. A knife fight with his dad forced him to run from home and filled him with a lot of self-doubt.

But soon, staying with them feels like a mistake. He has no right to fall in love with their daughter. A girl as great as her has no business with a boy like him.

*Other ebook retailers includes: Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Apple, Tolino, Vivlio, Smashwords, Gardners, Fable, Everand, Overdrive, Odilio, cloudLibrary, Hooplan, BorrowBox, Bookshop


----------
Suzanne D. Williams, Author
www.suzannedwilliams.com
www.feelgoodromance.com

The quiet of his absence turned their gazes. Carver stuffed his hands in his pockets and swayed back on his heels, a boyish posture. “I should first say that I’m sorry about missing the funeral. I have an excuse, but I hate to give it in light of my dad’s encounter with the mailbox.”

Struck off-kilter by his frankness, she opened her mouth and closed it again. At least, he’d waited until Nicole wasn’t around. At the same time, she shouldn’t be so thrown off by it. He was trying to apologize, sounded like.

“I’m sorry for mentioning it,” he said, confirming her thoughts. “I had a collision out front of the school and injured my left leg. It wasn’t serious, but I couldn’t walk for a while.”

Diane swallowed an unwanted ball of grief. “You shouldn’t feel guilty for that.”

“Yeah, well …” His shoulders sank, but his gaze deepened. “I’m sure you know who wins when you wrestle with guilt.”

Diane didn’t respond right away. He shouldn’t feel guilty. She wouldn’t have known who he was if he’d shown up. Yet …

She looked up at the eaves of the house, unable to hold his gaze so long. If they were close friends, then he should have been there. “Is that what this is? You’re wrestling with guilt?” she asked.

He laughed, a nervous sound. He turned his face upward toward the night sky. His dark hair dusted his shirt collar. “This is me preventing guilt because the Reverend Whiting is a stubborn old cuss.”

Reverend? His dad was a preacher? She didn’t ask it out loud. Probably, she was supposed to know, although she couldn’t think how. A moment later, his dad returned. His arms strung with tangled lights, he came to a halt at the edge of the narrow front porch.

“I found ’em, but …” The word trailed off.

“But you need my help,” she said.

“You didn’t walk down here to untangle Christmas lights,” Carver spoke in her ear.

Prickles traveled up and down her spine, and her tongue thickened. What was wrong with her? Why did he rattle her? He knew Lester. The familiarity bothered her; that was all. Add in, they were of similar height and age and how … cold … her life had become.

“I choose to help,” she replied.

His mom approached the doorway, blocking the golden light streaming from inside. She leveled a tray of steaming mugs in her hands. Nicole popped up beside her and opened the door. His mom stepped out and lowered the tray to a small table in the center of the porch. A Christmas cactus showered fuchsia blossoms around it.

His mom spotted the knotted light strands in her husband’s hands. “Oh, my. I did want those on the fence, but maybe if it’s too much trouble, then we should forget it.”

“It’s no trouble at all,” Diane said, drawing her gaze. “I am an excellent light-untangler, and Nicole has inherited my gift. We will have them straightened in no time.”

“I am really good at it,” Nicole replied. “On the other hand, I am not into acting.”

Carver rounded Diane’s side and halted in front of her daughter. “I’ll bet you are as good as your dad.”

Nicole’s bravado extinguished. Her fingers curled, she rubbed them down her sides, not fifteen but twelve, and staring out the car window at the crowd gathered for the funeral.

“You knew my dad?” Nicole asked, after a time.

“Your dad was one my best friends,” Carver replied. “He’s the reason I started acting.”

“He … he is?”

Carver nodded. “He dared me, and no way was I going to fail and look stupid in front of Lester Mobley. If he could do it, then I could do it better.”

“My dad acted?” Nicole stood taller.

“Your dad was the best. It seems almost planned, your being here and me having room for students. That never happens, halfway through the year. I hope you’ll give it a try.”

Nicole puckered her lips and twisted them to the side. The minute’s wait became an eternity. She released her breath, her spine bending. “I’ll do it for Dad.”

Tears burned behind Diane’s eyelids. She shut them and willed the sensation away. The sound of soft footsteps brought her eyes open. Nicole took a seat, the tangled lights across her lap. Mrs. Whiting slid her a cup of cocoa and took the seat beside her. Carver’s dad reached for his own cup.

Carver reached for two and extended one to her. Lester’s eyes had been the palest blue. Looking into them, she’d always felt like she’d seen everything about him. He was transparent and open like that. Carver’s brown pupils, on the other hand, held things you’d have to probe to find. Had anyone ever tried?

“Thanks for that,” she said. “She’s been fighting me for two days. I’m worn out.”

“She’s fighting with herself over how to be happy without her dad.”

When she didn’t comment, he came closer, and the scent of his cologne swirled around her again. She dragged in a lingering breath.

“I am blessed to have her in my class,” Carver said. “Lester was an amazing guy.” He paused. “I’m thinking an incredibly lucky one, too.”

Diane’s breath lodged her throat. Because of Nicole? Because of Nicole. That’s what he’d meant.

❤

To ease the burden of her husband’s passing, Diane Mobley moved in with her in-laws. It’s good for everyone involved. She can take over their gourmet food shop, and they will give her daughter, Nicole, the love she needs to grow and flourish.

When Nicole’s new drama teacher, Carver Whiting, turns out to be her husband’s high school best friend, their instant attraction is fraught with doubt and guilt. Her husband casts a huge shadow between them. Adding pressure is a secret from her past, which might just be more than their fragile relationship can stand.

It could be that forgiveness, peace, and joy, the meanings of Christmas, aren’t meant for her. It could be that finding love the second time around is simply out of reach. A SUZANNE D. WILLIAMS, 2nd Generation Book.

*Other ebook retailers includes: Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Apple, Tolino, Vivlio, Smashwords, Gardners, Fable, Everand, Overdrive, Odilio, cloudLibrary, Hooplan, BorrowBox, Bookshop


----------
Suzanne D. Williams, Author
www.suzannedwilliams.com
www.feelgoodromance.com

I faced Heather, my finger jabbing her in the chest, and narrowed my gaze. If I could have shot steam from my ears, I would have added that for effect.

“You’re mad,” she said.

“Wow. She’s smart.” I practically hissed the words. “Disappear. Freak me out. Then show up acting like life’s great and no, I’m not going to be mad. Where have you been?”

She sighed and dropped her purse in the floor. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

Heather glanced from me to Beverly and back, her expression saying, Does she have to hear this?

“Talk.” No way was I letting her out of spilling the beans, and Beverly was going to listen in. She’d stayed with me all night to keep me from falling apart.

“I had a situation come up.”

I glared at her and curled my fingers into fists. That was lame, and she knew it.

“All right, already. I’ll tell you.” Pulling out the desk stool, she seated herself and crossed her ankles. “I’ve been seeing this guy. Levi Roth.”

“I know him,” Beverly said. “Cute Jewish kid.”

“Not a ‘kid’,” Heather said. “He’s twenty-two, but yes, he’s Jewish.”

“And?” I snapped my fingers.

“And I’ve decided to convert.”

I had one of those moments, one of those speechless, nothing-but-crickets moments. I was seriously floored. I mean, here I’d thought she was sleeping around, and the whole time she was simply thinking about her faith?

“Don’t look so shocked,” she said. “I know how I’ve always been, but Levi, he’s … perfect.”

She gave me this lovesick look then, and I wasn’t sure whether to cheer or barf.

“I’m happy for you,” I said at last. “But that doesn’t explain why you disappeared without telling anyone. I am your best friend, and we have been friends since middle school. Didn’t you think I’d worry? And your mom didn’t know where you were. And you didn’t answer your phone. Where did you go anyhow?”

“One answer at a time,” she said. “First, mom didn’t know because I haven’t told her. She’ll be against it. Second, I should have told you, but I didn’t have time. He said we had to go right then or we wouldn’t make it there.”

“Make it where?”

Her face had flushed. She was excited about whatever it was she’d done.

“Classes. I attended classes to help me decide if this is what I want to do. He barely got me in. The class was full, but then they had someone drop out.”

So that made some sense, but raised another question. “Couldn’t you take it later? He’s not pressuring you is he?”

I guess I was thinking about Ichabod in asking her that. After all, he’d said the same thing to me, and so it seemed important.

“Not pressuring.” She glanced down at her feet. “But … see … he … he asked me to marry him.”

Revelation number two made me jump in place. Marriage? Here I was thinking she was loose as a goose, and she wasn’t at all. It was like those murder stories in a funny way. At least in the sense of me thinking I knew her and I didn’t all along.

“Be happy for me,” Heather said.

“I am.” I let the words sit between us. “I’m also wondering why you gave me such a hard time about Ichabod.”

“Ichabod, or whoever he actually is, is different because you don’t know who he is. I know Levi. I’ve met his family. I stayed at their house. I attended their synagogue.” She paused, seemingly to think. “Okay, say I give you the benefit of the doubt, and Ichabod’s the best guy ever. What if he’s not a Christian, then what are you going to do?”

Great. Pile on the guilt. I was starting to wish Heather would go back to her boyfriend’s family.

“See? You haven’t given that any thought, and I can see it. You’re hung up on him. You’ve been thinking about him all week, imagining how it’ll be, but then you’ll get there and he’ll have a weird habit or something.”

I shot to my feet. “For your information, he called me yesterday and asked if I wanted to call it off. I said no. I have no interest in calling it off.”

“Gees, Georgia, relax,” she snapped.

“You relax. The least you could have done was answer your stinkin’ phone.”

“My phone died, and I didn’t have a charger. It seemed stupid to buy one for one day’s use. I thought about asking to use their house phone, but how to say, ‘I need to call my roommate so she won’t worry,’ and them think I’m not irresponsible for not telling you sooner. I was trying to make a good impression.”

I looked away from her and up the wall where she’d hung several band posters. I could see her side of it, but I could also see mine. And feel the pain she’d caused and the mounting frustration over my date.
v “How ‘bout you let up and walk me to the gates?” I asked. She and I had, after all, made a deal about that. “But you have to promise not to tell me if you know him.”

“Not a word,” she said. “And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry for making you worry.”

I nodded. I was still angry with her, but too tired to argue further. “Fine. No making faces either,” I added.

She smiled. “Not a one.”

Somehow I didn’t believe her.

♥

Georgia Davis didn’t know the boy standing there, or why moments later when he asked to kiss her she said yes. Kiss a complete stranger? Who does that? Yet the most amazing kiss she’s ever had then becomes a first date with an agreement to forget their real names. Really it makes no sense. Except somewhere deep inside, for one evening, it just has to be this way. He’s Ichabod, and she’s Penelope.

*Other ebook retailers includes: Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Apple, Tolino, Vivlio, Smashwords, Gardners, Fable, Everand, Overdrive, Odilio, cloudLibrary, Hooplan, BorrowBox, Bookshop


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Suzanne D. Williams, Author
www.suzannedwilliams.com
www.feelgoodromance.com

“I think you broke my nose.” Roman held the ice-filled cloth to the bridge of his injured appendage and eyed the space between him and Coralee. If she made one more step his direction, he was out of there.

“I’m sorry, but you called me that … that … name.” She stood before him, one hand curled upward on the counter.

“It was just a jo … ow …” He winced and pulled away from her grasp. “Don’t touch me.”

She approached him anyway. “I want to see if it’s swollen.”

“Of course it’s swollen, you broke it. Gah, you broke my freakin’ nose. I can’t believe it.”

“Stop whining,” she said, throwing her weight on one hip. “You’re such a baby when you whine.”

“I’m allowed to whine when you break my nose.”

This comment made her giggle, and the sound of it brought out his own laughter. Yet laughing too hard hurt, and it wasn’t long before he was back to whining.

“Where’ve you been anyway?” he asked. “A boxing match?”

She rolled her eyes and pursed her lips. “Psh. You haven’t heard? I’m trying to see how long a person can sit in one place.”

“Doing what? Arm exercises?”

She sighed. “No. How come I didn’t know your grandpa owned this place?”

“You never asked.”

“Cute. I had no reason to ask. It’s not like we were friends.”

“Or are friends,” he added. He lowered the ice from his nose at last and sat it on the counter.

She gave a hiss. “Oh, wow, I really broke it. It’s kinda … crooked.”

“Great. Ow.” Talking hurt. Breathing hurt. Looking at her hurt. Man, she was fine, and strong as an ox, and outspoken, and not about to give him the time of day. And now his nose was warped and she’d be working here. Here, where he’d have to look at her each day and wish he could put his lips on hers.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked.

He looked away. “I’m not looking at you like anything except a girl with a mean right cross.”

“Well, I apologize, like I said. You promise not to call me that, and I’ll not do it again.”

“Believe me,” he said. “I’m not calling you anything.” He turned his back on her and wandered back through the folding doors. Unfortunately, she followed. “What?” he asked, a few steps in.

“Your grandpa said for you to show me what to do.”

“Now?”

She rested one hand on her hip. “Why not now? I need money, and I’m ready to work.”

Money? What did she need money for? Then again, what did he know about her? They’d attended school together, graduating last spring and going their separate ways. He’d taken a handful of classes at the local community college, and she’d, according to her, done nothing.

They hadn’t particularly been friends, more like kids in the same classes on occasion. It wasn’t until their senior year that he’d noticed her as an appealing female. But as far as she was concerned, he’d been invisible, so rather than have his hopes dashed, he’d given up and watched her walk away.

“What do you want money for?” he asked. If she was unemployed as she’d indicated, then she obviously hadn’t cared about being broke ’til now.

“That’s personal,” she said. “Let’s just say I need it fairly quick, and it’s really important so here I am.”

He stared at her for a minute then shrugged. “Fine. Take that box over there to aisle three and hang up what’s in it up.”

“Sure thing, boss,” she said. Prancing across the space, she bent over, thrusting her butt outward and took hold of the box.

He swallowed. This would be a long, long summer with sightings like that every day. Then again, looking at that might make things interesting – so long as she kept her hands to herself.

She straightened, and he glanced away. Paperwork. He’d do much better right now to concentrate on ordering inventory than staring at what was a very attractive backside.

♥

The best way Coralee Pirtle can think of to be noticed by Roger Keen, is to show up at the big pool party in the right suit. Problem is, she doesn’t own one and hasn’t a dime to her name. Easily solved ... she’ll get a job. Working alongside Roman Avery at the local hardware store isn’t exactly what she had in mind, but how hard can it be? Two weeks, one paycheck, and she’s set. However, plans change, and the more time goes by, the less appealing Roger seems, and the more Roman Avery becomes the man of her dreams.

For ages 12 and up. Clean romance parents can trust.

*Other ebook retailers usually includes: Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Apple, Tolino, Vivlio, Smashwords, Gardners, Fable, Everand, Overdrive, Odilio, cloudLibrary, Hooplan, BorrowBox, Bookshop

The power flowed between them, as it always did when he sat on her right. Angus made no mention of it, nor any attempt to free his palm from hers. Not like he could in the middle of the church service.

He stared ahead, conscious of the pastor walking back and forth across the platform, but not the words he spoke because he was preoccupied instead by the lack of demon creatures inside the building. They’d stalled at the door, hanging back like so many pieces of paper swept by the wind. That people tolerated them, going into the service, and coming back out to pick them up again, was baffling.

Why not rid yourself once and for all?

After his stroll through the mall revealed so many, hundreds even, he’d gone home and used his phone to do some research in the Scriptures. Jesus had also dealt with demons on many occasions, and He hadn’t tolerated them, but cast them out, showing compassion on the people who were afflicted.

There was great power in compassion. Where some thought of it as weakness, it was, in fact, the highest measure of God’s Love that existed. It was Love poured out on another for no reason at all. As Christ had done for mankind.

Sara’s free hand squeezed his arm, and she gestured toward the aisle where the pastor motioned. Angus rose, his hand suddenly loosened from hers and crossed over the knees of her parents toward a clear space.

“Will you be baptized?” the pastor asked.

“Yes.”

The pastor gestured toward the front and Angus followed behind several others out a doorway and up a set of stairs to a room lined with small closets. Donning a robe handed to him from the first one, he exited the room and stepped up three small stairs to the edge of a tank of water.

A man he didn’t recognize waved him in.

Angus waded through the cool liquid to the man’s side, turning his profile to the people below, and in that instant the space changed.

Gone were the walls, the audience, the voice of the man. Instead he stood in a river, golden in color, which twisted and turned through a field. Before him stood the Man, the Savior. He pressed one hand to Angus’s forehead, causing him to sink below the waves. They rippled in his ears, flooding his face, and seemed to soak into his very core. He was overwhelmed by them, unable to escape, unable to rise.

Words bubbled up in his hearing, spoken, as it were, directly to his heart. Out of his belly shall flow rivers of living water.

Angus inhaled, awakening to air and the church and the applause of the people. Water streaming down his face, a new language emerged, not the ancient one Sara spoke, not English, the language of his birth, but one unintelligible in his ears and yet perfectly tuned to the Father.

His hands raised of their own accord and a Glory from everywhere, and yet nowhere at all, raced down his fingers, through his limbs and into his feet. He heard an audible gasp from those in the room and the sound of their praises escalating, then turned his gaze toward the ceiling where hovering above them all was a crowd of heavenly beings, angelic in appearance, whose worship came in perfect harmony from all sides at once.

He dipped his eyes then toward Sara, emotion caught his throat.

✞

Wings, Book 1
An allegorical look at the gospels and the book of Acts
99 cents
Amazon (ebook and paperback)
Other ebook retailers*

Called from birth to carry the Light of God into a world filled with Darkness, seventeen-year-old Sara Benedict finds the mission this time has changed. This city, this school, is more about her growth. No longer will she function alone, but she needs Angus Finlay to fulfill the prophecies. Yet there’s something deeper going on behind the scenes, and the harder she tries, the greater the danger seems. Her work of rescue must continue, but this task just might shut off the Light inside her once and for all.


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Suzanne D. Williams, Author
www.suzannedwilliams.com
www.feelgoodromance.com