Tag Archives: fiction

Book Review

Who Doesn’t Love Big Crazy Families?

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In anticipation for the Kindle World’s Until crossover series (also known as the “Happily Ever Alpha Kindle World”), based on Aurora Rose Reynolds’ Until Him/Her series, I’ve gone and read some of the authors crossing over. It’s releasing in April 2018 and I am so excited, because I seriously love the whole Mayson crew. (And Until Harmony comes out March 6th, look for my review after it’s released!)

The first author I picked up was Brynne Asher, and the Carpino series, because Byrnne’s novel, Until Avery, will be a crossover with this series. And Ms. Asher, I NEED MORE! It was a short series, only three books, but there were so many people that could have had a story, and the family is just so crazy, that I cannot wait until Avery releases. I need more Carpino’s in my life.

The first novel is Overflow, starring Gabby Carpino and Jude Ortiz.

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Gabby is an interior decorator, not designer don’t mess it up, with a huge, crazy Italian family. After decorating her friend’s laundry room, the FBI and ATF come barging in, hand cuff her, and pat her down. Jude Ortiz is the FBI agent that pat her down, and then barges his way into her life when she could be in even more danger. Jude, with his police get up, ability to put Gabby in a Jude coma with his kisses, and his bossy-ness, not-so-slowly moves into Gabby’s life and home, protecting her and going out of his mind with worry. Because as much as Gabby likes Jude’s bossy behavior, she still gets her way when she wants to.

This book started out slow. So slow, I was seriously worried if I would be able to finish it. I loved Gabby and Jude almost from the beginning, but because Gabby is an interior decorator, it seemed the first chapter was dedicated to just the laundry room Gabby had designed. Gabby’s eye for detail certainly made her job a profitable one, but the paragraphs dedicated to just how a room looked, were not for me. I bullied through, and I am so glad that I did. Gabby and Jude’s love story is one that I don’t think I will ever be able to get over. It has the perfect amount of struggle and darkness, and tons of comedy to keep it light, and fun.

After giving Overflow 4 stars, I moved onto Beautiful Life.

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This story had some more darker themes to it. Leigh, who is Gabby’s best friend since they were 8, has an abusive ex-husband, whom she left because she got pregnant and he beat her. She miscarried. Tony Carpino, who is Gabby’s cousin, who’s always had a thing for Leigh but waited too long, slowly moves in so he can get his chance to be with her. Leigh, who is still struggling with the four years she spent with her husband, and still coming to terms with how to be Leigh again, tries to ignore her feelings for Tony. Gabby was in a Jude Coma, Leigh had Tony Torture. Little touches, gentle caresses, that Tony gave Leigh to show her that he was not Preston, he would never be Preston, and he was going to wait until she was ready. He pushed, just enough for Leigh.

This book was a little darker in it’s nature. Leigh’s life was a hard one, but Brynne makes expertly navigates the emotional trauma Leigh suffered, and Tony’s struggle to be with Leigh, help her move forward with her life and not be stuck living in her mental prison, but also end up happy with her. The one thing that bothered me, that bothers me about all books that have an extreme emotional and physical trauma, is that everyone says their fine and they don’t need to see a therapist. Like going to therapy is a bad thing. Therapy is not bad! And I’d love to see more authors writing a more accepting view of therapy.

But I think that’s more my personal issue than an actual issue with the book. I have never been the victim of physical abuse so I don’t know how it feels to be abused by someone, and I can’t tell if this accurately portrays that. I do know, that it was believable.

My one question: for all that Gabby and her friends complained about Preston being an asshole, and never seeing Leigh, how could they not know that he was being abusive?! It seemed pretty obvious to me.

Still 4 out of 5 stars!

The last of the series is my favorite installment, Athica Lane.

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This is the story that, start to finish, kept me smiling and laughing. Paige Carpino meets Cam Montgomery after literally bumping into him at a burger store. After they’re both a mean to each they’re both mean to each other, they go their separate ways thinking they will never see each other again. But, Paige is watching his kids while her sister Sophia is on her anniversary vacation. While Cam would love to never see her again, and vice-versa, Cam’s kids quickly fall in love with her. Cam and Paige struggle with some crazy events, and Cam struggles with his ex-wife Bekki with an i (please read this novel so you can understand that reference), and the damage she did to him when she left him with two kids.

The third installment of the Carpinos includes two crazy families, a lot of psychos, and some more darker themes. This is probably the craziest of the three books when it comes to struggles, but it is also my favorite. I was engaged from beginning to end, constantly waiting for the next part, the next crazy antic that would happen. My favorite part? There’s something that Paige wants that Cam can’t give her, and she sticks with it. She agrees there’s things she has to do, to stay safe; she agrees there’s things she has to do for the kids, and will do everything she can to protect them; but she will not give up her dreams. And she doesn’t force Cam.

I do love a strong heroine.

This book? 5 stars. Hands down.

“You’re going to go down in the books as a first class donkey face with a pile of shit on your head.” – Jen Montgomery

Quotes like the one above are what made me laugh out loud, literally. Brynne’s writing is amazing. And she truly brings the Carpino family to life. I cannot wait to continue reading more of Brynne’s work.

Short Story, Uncategorized

Who Am I?

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I sat up gasping, out of breath. I looked around, realizing I was in the bathtub. Did I fall asleep? No, another dream. Another nightmare. I quickly got out of the tub, dressing in my usual pajamas without bothering to dry off. I emptied the tub, then left the bathroom, walking down the hall to my room. When I laid down in bed, I dug my fingers into my eyes trying to get rid of the images in my head.

God they felt so real.

This time I was in a business meeting, three piece Armani suit, tailored to fit me. The board members sat around the table, unhappy with my latest decision. But I didn’t care, I was going forward with it. I was stepping down as active CEO, taking a back seat, letting someone else run the daily functions, while I maintained my position on the board. I’d still make money, but it was time for me to take a step back. I didn’t want them to know I was slowly losing my mind with visions of myself doing–

What was I doing? I don’t know. In these dreams, I could feel myself struggling with reality and fantasy, I was struggling maintaining the company, I was struggling in every relationship I had, but I couldn’t figure out why. Why was I struggling? What visions was I having?

I sometimes had memories, within these visions, of me as a child. I would remember empty bottles of Jack Daniels on the counter tops, with chipped, dirty glasses and dishes everywhere. I would remember pain, searing, debilitating pain, but I would never cry. I would remember yelling “dad” at the top of my lungs, to distract the man that was hitting a woman.

But that wasn’t my dad.

That wasn’t my family. That wasn’t how I grew up. But it looked just like me. It sounded just like me. That’s what I looked like growing up. But it wasn’t me. I was going crazy. In my dreams and in reality. No matter what happened, no matter where I was, I was going crazy. Sometimes I wondered if when I the billionaire CEO was my reality. If when I thought I woke up, I was really dreaming then.

I sat on my twin bed, looking around the small room. I looked at the dresser that had only four drawers. Those four drawers didn’t have many clothes in them. I live a simple life. Simple, but good. My parents where great people. Amazing people. And they loved me fiercely, never laid a hand on me. Our house was always clean, all the dishes were washed and put away after we used them. My father kissed my mother before leaving for work every morning, and kissed her when he came home. They loved each other.

They loved me.

They passed away almost two years ago, but I can still feel their love. It keeps me going even on my hardest days. I seem to be having a lot of hard days. The nightmares keep me up, give me headaches, make me sick. I can’t keep doing this to myself. Every time I fall asleep, I wake up drenched in sweat. I can’t take it anymore. I live a good life now, good but simple. Before the night terrors, I would wake up and be happy, ready to start my day. I’d get breakfast at the cafe downstairs, near my apartment, and go to work. My job isn’t a fun one, I don’t make a lot of money, but I enjoy it. I’m a nurse at a nursing home, and although I like my patients, I don’t like the duties that come with working with the elderly. It can get gross. When I come home, I make a small dinner, and relax. Read a book. Watch TV. Nothing special.

I check the clock and see that it’s almost six in the morning. I couldn’t sleep last night, so I took a bath hoping to relax. It obviously worked since I fell asleep, but more time passed then I thought, and I need to be up in an hour anyway for work. I decide to just get up.

I take off the pajamas that I just put on, and put my scrubs on. I look in the mirror, seeing my short blonde hair a mess, even though I’ve run my fingers through it to try to clean it up. The bags under my eyes are getting worse, my green eyes and pale skin looking worse for the wear. Not good.

I try to keep my routine, to keep my sanity. Before I go to the little cafe in the downstairs, I grab the mail that I forgot to get yesterday, then grab a cup of coffee and a muffin.

“Conner, hey!” I turn and see a friend of mine that lives in my apartment building, Mason. He’s around my height, just over 6 feet tall. While I’m light all around, Mason is dark. Dark skin, short black hair, dark eyes that look more black than brown. He’s wearing a business suit, compared to my scrubs.

“Mase, man, what’s up?”

“Nothing, just thinking I might propose to Clara tonight.” He runs his fingers through his hair, and I can tell he’s unsure.

“That’s great, man. Clara’s awesome,” I smile and hug him. We chat a bit more, more small talk, and promise to get together to watch the football game this Sunday before moving on to work.

When I get there, I see my best friend at work, Melissa. We both smile as we greet each other. Melissa’s a doctor at the nursing home, and I work with her sometimes. Mostly, I work with another doctor, Dr. Jude Ramirez.

I can see the concern on her face as she looks me over. She puts her hand on my forearm as I’m checking into work.

“Conner, are you still getting the nightmares?” She asks softly. I look down at her, because she’s much shorter than me. Her blonde hair is a shade darker than mine, and pulled up into a ponytail. Her blue eyes stare up at me, sympathy shining through her eyes. “Why don’t you come into my office and talk about them?”

I just sigh and nod my head, yes. I go to the locker room. As I put my mail in my locker, a letter falls to the floor. When I pick it up, it’s addressed to me, but I don’t recognize the return address. I open it, then can feel myself frowning.

“Dear Conner,
I hope this finds you well. You don’t know me, and there is no reason you should. I should start by saying a couple months ago, I started having dreams. Dreams of a better life than the one I had. Dreams of being a nurse and working with the elderly. I’m a CEO for a Fortune 500 company and have never been to a nursing home. Ever. I started looking into my background, and found things I couldn’t possibly believe. I have put copies of those things in this letter. One of those things is my birth certificate, and yours. It turns out that we are twins. You were given up for adoption by our parents, but they kept me. I never even knew you existed until I started having these dreams. I want to come visit you. Please, call me. Let me know if we can meet.
Best,
Colin”

I pull out the copies of the birth certificates, the adoption records, everything that proves that I have a twin. I have a twin. One that has been having dreams, while I have nightmares. He’s a CEO, and he’s dreaming of being a nurse, while I’m a nurse dreaming of being a CEO. What the hell is going on.

I leave the locker room, in search of Melissa, with the documents in my hand. Maybe she can help me. I find her in her office, sitting at her computer. I knock on the door, and I can feel panic starting to bubble in my throat. Panic I’ve never felt before.

“Conner, please, come in,” Melissa smiles, and I tell her about my dreams.

“The nightmares are getting worse, Melissa. I’m barely sleeping,” I pull my fingers through my hair. “The worst ones aren’t the ones where I’m wearing clothes I’ve never seen before, or where I’m in a city I’ve never visited. It’s the memories of being abused. And I know-”

“Conner, we’ve talked about this.” And I know I won’t tell her about the letter I received. “You need to take your medicine. It’s going to help you,” she says softly. It’s comforting, but a lie.

“Melissa, the doctor gave me sleeping pills. They just keep me trapped in these nightmares for longer. I can’t take it.” I look at my watch on my wrist and sigh, “I’ve gotta get back to work. I’ll talk to you later.”

I get up and go about my day, while wondering about the letter, and about Colin.

At lunch, I sit in the cafeteria with my cell phone in hand and text the number that was in the letter.

Me: Colin? This is Conner.

Colin: I’m so glad you got in contact with me. Would you be willing to meet with me?

Me: Yes

I wait a few minutes before he responds.

Colin: I’m in town. Near you. I had hoped you would want to meet.

Me: I work at the nursing home on Walnut. Want to meet me there? We can grab dinner. I get out of work at five.

Colin: Perfect. I’ll meet you there.

I breathe out a sigh of relief. And I wait until it’s time for me to clock out.

My day moves slowly, the time crawls, and I can feel anxiety knot in my stomach. I try to push through it, and focus on my patients, but it’s not easy. I keep checking the time. It’s obsessive, and I know it. I can’t help it. It seems every five minutes, on the dot, I am checking the time. First the clocks on the wall, then my watch, then the clock on the wall again. At 4:58 I am in the locker room, grabbing my things and the mail that I put in there earlier. Before I can leave to clock out, Melissa stops me.

“Conner, we need to talk.”

“Melissa, please not now. I’m meeting someone.”

She looks at me and sighs.

“Conner, I found this in my office. You dropped it after you left,” she holds out the copy of my adoption record. “Your not taking your medicine, and I’m not talking about the sleeping pills. You’re not talking to Dr. Ramirez. I’ve seen you check the clock all day. This is a problem. I’ve spoken to Dr. Ramirez, and he’s going to meet us in my office. Let’s go talk to him.”

“No, Melissa, you don’t understand. Those records are proof. I have a twin. I was put up for adoption. He’s been having the same dreams as me. But of my life. Look,” I pull out the letter and show it to her. She looks at it and bites her bottom lip.

“Come with me,” as we walk out of the locker room, I look to the front door and see him. Colin. He smiles, but I can see the bags under his eyes, just like mine. I smile too and wave him over.

“Melissa, look. This is Colin. I told you. I have a twin.”

Melissa looks at the both of us, and I can see more concern crinkling her brows. She says “follow me” to the both of us, and we go to her office. Dr. Ramirez is waiting for us there. He’s tall, but not as tall as I am. His skin tone is darker, but not like Mason. Just tan, but a natural tan. His brown hair is cut short. Close to his head. His brown eyes look over at me and are filled with worry. Colin and I make our way into the office but there’s not much more room. He motions for me to sit so I do, while he stands in the back.

“Look, I know I haven’t been taking the sleeping pills–”

“Or any of the medication,” Dr. Ramirez interrupts.

“I don’t need it. Look, you see Colin? He sent me a letter. He told me he’s having nightmares too. He told me we’re twins.”

“Conner,” he sighs again. “We’ve talked about this. You’ve talked about this with Melissa. Those nightmares are your memories. They are not your twins memories. You were the one being abused.” I shake my head.

“No, no that’s not true. In my nightmares I’m a CEO. But I’m a nurse.”

“Conner. You were the CEO for one of the top marketing firms in the country. You couldn’t handle it anymore. You’re not a nurse.”

I keep shaking my head.

“Colin is real. He’s right there.” I turn around to look at Colin, but he’s not there anymore. I shake my head to clear it and look, and there he is. He’s got his hands in his pockets, and he’s wearing a suit.

“Conner,” Melissa says. I turn around to look at her. “There’s no one there. You did have a twin but he died a long time ago. You were both abused by your father, and he died because of that. You went into foster care, and found a loving family. They adopted you when you were fifteen. You went on to become very successful, but when they passed away two years ago, you had a breakdown. You were admitted here, to this hospital, to help you get better. You’ve been here for two years. When you first got here, you were saying that Colin was alive, that he was a nurse somewhere in the mid-west. You wouldn’t listen to anyone. You were making progress with the medication, but you stopped taking it when we trusted you to take it on your own. That’s why your having nightmares again. That’s why you’ve brought Colin back from the dead.” On her desk, is a little cup with medication in it, and she pushes it towards me.

“Conner, you need this to get better. So you can leave. Colin is real, but he’s no longer alive. If you don’t take the medicine Melissa gave you, then you will be monitored again. All day, every day.”

“What about Mason? He’s my friend. He was going to propose tonight. He works in the stock market. We live in the same building.”

“Mason is another patient here. His room is on your floor. Clara is a nurse. They’re not together.” Dr. Ramirez states this matter-of-fact. I put my hands to my temples. What the hell is going on?

“Conner,” Melissa says. I look up at her and she gives me a small smile. “Take the medicine. If you don’t, you will not be able to ever get out of here. Talk to Dr. Ramirez and myself. We can help you. We want to help you.”

I see Colin move out of the corner of my eye. Melissa and Dr. Ramirez don’t look in his direction, but I hear him speak softly. Almost a whisper.

I take the medication, and they both smile. As I leave, making my way to the cafeteria, I can feel the medicine kicking in. I lose my energy as I slump into my chair. The words Colin spoke repeating in my head.

Take the medicine. Get out of here. They’re lying to you.

 

 

 

Thanks for the inspiration Melo!
Book Review

Review Time!

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Ok, I am so behind when it came to this book. My cousin (shout out to Felicia) lent me her book after I told her I was looking to read more books that weren’t romance novels. I tend to stick to what I know and love. I am so glad she gave me this book.

The novel itself is short, only 163 pages, but the overall messages this book delivers are both great and impactful.

For those, like me, who have never heard of the book before, it is about a young shepherd Santiago. While traveling with his sheep, he has a dream of going to the Egyptian pyramids and finding treasure. But before he can find out where the treasure is, he wakes up. He decides to go to a gypsy woman to help interpret the dream. Her advice is simple: go to Egypt.

Santiago debates on what to do, because he has his sheep to take care of. While debating, he meets a king, who tells him of a Personal Legend. The king tells him he needs to follow his Personal Legend, now while he has been gifted an omen, before it is too late. Not everyone realizes their legend, but if they do, they must follow it. But he must remember, everything comes at a price.

On Santiago’s journey, he meets more people, including an alchemist, a crystal merchant, a thief, and eventually he meets the love of his life. Over the years, he struggles with whether or not to continue on his journey, whether or not to fulfill his Personal Legend.

The novel was originally written in Portuguese and translated in the 90s. Though translated books are usually not as good as the original (due to certain things being lost in translation) The Alchemist holds its true meaning. The moral of the story: if you want something you need to go and get it.

But I got so much more out of the novel. Some of my favorite quotes:

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“It’s this: that at some point in our lives, we lose control of what’s happening to us, and our lives become curried by fate. That’s the worlds greatest lie.” – The King of Salem

“Even though I complain sometimes, it’s because I’m the heart of a person, and people’s hearts are that way. People are aftraid to pursue their most important dreams, because they feel that they don’t deserve them, or that they’ll be unable to achieve them. We, their hearts, become fearful just thinking of loved ones who go away forever, or of moments that could have been good but weren’t, or of treasures that might have been found but were forever hidden in the sands. Because when these things happen, we suffer terribly.” – Santiago’s heart.

For me, this was a 4 star read. I give it 4 stars, because although I really enjoyed reading this, it was kind of hard to get through. The translation of the novel was really good, but the writing was stilted. The sentences were smaller, and were uncomplicated. The language was simple, and it was repetitive. This is probably more a Young Adult novel than one for adults.

But still good!

Have you read The Alchemist? Did you have favorite quote? Comment below and tell me!

Depression, Short Story, Uncategorized

Am I Dying?

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It feels like there’s an elephant sitting on my chest and I can’t breathe. I am actively reminding my self to breathe in through my nose, out through my mouth.

In through your nose, out through your mouth.

In through your nose, out through your mouth.

In through your nose, out through your mouth.

Over and over again, I keep repeating this to myself, hoping I can get through the fog in my head. But it is like I am whispering this mantra. While I am actively making myself breathe, there’s another voice in my head that’s louder, that’s reminding me that I cannot breathe. My lungs don’t work. And then I start panicking all over again because I can’t breathe.

I can’t breathe. I cannot physically breathe. 

I can see people around me, moving and talking. I think I know them. I think they’re my friends, but I can’t remember. I am too busy whispering to my body that I can breathe and that my lungs do work. But if these people moving around the room are my friends, why aren’t they helping me? Why aren’t they calling an ambulance?

My lungs aren’t working!

I want to scream and yell, but that requires breathing, and I can’t do that. So instead, I stand in the corner, not focusing on what is happening in the room. I’m not focused on who is moving around me, or who is bumping into me with a mumbled apology. I hold the red solo cup in my hand, but I don’t drink it. If I drink it, will it get into my lungs while I struggle to breathe?

In through your nose, out through your mouth.

“God, Rey, you’re so freaking anti-social. Go talk to someone!” Someone says next to me. I look to see, I think, my best friend Alessia, but I can’t be sure. My vision is starting to blur from the lack of oxygen. “Seriously, you look like such a bitch standing over here, alone, in the corner. And you’ve got RBF!”

I think I made a sound.

“Yeah, resting-bitch-face! You look so unapproachable. This is why people complain about you. Sometimes I don’t even know why you come out to these things.” She flips her brown hair over her shoulder and walks away from me.

She thinks I am purposely standing in a corner, with a drink in my hand, looking like an anti-social, unapproachable, person. I’m just trying to take a deep breath. Get some oxygen into my lungs. Something.

Anything.

I look around the room again, but my vision is starting to go black. Blindly, I stumble towards the door, where I think the door is, down the stairs and onto the street. I sit down on a curb somewhere, anywhere. I put my head in between my knees trying to breathe. Trying to get air into my lungs. Trying to get my lungs to work.

In through your nose, out through your mouth.

My jeans are suddenly too tight, my hair is too long and it is helping suffocate me. My shirt is starting to stick to my skin as I sweat. The sweat is beading across my forehead. It drips down my arms. I am drowning in a pool of my own sweat, and I can’t breathe. My mind cannot get past that I cannot breathe.

Why can’t I breathe? Am I dying?

No. This is anxiety. I know this is anxiety. My lungs work, I know this. I know this. But it’s so hard to make my brain remember this. It’s so hard to make my heart remember this. I don’t know why my anxiety comes. It starts slow.

A crowd of people; a knot in my throat.
A date with a new guy; butterflies eating at the inside of my stomach.
My friends telling me I’m not social enough; I can’t breathe.

Tonight it was all three. My friends invited me to a house party. There were so many people there, and the knot in my throat made it so I couldn’t talk. They wanted me to meet a new guy, so the butterflies ate at my stomach lining. I couldn’t tell anybody what was wrong. And then the complaints started. How I don’t talk enough, I’m not social enough, and then I can’t breathe.

But nobody cares.

Nobody can tell.

In through your nose, out through your mouth.

Book Review, Uncategorized

Carter Reed by Tijan Review

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UM HELLO CARTER REED.
I’ve read many of Tijan’s books, but I think Carter Reed is my favorite. It’s not *exactly* a second chance romance, since Emma and Carter were never together when they were younger, but they wanted to be together.The novel begins with Emma killing her roommate’s boyfriend because he is raping her. After getting Mallory, her roommate, to a safe place, Emma has to figure out her next steps. She can’t go to the police, but there’s a dead body in her apartment.

Oh, and the now-dead boyfriend was the son of a mafia boss. This pushes her to do something she’s wanted to do for 10 years, but has never done. Emma goes to Carter Reed, her brother’s best friend, her one-time crush, and the only person she can go to for help. Carter is also the current head of a different mafia family.

Can I just say I don’t know if I could have handled everything the way Emma does? She has her moments, with panic attacks and questioning her decisions, but she is strong. Emma makes decisions her friends are not able to make. She has to decide and war with her own morals and values, rationalizing the life she is now apart of. Emma has to fight, not only for her own safety, but to be a part of Carter’s life.

And Emma was never known to be a quitter.

Emma is not the only one who struggles though. Tijan teases the readers with glimpses into Carter’s mind, showing his struggles to bring Emma into an inherently violent world. This is the woman he would go to war for, and do anything to protect. His entire life is and was always devoted to keeping her safe. And Carter coming to terms with feeling something other than the thrill for killing is beautifully shown.

Overall, this was a 5 star novel. I would HIGHLY recommend this for those that love dark romance. NO CLIFFHANGER!! There is a second book but this book does NOT end on a cliff hanger!!

Love, Short Story

Changing the Ending…

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Prologue

Remus

She took her last breath staring up at the green eyes that had haunted her dreams for over a decade. The eyes she thought were meant to be her salvation, but ultimately ended up being her demise.

The end.

“Wait, what?!” I yelled, “Charlie dies?!”

“Ah, you finished it,” my sister, Reggie, said from the doorway. I looked up to find my fraternal twin leaning on the wall with her arms folded across her chest. Her chestnut hair was cut short, just brushing the tops of her shoulders. Today, she was wearing a white, short sleeved t-shirt and light jeans, with brown knee high boots and a brown leather jacket. She actually looked pretty good today, considering she usually left her house wearing sweat pants with her hair a mess.

Jesus, now I’m talking about her clothes.

“You made me read a stupid romance novel, said how amazing it was, how awesome it was, but it was utter bullshit! Charlie dies! How is this a romance novel?!” I yelled again, “‘You gotta read this, Rem!’ she said, ‘It’s a romance novel, but it’s so good!’ she said.” I threw the book at her, but she just ducked and started laughing.

“It is a romance novel, you ass!” she laughed again picking up the book. “Charlie finds love, but has to die to save the world, ” her golden brown eyes stared down at the cover of the book, as she stoked it lovingly. I was ready to toss her out of my bedroom window. She looked back up at me with a huge grin.

“Aren’t romance novels supposed to have happy endings?” I asked, throwing my hands up in the air. I got up from my bed and paced, while I ran my fingers through my hair.

“Not all of them have them, Rem. Just like real life, not everything can end with an HEA.” When I gave her a questioning look, she just chuckled. “Happily Ever After.”

With that, she took her book and sauntered out of my room. I could still hear her in the kitchen somewhere, but I wasn’t paying attention anymore. I was thinking of ways I could change the ending, maybe pull a Misery/Stephen King style stunt, but I wasn’t sure I was up for a kidnapping. I didn’t want to go to jail, I just wanted Charlie to live.

For some reason, I felt her deep in my bones. I connected with her in a way that I never had with a fictional character. I’ve never read romance before, usually sticking to my tech journals, but Reggie had convinced me to read this one. She wanted to talk to me about something other than the newest technology.

I walked out of my room, still in my sweat pants that I slept in, into my office and sat down at the desk, my brain going a thousand miles a minute. I put my head in my hands, elbows resting on my desk, as I stared emptily at the wall where the display for the computer was. As I started sorting through different articles that appeared on the projection, one article caught my eye.

“New technology proves alternate universes exist! Not just sci-fi anymore!”

Alternate universe? Could Charlie be in one of them?

Chapter 1

One month later…

Charlie

Ding dong!

“Coming!” I yelled, racing to the door.

Ding dong!

“Jesus,” I muttered, “I’m coming!” I yelled louder. I stepped over Reggie, my lazy golden retriever who wouldn’t even bark if my entire living room was on fire, and opened the door.

“Woah,” I whispered looking at the man standing on my door step. He was at least six feet tall, which compared to my five foot frame, I considered to be giant status, and had broad shoulders like a football player. His chestnut hair had golden highlights in it that my mother would have paid hundreds of dollars for, but looked natural on him. His eyes were a golden color, not brown. He had a pair of black glasses that were rectangular, and didn’t take up too much of his face, but looked kind of odd since he looked like a linebacker, and the glasses made him look almost nerdy. He had a big smile on his face, and showed his perfect white teeth, as he stared down at me and I looked him over. He was wearing an olive green polo, which looked really good with his light complexion, and brought out his eyes even more, tucked into a pair of khakis.

Although this man was a complete stranger, he seemed oddly familiar.

“Charlie?” his deep timbre shook me out of looking him up and down, and I looked back up into his eyes. I tilted my head in confusion.

“You know my name?”

“My name is Remus Montgomery, but you can call me Remy, and although we’ve never met, I do know you.”

He smiled again and I shook my head, my hair falling in front of my face. Don’t let a pretty face beguile you Charlie. When I heard a laugh, I looked back up and could feel my cheeks heat.

“Did I say that out loud?” I whispered.

“Yup,” he chuckled again.

“Look, bud, I don’t know you, and I’m not sure how you know me, but it’s quite frankly freaking me out, so there is no way I am letting you into my house. You could totally be an axe murderer or something,” as I started to close the door, his name finally registered in my head, and I whipped the door back open. “Wait, did you say Remus Montgomery?”

This time, his head tilted in confusion, “Yes?”

I left the door open, as I turned around and went into the living room to get my favorite book, which was still sitting on the end table since I had just finished re-reading it, yes, re-read because I like to re-read my books. Don’t judge me. I picked up the book and walked to the front door, flipping through the pages until I reached the description of Remy. I tripped on Reggie, since she had apparently decided to move without me noticing, and put my hands out in front of me to catch my fall. I felt two strong arms come around my waist, catching me before I fell flat on my face.

“You alright?” he asked me, his hands lingering on my hips as I straightened my self.

“Yeah,” I said, clearing my throat. “Reggie,” I said turning to the laziest beast I had ever met, “when did you move, girl?” I swear she just rolled her eyes at me.

“Did you just call your dog Reggie, and did she just roll her eyes?” Remy asked from behind me. See! Dogs can totally roll their eyes.

“Yes, her name is Reggie. Why?” I said looking back at him.

“No reason,” he said, his eyes on the dog, but I swear I heard him whisper, “Reg is gonna love that.”

I opened the book again, since I hadn’t dropped it when Reggie tried to kill me, and flipped back to the part I was looking for. I read the description out loud,

“Remus Montgomery, known as Remy to his friends, was barely listening to his sister Reggie as she prattled on about some book he didn’t care for. He was too busy trying to get into the hard drive of a computer that the local police department had sent him. Although he was a technical genius, he was built like an athlete, and it usually surprised people to find out he was not a lacrosse player, but spent his time creating the newest technology out there, and spent his free time working on cases for the police department. His glasses slipped down his nose again, for the thousandth time that day he wished he had gotten the surgery to just fix his eyes.”

I paused looking back up at Remus, and he had his mouth hanging open.

“Can I see that?” he asked, holding out his hand. I put it in his hand and watched as he read the back of the book.

“How is it, that you look exactly like the Remus Montgomery that I’ve always pictured when I read this book, and you just showed up on my doorstep?”

Remy cleared his throat as he looked up at me.

“I read a book my twin sister, Reggie, convinced me to read, and you’re the main character. Charlotte Rose King, also known as Charlie, and I didn’t like the ending of the book. I was thinking of going Anne Wilkes on the author when I found out that alternate universes were real, and tried to find you. So here I am, trying to change the ending.” Remy looked at the book again, and checked the author. “Whoever wrote this book, wrote the book in my universe too,” but it sounded like he was talking to himself more than anyone else. “Quick question,” he said looking back at me. 

“Yeah?”

“Did you name your dog after my sister?”

I could feel my cheeks heat again. 

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Dahlia, Drama, Love, Murder, Mystery, Short Story, Uncategorized

Dahlia

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Dahlia sat with her back straight in the chair. Not blinking or moving. Her long, voluminous black hair hung down to her backside, curling off the chair. The oak chair she sat in was far from comfortable, which only added to tension to the situation she had found herself in. Across the room stood the love of her life, the man she thought she’d marry and make babies with. She could feel the anger rising in her again about his betrayal, but she swallowed it down. She had decided it would be better to look impassive than to look like the crazy woman he accused her of being. There he stood, looking as perfect as the day she met him, while she sat looking like a frump, forced into the clothes by the situation. God, she hated him almost as much as she loved him.

If only she hadn’t been so naive to think someone as perfect as him could love someone as flawed as her.

She remembered it clearly, the day her heart broke into a thousand pieces and her world turned on its side. It had been early, six thirty in the morning. Dahlia had just finished putting on a tight black dress that emphasized her curves. She put on a little bit of foundation to make her pale white skin gleam a pearly white. A pop of dark red lipstick pulled her look together. Her icy blue eyes just made her look even more innocent in her eyes. By seven, she was out the door, driving to Matthew’s house. The man who held the key to her heart.

She had met Matthew two years earlier at work. They both worked for an accounting firm in the city. His shaggy, dark blonde hair and hazel eyes gave the impression that he would be a surfer, but he was as dedicated to his job as he was to her. They dated for two years, and Dahlia was sure he was going to ask her to marry him.

Until she walked through the door.

When she unlocked the door to his house, she heard a noise upstairs. She followed the noise, walking quietly up the carpeted staircase. She had slipped off her heels when she came into the house, because Matthew was a neat freak. There were many shoes by the front door, so she didn’t think anything of the female slippers sitting besides Matthew’s loafers. A trail of clothing, both male and female, led to the master bedroom. She opened the door to his room, and there he was, with another woman, laying in the bed. Naked. Dahlia’s not sure what sound she made but two pairs of eyes turned her way at the same time. It’s possible she screamed.

“Dahlia! What are you doing here!” Matthew yelled. She started laughing, while tears fell from her eyes.
“Matthew, honey, I came to make you breakfast,” Dahlia said quietly. She couldn’t drag her eyes from the pair on the bed.

Matthew got up, pulling on a pair of boxers. The woman just pulled the sheet up to her chin.

“Dahlia, sweetheart, we broke up,” he said, coming towards her.
“Matthew, tonight is our anniversary. You were supposed to ask me to marry you!”
“We broke up a year ago! Aren’t you listening to me?”

Dahlia didn’t answer. She just turned around and closed the door to the bedroom quietly, locking it. After that she couldn’t remember.

And now these people were saying she killed Matthew and his little whore. But how could she have killed him, when he was standing RIGHT THERE, smiling at her? Smirking at her? LAUGHING AT HER? She was sentenced to death because of him, and they weren’t even looking at him! She was going to die because of him!

So there she sat, with her back straight in the chair. Not blinking or moving. The oak chair she sat in was now unbearable to sit in, which only added to tension to the situation she had found herself in. The man beside her strapped her to the chair, and hooked a machine to her head. And across the room stood the love of her life, the man who had falsely accused her of murdering him. There he stood, looking as perfect as the day she met him, while she sat strapped to a chair in an orange jumpsuit. God, she hated him almost as much as she loved him.

Goodbye, Love, Short Story, Unfollow

Unfollow

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Inhale. Exhale. Unfollow.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Unfollow.
I stare at the computer screen, looking at their Twitter, my hand braced over the “unfollow” button.
It’s easy. I lie to myself. They’re already out of my life, I don’t talk, text, or e-mail them anymore. I haven’t seen them in months. This is just the next step. I have to unfollow them. Permanently erase them from my life. Easy, sure.
God, when did life get this hard? It used to be so easy. You just stopped talking to a person. You could try to convince yourself that you just fell out of touch, that people grow apart. But you knew it was that you couldn’t have them in your life. But you could just not answer their calls, tell yourself you’re busy. That’s it. Now, you have to make a conscious decision to remove someone from your life. Not just not talking to them, but by removing them from your social media.
I put my hand on the mouse, but as I lift my hand from my lap, it starts to shake.
It will be healthier for me. Now that’s the truth. No more online stalking, seeing what they’re up to. No more causing myself more pain by seeing their newest beau. No more writing updates and seeing if they understand I was talking about them. It will definitely be healthier.
I need to breathe, but I can’t. I can only stare at the “unfollow” button, with my hand on the mouse, willing myself to click the button.
You’ll be happier this way. I probably will be happier. I can’t torture myself anymore, which is good. Now I just have the memories of them to torture me. Great.
Will unfollowing them from my social media really help me? Will deleting them from Facebook, or unfollowing them on Instagram really help me happy and healthy? It’s not like we talk anymore, or see each other, so why not just leave them where they are? The memories won’t go away anyway. Will I really stop thinking about them? No, I won’t. I won’t lie to myself. I’ll still hear that song, our song, and I’ll think of them, still see that movie, the one we wanted to see together, and I’ll wonder if they’re seeing it too. So what’s the difference?
I know I’m trying to convince myself to not unfollow them, to let them continue to torture me, even if they don’t know that is what they’re doing to me. I’m trying to keep them in my life, any way that I can. But I know, deep down in my head, not in my heart, that I cannot continue to do this to myself. My head knows what I need to do, but my heart doesn’t want to do it. But I will, one click at a time, one breath at a time.
Once I do it for Twitter, I’ll have to it for Instgram, Facebook, and Snapchat. Anything I follow them on, I will have to undo. I will have to make the conscious decision to remove them from my life, to delete them, unfollow them.
I didn’t think unfollowing one person would be this hard.
The worst part? They probably won’t even notice that I did this.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Unfollow.
I click the mouse, and they’re gone.

unfollow-twitter

Paranormal, Short Story

Hell

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I sat by the fire, with my arms around my legs, trying to keep as much warmth in as possible. The baggy sweater from an ex-boyfriend helped with making me feel comfortable, and the old worn out jeans made it easier to move around. Eventually the clothes would be useless, and I’d either have to buy new clothes or make my own. Considering I had no money and couldn’t sew, I wasn’t sure how I would do either of those. I looked around the cave I was sitting in and started to think about my future.

“How am I going to do this?” I whispered, and it echoed off the walls. I put my head to my knees, and let the tears flow freely.

I heard the whisper of footsteps by the front of the cave and my head shot up. A tall man leaned against the mouth of the cave, with his shoulder on the cave wall, his arms crossed, looking relaxed. He was incredibly handsome, with dark brown hair coming down in waves to his shoulders. He had a full, bow shaped mouth, currently smirking, and almond shaped eyes, a chocolate brown. He was in almost all leather, which he pulled off to perfection. I stood up, feeling dowdy in my baggy clothes and running sneakers, and looked at him. I pulled up the sleeves to my sweater and my hands lit on fire.

“Can I help you?” I asked, more confidently then I felt. He just clapped his hands.

“Nice show. Put away the flaming hands doll, I’m not here to hurt you. I’m here to help.” He moved off the wall and came forward as he spoke, which made me nervous. I put my hands up and tried again.

“Listen, I don’t need help.” The flames started to crawl up my arms, so I had to get my anxiety under control before I went on fire.

“Don’t you?” He whispered, stopping right in front of me. I thought about my mother, who had called the cops one me; of my step father, who now had 3rd degree burns on his hands from trying to grab me; of the house that I had lived in since I was two, now burnt to the ground. What the hell was happening to me?

Suddenly his hand was on fire too, and he grabbed mine. “You have more control of it then I did, back when they first found me.”

I just stared at him in awe, and put my hands out, but his didn’t burn me. His hands when out too, and then I hugged him. He put his arms around my back and just let me cry.

“I thought I was the only one.”

“Oh no, sweetie. Not by a long shot. Come, I’ll show you.”

He stepped out of my hug, and opened his hand to me. I gladly took his hand, and he smiled. Suddenly I was in another place, a hotter place. Definitely not in Kansas anymore, Toto. Everything was either black or red, like a bad vampire movie.

“What is the place?” I asked of my handsome stranger.

“Welcome to Hell my dear,” he smiled again, devilishly. “Come, meet your father.”

I was pulled along the halls, into a great room. I felt like I was in a castle, which was odd since I was in Hell. Maybe I was just numb, in shock, hence why I was thinking about the walls of the castle instead of the fact that I was in Hell. Going to meet my father.

Who my mother told me was dead for the last 26 years.

Fantastic. Apparently he wasn’t such a good guy after all.

“Hello, your majesty. I present to you, your missing daughter, who is presenting all signs of your demonic blood, in her ability to burst into flames.”

My guide had bowed to the man on the throne. He got up, wearing all leather too, and smiled as he walked toward us. He looked surprisingly young for the devil.

“Hello, Ana. So nice to have you with me,” he said smiling.

Love, Short Story

Goodbye

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Goodbye, my love.

This is the hardest letter I have to write, the hardest goodbye I have to say. We both knew this day would come, but we both ignored it.

I have no regrets, if you were wondering. Even though I will never know the taste of your lips, or what it feels like to be the center of your world, I do not regret a thing. Even though every time I hear our song, or watch our show, I will think of you, I do not regret it.

Even though it was unrequited, I do not regret loving you.

I will miss how excited you get over your comic books; how you smile at the corny jokes; how your eyes crinkle when you’re laughing until it hurts.

You are the hardest goodbye I have to make, because I know it is forever. There will never be another hug to cheer me up, or late night phone call because you can’t sleep. Never again will I hear your voice, and that’s the most painful part of it all. Eventually you will move on from me. You will first forget what my voice sounds like. Then you will forget the color of my eyes and the color of my hair. My features will fade in your mind, until you forget my name. 

But I will never forget you. 

Know that I wish you the best in life, and that I will always love you. I would tell you to call me if you ever need anything, but it would be pointless. You’ll never call me again. 

So goodbye, my love, my friend. I will never regret falling in love with you, and I will never forget you. 

Goodbye.