by A. R. Hadley
She is a contradiction.
After temporarily relocating to South Florida, she met one...
A riddle.
A boy.
A man.
An alpha.
A puzzle named Cal Prescott.
A nice guy...
Umm. Maybe.
Depends on a little thing called perception.
Cal is quiet.
Strong.
Eyes like the tides.
Coming in.
Going out.
Pulling her under.
They only had the summer.
My summer.
One beach.
One summer.
All Annie ever wanted was to breathe.
AUTHOR BIO
A.R. Hadley writes imperfectly perfect sentences by the light of her iPhone.
She loves her husband.
Chocolate.
Her children.
And Cary Grant.
She annoys those darling little children by quoting lines from Back to the Future, but despite her knowledge of eighties and nineties pop culture, she was actually meant to live alongside the Lost Generation after the Great War and write a mediocre novel while drinking absinthe with Hemingway. Instead, find her sipping sweet tea with extra lemons on her porch as she weaves fictional tales of love and angst amid reality.
A creative writer since elementary school, A.R. all but gave it up after her children were born, devoting herself to the lovely little creatures, forgetting the pleasure and happiness she derived from being imaginative.
No more.
She rediscovered her passion in 2014 and has not stopped since — writing essays, poetry, and fiction. She is currently working on completing several novels as part of a romantic trilogy.
Day or night, words float around inside her mind. She hears dialogue when she awakens from sleep. She is the one who has been awakened. Writing is her oxygen. Cary Grant fans the flames.