Finally, he pulled all of me close to him again and whispered, “No.”
Disappointment crackled through my body, and my spirit crumpled like a dried leaf. “Why not?” I managed to murmur.
He stroked my hair and pressed his lips to my forehead. “I will always be here for you, Aurora. But you should go to Arizona. You should try out college on your own. Be free for a while of everything and everyone. It’s something you need to do. I love you too much to want you to limit any part of your life because of me. And, for now, I still need to stay in Chameleon Lake.”
I wasn’t ready to give up on this. He loved me! That had to count for something. “For how long? When do you think you could leave?”
He shrugged, sadness sliding across his face. “I don’t know. A few months. A few years. I don’t have an answer to that yet, but I need to make sure my mom’s all right. And you need time to see if...if I’m really the man you want to be with.”
I drew an uneven breath and rubbed the gold band on my ruby ring to give me strength. Whenever I stayed calm and paid careful attention to my inner voice, I always felt things would somehow be okay. It was harder than usual for me to do that this time, but I was just going to have to trust in what I knew deep in my soul to be true.
“I still don’t regret a single thing that happened between us,” I told him, wiping away a tear that had escaped and slipped down my face. “I love you, too, Donovan McCafferty, and that’s not something that’s going to change just because of time and distance. I know you think it might, but I know my heart. I believe in us. I believe we were meant to be together. And I believe my instincts wouldn’t let me think so for a second if what we had wasn’t real.”
He tightened his grip on me and we kissed—long, slow and so completely—it was like we’d fused on a cellular level. Then we pulled apart and he said, “I’m never as certain about anything as you seem to be but, for the record, Aurora, I know my heart, too. And I hope your intuition is right on this one.”
“Time, which changes people, does not alter the image we have retained of them.”
~Marcel Proust
Pasadena, California ~ Sunday, July 1, 1979
FROM THE shoreline I watched the sun, radiant in its shimmering cloak of orange, greet a rolling wave with a kiss and slowly sink into it. I could almost feel the ocean’s embrace. The passion of opposites—fire and water—finally becoming one.
It had been an interesting year. Challenging in so many ways. Moving to Arizona. Starting classes at NAU (I was leaning toward library science. Nobody was surprised by this.) Only coming home for Christmas and for a couple of weeks early in my summer vacation. Not seeing my parents for months on end. Or Donovan.
None of us saw Gideon either, although he did send a couple of very enigmatic postcards, hinting he was still trying to decide which ribbon of highway he should ride his motorcycle down next. I suspected he’d pop in and out of our lives like the bubbles in a champagne glass for decades to come. Always keeping us guessing about what he did professionally, where he might be living, why he required such an extreme form of freedom.
I sighed and wrapped my arms around myself, imagining my brother giving me the hug I needed. But the connection and touch I craved wasn’t so easy to satisfy, and the waves were crashing closer to my feet, splashing my toes with droplets of water that were too far away from the sun to be warm.
I jumped back, stumbling a little on the wet sand with all of its unevenness and stray seaweed. But then I heard the voice I’d been waiting for—hoping for—all year long.
“Hey, Birthday Girl. Watch your step.”
Donovan.
I swiveled toward him and he caught me in an embrace so fierce it brought tears to my eyes. Or maybe it was because I was finally feeling his breath on my cheek again. Or hearing the deep strum of his vocal chords when he whispered my name. Or inhaling his scent as he pulled me even closer and kissed me. A union of salt water and body heat. Ocean and sun.
When I could gasp enough air to speak, I brushed away my tears and chided, “I’ve been waiting forever for you. I thought you’d never get here.”
He pointed toward the parking lot of the Pasadena beachside hotel that he’d chosen for us to meet at tonight. Even from this distance, I could spot the distinctive crimson gleam of his Firebird Trans Am. “It was a hell of a long drive from Chameleon Lake, Aurora.”
We both laughed at that. A journey far longer than the sum of its miles, that was for sure.
“Yeah, I know,” I said. “But I’m so glad you came.”
This, too, was an understatement of massive proportions. Our plan was to celebrate my nineteenth birthday on the Pacific Coast—just for a few days, so we could finally see the western end of Route 66 together—and then we were both heading to Flagstaff in Donovan’s car. To work at our summer jobs in the city. To start classes in the fall. My eager second year of college. His tentative first.
Truly, I could barely stand the anticipation. Of wanting this future. Of wanting to begin this new journey with Donovan. No matter where the road led us.
“You have all your stuff with you?” I asked him, squeezing his hand and tugging him toward a trail that led away from the shore—a different one than I’d taken on the way down here. I wanted every step we took together, from this point forward, to signal the forging of a new path. For both of us.
Donovan nodded and hugged me as we walked toward the hotel. “Everything I need.”
Jane Austen once wrote, “What strange creatures brothers are!” That may be true, but they are also amazing and generous creatures, and I’ve been blessed with a fabulous brother and brother-in-law, both of whom were instrumental in the drafting of this story. I’m indebted to each of them for the different ways they contributed to my manuscript.
Although all mistakes in writing are mine alone, I was extremely fortunate to be able to ask my brother-in-law Brad, a 30-year-veteran of the police force and a retired deputy chief, hours upon hours of questions about the guns and ammunition cops used in the late 1970s, what their communication tools were like back then and the methods they employed to conduct their investigations. Truly, if cluelessness had a face when it came to correct police procedures and topics like “ways bad guys can explode things,” it would have been mine. But I loved learning so many fascinating details from you, Brad, and I’m very appreciative of your expertise and wisdom.
As for my brother Joe, let me just say that no sister on the planet has been luckier than I’ve been in having a sibling who is so consistently thoughtful, classy and smart. I’ve admired you for as long as I’ve known you, Bro. You’re one of my heroes.
Some books take a village to write and publish; this one took a metropolis...
Thank you to my wonderful Chicago-North RWA friends and critique partners—especially Karen, Lisa and Laura, to whom the book is dedicated—for all the editing you did on this novel. Erika Danou and Simone Elkeles, my appreciation to you both for your early feedback on the opening chapters, too.
Huge thanks to my lovely friends Catherine DePasquale, Anita Mumm and Therese Walsh, who took the time to critique this project at various stages and offer such valuable suggestions. An extra dollop of gratitude to Sarah Pressly-James for not only reading the book but for helping me find the perfect title! And another one to Lexi Ryan for sharing so many insights on this story, being tremendously supportive throughout the publishing process and letting me include a novel excerpt here, too.
More thanks (and unlimited bottles of wine) to the members of the fabulous Glenview Book Club for their feedback and heartening enthusiasm, particularly: Dori Barbeau, Claudia Bianchi, Janet Conlin, Marcie Dixon, Terri Guercio, Chris Lama, Lisa Lockett, Megan Lockett, Fran Mazur, Marty Mazur, Allison Vevang and Beth Weigel. I love chatting about books with you ladies and always look forward to our delightful evenings together.
Endless appreciation to the Austen Authors and the entire JA community, as well as to Deb Haupt, Debbie Hoffman, Karen Karris, Jakki Le
atherberry, Margie Longoria, Monica Perry, Joyce Twardock and all of the warm and generous librarians, reviewers, bloggers and friends—online and off—who’ve supported my novels for years, no matter what the genre. Couldn’t have done it without you!
Special thanks to Sarah Hansen for your gorgeous cover design, and to Emily Mah Tippetts for your magical work on the manuscript’s interior, especially the way you brought Gideon’s journal to life. The two of you made the book look beautiful.
And my deep gratitude, too, to all who help maintain historic sites, like those along The Mother Road/Route 66, and who strive to preserve for future generations this famous American highway with its unique connection to our country’s past.
Most of all, hugs and kisses to my family for being there for me every day through this rollercoaster ride of publishing. Special thanks to my dad for answering so many of my chemistry questions, to my husband Jeff for reliving the Chicago of the 1970s with me and to my son for being open to experiencing our own Route 66 travel adventure. I’m incredibly grateful for you all.
According to Jane
A young woman who is good at academics but struggles with finding true love gets two decades of dating advice from the spirit of Jane Austen.
New Adult/Coming-of-Age/Contemporary Romantic Women’s Fiction. *For mature audiences.*
Friday Mornings at Nine
Three married suburban moms contemplate whether they wedded the right men in this deeply thought-provoking relationship drama.
Contemporary Women’s Fiction.
A Summer in Europe
A woman goes on a grand international journey of self-discovery with her eccentric aunt and their lively Sudoku and Mahjongg Club.
Humorous/Romantic Women’s Fiction/Travel Adventure.
On Any Given Sundae
A shy dessert cookbook writer and the guy she had a crush on as a teen—an ex-football player turned hot-shot restaurant owner—must run an ice cream shop together for the summer.
Light and Steamy Romantic Comedy.
Double Dipping
A dedicated second-grade teacher fights the school’s handsome and inscrutable new financial director to reinstate a much beloved fall festival.
Romantic Comedy with a Dash of Mystery.
Holiday Man
A love story told over a year of holidays between the lady owner of a scenic small-town inn and the big-city businessman who frequents the place just so he can see her.
Sexy Romantic Comedy.
The Sweet Temptations Collection
An anthology containing the complete trio of Wisconsin-set romantic comedies: On Any Given Sundae, Double Dipping and Holiday Man.
Pride, Prejudice and the Perfect Match
A modern, Austen-inspired story between an ER doc and a single mom who meet on an Internet dating site—both with motives other than the hope of meeting their perfect match.
Sweet Contemporary Romance.
Pride, Prejudice and the Perfect Bet (coming 2014!)
The course of true love doesn’t run smooth when it comes to a wealthy flirtatious bachelor and a not-so-angelic psychologist in this lighthearted sequel to ‘Perfect Match.’
Sweet Contemporary Romance.
“Music is the shorthand of emotion.”
~Leo Tolstoy
“Stairway to Heaven” by Led Zeppelin
“Who Are You” by The Who
“Pinball Wizard” by The Who
“Dance With Me” by Orleans
“Life in the Fast Lane” by The Eagles
“Band on the Run” by Wings
“Love the One You’re With” by Crosby, Stills and Nash
“More Than a Feeling” by Boston
“Hitch a Ride” by Boston
“Let Me Take You Home Tonight” by Boston
“Wheel in the Sky” by Journey
“Rock and Roll All Nite” by KISS
“Grease (Is the Word)” by Frankie Valli
“Greased Lightning” by John Travolta & the Cast of “Grease”
“Stayin’ Alive” by The Bee Gees
“How Deep is Your Love” by The Bee Gees
“If I Can’t Have You” by Yvonne Elliman
“You Should Be Dancing” by The Bee Gees
“Jive Talking” by The Bee Gees
“Promised Land” by The Grateful Dead
“Get Your Kicks on Route 66” by Perry Como
“The Entertainer” by Scott Joplin
“Summer Breeze” by Seals and Crofts
“Running on Empty” by Jackson Browne
“The Fuse” by Jackson Browne
“Saturday in the Park” by Chicago
“Muskrat Love” by The Captain and Tennille
“I Think I Love You” by David Cassidy
“Sweet Talkin’ Woman” by ELO
“Only the Good Die Young” by Billy Joel
“Goodbye to Love” by The Carpenters
“Da Doo Ron Ron” by Shawn Cassidy
“(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction” by The Rolling Stones
“Roll Me Away” by Bob Seger and the Silver Bullet Band
“Abracadabra” by The Steve Miller Band
“American Pie” by Don McLean
“Nobody Does It Better” by Carly Simon
“Tonight’s the Night (Gonna Be Alright)” by Rod Stewart
“Born to Run” by Bruce Springsteen
“Ventura Highway” by America
“Don’t Look Back” by Boston
“A Man I’ll Never Be” by Boston
“Rock ‘n’ Roll Fantasy” by Bad Company
“Goodbye Yellow Brick Road” by Elton John
Dedication
For my dear writing friends—Karen Dale Harris, Lisa Laing and Laura Moore—I’m so thankful to all of you for your thoughtful feedback on this novel, for your longstanding encouragement of my writing career and, most of all, for your friendship.
And, of course, for Andrew—this book was yours from the beginning.
Marilyn Brant has been told she writes with honesty, liveliness and wit (descriptors she’s grown terribly fond of) about complex, intelligent women—like her friends—and their significant personal relationships. Although her favorite pursuits undoubtedly involve books, she proves she’s not just a literary snob by confessing her lifelong fascination (read: obsession) with popular music, especially from the ‘70s and ‘80s, most flavors of ice cream and a variety of sensuous body lotions/oils.
As a former teacher, library staff member, freelance magazine writer and national book reviewer, Marilyn has spent much of her life lost in literature. She is the USA Today bestselling and award-winning author of eight novels to date and, recently, the Illinois Association of Teachers of English (IATE) selected her as their 2013 Illinois Author of the Year.
Her debut coming-of-age/new adult novel, ACCORDING TO JANE (Kensington, 2009), featuring the ghost of Jane Austen giving a young woman dating advice, won the Romance Writers of America’s prestigious Golden Heart Award and the Booksellers’ Best, and it was named one of the “Top 100 Romance Novels of All Time” by Buzzle.com. Her second novel, FRIDAY MORNINGS AT NINE (Kensington, 2010), was a Doubleday and Book-of-the-Month Club pick in women’s fiction. And A SUMMER IN EUROPE (Kensington, 2011) was featured in the Literary Guild and BOMC2, and it became a Top 20 Bestseller in Fiction and Literature for the Rhapsody Book Club. The Polish translation of the novel was released in June 2013.
She’s also a #1 Kindle and #1 Nook bestseller, who writes fun and flirty romantic comedies, like her stories in THE SWEET TEMPTATIONS COLLECTION, that involve sweet treats and large doses of humor. THE ROAD TO YOU—a coming-of-age/new adult romantic mystery—is her latest release. Be sure to look for more romantic fiction, coming soon!
Marilyn currently lives in the Chicago suburbs with her family. When she isn’t reading her friends’ books or watching old movies, she’s working on her next novel, eating chocolate indiscriminately and hiding from the laundry.<
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Wish I May by Lexi Ryan
I’m so excited to share with you a little about Lexi Ryan’s sexy new adult romance, Wish I May, as well as an excerpt from the story. It’s coming out soon, and I hope you’ll enjoy it as much as I did!
About the Book
I grew up wishing on stars.
My father taught me to believe…in destiny, in magic, in happily ever after. Dreams were my scripture and the starry night sky was my temple. Then Mom stopped believing, left him, and took us with her. At the age of sixteen, I cashed in my dreams to pay the rent, pawned my destiny to keep my sisters together.
Now, seven years later, I’m returning home, grieving the death of my mother, and settling my sisters back into the life Mom threw away. I never intended to stay. I don’t want to deal with my father, who is so invested in the spiritual world he forgets the physical. I don’t want to face William Bailey, whose eyes remind me of the girl I was, the things I’ve done, and the future I lost.
This would all be easier if Will hated me. As it is, I have to hold my secrets close so they won’t hurt him more than they’ve already hurt me. But he wants to be in my life. He wants what I can’t bring myself to confess I sold. He wants me.
I find myself looking to my stars again...wondering if I dare one more wish.
Excerpt from Wish I May © Lexi Ryan
“Seriously? You’re lost?” He pauses a beat. “In New Hope?” His tone suggests that I’ve gotten myself lost in a paper bag. And, okay, New Hope is pretty damn small, but I haven’t lived here in seven years, and it’s changed a lot. The good areas are all rundown now and the factories are closed, and the vast expanses of open land by the river have been developed into fancy neighborhoods with yuppy McMansions so ostentatious I can practically smell their oversized mortgages.
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