My gran used to say, “If I didn’t have bad luck, I wouldn’t have any luck at all.”
The words have followed me all my life. They couldn’t be any truer than the situation I find myself in.
Within twenty-four hours, I lost both my apartment and job. With no one else to turn to, I reached out to my brother, who lives on the opposite side of the state. Due to a situation in his home, he sends me to Hudson Henderson, a complete stranger, until his giant dog jumps on me in his driveway.
Make no mistakes about it. I know what I look like to others. Young, government-aided, pregnant mom. They see Lucy on my hip, and they see a mistake. I mean, why else would someone have a child so young, right? They couldn’t be more wrong. I’m too busy most days between parenting, work, and finishing up my last year of nursing school to let their judging gaze tear me down until he moves into the vacant house next to the apartments I live in.
Our first goodbye wasn’t our choice.
Our second was…
What do people say about third chances?
I believe moments define us. A split-second decision can shape your future, and you don’t realize it until it’s too late.
A scared, agonizing choice ruins mine.
I’m scarred, hateful, and nothing a beauty like Peyton will want. So when I come face to face with her, I pretend not to be MoodyKing1, her gamer friend King.
The choice changes everything.
I keep you in a place within reach, but I don’t dare seek you out. I keep you just enough, just enough to feel you close. You’re my best friend, but I know in my heart you’ve always been more.
I don’t dare look too much, hold too much, or wish too much from you.
With no choice, a human bargains her soul for ten years of music and song.
With no time for anything beyond her dream, Ruth Thomas becomes a worldwide sensation, never knowing love or appreciating lust until she finally meets the mysterious president of Black Hearts, Amit Kingston.
In a game of seduction, Ruth thinks she can enjoy a moment of lust, if only once, before the demon comes and devours her soul.
Desperate times call for daring measures.
At least that’s what I tell myself while packing up and hitting the road with America’s newest and most popular rock band, The Oppressors. The lanky tattooed men are suspicious. Before I stepped on the bus with them, they’ve always made me nervous.
Something’s not adding up, though.