“If you’re reading this it means I’ve gone off into the great unknown. My last great adventure. I’m writing this on the first day of the New Year. The doctor said I have a few weeks, maybe.” –From the Women’s Fiction Bestseller The Irish Cottage
The funeral had been bright with color, almost vulgar. Mags hated black and gray, “Anything but that!” she used to say. “Give me red, green, orange, purple—whatever, just give me something I can work with.” Her friends had remembered. She was buried on a Saturday. -From the Women’s Fiction Bestseller The Irish Cottage
Double semi-lancet arched windows flanked a bright red front door. The pitched roof was a dark black-gray color with a chimney. Quintessentially Irish. It looked like a place where peace might be found. Maybe even enlightenment. A few weeks here and she would have her head on straight. Her need to leave, to escape the life she had so carefully created over the course of a decade would be a distant memory, and everything could get back to normal. -From the Women’s Fiction Bestseller The Irish Cottage
She looked up just in time to see a shooting star. Its trail was the longest she’d ever seen. Something about the spectacle caused butterflies to rise up in her stomach and a delicious chill to run down her spine. It felt…divine. -From the Women’s Fiction Bestseller The Irish Cottage
“Should people be in relationships to be saved? Shouldn’t we save ourselves?”
“Sometimes we need a little help.” He brought his lips down softly. Using his tongue to trace her lower lip and then spreading her mouth open. She could feel her heart in her ears. It was a long kiss. Achingly slow and deliberate. He tasted like California. -From the Women’s Fiction Bestseller The Irish Cottage
She started to walk to one of the windows, curious about what she would see. He didn’t let her get that far.
He kissed her neck from behind and moved his hands…-From the Women’s Fiction Bestseller The Irish Cottage
