Release Date: March 25th
Preorder Wide: Coming Soon
Amazon: Live release
Cover Design: Emily Wittig Designs
Dandelion Meadows is cursed.
Horrible name.
Horrible luck.
At eighteen she should be headed off to college, all smiles and naivety.
Instead, a victim of a school shooting, she’s starting her senior year in a new city and living with her brother.
Nightmares of that terrible day haunt her, affecting her daily life and the relationships around her.
Forced to meet with the school counselor, Dani finds him chipping away at the walls she’s built around herself, and even her heart.
Lachlan Taylor doesn’t know what to make at first of the broken student he’s tasked with helping. She’s survived a trauma he’s not sure he can save her from, but he knows he has to try.
The more time they spend together, the more they learn about what it really means to live.
Some things are forbidden.
Some things are necessary for survival.
Their love is both.
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(unedited and subject to change)
“What are you thinking?”
“Nothing.” He shakes his head and reaches out, placing a hand on my waist. His touch is gentle as he tugs me closer until I stand between the halo of his arms. With his other hand he cups the right side of my cheek. “Why do you feel like a dream?”
“A dream? I’m more like a nightmare.”
He tosses his head back, his Adam’s apple bobbing with laughter.
When he stops, his teeth dig into his bottom lip while his eyes bore into me. He looks like he wants to say something, but holds the words inside.
Tell me, Lachlan, I silently beg. Give me all your thoughts, your words, your fears, dreams and ambitions. Give it all to me. I’ll cherish it, I promise.
He swallows and instead takes my hand, tugging me into the living room.
Zeppelin lifts his mighty head, watching us from the floor as Lachlan sinks onto the couch and pulls me down with him, fitting my small frame between his legs so I collapse on top of him with my front to his. The dog settles back down, clearly used to my presence now.
I cross my hands on his chest and rest my chin on them. Blinking up at him I wait for him to do or say something. He stares right back at me. I wonder what he sees when he looks at me.
Do I look as broken as I feel most of the time? Does he see the hopelessness beginning to fade from my eyes? Is it plastered all over my face how fucking enamored I am with him?
“You know,” he begins, clearing his throat, “when I figured you’d show up yesterday, I told myself to tell you that you had to go back home, that you couldn’t be here with me. But then, I opened the door and saw you. All those words … they no longer existed. When it comes to you, I’m incapable of common sense. I don’t understand it, but I think … I think I’m tired of fighting. I think about you when I shouldn’t, I have dreams of you that are immoral, I worry about you, I wonder what you’re thinking, and more than anything I want to make everything better for you and I’m so fucking torn up inside because I’m terrified I never can.”
He rubs his thumb over my cheek. I’m not even sure he realizes he’s doing it.
“You already are.”
His blue eyes lighten at the same time he smiles—and that smile?
It’s like a brand across my heart, a fiery piercing feeling as he signs his name across it in ownership.
He doesn’t even realize it, but it belongs to him.
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