Book Summary:
Affected by her parents’ highly publicized divorce, Isabel
grows up isolated and alone, with a resolve to never fall in love and repeat
their mistakes.
When Jesse Cain enters her life, she falls hopelessly in
love with him, and every sadness she’s ever felt is washed away by his
intensity and passion. But people change as they grow up. Things can never stay
the same forever.
Jesse and Isabel fight to stay together, determined to hold
on to what they once had. Isabel wonders if a second love can ever be enough to
make her forget her first.
About Christine:
I love to read, write about reading, shop, write about
shopping, three day weekends, high heels and purses. I’m a wife, a mother, a
corporate executive, a loyal friend and a passionate believer in true love.
This is all you need to know about me. If you get my stories, you get my heart.
1. NO one at work knows I wrote a
Romance book.
2. I’m terrified of birds or
anything with feathers. I won’t walk around them. I turn the other way.
3. I can’t sleep alone. At all.
Ever.
4. My handbags are wrapped in
their dust bags and they all have their own names.
5. My friends have many nicknames
for me. Two of the most recent ones are “Little Assassin” and “Princess”
6. I took Hip Hop lessons a year
ago.
7. Only one son of mine laughs at
my jokes.
8. Jesse’s letters in the Light
in the Wound are real.
9. I plan my outfits based upon
the shoes I want to wear.
10. I kill plants just by looking
at them and I burn things on the stove at least once every week.
The trip to the airport took about 45 minutes—enough time to
transform my outfit and freshen up for him. Once we got to the airport, we
didn't have to wait at all. He was standing outside in a gray suit with a white
button down shirt, already unbuttoned due to the heat. Bernard waved at him and
he stepped up to the right side of the door to get in.
"Hi," I said shyly.
"Hi, baby. Wow. You look amazing, as always."
The blazer had come off and the four-inch leopard print
shoes were on. The skirt looked much shorter on me without the blazer. I slid
toward him as he grabbed me and placed me on top of his lap.
"Happy Anniversary," he whispered sensually into
my ear. His nose traced a line from my jaw to my neck and his fingers softly
rubbed the inside of my thigh.
I giggled nervously.
His touch felt so good, so safe.
"One month down, 959 more to go," he groaned, his
hands now on my back, pulling me close.
"That's 80 years, A."
"I'm in love with a math genius."
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