Showing posts with label New Release. Show all posts
Showing posts with label New Release. Show all posts

Thursday, February 19, 2015

Release day for #GraceDelaney THE SUBMISSION OF CODY #BDSM

PRIVATE MOMENTS PUBLISHING
Press Release Launch Kit
For
The Submission of Cody
Grace Delaney



Available from Private Moments Publishing
Genre: Fiction, Erotica
Release Date: February 19, 2015
Digital ISBN-10:1631120956 
ISBN-13:978-1-63112-095-4

















The Submission of Cody
Being a dominatrix isn’t as easy as it looks.

Hanna has had one submissive, and he was more than cooperative. Now she’s ready for a challenge.

Cody isn’t a typical bottom. In fact, his dominance is so deeply ingrained that he’s spent his entire adult life as the top in every sexual relationship he’s had. He knows that if he lets go of his control, he’ll have to face a difficult truth about himself. Yet he can’t go on this way, suppressing his shame and his fear, so he agrees to let his best friend’s hot, sweet dominatrix have her way with him. Maybe if he can make himself submit to her, he can get on with his life.

When they inadvertently meet on the way to their encounter, Cody stuns Hanna by dominating her in thirty seconds flat, without even speaking.

Now, even naked, bound, and on his knees before her, he holds the advantage.

Hanna aches to show Cody that she’s the boss. But with her domme mentor (and her well-stocked toy chest) interfering at every step of the way, and Hanna’s first sub needing her attention too, can she take back control and bend Cody to her will the way he needs her to, or is he too much for her to handle?

Warning: this book contains hot f/f, m/m, f/m/m, and m/f/m/f action, bdsm, double penetration, anal sex, strawberries, and the use of a champagne bottle in a manner not recommended by the manufacturer.

Word count: 26,000


About Grace Delaney
Grace Delaney is an Acquisitions Editor during the day and a storyteller by night. She loves to create fantasies that people can get lost in, with out ever leaving their own bedroom.

Grace lives in Colorado and enjoys the ever-changing seasons. She studied at the University of Northern Colorado and majored in Journalism.


CHAPTER 1


Traffic had stalled in both directions, and the guy in the opposite lane was staring down from the window of his pickup at the parting of Hanna’s thighs as though he owned it. And that just wouldn’t do.
Her black leather skirt revealed a lot more than it covered—good thing the guy wasn’t a cop, or she’d be arrested for public nudity. She let him look for another few seconds, then switched hands on the wheel, denying him his view.
His face subtly tensed.
Behind her sunglasses, she studied him. He looked familiar, but she couldn’t place where she’d seen him. The three-day shadow on his jaw, his work-roughened hands—those fit with the beat-up truck he drove. But the high-end leather jacket with its turned-up collar, on a July morning when the temperature had already crawled past eighty degrees? That didn’t make sense, though he looked hot as hell in more ways than one.
She realized she was clenching her steering wheel, and she made herself relax and take a deep breath. She was the one in charge here.
Just because he was physically higher than she was and fully clothed, didn’t mean he had the upper hand.
His lips curled—were they as firm as they looked? Oh, the things she’d like to make those lips do to her. She became aware of the vibration of her car’s engine through her seat and imagined him kneeling before her, bound, begging for her touch.
That was more like it. She dropped one hand between her thighs. Slid a finger up under the skirt. Touched. Caressed.
He smirked, and the tilt of his jaw suggested he was imagining her kneeling before him.
Pffft! He wished.
Traffic started to move. The guy flashed her a cocky grin and gunned his engine. She watched the truck recede in her side mirror, feeling like a fraud.
A tingling flush crept up her neck, and she made herself loosen her grip on the steering wheel. A real domme would have taken total and immediate control of the situation. Would have brought the guy in line with a haughty glance.
If she couldn’t keep her cool around a stranger in traffic, how was she going to maintain any kind of control in a ménage with her domme mentor?
Instead of driving straight to Christine’s house, she took a long detour to give herself a chance to cool down, gather her thoughts, so she could walk into any situation calm and assured and in control.
Half an hour later, her pulse still throbbing from her encounter with the stranger, Hanna pulled her car up to the gate that led to an exclusive lake-view property. The only specifics, Christine had given her, were that she should wear spike heels and that today was the first of four special sessions. She’d also hinted that there’d be a surprise Hanna would never forget. She wiggled her toes inside her five-inch hot-pink-glitter stilettos.
Christine had a knack for surprises. One time she’d even loaned Hanna her own delectable submissive husband, John, for a night. Her belly warmed at the memory of John kneeling before her, hands bound behind his back with the sleeves of his white dress shirt, begging her to let him please her. And oh, he had.
But... she couldn’t assume the ménage would be Hanna, Christine, and John. What would be the surprise in that? So maybe the third wouldn’t be John. Or maybe it wouldn’t even be Christine.


Monday, November 10, 2014

#NEW #Releases from #5PrincePublishing








Join us Monday November 10th from 4:30pm-8pm MST on Facebook to celebrate these great titles with our 5 Prince Publishing Launch Party!!







Available from 5 Prince Publishing www.5princebooks.com  books@5princebooks.com
Genre: FICTION / Westerns
Release Date: November 6, 2014
Digital ISBN 13: 978-1-63112-077-0 ISBN 10: 1631120778
Print ISBN 13: 978-1-63112-078-7  ISBN 10: 1631120786
Purchase link : http://www.5princebooks.com/buy-links.html

Sheriff Luke Atwell, a religious man, doubts his occupation after accidentally shooting a female bystander during a gunfight. The violent deaths of lawmen and criminals that follow heighten his questioning and he joins the priesthood to counter evil as a man of peace. However, his lawman instincts remain as he deals with crime in his inner-city parish. Temporarily relieved of his priestly obligations, Atwell returns as sheriff to the changed, now crime-ridden Kansas town to rethink his calling, joined by unlikely reinforcements—an experienced but alcoholic deputy and a youthful banjo player. The team, often outnumbered, confronts thieves and killers in a series of gun battles. As Atwell fights lawlessness, he struggles with his feelings toward a recent widow. Eventually he must decide:  keep the badge or again wear the clerical collar.



Available from 5 Prince Publishing www.5princebooks.com  books@5princebooks.com
Genre: FICTION / African American / Contemporary Women
Release Date: November 6, 2014
Digital ISBN 13: 978-1-63112-075-6 ISBN 10:1631120751
Print ISBN 13: 978-1-63112-076-3 ISBN 10:163112076X

Purchase link : http://www.5princebooks.com/buy-links.html

Sydnee Garrett has a lot on her to-do list. Wrangle her young and rambunctious twin boys. Check. Get her life back in order since her husband decided to leave her for a much younger woman. Check. And buy a Christmas tree. Check.
What she wasn’t expecting was adding one more thing to her list. A young, sexy personal trainer. Check.
Quinn Masters is a man who knows what he wants and doesnt take no for an answer. He isnt fazed by age or race differences and he does everything in his power to win Sydnee over.
Will Sydnee continue to fight for her orderly life or welcome in the chaos that’s threatening to change her entire world?




Available from 5 Prince Publishing www.5princebooks.com  books@5princebooks.com
Genre: Fiction, Romance, Historical, Alternative History
Release Date: March 13, 2014
Digital ISBN 13: 978-1-63112-082-4 ISBN 10: 1631120824
Print ISBN 13: 978-1-63112-079-4 ISBN 10: 1631120794


Living abroad, Adela Tilden has avoided the worst of the rebellion. But now that King William has ordered her back on risk of disinheritance, it doesn’t seem she’ll be able to stay out of the tumult. Of course, Adela has never abided being a pawn.

With two men ahead of her, and one left behind, she has to hope she can control this game–or else she might lose her life.

Between books 1 and 2 of the Broken Line series, The Copper Rebellion is a glimpse into Antony and Adela’s lost years after The Copper Witch



Available from 5 Prince Publishing www.5princebooks.com  books@5princebooks.com
Genre: FICTION / Historical /Thrillers
Release Date: November 6, 2014
Digital ISBN 13: 978-1-63112-069-5 ISBN 10:1631120697
Print ISBN 13: 978-1-63112-070-1 ISBN 10:1631120700

Purchase link : http://www.5princebooks.com/buy-links.html


On Orders Of The Commandant is an historical novel, set inside a 1940's concentration camp in Auschwitz, Poland.
It is the story of four men who are imprisoned.
In their afterwards struggle, they deal with several issues-desolation, losing their family and freedom-but more importantly are confronted with the knowledge of a machinated plot intended by an SS First Commandant right under their noses.
A plan is conceived, after having an underground exit pointed out to them, to escape the concentration camp itself...




Available from 5 Prince Publishing www.5princebooks.com  books@5princebooks.com
Genre: FICTION / Romance / Contemporary / Ghost / Paranormal
Release Date: November 6, 2014
Digital ISBN 13: 978-1-63112-073-2 ISBN 10:1631120735
Print ISBN 13: 978-1-63112-074-9 ISBN 10:1631120743
Purchase link : http://www.5princebooks.com/buy-links.html

Mallory got her happily ever after, but haunting loss in the past has her running scared that she will lose her beloved yet again. Can anything...or anyone make her realise she needs to let go of the past and live for today?



Available from 5 Prince Publishing www.5princebooks.com  books@5princebooks.com
Genre: FICTION / Romance / Contemporary
Release Date: November 6, 2014
Digital ISBN 13: 978-1-63112-067-1 ISBN 10:1631120670
Print ISBN 13: 978-1-63112-068-8 ISBN 10:1631120689
Purchase link : http://www.5princebooks.com/buy-links.html

Johnny, an IT geek still lives at home with his parents. When his brother and sister-in-law help a sick friend, he gets coerced into babysitting his two year old niece, Zoe, on a weekly basis. Johnny reluctantly takes on the challenge with humourous and often near-disastrous results. Over time, Zoe's independence-seeking and outgoing personality inspires Johnny to try to improve his health, his fashion sense and even his love life. However, after a couple of setbacks, Johnny wonders if it’s worth the effort and retreats to his former habits. Can Zoe show him the way to true love?

Thursday, August 7, 2014

#ReleaseDay of THE PAINTED ROOM by #PeteAbela and #5PrincePub












Available from 5 Prince Publishing www.5princebooks.com  books@5princebooks.com
Genre: Fiction, Family Life
Release Date: August 7, 2014
Digital ISBN 13: 978-1-63112-055-8 ISBN 10: 1631120557
Print ISBN 13:978-1-63112-056-5 ISBN 10: 1631120565
Purchase link : http://www.5princebooks.com/buy-links.html






A Painted Room
The best day in a parent’s life turns into the worst.For expectant parents, the origins of a new life are usually accompanied by excitement, anticipation and just a touch of anxiety about the future. There are classes to attend, prams to buy, and of course, the baby's room has to be painted.
This description fits Gary and Melinda quite nicely - except Gary hasn't painted the baby's room yet. He finally gets around to starting the job, but Melinda's water breaks before he finishes the first coat.
From there, the situation rapidly deteriorates. Their baby, Justin, is born via caesarean. Shortly after the birth Justin experiences breathing difficulties and is transferred to intensive care a few hours later.
The story follows Gary over a tumultuous few days as Justin undergoes emergency treatment. Gary and Melinda quickly discover that when a baby's life is on the line, it doesn't really matter whether or not you have a painted room.


About Pete Abela
Pete heralds from the city of Wollongong, just south of Sydney in the state of New South Wales, Australia, where he lives with his wife and four kids. His love of reading eventually led him to take up writing, a difficult task which presents rewards and challenges in equal measure. A Painted Room is Pete’s second book, and follows his debut novel, Wings (2012).
When he’s not working, reading, writing or enjoying the company of his family, Pete likes to sneak away for a bit of exercise – either tennis, golf or a refreshing swim.
You can find more about Pete at his website and blog (http://peteabela.com). The blog contains a number of bad jokes and puns. You have been warned.

How to contact the author:
Twitter: @PeteAbela



CHAPTER ONE


Melinda waddled into the bedroom, looked at the display on the luminous alarm clock and frowned. Shaking her head, she trudged across the room and pulled herself slowly onto the bed, wincing as her back registered its habitual protest.
She looked down at her body, an expression of displeasure crossing her pretty face. A couple of varicose veins featured prominently on her once smooth and unblemished legs. She removed the chain from around her neck and unthreaded the wedding band. Holding the ring in one hand, she tried to place it on her swollen ring finger first then her pinkie, but could not get past the first knuckle with either of them. Shaking her head, she replaced the ring on the chain. Her pajama top stretched tightly over her eight-month belly. She tried to pull the top down to cover the exposed band of skin at the bottom of her tummy, and snorted in disgust when it sprang back, once again revealing her stretch marks.
Melinda picked up a piece of paper from the bedside table and examined it closely. It did not give her any more joy than the sight of her pregnant body had. In fact, she scowled as she perused the paper.
It was a list of jobs.
A long list of jobs and only a few of them had been crossed out. The spare bedroom still needed to be cleaned out and painted. The cot required assembly and the plastic bags full of nappies, bibs, clothes and toys still remained unsorted.
A leather bound diary lay on the bed. Melinda turned to the yearly planner page and placed her finger on a prominently circled date. She counted backwards, a week at a time on her fingers, stopping at four. She looked from the list to her fingers and back again with pursed lips. Reaching across to the alarm clock, she fiddled with the settings.
The jangle of keys at the front door interrupted her. She looked up expectantly, and then composed her features to remove any trace of welcome. The keys were dropped, and a male voice swore. The jangling resumed and the front door opened. Melinda sat back on the bed with her arms crossed and looked down at her watch. “It's about time,” she greeted him icily.
“Hello to you too,” replied Gary.
“Don't give me hello. Where have you been?”
“I just had a few boys with the drinks,” slurred Gary. “It's not even midnight. Why are you upset?”
“Where do I begin?” asked Melinda. “For starters, you said you'd come straight home after soccer and empty the spare room.” She picked up the list and waved it at Gary, before throwing it in the air in disgust. Gary’s vacant eyes followed the list, struggling to keep up with it as it floated gently to the floor. “You never called and told me where you were. I've been stuck at home, resting under doctor's orders, not able to have a drink, not supposed to do anything, bored and uncomfortable. All the while, you're gallivanting around the country side, getting drunk with your mates.”
Gary threw his arms into the air. “I've been going out with the boys for years. I don't know why it's a problem all of a sudden.”
“Were you even listening to me?” pleaded Melinda, a solitary tear trickling down her cheek. “I can't go out. I can't occupy myself. I'm stuck at home alone. I need you here with me.” She flicked the switch on the bedside lamp, sending the room into darkness. “I'm going to sleep.”

#

Gary groaned.
He fumbled and bashed the alarm clock which had jolted him out of an unsettled sleep. He half-opened one eye. The luminescent dials glowed brightly, searing into his glassy eyeball like a hot poker. His befuddled brain struggled to make sense of his surroundings. Was it Monday already? Surely not. It must be Sunday. But what could cause the alarm to go off at quarter to six?
Melinda looked across at him. “Morning dear,” she said in a loud and cheerful tone. “We've got a big day today.”
“A what?” Gary shook his head. “What on earth is going on? What are you talking about?”
“It's Sunday. We've got a heap of jobs to do. You promised me we'd finish the painting today. And since we didn't clear out the room yesterday afternoon, we're going to have to get up early in order to finish.”
“Hold on a minute. Take it back to the start,” commanded Gary. “Are you trying to tell me that you've woken me up at sparrow's fart on a Sunday morning so I can empty the spare bedroom? You must be crazy. I'm going back to sleep.” He rolled over, pulling the pillow over his head and digging into the quilt. However, his pounding head and cardboard tongue prevented him from relaxing.
Another bout of beeping broke out, this time from across the room.
“I think that's your phone dear,” suggested Melinda with just the hint of a smile. “Why don't you get it?”
Gary groaned. “I can see I'm not going to get any more sleep this morning,” he grumbled as he stumbled out of bed.
Everything hurt. His legs and lower back were sore from the after-effects of the previous day's soccer match, his right foot throbbed, and his head pounded as a result of his night on the town. “But I don't think I'm going to be much good to anyone in this state.”
“It might be good for you,” suggested Melinda. “You'll need some practice operating in a sleep-deprived state for when the baby comes.”
“I'd rather put off the practice and just cope with it when the time comes.”
“How about this for a deal?” asked Melinda. “It's the best offer you're likely to get all day. If you go and get started on the bedroom, I'll whip up some bacon and eggs for breakfast. I'll chuck in a couple of Beroccas as well. That'll get you into the day, and hopefully we'll get the things done we need to.”
“I might need to take something before I start,” admitted Gary. “However, I did promise to do the painting, so I'll take you up on your offer.” He paused. “I’m sorry for last night as well. I did mean to come home straight after soccer. But I scored the winning goal and now we're in the Grand Final. The boys pestered me to come out. I was just going to have one drink but once I got there, I couldn't say no. I drank one, and then someone else put another drink in front of me.” He walked to Melinda’s side of the bed, knelt down and took her hand. “I'm sorry I didn't come home on time. I'm sorry I didn't call you to let you know where I was, and I'm sorry I didn't clean the baby's room last night. I'll try to make up for it today, even if it kills me.”
“By the look of you, it might actually do that,” laughed Melinda.

#

Gary looked at the results of his work with pride. Despite feeling sore and lethargic, he had worked diligently and made large inroads into his task of cleaning the spare room in preparation for painting. Most of the cleared debris stemmed from the numerous holidays taken over their nine years together. A pile of suitcases, photo albums and souvenirs from all corners of the globe stood in a neat pile in the hallway, ready to be placed in the attic.
He smiled at Melinda as he entered the kitchen. “Brekkie smells good. The room's looking good too. Another half hour and I think we'll be ready for painting, so there's no reason I shouldn't get this done today.”
Melinda returned his smile warmly as she carried his steaming plate to the table. “That sounds great. It’ll be a big load off my mind.”
Gary picked up his knife and fork. “Nothing but the best for you, my dear.” He tucked ravenously into the food on his plate. “This is good. It really hits the spot. Even though I've made some good progress this morning, I think I was running on empty.”
“Eat up then,” said Melinda. “You've got a busy day in front of you.”
He looked at her curiously. “I know it's an important job, although I'm not sure I understand why you're so keen to get it done today. We've still got a few weeks to go.”
“There are no guarantees about the timing - the baby could come tomorrow.” She patted her bulging belly. “Looking at the size of me, it's hard to imagine I could get much bigger. And besides, there are lots of other jobs that are waiting on this one. Now that I've finished work, I can potter around during the week in my own time and apply the finishing touches.”
Gary looked at her with concern. “Don't forget that Dr. Downing said you have to take it easy. After all, that's the reason you've finished work. You're meant to be putting your feet up to ensure your blood pressure doesn't rise any further.”
“The biggest thing that's likely to have an impact on my blood pressure is if you don't finish the painting.” Melinda smiled to show that she joked, although Gary could tell there was a degree of truth in the statement. “If I wait for you, the jobs will never get done. I won't push myself. Even if I only spend an hour or two a day, I'll be able to keep myself occupied plus continue to get ready.”
“Not long to go now,” said Gary. “Your blood pressure will drop, your belly will disappear and things will go back to normal.”
Melinda raised an eyebrow. “Back to normal? Are you joking?” She circled until she was opposite Gary and leaned forward with both hands on the table. “The changes are just about to start. Life as we know it will never be the same once this little bundle pops out.”
“How hard can it be?” Gary dipped the last piece of toast into the remains of his egg yolk and scoffed it down. “Sure, we might be sleep-deprived for a while, but that never hurt anyone.” He yawned. “Well, not much anyway. People have been having babies for thousands of years, and doing it without any of the modern conveniences we have. I'm sure we'll be fine.”
“That's not what my girlfriends tell me,” commented Melinda. “They divide their lives into two - Before Baby and After Baby – and if they are to be believed, there is no comparison between the two.”
Gary stood, wiping his mouth. “I'm sure we'll be able to cope,” he said as he turned and walked back to the bedroom.

#

Melinda dragged the sheet across the floor in an attempt to cover the carpet before Gary could spill any paint on it. He looked at her. “Sit down, love. You need to rest and leave me to paint.”
Melinda looked up. “I'm happy for you to do the painting. Just make sure you keep the floor covered.”
“No problem, Melinda. I'm going fine. Just relax. You can sit there and watch if you like.”
Melinda smiled at Gary. A surge of affection rose unbidden within her. Gary looked like a big kid, dressed in his daggiest tracksuit pants and a faded Billy Joel t-shirt. Blobs of paint were in evidence everywhere – on his shirt, on his pants and even one large smear across his left cheek. His thinning black hair was dishevelled and his paint-smudged face managed to simultaneously convey expressions of impish mischievousness and gentle concern.
Melinda sank into the large, padded armchair purchased for night feeds. She rested her feet on a convenient paint tin and eased her neck and head into the back of the chair. The long, slow strokes of the roller travelling up and down the wall possessed a strangely hypnotic quality. She sat in silence, her eyes following the roller's progress as it transformed the wall from a dull peach to a light and airy green.
“You look like you're falling asleep,” observed Gary.
Melinda sat up with a start. “Sorry – just day-dreaming, remembering how long it took to get pregnant.”
“I kind of miss those days,” said Gary. “Too much was never enough.”
Melinda laughed. “As I recall, you were doing it pretty tough. In fact -”
Melinda paused mid-sentence. She touched her thighs with her hands and sat up straight in her chair. She looked down at the ground.
“In fact what?” A look of concern crossed Gary's face. “Are you all right?”
“I'm all wet. I think my waters have broken.”

Thursday, June 12, 2014

#NewRelease for #5PrincePublishing #Author #SaraGalloway THE LETTER DRAWER




Available from 5 Prince Publishing www.5princebooks.com  books@5princebooks.com
Genre:  Fiction, Christian, Romance
Release Date: June 12, 2014
Digital ISBN ISBN-10: 1631120506 ISBN-13: 978-1-63112-050-3
Print ISBN-10: 1631120514 ISBN-13: 978-1-63112-051-0

Purchase link : http://www.5princebooks.com/buy-links.html







The Letter Drawer
True love never dies, but is it enough to heal a broken faith?

Claire and Evan met when they were children. They grew up together and fell in love. When Evan became a soldier, he and Claire held onto their love, remaining faithful to one another through every deployment. As the years passed, it seemed that life had given them everything they ever wanted … until tragedy struck.
Evan, left in the wake of tragedies, is now forced to decide what is most precious to him. Will love heal him or will devastation destroy his faith? Can Evan’s family show him the way? Can love truly set him free? 



About Sarah Galloway
Sarah Galloway is an Army wife and a mother to four wonderful children. She began writing as a child and continued her love of writing throughout her life. Sarah wrote The Letter Drawer while her husband was deployed in Afghanistan in 2012. She and her husband are residents of Colorado Springs, CO, but are currently stationed in beautiful Monterey, CA.
Sarah and her husband are both avid readers and enjoy a library of books that they keep along the length of their wall in their home office. One of her favorite past times is curling up with a good book while her Great Dane snores at her feet.
Sarah is also a Registered Nurse and spent many sleepless nights working in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit in Colorado Springs. She is very humbled by the tiny miracles that she saw during her years there and she loves all of the babies and families that she had the opportunity to care for. Sarah is continuing her education to become a Family Nurse Practitioner and plans to graduate at the end of 2014. Sarah’s passions include writing, healing people, and providing comfort to those who need it most.


How to reach Sarah Galloway

Twitter @sddlnscp


Excerpt of The Letter Drawer
They had been so young, so very young. She remembered walking to the school bus, alone and scared. Her first day of first grade and then there he was, a young boy in a dress shirt and slacks, a lunch box in his hand and a blue and red backpack on his back. Tall and quiet, the boy’s eyes did not meet hers. His dark brown hair was well cropped above his big brown eyes. She saw him and lost some of her fear. Walking up next to him, she stood silently as they waited for the bus.
That was the beginning of it. From that moment on, they were never far from one another. She chose a seat next to him in class and she always picked the seat next to him on the bus ride home. They sat in silence at first, both looking straight ahead with their hands folded neatly in their lap.
Later, when she could finally stand the silence no more, she glanced over at him. “My name is Claire, what’s yours?”
The boy’s voice was quiet. “Evan.”
“Evan,” she repeated softly. “Okay.”
He gave her a puzzled look. “Okay what?”
“Okay, I like your name Evan. You can be my friend.”
Evan looked at her, a small, confused smile playing at the corner of his lips.

Time went on. They played, built forts, explored the forest behind their neighborhood, and laughed. They grew up together. They became best friends, and that did not change.
Middle school approached and Evan became an awkward, lanky boy while Claire was a dark-haired, green-eyed beauty. She didn’t seem to care. All of the sudden, the boys noticed Claire, but still, she stayed by Evan.
“Hey Claire,” they would say. “Want to come hang out with us after school?”
“No thanks,” replied Claire.
“Why not?”
“I’m studying with Evan.”
Despite the whispering, whining, and complaining that came from the other boys, Claire never wavered. When she left school, she always walked to the bus with Evan. She rode with him, laughed, and told jokes with him, even when the others snickered or sneered.
One day, as they rode next to each other, Claire realized that what she felt for Evan was more than just friendship. She reached over and took his strong, masculine hand, clasping it in her own much smaller one. He looked up at her, waiting for something.
Wondering what was on her mind, he interrupted the silence. “Claire?”
“Yes, Evan?”
Brown eyes sparkled back at her. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, Evan.”
The gaze lasted a moment longer. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, Evan.”
He left his hand sandwiched between hers. “Alright then.”
When the bus came to a stop, Claire stood and waited for Evan to stand beside her and they walked off together, as they always did.
Standing there on the sidewalk, Claire silently stared at Evan, not moving.
Evan was clearly confused. “Ummm, did you want to come over and study?”
“Not really.”
Absently, he scratched the top of his head. “Alright then. I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“No.” She halted him with her hand on his shoulder. “Come with me.”
Pausing for a moment, he gave her an inquiring look. “Where are we going?”
She clasped his hand in hers. “Just come.”
They were seventeen and when she took his hand this time, it was because she loved him. She led him into the forest and back through trees they hadn’t been under in years. They walked through the thick underbrush and finally came to a clearing. He looked at it and smiled. A couple of old, beat-up pieces of plywood leaned together were held there by nails creating a sanctuary fashioned by children. Various odd blankets and pieces of bark and wood that were tattered and faded and barely recognizable lay underneath them.
Confused, he glanced from her to their favorite childhood place. “Claire, this is our old fort.”
She pulled him toward it. “Yes.”
“I had forgotten about this place.”
The light breeze rushed through her hair. “Do you remember when we built it?”
Nostalgia was obvious on his features. “Of course I do! Oh gosh, how old were we, nine, ten maybe?”
“We were in third grade. It was fun. Come and sit with me under it now, will you?”
As she pulled him forward, he laughed. “Okay Claire.”
On their hands and knees, the dusty ground was cool and soft as they crawled into the tattered old fort. When they were sitting under it, there was barely enough room for both of them and Evan’s body was cramped against Claire’s so that they would fit.
Claire smiled at Evan and touched his forehead, brushing a lock of fallen hair away from his eyes.
A serious expression fell across his face. “Claire, can I ask you something?”          
“Of course.”
Evan’s eyes trailed off to the horizon. “Why do you still stay with me?”
“What do you mean?”
He shifted his gaze back to her. “I mean, you’re … well, you’re beautiful Claire. All those guys want to be with you, the good looking ones, the ones all the girls want to be with, and you still always hang out with me.”
“Well,” said Claire blushing. “That’s part of what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“What is?”
Unblinking eyes stared back at her as she spoke. “Evan, I think I’m in love with you.”
A friendly bear hug enveloped her. “I love you too, Claire.”
“No, you don’t understand. Not like a friend, not like we are best friends. I think I have fallen in love with you.”
He looked at her, as though he was barely registering what she was saying. She looked back into his dark brown eyes. Still, he said nothing. Finally, she leaned forward and kissed him on the lips. It was a soft and tender kiss, yet it was warm and inviting, too. And it was perfect, like they had done it all of their lives.
The words fell out of her mouth in a whisper. “Evan, I mean it. I love you.”
His voice was soft and tender. “Oh Claire, I love you too.”
Now he put his arms around her and she rested her head on his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his body. They stayed that way, he held her and she curled up within his arms, finally able to relax now that she knew that he loved her too.

That had been twenty years ago.
Claire thought back on the memory and smiled. Twenty years. Has it really been that long? Twenty years since she realized that she truly did love Evan. It seems like only yesterday.
She closed her eyes and pictured him as he looked now. Sharp jaw, strong features, tall and lean and handsome. Evan was the kind of guy that women looked at twice when he walked by, although he didn’t realize it. Those soft, gentle brown eyes that she loved and adored still made her feel weak and he still had the shock of deep brown hair that he had to trim constantly because it grew so quickly.
He had been such a scrawny kid that nobody understood why she went for him when she could have any boy in the school, had she wanted them. They simply didn’t understand love. She had belonged to Evan from the first time she saw him. She had always been his.

Evan had taken more convincing. It wasn’t that he didn’t love Claire, because he did. It was more that he was terrified of her. He was scared to death that she would realize how amazing she was and that she would go fleeting off into the arms of one of the rough looking muscled guys that were always hitting on her. Eventually though, he realized that she only saw him and he began to feel safe with her. In time he learned that they truly did belong together and that she would never leave him. He didn’t quite understand why, but he knew it to be true all the same.

Claire closed her eyes and pictured Evan next to her. She could almost feel his breath on her skin. But it was too soon, he wouldn’t be home for another five months. Sighing, she forced herself up to make breakfast.
Claire pulled the contents from her cupboard to make pancakes and began mixing the batter. As she was holding the bowl under one arm and whisking with the other, she heard Eve’s soft footsteps on the linoleum. The quiet, dainty sound of Eve’s feet were soon overshadowed by Connor’s much louder thuds.
Her two children came into the kitchen, both still half-asleep. Seventeen-year-old Connor was in sweatpants and a t-shirt, while thirteen-year-old Eve stood in a long night shirt and knit sleep pants.
Claire greeted them warmly. “Good morning kids.”
“Mmmph,” groaned Connor.
Eve yawned. “Morning.”
“Oh come on now you two, it’s a beautiful day, just look outside.”
They both looked out the window, indifference on their faces.
Jackson, the family pet, came meandering into the kitchen when he heard the kids. The huge, black Great Dane pressed himself against Connor.
“Oooph.” The air rushed out of Connor. “Jackson, it’s too early.”
The dog quite happily moseyed away to Eve who patted him lightly on the head. Then he walked to Claire and sat down next to her. She leaned playfully on him while she waited for the pancake in the skillet to be ready to flip, he didn’t budge.
Connor got out the milk and poured himself a glass. “Do you want some Eve? Mom?”
“Yeah,” yawned Eve as she took her place at the table, wiping sleep from her eyes.
Claire flipped a pancake in the skillet. “No thank you honey.”
Connor poured a second glass and walked it to Eve who took it, thanked him and sipped at it as she tried to will herself awake. Claire finished cooking breakfast and put some on the plates, handing them to the kids. She watched as Connor carefully poured syrup onto each pancake and then handed the bottle to his sister. Eve cut up her pancakes with a fork first, and then lathered syrup all over the small fragments.
Eve handed the bottle to her Mom. Claire put a tiny dollop of syrup on her single pancake and then spread it across in a thin, even layer. She smiled as she watched the kids eat. Slowly, they began to wake up.
Connor finished first, his voice still hazy. “I’m gonna shower.”
“Okay,” said Claire.
Connor left and Eve sat at the table with her daughter.
There was silence before Eve finally spoke. “Mom?”
“Yeah?”
“I miss Dad.”
Claire sighed. “So do I. Five more months and he’ll be home.”
Eve’s face drooped. “It’s still so long.”
Claire’s heart ached as she looked across the table at her daughter. “I know honey. I miss him too. Soon, soon he will be home.”
Eve looked up at her mother with solemn eyes. “Can he stay this time?”
Patting her daughter’s hand, she spoke. “I hope so honey.”
“Me too.”

Eve’s young face flushed and Claire could tell she was holding back tears. Claire opened her arms and Eve walked to her mother and hugged her. Claire held her daughter and silently thanked God that, unlike most thirteen year olds, Eve still let her comfort her this way. She stroked Eve’s dark brown hair until she finally let go.
Her daughter’s eyes looked moist, but she no longer looked as though she would begin to cry. “Are you okay honey?”
“Yeah, it’s just one of those days I guess. I’m gonna get ready.”
She watched Eve disappear down the hallway to her room. Alone in the kitchen, Claire began picking up plates and putting them in the sink. She heard the shower stop and a few minutes later, Connor emerged looking much more like the bright, chipper boy that he was. He takes after his father so much. He was tall and lean, just like Evan, and he had those same deep brown eyes. Claire smiled at him and he returned the grin.

As she finished rinsing the dishes, she looked over at him. “Connor?”
He slung his backpack over his shoulder. “Yeah?”
“Would you mind dropping Eve off at school this morning? I am going to write your father a letter.”
His free arm wrapped around her shoulder and hugged her. “Sure Mom.”
“Thanks honey.”
“You’re welcome.”
He was such a good boy. They were both good kids. She was so thankful for them.            “C’mon Eve,” Connor called from the kitchen. “Five minutes.”
Eve’s voice trailed in from her bedroom. “Okay, I’ll be there.”
Just in time, Eve appeared with her book bag slung over her shoulder and Connor walked with her to the door. Eve looked as though she were a little less sad and Claire felt relieved.
Claire lifted her hand to wave goodbye to her children. “Have a good day guys.”
“We will Mom,” replied Eve. “Love you.”
“Love you,” chimed Connor.
Her heart swelled with joy. “I love you both, too.” Her children were so good to her. She watched out the window as they climbed into Connor’s old but reliable car, laughing about something. Then she returned to the nook.

As they pulled away, Claire sat in the warm light that shone through the window onto the breakfast table. The glossy surface was cool against her wrists, but the sun was warm on her back. She brushed her hair back with her hands, feeling the soft curls run through her fingers. Retrieving a piece of paper from the little drawer hidden under the surface of the table, Claire began to write.

My Dearest Evan...
Claire wrote the letter, telling him everything that was in her heart. She read it over. When she was satisfied that she had said everything that she needed to say, she signed it:
Your wife,
Claire

She placed a red lipstick kiss at the corner of it by her name. She slipped the letter into an envelope and addressed it to the APO address where the Army would receive the mail before dispensing it to the soldiers.
She closed her eyes for a moment, holding the letter in her hand and feeling the sun on her back. In that moment, she felt at peace. Her white, gauzy nightgown flowed softly in the ruffle of the breeze coming in through the window. It brushed against her thigh and then floated away as quickly as a whisper. Her hair fluttered against her face and she closed her eyes, embracing the wind. As she opened her eyes and rose, she felt the sun’s rays leave her back. Placing the letter on the edge of the kitchen counter, she walked to the bedroom. As she slipped into a pair of jeans, she retrieved a lemon yellow blouse that was well fitted to her figure. She could almost hear Evan telling her how beautiful she was and how he could get lost in her eyes forever. Moving back to the kitchen, she paused to pick up her car keys. She glanced at the letter before deciding she would place it in the outgoing mail in the afternoon. When she climbed into her car, a soft smile rested gently on her lips.
That was the last time Claire’s family ever saw her alive.