The Five of Pentacles Reversed is about recovering from a time of poverty or perhaps spiritual doubt. It is about emerging from a place where we aren’t certain of our future and are perhaps fearful of making a misstep. It can also be about holding ourselves back because we believe we don’t have the ability or the resources to meet our goals and make the life we deserve. So today, I invite you to meditate on the following:
1. How am I holding myself back with my limiting beliefs?
2. What are my limiting beliefs?
3.How can I move past these beliefs to reach my highest good?
Either journal, pull some cards for yourself, or purchase a Tarot Thursday reading for me to do the reading for you. Only ten slots available. Tarot Thursday readings for this card will be available either until all ten slots fill or next Thursday’s reading goes live.
Also known as the heartbreak card. This card signifies an emotional blow of some sort. The heart has literally been pierced. Often this card comes up with there has been some sort of ending, seperation or breakup. It is also a card that encourages you to feel those uncomfortable feelings and to lean into them. The three of swords asks us to acknowledge that we’ve been hurt and hold space for that pain rather than dusting ourselves off and pretending we’re okay. It’s tempting to keep pretending sometimes, because we think it won’t make a difference in the long run, but the opposite is usually true. When we bottle up our emotions, then tend to come back when it’s least convenient.
Questions for further introspection:
(Either journal, pull some cards for yourself, or purchase a Tarot Thursday Reading from my shop and let me pull some cards for you.) 1. What big feelings am I avoiding?
2. How will confronting those emotions help me now?
3. How will acknowledging what I’ve been avoiding help me face my future with intention?
Let me just start by saying that this book is downright fun. It takes place in a theme park. The heroine plays a princess and the hero is as close to a prince as it might be possible for him to get.
One of my favorite things about R.S. Grey’s work is that she isn’t afraid to write awkward heroine’s, but not in a clumsy-for-no-reason Bella Swan sort of way. They are bodily so ultra-self aware that they can’t help making a spectacle of themselves, and Whitney is no different. She flies through the story, trying to outrun her responsibilty for her own life by focusing on everything outside herself until confronting her relationship with Derek also brings her face to face with what she’s been avoiding. It was a joy to watch her grow and fall in love.
His Royal Highness is available on Amazon and Kindle Unlimited.
Wow! It’s been a hot minute, hasn’t it? Life has a way of getting so busy and overwhelming sometimes that it can be difficult to get to do the things you love with any regularity. I decided it was high time to re-prioritize my passions, though, and I’m happy to announce my new Etsy store, Thistle & Sprout.
I’ve been adding hand-dyed sock yarns along with wool felt poinsettia pins for the holidays. As I can, I’ll be adding other yarn weights along with fleeces from the backs of my small flock (maybe even some other little fibery fun!).
Im thrilled to be back on the fiber wagon and to share this journey with you all!
I will be the first to admit that I am not generally a huge fan of Christmas books. I don’t mean to come off as a Scrooge, but I totally am one, so why deny it. Christmas romances, in my experience, tend to be Christmas books with a dose of romance. Maybe this Christmas, however, is a fantastic romance that just happens to take place over several Christmases.
The second I started reading, I was hooked on these characters and their journey from the first page and devoured most of it in one sitting. Well–I read it in the dark while my husband slept. Thankfully, it is a novella and I only stayed up kind of too late instead of waaaay too late. And the book still had all the great things I’ve come to except from Nix’s work: smart characters, fantastic dialog, and a love story worth rooting for.
Maybe This Christmas is on sale today, and it is totally worth the $.99!
Two best friends. Ten Christmases. One happy ending.
When best friends Alexandra and Lucas share a first kiss on Christmas night their senior year of high school, it feels like the best years of their lives are ahead of them.
Then Alex goes off to college, and Lucas stays behind to work at his dad’s construction business in the small beach town where they grew up. Life, as they say, happens. And somewhere along the way these two high school sweethearts find they don’t have as much in common as they once did.
Lucas’s life is on Beaufort Island, and Alex is all about getting away and moving on. So he makes one of the hardest decisions of his life and lets her go.
But every year when Alex comes home for the holidays, fate conspires to reunite the two former lovebirds on Christmas Day. Year after year, through good times and bad, Lucas and Alex meet up, catch up, and reconnect on the anniversary of their first kiss.
Is it too much to hope that one year they’ll find their way back to each other permanently?
Read & Write is the third book in the Try Again series. It is an interconnected stand alone, so if you haven’t read Ethan & Juliet or Sparkle & Shine, never fear. You can dive right in to Colleen’s story on October 29th. Here’s your exclusive first look at Chapter One!
Colleen parked in the
farthest space from the entrance out of habit. That she needed to walk the
extra steps into the grocery store was ingrained. It was only one of the many habits
her mother had expected of her since childhood. The rest she imparted as
helpful text messages like an unwanted fitness app. Park as far back as you
can. Always take the stairs. Take walks on your lunch break. Always leave food
on your plate. Drink more water. Eat more vegetables than anything else. Save
sugar for special occasions.
Her mother lived by those rules. Colleen did not. That Colleen
neither kept a journal where she tracked her food intake, nor cared if her
calories burned measured more than her calories consumed had always a point of
contention between her and her mother. She’d always told Colleen that it was a
woman’s job to be conscious of her figure. A woman’s appearance affected her
place in the world. For that reason, her mother had always been quick to pick
at Colleen’s eating habits at family barbecues and church picnics. She would
criticize the food on Colleen’s plate no matter who was listening while Juliet,
Colleen’s naturally thin older sister, was allowed to eat as many pieces of pie
as she liked.
Colleen had always been on the round side of thin growing up and
had only recently crossed over into being plus-sized. A person could only
juggle so much and when she felt like her entire life had been falling apart, a
few pounds had seemed the least of her worries.
Now that she was back in Goodland though? It had been the only
thing her mother had talked about. In truth, the first few days it had almost been
a relief. She could compare step counts and food journals with her mother
instead of discussing exactly why her youngest daughter had given up her
apartment in Denver and was living in the studio above the garage.
It was only a stalling tactic. Colleen knew that. Because even if
being thin was one of her mother’s measuring sticks, it wasn’t one of Colleen’s.
No, what made Colleen feel like as failure as she tripped out of
her boat of an old Buick and into the blustery Walmart parking lot was that
she’d been asked to resign from her underwhelming day job and just flat out
fired from her “just for fun but I really need the extra money ha ha,” barista
gig. Which was bullshit. She had not been rude to that guy. She’d called him
out on staring at her boobs, which she considered harassment. But when had
anybody ever taken the woman’s side in a harassment case? Easier just to fire
her and not deal with it.
Luckily, the people at Holy Grounds, the coffee shop where Colleen
worked now, thought Colleen moving back home to Kansas from Denver showed good
sense. Which was good for, because without the tips she’d made this last week,
she wouldn’t be able to afford this trip to the grocery store.
Just like she hadn’t been able to afford much of anything since
Derek had moved out last year. Colleen shoved any thoughts of her ex out of her
mind. She didn’t have the energy to waste on him right now.
So, here Colleen was, at twenty-six, kind of, almost, not really
living with her parents and working as a barista–again. She’d left her
umbrella in a half-unpacked box by the door, so she was also getting slowly
soaked by the cold, misty October rain. Colleen pulled her denim jacket tighter
around her waist and jogged as fast as her heeled booties would let her run.
The lights were too bright, like noon in July compared to the dank
bluish gray cold outside. Colleen had to blink as she spun in a circle,
gathering her bearings in the massive store. She hadn’t been in a Walmart since
she’d come home last Christmas.
Colleen had expected to be stopped by every person she met and
interrogated about how her life was and what she was up to and how magical
Juliet’s wedding had been, and how were the bride and groom? Any babies on the
horizon? How perfect was it that their little hometown midwife had found a baby
doctor of her own? They were going to be so happy, and when was Colleen going
to settle down?
She’d been through the same conversations six times a day at the
coffee shop since she’d been back, but Walmart was different. It was big,
sterile, anonymous. She could have been at any Walmart anywhere in the world.
She didn’t even recognize the elderly greeter by the door who pointed her in
the direction of the shopping cart bay.
As much as Colleen was appalled by the idea of Walmart being the
only real grocery store in town anymore, she was thankful to be someplace where
she could be alone. She didn’t want anyone to remind her about her perfect
sister and her sister’s perfect husband and her sister’s perfect house in the
mountains and the baby Juliet was going to have in the spring. Colleen didn’t
want to be reminded that no matter what Juliet did, she succeeded and no matter
what Colleen did, she failed.
She picked out some new kitchen towels and roamed the aisles for
the ground turkey. She paused in front of the vanilla Oreos, her hand almost
grasping the yellow package before her mother’s voice rang in her head, citing
again how much weight Colleen had put on recently. She forced her back straight
and her chin up. She didn’t need her mother’s voice, and she didn’t need the
damn cookies either. She might be home with her tail between her legs, but she
had a plan damnit, and that started by not spending money on extras.
Saying no felt good. And hey, Katy Perry was playing on the store
radio. Colleen bopped along to Katy’s encouragement to be a firework as she
turned into the spice aisle. She had brought all the kitchen essentials with
her from Denver when she’d moved but had tossed most of her spices. She hadn’t
cooked often even though she’d had a gorgeous kitchen with a stainless-steel
range and long, granite countertops. She hadn’t had time. She’d spent all her
time at work to be able to afford the gorgeous kitchen that she didn’t have
time to cook in. Takeout had been so good and so varied in Denver, it hadn’t
But in Goodland? The choices were pizza, fried chicken, fast food
burgers or the all you can eat buffet. There was the one Chinese place, but
Colleen hadn’t eaten there since the summer after her senior year, and she
still couldn’t think about that night without her stomach rolling, so cooking
At ten o’clock on a Tuesday morning, Colleen was the only person
in the aisle. She was debating whether she should buy the Walmart brand curry
spice blend or the name brand kind when she caught a movement out of the corner
of her eye. Colleen glanced over her shoulder to see a man and his young son.
But then she did a double take.
A man bun? She hadn’t seen a man bun yet. It was so common in
Denver, she never would have noticed, but in this sleepy Kansas hamlet, this
Norse god had her full attention. He was tall with strawberry blonde hair
pulled back in an artfully messy bun. He’d complemented that with a sculpted
beard just a touch redder than his hair. Broad shoulders and a muscled torso
pulled his black t-shirt tight across his chest. The predictable logo printed
over his impressive pecs read Wright’s Gym. Of course he wore a gym
logo. Nobody got a body like that without considerable time lifting
ridiculously heavy things.
Yup, it was like someone had walked into her mind and pulled out
all her favorite attributes then molded them into one gorgeous package. Colleen
checked that she wasn’t drooling and tried to turn her attention back to her
spice purchases. She’d go for the expensive curry blend. If she was going to
eat butternut squash, she was at least going to do her best to pretend that it
was takeout from her favorite curry shop back home.
The Norse god and his heir stopped in front of the powdered sugar.
According to her eavesdropping, they were making a cake for Grandma, which made
Colleen’s ovaries jingle to life. She felt herself edging closer despite her
resolve to stay away from anything that gave her mother more cause to complain.
Father and son were going to make the frosting from scratch and were debating
whether they needed one bag of sugar or two. Colleen wanted to swoop in and
give them the best cake baking advice they’d ever heard and then be invited
over to help them bake said cake and . . . possibly other things once the kid
was in bed, but alas, Colleen had never baked a cake. She wished she had,
because this man obviously hadn’t touched sugar in years, and he was likely
more clueless about baking than she was. She at least could make cookies.
She dumped the rest of the spices she needed into her cart, then
made her way down the aisle. She paused just on the god’s left to grab a bottle
of the vanilla stevia that had to be beyond reproach. And would you look at
that? No wedding ring. She offered the man a small, sweet, but apologetic smile
for invading his space. He nodded at her, then stopped, cocked his head to the
side as something like recognition lit in his eyes. He finished his nod and
turned back to his son as Colleen navigated her cart away.
“Let’s get two bags just in case,” he said, and Colleen booked it
into the next aisle. That little kernel of recognition had shaken her, and her
heart pounded in her chest. Colleen would have remembered if she’d encountered
that level of physical perfection before, wouldn’t she? There was really only
one person she could think of. One voice with that particular timbre, one man
with hair that color, and that height. With a child that age. But she wouldn’t
let herself believe it.
Colleen leaned against a support pole in the coffee aisle, fanning
herself as she tried to convince herself who he wasn’t. The most damning evidence
was his shirt, because he almost had to be one of the Wrights by stature alone.
Colton and Court had gone to school with Colleen and Juliet, and they had been
tall and thin as telephone poles back then. The Colton Colleen remembered had
been boring and obsessed with Juliet. She had always found Courtney more
interesting, cute even–before he’d turned out to be a total bastard. But both
brothers had moved away for college and never come back, and Wright’s Gym was
one of those big franchises wasn’t it?
No, it couldn’t be that Wright.
Maybe he’d thought she was someone else. She was fifty pounds
heavier than she’d been high school and had way better fashion sense now.
Colleen looked down at her skinny jeans and brown suede booties.
She’d paired them with a sage green tunic that matched her eyes. Because of the
rain, she’d worn her denim jacket with the gray triangular scarf Juliet had
given her for Christmas last year. She looked fucking amazing–if she didn’t
think too hard about those fifty extra pounds. Colleen knew she’d thought about
them a lot less before she’d moved home, and her mother hadn’t stopped
reminding her about them on a thrice daily basis.
It was part of the reason that she was here grocery shopping
instead of at home putting the finishing touches on her freelance website.
Because if Colleen had to share one more meal with her mother as she made
passive aggressive comments about the amount and type of food she ate, Colleen
might commit matricide. And she liked her mother–sort of. She didn’t really
want to kill her, but one more comment about butter or white potatoes, Colleen
was likely to lob her butter knife right into her mother’s forehead. She was
pretty sure she’d be found not guilty by reason of grave provocation, but still,
Colleen didn’t want to be sad unemployed chick who’d killed her mother. Nobody
would ever hire her to be their social media manager.
Colleen needed work that wasn’t coffee shop work. Colleen refused
to be the aging barista who still lived with her parents. That wasn’t an
option. Even the apartment over the carriage house was a temporary arrangement.
Colleen had given herself six months to get her freelance business off the
ground and then she was hoofing it back to Denver just in time for the snow to
melt and enjoy the sunshine through her balcony window.
Colleen grabbed a box of organic green tea and smiled as she
pictured herself tapping away at her laptop, sipping the tea and looking out
the window to see Pikes Peak in the distance, and then writing the best fucking
sentence of her life. Of course, in the fantasy Colleen was writing fiction and
not web copy, but she couldn’t be too picky about that. No one was going to pay
her to write the romance novels she only touched in the dead of night. Everyone
needed a social media manager these days.
Ooo. That was a good niche market to target though. Romance
authors would probably rather spend more time writing and less time marketing,
she could think of two different promotional packages she could offer off the
top of her head, and a good brainstorming session could churn out something for
everyone at any price point.
Colleen dug out her phone and started tapping out notes before she
forgot. See, she was fantastic at this marketing and promotions shit. She just
needed to work for cool people who liked the word, “Fuck.” Turned out the History
Colorado, where she’d tried to be conservative and educational for three years
hadn’t been much of a fan of the hip, edgy perspective that had got her hired
in the first place.
Whatever. She was gonna rock as an indie.
Colleen had just dropped her phone back in her purse when the
Norse god and his dark-haired son passed her aisle. The little boy, who had to
be seven or eight, pointed down the aisle. “Didn’t gramma say we were out of
One huge, rugged hand steered the boy toward the next aisle over.
“Not that crap. I’ll stop by Holy Grounds on the way home from work tonight and
grab some of the good stuff.”
Colleen’s heart almost stopped. She didn’t hear whether the kid
also had an opinion on coffee. She was too busy thinking about how she worked
tonight, and how she would be able to convince Thor to meet her in the supply
closet for some moka java and a quick grope.
Unless he was who she thought he was, in which case the only
option was a swift kick in the shins, and by shins, she meant balls.
And if it wasn’t him, he probably wasn’t interested in her anyway.
She looked down at herself again, noticing the tummy pooch and wide hips. Not
for the first time, jealousy over her sister’s naturally lithe, lean yoga
instructor’s build swept over her. The Norse god probably only went for women
like Juliet. Thin. Beautiful. Perfect.
Whatever. Colleen didn’t need him. Didn’t want him. What did she
need a god for? She didn’t. Especially not one with a kid. She was so not
mother material. That was one thing Colleen would cede to her sister. Juliet
could have all the babies. Colleen’s one run in with pregnancy had been more
than enough for her. No thank you. Never again.
Sexy Man Bun–who definitely wasn’t Courtney Wright, aka the man
who’d broken her heart at eighteen–hadn’t come into Holy Grounds that evening.
Not that she had been looking for him or anything. Because she totally hadn’t
been. Colleen had been too busy being interrogated by Ms. Wrathbone, the
elderly woman who had been her Sunday School teacher up through sixth grade,
and who was so desperately curious to know about Colleen’s life in Denver that
she stood right beside the register while she stirred extra cocoa into her hot
chocolate and smacked her scone.
“Big city wasn’t all it was cracked up to be then, huh?” had been
her opening line.
Colleen had shrugged and attempted the same vague answer she’d
given to most people who’d asked her about why she was back so far: “Denver was
fun, but it was time for a change.” Most Goodland natives had taken that to
mean that it was time for her to come home to where she belonged, but Ms.
Wrathbone just kept on spitting scone and yammering while Colleen counted out
“Big cities aren’t for soft girls. You have to be sharp to make it
Colleen did her best to ignore the insult, not sure if she’d just
been called fat, or stupid, or both. The old Colleen would have said something
smart and cutting, but today, Colleen didn’t have the energy.
Vi, the only other coworker she had that wasn’t eighteen, plunked
a latte on the counter next to Colleen. “And what do you know about big cities
Ms. W. You’re still living in the house you were born in.”
“My Hal was from the city.”
Colleen frowned, and she felt a little bit of her old self perk up
as she remembered that Ms. Wrathbone’s long dead husband had gone to school
with her grandfather. Her parents were from a town in west central Kansas that
seemed big compared to Goodland, but still only had a population of around
20,000. “Well, I understand Hays was rough back in your day, what with all the
gunslingers and the cattle rustlers and the brothels, but there’s plenty of
space for savvy curvy girls to make their way outside prostitution these days.”
Ms. Wrathbone’s jaw gaped for a moment, showing the attractive
sight of her partially chewed blueberry scone. “Well, I never,” she said, as Vi
edged Colleen off the register with a bump of her hip.
Colleen took up her position at the espresso machine, thankful for
the save, though Ms. Wrathbone remained undeterred. She stood by the register,
talking over the line of customers looking for an afternoon pick-me-up talking
about the last girl she knew who came home from the big city. She’d been pregnant
and penniless because she’d been living as a kept woman and her sugar daddy had
left her for somebody else. She’d actually said, “Sugar daddy.”
“You can’t trust men from the big city. They’re vain and fickle as
a feather,” Colleen heard her say over the grinder. And she rolled her eyes at
Vi, but her heart panged in her chest. Colleen hadn’t been a kept woman. She’d
worked hard to pay her half of the apartment she’d shared with Derek. But he
had been fickle, and her being destitute and depressed had been a direct result
of him moving out to date a younger, thinner blonde than Colleen. He hadn’t
gotten her pregnant though, so at least Colleen had that point in her favor.
She was still working on forgiving herself for trusting him, and
it was made even harder by the fact that he’d somehow gotten wind of her
moving. He’d been texting her three times a day for the last week.
Eighty percent of Colleen knew that he was only reaching out
because Younger and Blonder had dumped him, but the other twenty percent still
stupidly missed him and the fun they’d had together. That had been their
pattern for years. How many times had Colleen let him back into her bed? She’d
called it a convenient arrangement with her best friend because it made her
sound less pathetic, but really it had been Colleen taking whatever scraps of
affection Derek spared her. Now she knew better.
“I suppose you know that from experience?” Colleen said, just
loudly enough for Ms. Wrathbone to hear over the phlegmy sound of steaming
milk. Colleen actually hadn’t known anything about Ms. Wrathbone’s personal
life, but the way the woman stuck her nose in the air and turned on her heel,
leaving her scone wrapper abandoned on the counter suggested that Colleen had
struck a little too close to home.
When the cranky old woman had disappeared out the front door, Vi
high-fived Colleen. “Score one for us, City Girl.”
Colleen liked Vi a lot, even though she hadn’t expected to make
any friends in town. All her high school friends had either moved away or were
busy being married and pregnant with their second or third kid. And really,
Colleen had been kind of a loaner in high school. She’d worked with her dad,
did her best to fit in at youth group, but spent most of her time hiding behind
books so nobody noticed how much she didn’t fit in at all.
It hadn’t been until that summer after her senior year that
Colleen had really felt seen by anyone. When it had been Courtney Wright how
had seen her.
“The girls and I are heading out to Taylor’s tonight around ten.
You should join.”
Taylor’s was a country music club in Colby where everyone went
line dancing. It had been the place to sneak into in high school, since it was
eighteen and over. Colleen had only been once, and it had been awkward and
lonely. She’d grown up listening to country music, since that’s what her
parents listened to, but she’d been more into Pulp and The Killers. Anything
intense and glittery.
And besides, Taylor’s had been a fifteen-dollar cover when she was
sixteen. It only had to have gone up since then. If she couldn’t afford a three-dollar
package of vanilla Oreos, she definitely couldn’t afford a night out with
“Maybe in a few weeks,” Colleen said.
Vi gave her a sympathetic look, but only said, “I’ll hold you to
Vi was only a year younger than Colleen but working her way
through school part-time. She still hung out with the newly-of-age drinkers.
Colleen could drink. She was able to knock back whiskey with the best of them.
When she was in a mood, she ordered top shelf bourbon neat and drank the man
who had put her in that mood–usually Derek–right under the table.
Just another reason Derek had never been good for her.
“I know you will.” And really, Colleen wouldn’t mind going out,
even if it was country music. She preferred writing until the dead of night
then collapsing into bed with her head so full of her characters that she
dreamed of them, but she wasn’t beyond needing a girl’s night every now and
She’d been working so much her last few months in Denver that she
hadn’t hung out with any of her friends. And that was the kicker about break
ups, all the friends ended up choosing sides, and all hers had chosen Derek.
Since heroes in romance novels were always better than men in real
life, Colleen asked. “Did you read that book yet?”
“Holy shit,” Vi said, and Colleen’s face broke out into a devious
smile. She loved this part of getting friends hooked on romances. She’d loaned
Vi one of her favorite slow burns a couple of days ago.
“You finished it didn’t you?”
“I stayed up until midnight reading, before I got to my psych
homework. The textbook wasn’t nearly as exciting.”
“I have the next book, if you’re interested.”
“No. Yes. Well. I need to study for my test on Friday. But after
“Absolutely.” Colleen and Vi high fived. The satisfaction of getting
someone hooked on reading carried her through the rest of her shift.
She was mopping the floor after close when a jolt of satisfaction
stopped her mid-wring. If she went with her idea of promoting indie romance
novels, she’d be doing one of her favorite things: introducing readers to books
Colleen smiled to herself. She’d finally found her niche.
I was lucky enough to receive an Advance Reader Copy of this book, and I am so excited to tell you about it. Between The Bride Test and this book, I was in such a reading slump. I just couldn’t get into anything. I read books, but almost everything I picked had at least one part where the prose was thick as knotted tall grass, and it was like the author (and the editors) didn’t realize how much it was slowing down the action. I don’t mind high knees when I’m working out, while I’m reading, I want it to be easy as strolling through a park on a warm spring day.
I was not disappointed at all.
I’ve ready Nix’s other books. She’s one of my favorite indie authors, and this book did not fail to deliver. The chemistry between Adam and Olivia is off the charts. Their connection is so genuine that I wasn’t even disappointed when all the naughty stuff happened behind closed doors–and I usually prefer my books steamy. Nix finds just the right mix of heat and momentum. The reader is carried right along with Olivia and Adam on their journey to accepting one another without skirting around their physical desire for one another. It’s a beautiful balance.
A business trip with the office hottie turns into the road trip from hell.
Adam Cortinas may be gorgeous, but he’s made it clear he can’t stand Olivia—and the feeling is one hundred percent mutual. Too bad, because in order to bring the company’s new power plant online, they’re stuck with each other for the next week. When their travel plans go horribly awry, Olivia finds herself stranded in the middle of nowhere with Adam, AKA the bane of her existence.
He’s in her space and in her head. All the forced proximity is driving Olivia insane.
That’s the only explanation for these FEELINGS she’s suddenly having. But it doesn’t change anything. They still hate each other.
Applied Electromagnetism is the fourth full-length novel in a series of standalone rom-coms about women in STEM, and the follow-up to 2019 RITA Award Finalist Advanced Physical Chemistry. Each book in the series features a new couple with their own HEA and can be read in any order.
Part of why I loved The Bride Test was that both Khai and Esme are engaging, beautifully wrought characters from start to finish. Esme is tenacious and as tortured as she is determined. Khai is as charming and endearing as he is maddening in his lack of self-awareness. The characterization rolled itself into a gorgeous roller coaster of a love story that had me buckling up for the next big hill.
But that’s not what I love about the book.
No, the part that has be raving is how the story played the two characters perceptions off one another throughout.
Esme is navigating life in a new country. She is trying to create a new life for herself while juggling her budding relationship with Khai. While Khai’s self-limiting ideas always leave him feeling a step-behind. Esme imagines Khai working in a closet, because his house doesn’t reflect the way she imagines someone who works on the top floor of a high rise looks like, while Khai tells himself he’s addicted rather than in love.
But the ultimate, best part of the book is that Esme shows up in California, not knowing what Autism is. When Khai tells her he’s autistic, she listen to Khai in a way that no one but Quan does, because she has no misconceptions of what autistic is. She sees Khai first, which is what creates space for the two to fall in love.
If you’ve been following me on Instagram, you’ll know that we’ve been in the process of moving, basically since Sparkle & Shine came out six weeks ago.
And we’re not done yet.
It’s a very long story, but suffice it to say that the house that will someday be our forever home isn’t ready for us yet. BUT, we have finally moved out of our other house. We’re crashing with family for awhile, but it’s all movement toward the goal, which is a house in the country with the boys.
We lived in the house we moved into for more than five years. I was pregnant with Felix at the time. He was born in that house. I wrote all of my books in that house. It was the only place Felix and Rufus had ever lived.
And it was time to move on.
I had thought I would be sad to leave the place that had seen so much of our lives unfold, but honestly? I was just ready to move out. The work of moving, destashing, and cleaning had eclipsed everything else I had going on–which, admittedly, was a lot–so that I felt constantly overwhelmed and like I would never catch up.
Don’t get me wrong, there is still even more work to do out at The Farm, and I’m sure going through all of the boxes and finding places for everything (even if that place is the donation bin) will probably still consume most of my waking moments, at least my efforts will mostly be focused on settling in and making space rather than feeling like the suffocation of a narrow escape.
The house wasn’t the right place for us anymore.
It’s only two days later and Brock and I have already talked about what a relief it is to be out.
Now it’s time to settle into new routines–with the kids for summer–with work–with writing–with settling in to the next phase of the move.
There’s still so much left to do, but it’s in laying the foundation for the rest of our lives.
You can finally read the second installment of the Try Again Series. I poured so much of me into this book, and I can’t wait to find out whether you still hate Rich, or if you’ve fallen just a little bit in love with him too.