Spotlight - Music and Letters Series Boxset Special Edition by Lynsey M. Stewart

Title: Music and Letters Series Boxset Special Edition

Author: Lynsey M. Stewart

Release Date: 5th January 2021

#FREE with Kindle Unlimited here ➡️ getbook.at/musicandlettersboxset 

𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞-𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬?

✔️4 FULL length novels, Bonus Content and a BRAND NEW NOVELLA, Let Me Be Your Baby.

✔️ All your fave tropes. Office Romance, Virgin, Friends to Lovers, Opposites Attract, Soul Mate and Fate and Second Chance.

✔️ Featuring a sensitive beta male, a dirty talking social worker, A tattooed sex god AND a teacher with a talent for making a woman feel good.

‘𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘔𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘤 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘓𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘮𝘢𝘻𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘪𝘧 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵. 𝘌𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘢 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘲𝘶𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘦, 𝘢 𝘴𝘸𝘰𝘰𝘯-𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘩𝘺 𝘏𝘦𝘳𝘰, 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘹𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘨𝘺, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘢 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘱 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘰𝘳, 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴.’

Let Me Be Your First

Elle Davis is a hopeless romantic and epic daydreamer, who’s always dreamed of love at first sight. But in her mission to find Mr. Right, Elle stumbles across Mr. Wrong…followed by Mr Too-Good-To-Be-True. 

And there’s another problem—she’s still a virgin.

What’s a girl to do when she finally has the option of taking that next step? How about finding a happily ever after… even if it means accepting the consequences of past choices?

Is Elle willing to save someone from their path of self-destruction, or end another’s search for their fairy tale? And will she break someone’s heart in the process, even if it’s her own?

Dating really shouldn’t be this complicated.

Let Me Be Your Hope

Abi Sinclair is a determined social worker and committed party girl. But underneath the bravado and empty one-night stands, she’s hiding a broken heart… 

Jamie Dawson is Abi’s lost love, the only man who’s ever made her feel alive. When he left two years ago to take care of his terminally ill mother, they agreed to communicate only by letter, both believing their love was meant to be. 

Suddenly, Jamie is back, and he’s Abi’s new manager. Only, he’s a different man—too different. 

Desperate for answers, Abi must decide: is the love she and Jamie shared worth the risk of permanent heartbreak? Or can they recover what they lost all those years ago?

Let Me Be Your Truth

Kate Roper has it all figured out—a successful career as a social worker, friends who love her, and a perfectly sensible, but boring, boyfriend. Then she meets Danny, a tortured artist with a troubled past. He’s everything Kate shouldn’t want, but Danny’s sexual confidence intrigues her, his tattoos enthrall her, and she craves all he has to offer.

Art therapy sessions have saved Danny from his tormented past. But when Kate shows up with her positivity, paintbrushes, and flirty skirts, Danny can’t seem to escape the grim reminders of when he was left to bury the past under his addictions. 

Danny doesn’t do romance. 

He does sex. 

Amazing sex. 

He can teach Kate the art of orgasms so this Miss Goody Two-Shoes learns the difference between monotonous and mind-blowing. And as their relationship intensifies, their pasts collide. They soon find they have more in common than they first thought, but can Kate and Danny find their truths in each other?

Let Me Be Your Last

Gem Brown had it all. A successful husband, two gorgeous boys, and a life mapped out. 

Until the day she found her husband teetering on the edge of ecstasy, his mistress on her knees before him. The betrayal provided her with…clarity. She would never trust a man again. 

Now, four years later, through the strength of friendship and love of her kids, Gem feels ready to start taking chances.

Enter Josh. He’s a match made in heaven—or maybe it was Loveisintheair.com? Epic dates, swoon-worthy grand gestures, and a promise of happiness threaten her ‘men suck’ mantra. 

But is Gem ready to fall in love again? Will she test the theory that high levels of sexual tension often lead to earth-shattering sex? Can Josh help her heal old wounds, or will ghosts of the past fail to let her go? 

Plus, a BRAND NEW novella, Let Me Be Your Baby.

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Spotlight: Frosting Her Christmas Cookies by Alina Jacobs

Publication date: November 17th 2020
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Holiday, Romance

Dear Santa, I do not want a Frost brother for Christmas.

In fact I do not want anything for Christmas—no annoying Christmas carols, no holiday family drama, and no last-minute presents.

And I certainly don’t want to be a bachelorette in The Great Christmas Bake-Off. Yes in the spirit of holiday commercialism, the bake-off is also a date-off and Jonathan Frost is the prize.

I should be hiding away with wine and snacks while waiting for Christmas to end. Instead I’m wearing a reindeer mascot costume and pretending I’m oh-so-excited to meet New York City’s most eligible billionaire bachelor!!! Just look at those blue eyes and six-foot-five tall frame!!! Don’t you want to take him home for the holidays?!?!!

Barf.

Unlike the other bachelorettes, I refused to debase myself and stroke some billionaire’s ego.

Instead, I threw a candy-cane dildo at his stupidly handsome face.

Then I laughed when he yelled at me.

Of course Jonathan couldn’t take the hint. He came around offering to put a little frosting on my Christmas cookies.

I attempted to shank him with a spatula.

He got offended and said that as a judge on The Great Christmas Bake-Off, he was just trying to help.

Sure…

Not that I’m looking for holiday romance. 

Christmas is already a stressful time of the year without adding a billionaire in the mix.

Between dodging bake-off sabotaging cousins, applying for a long-shot prestigious museum internship, and trying to survive being broke in Manhattan, I’m up to my black lipstick in my own special nightmare before Christmas.

And it’s making me wound tighter than a nutcracker.

So when Jonathan offers to put some frosting on my cookies—and a few other ornament shaped parts—his washboard abs and sexy smirk start to seem like the perfect stress relief.

Especially when he offers himself all wrapped up in a bow.

So no, dear Santa, I do not want Jonathan Frost, but I won’t say no to his Christmas package!

Frosting Her Christmas Cookies is a standalone holiday romantic comedy. If you love Christmas baking, hilarious holiday hijinks, and a big thick Christmas stocking, then pick up this full-length, steamy romance novel! There are no cliffhangers but there is a very merry (Christmas!) ever after!

Excerpt

“Drinking alone?”

I stiffened. “I need it after dealing with you,” I said to Jonathan.

“I can’t have you in here ruining the atmosphere,” he said, spinning the barstool around to have me face him. “You’re like roadkill that dragged herself in here.”

“Ah yes, because a billionaire with delusions of adequacy is someone whose opinion I care about,” I shot back.

“I am way more than adequate,” he said, striking a pose. The glow from the expensive fixtures highlighted the slight bruise on his perfect face.

I smirked slightly.

“Like something you see?” Jonathan asked.

“Just that dildo-shaped bruise on your face,” I replied, sipping my drink. “Your company has our first meeting all over its feed. Better than the basic images you have up there now. At least people can laugh at the spit flying out of your mouth when you ran into my candy cane instead of dying from boredom at those images you’re posting.”

“You’re just jealous,” Jonathan retorted, eyes narrowing as he leaned over me. “I have one of the best marketing firms in the city working on my social media push.”

“Guess you can’t buy good taste,” I said, draining my drink.

“Says the woman wearing a reindeer costume,” Jonathan shot back. He reached out and hooked two fingers right at the neckline of the costume, pulling me forward slightly. “At first I thought you were wearing it under duress, but you’re still parading around in it. Like you said, you can’t buy taste.”

“Oh my god! Don’t touch my sister, creep!”

Now Lilith shows up.

Our friend Emma was hovering behind her.

Jonathan jerked his hand back then looked between Lilith and me wildly.

“Holy shit. Of course you’re creepy identical twins.” 

Lilith and I glared in unison—or tried to. Lilith was dressed in her standard gothic garb, while I was bedecked for Christmas.

Jonathan turned on his heel to leave then looked over his shoulder at me. “I’d tell you good luck on the competition, but after your little stunt, everyone is going to put you in last place.”

Buy on Amazon

About the Author

If you like steamy romantic comedies with a creative streak, then I'm your girl!

Architect by day, writer by night, I love matcha green tea, chocolate, and books! So many books...

Sign up for my mailing list to get the free novella, AFTER HIS PEONIES, along with special bonus content, giveaways, and more!
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Spotlight: It’s Raining Men by Rich Amooi

Publication date: November 8th 2020
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Romance

On a dare, Faith Daniels tosses a coin into the infamous “Fountain of Love” and wishes for the perfect man, laughing it off as the dumbest thing she’s ever done. Like magic, her quiet life turns upside-down when men begin to appear out of nowhere. There’s a doctor, a lawyer, a firefighter, and a swimwear model, for starters. All of them are kind, generous, successful, and drop-dead gorgeous. All of them are interested in Faith. But who is Mr. Right?

A feel-good romance novel about love, friendship, and living life to the fullest!

Buy on Amazon

About the Author

Rich Amooi is a Taleflick Discovery Winner, Readers' Favorite Gold Medal Recipient, Holt Medallion Finalist, and the Amazon Bestselling author of 15 romantic comedies, including It's Not PMS, It's You, Dying to Meet You, There's Something About a Cowboy, and Madam Love, Actually. Over 500,000 downloads from readers around the world.

A former radio personality and wedding DJ, Rich now writes romantic comedies full-time in San Diego, California, and is happily married to a kiss monster imported from Spain. Rich believes in public displays of affection, silliness, infinite possibilities, donuts, gratitude, laughter, and happily ever after.

Connect:

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https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7077073.Rich_Amooi

Spotlight: When the Wind Chimes by Mary Ting

Published by: Rosewind Books
Publication date: November 17th 2020
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

SOMETIMES ANGELS COME IN HUMAN FORM.

Kaitlyn Summers is heartbroken.

When she receives an invitation to spend Christmas with her family on the Hawaiian island of Kauai, she feels it may be the perfect medicine.

She throws herself into helping her sister’s struggling art gallery, even taking a temporary job for extra money by looking after a little girl from her nephew’s school. She also begins to paint again, something she’s been unable to do since her breakup. It’s tempting to stay on Kauai, but she has obligations back in Los Angeles.

Life gets more complicated when circumstances keep putting her close to Leonardo Medici. Not only is he drop-dead gorgeous, he’s a local celebrity. But Kaitlyn can’t shake the feeling he’s hiding something.

Should she believe the rumors that he’s romancing half the island’s single women?

Or is the random sound of wind chimes when he’s close-by a sign that an angel is near and the secret to her happily ever after?

Excerpt

I let my eyes roam about his face, memorizing the details—my artist’s habit, or so I told myself. I wanted to run my fingers along his dark brooding eyebrows, down his perfect nose, curve around his high cheekbones, and caress those kissable lips. I had the urge to create a sculpture of this perfect Mr. Medici. This flawless being that looked and stood like a Greek god. 

His impressive physique made me imagine him as Zeus, or perhaps Poseidon, who had walked straight out of a romantic fantasy novel, with a taste for mortal women.

I really needed to stop reading those books.

I took a step back, composing myself with the little dignity I had left. “Mr. Medici, how may I help you?”

He stood silent, just examining me. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he broke away.

“I think you did enough,” he said and pivoted sharply, his dress shoes tapping against the tile.

I shook my head in disbelief as I watched him strut out the door. I was the unicorn and he was the skeleton. He’d just eaten me alive, taken all my glitter power and magic with him. I didn’t know why I cared.

Oh, yes I do. He might be one of Abby’s biggest customers. This could cost her.

“Mr. Medici. Wait.” I burst out and sprinted after him.

Buy on Amazon

About the Author

International Bestselling, Award-Winning Author Mary Ting writes soulful, spellbinding stories that excite the imagination and captivate readers all over the world. Her books run a wide range of genres: science fiction, fantasy, and swoon worthy stories. Her storytelling talents have won her a devoted legion of fans and garnered critical praise.

Mary was born in Seoul Korea and resides in Southern California with her husband, two children, and two dogs—Mochi and Mocha. She enjoys oil painting and making jewelry. Becoming an author was a way to grieve the death of her beloved grandmother. After realizing she wanted to become a full-time author, she retired from teaching after twenty years.

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Spotlight - The Start of Someday by Jillian Liota

ABBY FULLER wants to have a little fun. Sure, she wants a relationship… someday. But for now, a little heat is exactly what the cold weather calls for. Breaking her own rules, she tumbles into bed with a handsome tourist passing through town…only to find him standing in her living room the following day.

JACKSON PAGE is only in town for business. He isn’t expecting a sexy little something with the woman who hits on him at the bar, and he definitely isn’t expecting her to be the younger sister of the friend he’s visiting. Clearly, nothing more can happen between them…no matter how good they are together.

But stolen moments and the magic of the holidays make it seemingly impossible for Abby and Jackson to ignore one very real truth: maybe their one night together could be the start of something more.

A steamy holiday novella set in the Cedar Point series.

Excerpt

“I bet you could bounce a quarter off that ass.”

A snort from my left has me turning to look at my best friend, and I can’t help but grin at the look of complete exasperation on her face.

“What?” I ask, trying to appear as innocent as possible. “It’s true. You know it is.” Then I return my gaze to the absolutely fantabulous buns that caught my eye in the first place. “I mean…just look at it.”

“Thanks, but I’ll pass.”

Rolling my eyes at Briar’s inability to play with me about this, I continue my attempts at persuasion. “Oh, come on. Having your own boyfriend doesn’t mean you can’t objectively objectify someone else. You’re dating, not blind,” I say, nudging her obnoxiously with my elbow.

Briar narrows her eyes and lets out a long sigh, then finally shoots a quick glance in the direction I’ve been blatantly staring at for the past minute or two.

“I’d give it a solid six out of ten,” she finally says.

My eyes widen, and I seriously begin to wonder if we should just end our friendship right now because…what?

“What?” I say, and not quietly. “That is just…completely false. His ass is at least a nine, easy.”

Briar scrunches her nose and gives her head a little shake. “Mmmmm, those buns aren’t for me.”

I look back at the man in question, trying to understand how in the hell we can have such differing opinions.

This guy is built like a linebacker. Tall and muscular and broad in a way that says he can pick a girl up and toss her over his shoulder. I’ve always wondered what something like that would be like, and I bite my lip, enjoying the way he shifts to dig his wallet out of his back pocket.

“You could not be more wrong,” is all I say, finally refocusing all my attention on her. “But I can manage to forgive you, just this once.”

Briar snorts again and takes another sip of her wine.

I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that her eyes can no longer acknowledge other sexy men considering the fact that she’s finally ditched the old asshat and found the man of her dreams. Now that she’s all swoony in love, even managing to get her to take a look at Sexy Buns Guy should be considered a success in and of itself. Now, she only has eyes for one man.

Get Your Copy! 

About Jillian Liota:  

Jillian Liota is a new author writing contemporary romance and new adult fiction. She lives in Kailua, Hawaii with her amazing husband, 2 cats, and 3-legged pup.  

She is the author of the new adult romance novel The Keeper, which focuses on a female college soccer goalie, as well as the follow up novella, Keep Away. Her newest release, Like You Mean It, is in the contemporary romance genre and has a more mature voice, as it follows a pregnant mother finding love in a new town. The next novel in the Like You Series, Like You Want It, will be published in Spring 2019 

She has a master’s in Higher Education and Student Affairs, and she is passionate about all things improvement, development and organization. 

She’s also a big fan of taking walks with her husband and dog Maia, reading romance (obviously), watching a handful of horrible reality TV shows, and exploring the island she calls home. Check out her Contact page for more information on how to connect. 

Connect with Jillian:  Website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | Email  

Spotlight: Find Me in Havana by Serena Burdick

A new historical novel from Serena Burdick, the author of THE GIRLS WITH NO NAMES, based on the true story of Estelita Rodriguez, a Cuban-born Hollywood actress and singer, as her daughter Nina traces her mother's life from Cuba to Hollywood to understand her mysterious death, think NEXT YEAR IN HAVANA meets THE SEVEN HUSBANDS OF EVELYN HUGO.

Cuba, 1936: When Estelita Rodriguez sings in a hazy Havana nightclub for the very first time, she is nine years old. From then on, that spotlight of adoration—from Havana to New York’s Copacabana and then Hollywood—becomes the one true accomplishment no one can take from her. Not the 1933 Cuban Revolution that drove her family into poverty. Not the revolving door of husbands and the fickle world of film. Not even the tragic devastation of Castro’s revolution that rained down on her loved ones.

Thirty years later, her young adult daughter, Nina Rodriguez, is blindsided by her mother’s mysterious, untimely death. Seeking answers no one else wants to hear, the grieving Nina navigates the troubling, opulent memories of their life together and discovers how much Estelita sacrificed to live the American dream on her own terms.

Based on true events and exclusive interviews with the real Nina Rodriguez, Find Me in Havana weaves two unforgettable voices into one extraordinary journey that explores the unbreakable bond between mother and child, and the ever-changing landscape of self-discovery.

Excerpt

One

Big Sur, 1966

CLIFFS

Mother,

In August, Big Sur crackles with drought. Grass dries to a crisp and turns gold as ember. Rattlers lay in wait. Fat insects purr, and banana slugs languish. The air is ripe with eucalyptus, their slender, green leaves blanketing the canyon paths. Poison oak claws the hillside. This is not the season of lemons trees or emerald hills or crisp sunshine. Summer on the coast is a season of bone-chilling fog.

Overlooking the Pacific, I stand on Nepenthe’s stone patio, the restaurant’s windows spilling light around me as I watch the gray mass of fog crawl and heave up the cliff. You would have liked it here, Mom, but we never drove up the coast together. We never had the chance. I close my eyes as the fog settles over me, damp and soft as a whisper. Below, the surf thunders against the rocks, and I feel the sway of the sea in my legs and picture myself stepping over the low stone wall and lifting my arms into the air. The ocean will catch me, release me, hollow out my body and wash it up on the shore like an empty shell.

I need a shell. Hard skin. A barrier against the world of missing you. 

How is there no you left? No Mom. No Wife. No Movie Actress. No Singer. There are photographs, and moving pictures where you swing your hips and make funny faces, but I cannot touch or smell or feel or speak to this two-dimensional version.

I want an explanation.

Memories root and twist inside me, blossom, grow thorns, beautiful and gnarled, but the truth remains hidden, and I am left with the image of the bathroom floor and the weight of you in my arms.

I do not want this to be our last memory.

Opening my eyes, I take a deep breath, let the cool wetness lie over my tongue. Next to me, a fire crackles in the open hearth warming one side of my leg. I think how outdoor fires do this, warm only one side of you while the other side freezes. I wear a short skirt without pantyhose, white tennis shoes and a tight, knit sweater. The guests have all gone, the movie stars and bohemian artists, the former donning glitter and fur, the latter beads and loose-folding fabric, each hoping to authenticate themselves in originality. Each failing.

“Nina?” I jump at the sound of my manager’s voice. He stands in the open patio doorway of the restaurant polishing a wineglass. “Your ride is here.”

He looks at me kindly, unconcerned. He doesn’t know anything about me. I feel the warmth of the fire on my backside and think how cold it will be in the hollowed-out redwood tree where I sleep.

“I’ll just wipe down the tables,” I say, stalling. I don’t want to face my ride any more than I want to face the cold night on the forest floor with the insects.

My manager is a slender, vigorous man who looks as if he’s been breathing ocean air since birth. “It’s late,” he smiles. “You go on home now. I’ll take care of the tables.”

Walking away from the restaurant, the stone path slick with moisture, I dig my doll from the bottom of my bag and tuck her under one arm. She has a cloth body and a plastic head with blue eyes that open and close when you tilt her. Her plastic head is dotted with dark holes where her carefully arranged hair used to be. On her stomach is a scar—held together with a safety pin—from the time I cut her open and pulled out the stuffing.

Bret waits in his mint-green Volvo with the engine running. He is smoking a joint and doesn’t open the door for me. I slide into the passenger seat and he leans over and gives me a sloppy kiss, his hand pressed to the back of my head as if this is something romantic. His tongue tastes of stale smoke and alcohol. “Hey, baby,” he breathes into my face and passes me the joint. I take it, inhale and try to stifle a cough as Bret maneuvers the car onto the dark road.

We met five months ago when I first arrived in Big Sur. My friend Delia and I had eaten a handful of mushrooms and were dancing around a bonfire at a beach party when Bret slipped into the wavy, illuminated light of my vision. His embroidered shirt rippled over his chest and I thought he was something supernatural. The next morning when I woke up beside him on the beach, he’d turned solid. He was nothing more than a thin-chested man with a tangled beard and skinny legs sticking out from his cutoff jean shorts.

Bret hooks the car around a sharp bend, and the wheels kick up gravel that makes a sound like thunder under our feet.

“You’re going too fast,” I say, pressing my hand flat against the passenger window.

He grins and steps on the gas, a man who likes to challenge a woman. This is familiar to me. I watched men challenge you your whole life, each one of your four husbands, in their own way, pushing you to the edge. Despite your effort to understand them, to please them, it was, in the end, your unwillingness to be controlled or possessed that got you killed.

The car takes another corner, and the cliff drops to my right at a precarious angle where sumac and sagebrush cling to the edge. People love Highway 1 for its beauty. They think it cuts a benevolent path along the ocean cliff for our pleasure. What I see is a snake luring us with its curvaceous body, a thing of nature waiting for us to step on it so it can strike and fling us off.

I squish my doll’s head in, making her face look like something in a distorting mirror. “I don’t want to do this anymore,” I say, watching the doll’s features slowly inflate and pop back into place.

Bret’s profile remains neutral, his eyes on the road as he reaches over and strokes my thigh. “Don’t be like that, baby. This is good.”

I’ve tried to break up with him before. I don’t know why he won’t let me go, or how he can feel anything for me when I feel nothing inside. After your death, they sedated me because I was angry and didn’t behave properly. Now, I do what I can to sedate myself.

“I mean it. I’m done.” I shove his hand away, and this makes him angry.

He puts both hands on the wheel, grips it with white knuckles, his eyes forward, his jaw clenched. “What the fuck, Nina?” he says.

The headlights strike the road. Yellow lines blink past like winking eyes.

His anger scares me. “I’m sorry,” I say. I’m not good at this. Charming men. Giving them what they want. Doing what I watched you do, for the good ones and the bad. You appeased the good men, hoping they’d stay with you; placated the bad ones, hoping they wouldn’t hurt you. With each husband you tried a little harder, stayed a little longer, so certain you’d get it right.

If Bret is any indication, I won’t get it right, either. Looking at him, his hard profile reflected in the dashboard lights, his scruffy beard and long hair curling at the base of his neck, he reminds me of the rebel soldiers in Cuba.

This is not a memory I want. “Bret, I really can’t do this. Please, pull over. I need to get out.”

“You don’t know what you need.”

The arrogance in his voice disgusts me, the anger I’d been tamping down with drugs is now rising in my throat. For all his meditating and chanting and seeking enlightenment, Bret is a prick. I am twenty years old, you are dead, and there’s no one to tell me what to do anymore. You are not here to laugh it away, or tell me to chin-up, to silence me or put me in a mental institution or stick me in a boarding school. “Fuck you, Bret!” I shout. “Pull over. I want to get out.”

“Fuck me?” He speeds up, swerves the car near the shoulder of the road, gravel and dirt hitting my window and ricocheting off the glass like buckshot.

I suck in my breath and grip the door handle. “Don’t do that!”

“Do what? This?” He swerves again, and all I see, for a moment, is empty, black space.

What I should do is calm him down, convince him I’m sorry and that I won’t break up with him. Stop the car, and we’ll talk about it, I should say, but a part of me wants him to do something drastic. To pull the trigger for me.

We are crossing Bixby Bridge. The fog has receded, and I can see all the way down to the dark strip of beach where the waves crash and foam like a giant frothing at the mouth. I know, in that split second right before Bret takes us over the edge, that he’s going to do it. It’s not the plunge into water I’d imagined on the patio at Nepenthe. I am not sailing peacefully off the cliff with my arms out but trapped in a metal box that jerks to the right so abruptly my head smacks the window. I expect free fall, silence, stillness, but the air is sharp and compact and splintered with glass.

And then you are in my arms, your face flushed, your dark hair limp on your wet forehead, vomit ringing the corners of your mouth. “Help me,” I plead, even though you are the one dying. “Don’t go,” I cry. “I need you,” but I have already hit bottom, and the world has gone quiet.

Excerpted from Find Me in Havana by Serena Burdick, Copyright © 2021 by Serena Burdick. Published by Park Row Books. 

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About the Author

Serena Burdick graduated from The American Academy of Dramatic Arts in California before moving to New York City to pursue a degree in English Literature at Brooklyn College. Author of the International Bestseller THE GIRLS WITH NO NAMES and GIRL IN THE AFTERNOON, she lives in Western Massachusetts with her husband and two sons.

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Author website: http://www.serenaburdick.com/

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Twitter: @serenaburdick