Nash Nation loves zeroes and ones, over-sized monitors and late office hours.
He’s too busy taking over the world to make time for relationships—that is,
until his new neighbor Willow O’Bryant barges into his life, and now Nash can’t
shake the feeling that this isn’t the first time she’s interrupted his world.
Then, the dreams start. And in the dreams—memories.
Memories of a girl named Sookie who couldn’t count on love or friendship, never
mind forever. Memories of a library and a boy called Isaac and secrets made in
private that destroyed his world.
The memories seem real, but who do they belong to?
When Nash and Willow discover the truth, life as they know it unravels.
The bridge between this life and the next is shored up by blood and bone and
memory. Sometimes, that bridge leads to the place we’ve always wanted to be.
paranormal romance with major updates and new edits published by City Owl
Press. Even if you have read the previous version of this story, it is advised
that you check out this new incarnation.
consume you. The frigid bite you think won’t ever leave your bones, the one you
try to pretend isn’t there, but can’t keep out of your head.
change you try to pretend won’t come, but does anyway, that you wait for the
whole year, that you wish away when it finally comes.
lotion and the spray of ocean water, the salt of that taste on your tongue and
the cool, crisp relief that comes over you when you dip inside the bottomless
temptation of light and love and beautiful rebirth that cannot be ignored.
Willow was the phantom spark of all those things I loved and hated. The things
that tested me. The things that healed, all wrapped up in that tempting
silhouette, in the sweet surrender of her body pressed against mine and the
whisper of a tease in every syllable that formed my name from her full, thick
the hidden tone of promises and pleasure I’d stopped telling myself I didn’t
pillow and her waiting body—pale skin and a trail of freckles that crossed her
chest and dipped with the curves along her stomach.
down at her, wanting her with an ache nothing had ever worked up in me.
round bends of her breasts, the sweet arches along her thighs when I touched
her there. That look, though, went deeper, settled closer than the scent of her
skin or rise in my body when I watched her shimmy out of her clothes and crawl
on my bed, waiting, ready for me to react.
in my dream and the urge to take what was mine and mine alone; what I wanted
for myself because of the sensation only Willow moved in me.
out of that cotton, discarding it because it kept me from her. She touched me,
nails against the lines and letters over my body, her mouth, her tongue warm
and soft on my neck, over my chest, traveling like a wanderer, searching,
that reminded me of the sea, waves and water, sand and shore. We were sweeter
than those Coltrane chords, went deeper than each note.
and tongue on her flesh, in the dips of her body. The invitation open, ready as
she pulled me close. I took another bite, moving her apart with my knee,
holding her tight until there were small marks from my fingers against her pale
skin and she shuddered, gripping, clawing at me like she couldn’t get close
enough. “I’m… I’m so sorry about that day at my building…”
want the words between us keeping our lips apart. “Nash… please…” And that
melody spurred me on, had me forgetting control and patience and all the
swagger I thought made me smooth. I was nothing but feeling, touch, and taste,
and desperate, desperate want with her under me, with me slipping inside, deep,
romantic suspense novels and the nine-times great-granddaughter of an
honest-to-God English pirate. This could explain her affinity for rule breaking
When she’s not writing or wondering about her possibly Jack Sparrowesque
ancestor, Eden patiently waits for her Hogwarts letter, reads, and spends too
much time in her garden perfecting her green thumb while waiting for the next
New Orleans Saints Superbowl win.
She is currently living under teenage rule alongside her husband in southeast
Please send help.