Andrea Nourse's Blog, page 20

11.7.19 – InstaShortie – A New Ending

Tomorrow, I’ll wake up earlier. Before bed, I’ll set out my tennis shoes and sports bra. I’ll have the coffee accouterments set out on the counter. I won’t hit snooze. I won’t give in to the temptation of nine more minutes. I’ll dig deep down inside and find my willpower.

And tomorrow, I will listen to her.

Tonight, however, I fully intend on pouring a second glass of wine. Perhaps a third. I’ll hold the stainless steel spoon in my hand and wrap a paper towel around the pint of Half Baked so my skin won’t freeze to the side.

Tonight I’ll indulge in whatever rom-com Netflix recommends. I won’t ignore the tears as they tickle my eyes. I will let them do their thing. Slide down my cheek and roll across my nose. A sob or ten may escape, but the sound of the spoon hitting my teeth will drown it out.

Because tonight I will put it all behind me. Tomorrow, I’ll detox.

Settling into the worn corner of the couch—the spot I always sit in—I pull the weighted blanket over my lap. My wine glass sits on the end table to my right and the ice cream rests on my knee. Balance. I reach for the remote and click on the television. Netflix is the first app, making it easy and quick to access. The algorithm knows me well. Every suggestion is something light and humorous. Occasionally, it gets quirky and recommends a documentary. Not tonight, though. The Netflix bots appear to have a direct line of sight to my living room. They recognize the ice cream, wine and blotchy face as signs of desperation.

Tiff needs to remember that true love exists. Oh, let’s make her laugh too.

“Thank you, Netflix,” I say as I shove a spoonful of brownie and cookie dough into my mouth. I select the first option presenting. A nice, adorable movie about a girl that wins a dilapidated bed and breakfast. I’m certain I’ve seen this one before, or one just like it. Either way, I’m craving the predictability. I need it after today.

I force my eyes to remain open while I stare at the screen. I can’t blink. The back of my eyelids won’t let go of the replay of this evening’s disaster. It’s stuck on a loop of the most humiliating and devastating night of my life. Neither sleep nor blinking are options tonight.

The day started like the others. I woke up and kissed my fiance good morning. We went for a nice, casual walk around the neighborhood with our dog (technically, his dog, as he reminded later in the day). Carson made coffee while I scrambled eggs and threw bagels in the toaster. We went our separate ways. I headed downtown for work, while he headed to the suburbs to teach his newest charge of unruly kindergartners. 

The rest of the day was as boring and predictable as any other Friday. The detour didn’t hit until after lunch when the power went out at work. Along with it, the internet. The powers that be sent us all home to work. I packed up my laptop and hit the road. Carson wouldn’t home until later, so I didn’t see any reason to text him the change in plans. We’d still meet up at home before heading out for our Friday night dinner. Our standing reservation at our favorite Italian restaurant was the highlight of my week. Lasagna for Carson and eggplant parmesan for me. We’d share a bottle of pinot noir and, maybe, we’d indulge and split a tiramisu.

Carson and I craved routine, or so I thought. Our life had a rhythm and neither of us stepped outside of it. We knew the beat and it pushed us forward.

I should have detected the change in tempo the instant I pulled into the garage to find Carson’s car parked, but I didn’t. Perhaps I’d simply forgotten to write down an early dismissal day. Or, the sniffles he had the night before had morphed into a full-blown cold. He did work with small children, after all.

If the car didn’t tip me off, the low lights and candles should have. Had I missed those, the open bottle of Moscato definitely should have. But I missed it all. Or ignored it.

I climbed the stairs towards my tiny office—the room that would one day have become a nursery—and then plopped myself at my desk. It was then that I noticed something different. Voices. One in particular. Well, two. Carson’s, of course, and hers. They weren’t talking. Well, he was. She was giggling that high pitched prissy giggle that makes my ears cringe. It was unmistakable.

My heart raced as I left my office and walked towards or bedroom, and it leaped clear out of my chest when I opened the door.

The signs had been there for far longer than I care to admit. I knew she was more than a friend. I knew his buddies didn’t go fishing and hunting every other weekend. I followed them on Instagram, too. They posted plenty of shots of them on the boats. For the last few months, Carson hadn’t been in a single shot. They hadn’t tagged him either.

I’d been so focused on our routine and plans, I’d missed the moment he fell off course. His bags were packed long before I kicked him out. It’s not the betrayal that stung the most, but the ease with which he walked out. A simple shrug and a mumbled, “you’re right” was all he offered. Without a single ounce of regard for me or the three years we spent together, he wrapped his arm around her waist and they walked out of the house he and I used to share. Just like that, everything was gone.

For the first Friday in two years, I didn’t have eggplant parmesan for dinner. I did have my bottle of wine, though I stole the Moscato she left behind. The sweetness did little to soothe the bitter rage that had taken over my body, but I drank it anyway.

I tuck my feet under me and rest my head in my hand. My fingers twist through my blonde hair wrapping a chunk between my thumb and index finger. I snake my way up the hair until I reach the top of my head and then start over. The rhythm lulls me back to the moment. I allow my brown eyes a single blink. This time I do it slowly and let the images of the day play one final time. When I open my eyes, I draw in a deep breath and let it go slowly.

Today was a hiccup. A blip. A tiny, insignificant moment. Three years is a long time to waste on someone who turns out not to be who you thought they were. The silence of the room creeps in around me. I strain my ears to see if I can still hear Carson. The clomp of his boots on the stairs or the whine of the country music he insisted on playing day and night. But there is nothing but quiet.

A smile spreads across my face. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed the sound of nothing. With Carson, there was always some noise whether it was his music or a University of Tennessee football game on the TV, he couldn’t stand silence. He also couldn’t sit still. He’d have hated watching me sit on the couch and watch a lame-ass chick flick.

I revel in the lack of man in the house. When he moved in, his things started taking over. Guns & Ammo magazines on the coffee table and his music on the iPod. Mud and dirty boots on my cream carpets. Throws and blankets replaced with dog hair and camo jackets. Though, I did miss Ruby’s dog hair and Ruby herself.

As I watched the young woman in the movie learn her dream of owning a quaint bed and breakfast would require years of work and renovation by the only (annoying and handsome) carpenter in town, I realized I didn’t actually miss Carson. I missed the idea of Carson. The imagined life for us I’d created is what I missed.

I sink further into my comfy spot on the couch. This time when my eyes close, my smile widens. 

Meant to Be Yours, Susan Mallery

I picked up Meant to Be Yours a few nights ago and haven’t been able to put it down. It sucked me in immediately! Jasper and Renee are perfectly flawed, raw characters. Their chemistry leaps off the pages and boy is it steamy.

Stay tuned for a full review in the next few days (once I recover from Disney World with two toddlers, a time zone leap, a time change and everything else).

Scroll down for an exclusive excerpt!

From the publisher: In Happily Inc, love means never having to say “I do”…

Wedding coordinator Renee Grothen isn’t meant for marriage. Those who can, do. Those who can’t, plan. But she never could have planned on gorgeous, talented thriller writer Jasper Dembenski proposing—a fling, that is. Fun without a future. And the attraction between them is too strong for Renee to resist. Now she can have her no-wedding cake…and eat it, too.

After years in the military, Jasper is convinced he’s too damaged for relationships. So a flirtation—and more—with fiery, determined Renee is way too good to pass up…until his flame becomes his muse.

Renee is an expert at averting every crisis. But is she finally ready to leap into the one thing that can never be controlled: love?

Meant to Be Yours
Chapter One

“It might just be
okay,” wedding coordinator Renee Grothen murmured softly to herself as she
surveyed the wedding reception. She wouldn’t risk admitting everything had
turned out as planned until the last guest had left, but four and a half hours
in, things were going really well.

Jim and Monica Martinez were a sweet couple
with a fun firefighter theme for their big day. There was a long tradition of
firefighters on both sides of the family and plenty of cute touches in the
wedding and reception.

Monica’s dress laced
up the back and instead of white ribbon to cinch her gown, she’d used bright
red. The centerpieces were ceramic boot vases painted to look like firefighter
boots, filled with red, orange and yellow flowers. There was even a
walk-through fountain at one end of the reception area, created with fire
hoses, a pump and a lot of engineering.

Renee walked around
the perimeter of the indoor reception space, looking for problems. So far, so
good, she thought with cautious optimism. The cake had been cut, the bar
service was about to end and the tone of the party had faded from raucous to
comfortably tired—exactly as it should. With a little luck, things would wrap
up on time and without a crisis. This was Monica and Jim’s day—Renee wanted it
to be as perfect as possible. While she always took care of her clients, she
tended to unleash her mother bear instincts for her special couples and Monica
and Jim certainly qualified.

She spotted Pallas
Mitchell, her boss, walking toward her. It was nearly ten on a Saturday night
and Pallas, a pretty brunette only recently returned from maternity leave,
yawned widely. When she spotted Renee she held up her hands, palms up.

“What can I say? I’ve
been home with an infant. These wild late-night hours are going to take some getting used to.”

“No one’s judging,”
Renee told her. “As I said at seven, at eight and again at nine, go home. I can handle this. You’re
barely back and you need to give yourself time to adjust to the schedule.”

“You’ve been running
things for nearly six months. You need a break.”

In truth, Renee was a little ragged around the edges,
but she’d loved handling Weddings Out of the Box while Pallas had been gone.
She’d enjoyed the challenges each unique wedding presented and watching all the
details fall into place on the big day.

“I had lots of help,”
Renee pointed out. “Hiring college students on summer break was a good idea.”
And what they’d lacked in experience, they’d made up for in energy and
enthusiasm.

“Now that I’m back,
things can return to normal,” Pallas said, covering another yawn.

“Go home,” Renee
urged. “Please. I can handle things here. I promise.”

“Okay. I will. Thanks.
Don’t you dare come in tomorrow.” Pallas’s voice was firm. “For once, we don’t
have a Sunday wedding. Enjoy the break.”

“I will.” Renee would
probably pop in to do a little paperwork, but she wouldn’t stay long. “Are you
coming to The Boardroom on Monday night?”

In a wedding
destination town, the rhythms of the residents were determined by weekend
weddings. Happily Inc’s workweek started on Wednesdays as the businesses geared
up for the dozens of nuptials that occurred in multiple venues. Which meant the
town’s Friday night was actually on Monday.

The Boardroom, a local
bar, hosted game nights on Mondays. Board games ruled and tournaments were
heated and fun as friends crushed each other at everything from Candy Land to
Risk.

Pallas shook her head. “I’ll admit to being a
bit of a worrier. When we went a couple of weeks ago, I couldn’t stop thinking
about Ryan. He’s only five months old. It’s too soon to leave him at night.”

Renee held in a smile.
“Sure. I get that.”

“I know you don’t, but
thank you for pretending. Have fun for me, too. Oh, Jasper’s back, so tell him
hi, if you think of it.”

Jasper was back? Renee
hadn’t heard. She liked knowing he’d returned from his big book tour. Not for
any reason in particular, she amended hastily. Sure, he was nice, but there
were a lot of nice guys in the world. There was just something about Jasper.
Maybe it was because in addition to being good-looking and just a little
dangerous, he wasn’t a forever kind of guy.

“I saw that!” Pallas
grinned. “I totally saw that. You did the predatory smile thing I was never
good at. You want to use him for sex! Did I know this?” She stomped her foot.
“Did this happen while I was on maternity leave? What else went on while I was
off having a baby?”

Renee laughed. “You’re
reading way too much into my smile. I’m happy he’s home from his book tour.
That’s all.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Jasper and I are not
involved. I doubt we’ve had more than a three-sentence conversation.”

Not that it took many sentences to ask Your place or mine? And while the
description of predatory was nice, it gave her too much credit. Would she stalk
him and pounce? Not even on her best day. Would she say yes if the man asked?
She smiled again. Oh, yeah, she would. Definitely. Okay, probably. If she was feeling brave. Because while
she worked her butt off to give her couples their perfect happily-ever-after
day, she knew it was never going to happen for her. Those who could—did. Those
who couldn’t became wedding planners.

Avoiding relationships
might be the smart choice, but it was also a lonely one. She knew Jasper was
into the long-term, monogamous, not-serious kind of thing and she was pretty
sure she could handle that. Assuming she was his type and he was interested.
They could have some laughs, lots of sex and walk away completely unscathed in
the heart department. Where was the bad?

“There’s something
going on and you can’t convince me otherwise,” Pallas said. “You have depths.
I’m very impressed. Okay, use Jasper and then tell me the details because hey,
he’s got to be great.” She yawned again. “I’m such a lightweight. I’m leaving
now.”

“Good night. Hug Ryan
for me.”

“You know I will.”

Pallas walked out of
the reception hall. Renee continued to circle the space, looking for any forgotten
handbags or phones, and noting how long it would take the cleaning service to
return the huge room to order. Doing her job and not thinking about the fact
that Jasper was back—that was her.

A loud whoop got her
attention. She turned and saw three teenaged guys running through the fountain
at the far end of the big, open room. Each of them jumped, trying to touch the
arc of water dancing overhead.

The younger brother,
she thought as she made her way toward them. And his friends. No doubt they
were bored after so many hours with not very much to do. Regardless, she was
not going to have them disrupt the reception when it was so close to being
over.

As she approached the running, jumping teens,
she saw both sets of parents, along with the bride and groom, still dancing.
They swayed in time with the music, oblivious to the fountain and the idiots
messing with it. Then several things happened at once.

The younger brother
started an extra long run toward the fountain. Jim let go of Monica and spun
her out the length of their arms. Monica bumped her mom, who stumbled a little.
Dad grabbed Mom, moving all of them closer to the fountain and the younger brother
running, who had to swerve suddenly to avoid them. As he swerved, he lost his
balance and slipped, tumbling into the fountain mechanism. One of the hoses
broke free, wiggling and spraying water everywhere.

Renee saw it all
happening and knew there was no way she was going to allow her beautiful bride
to get soaked. She lunged for the hose, caught it and held it tightly against
her chest as the bride’s father rushed to turn off the water to the hose. It
took only seconds, but by then the entire fountain had spilled over and Renee
was drenched, shivering and had water up her nose even as she wondered if she
looked half as ridiculous as she felt.

The new Mrs. Martinez
hurried over. “Renee, are you all right?” She turned on her brother. “How could
you? This is a wedding, not a water park.”

Aware that
end-of-wedding exhaustion could easily lead to emotions spiraling out of
control, Renee quickly faked a smile.

“Monica, it’s fine. Don’t worry. Keeping you
and the rest of the wedding party dry was my only concern.” She glanced at the
water draining onto the floor and realized part of the fountain was still
pumping out water. That couldn’t be good. If she couldn’t get everything turned
off, she was going to have to call in one of those companies that took care of disasters
like flooding. “Really. It’s no problem.”

“You’re dripping and
the water’s rising. My dad went to find the main shutoff.”

Renee wrung out her
hair and hoped her makeup wasn’t too badly smudged. Then she realized the water
level in the reception hall was indeed climbing and hoped Monica’s father found
the shutoff soon.

She was just about to
go help him when he returned.

“All turned off.” He
glanced at the mini flood. “Sorry about this.”

“It’s fine,” Renee
lied, her tone soothing, because that was part of her job. To pretend all was
well even when they needed to be figuring out how to build an ark.

The rest of the guests
were heading out. Nothing like the threat of an unexpected flood to get people
moving, she thought, trying to find the humor in the situation.

“I’m so sorry,” Monica
told her as she held her dress out of the water and slipped out of her shoes.

“Don’t be. You had a
wonderful wedding and reception. Why don’t you and Jim start gathering your
things? I have a spare set of clothes in my office. I’ll get changed, then help
you make sure you have everything.”

As she spoke, she
noticed the water seemed to have settled at about the six- or seven-inch level.
Yup, she was going to have to call someone. No doubt she would be here all
night. Oh, joy.

“I’m really sorry,”
Jim said. “We thought we’d planned for every contingency.” He glared at his new
brother-in-law. “Except for stupid.” He turned back to her. “Let us know the
cost of cleanup. We’ll pay for it.”

“Thank you. I think the deposit should take
care of it but I’ll let you know if there’s a problem. Now if you’ll let me go
get changed, I’ll be back with you in ten minutes.”

Monica nodded.

Renee slipped out of
her shoes and walked through the ankle-deep water. When she reached her office
upstairs, she carefully closed the door behind her before undressing, then
slipped on jeans and a T-shirt. Not exactly professional, but she wasn’t going to
worry about that right now. Before she returned to her bride and groom, she
looked up the local disaster cleaning service. The number was in her files, but
wasn’t one she had had to use before.

They picked up on the
first ring.

“Happily Inc CleanUp.
This is Hilde. How can I help you?”

“Hi. I’m Renee Grothen
at Weddings Out of the Box. We had a firefighter wedding tonight with a big
fountain. There was an accident with one of the hoses and now our main
reception hall is flooded.”

There was a pause.
“Um, did you say firefighter wedding? Never mind. How much water?”

“About six inches.”

“That’s a lot.”

“It was a big
fountain.”

“Give us thirty
minutes and we’ll be there.”

“Thank you.”

Renee hung up, gave
herself a second to catch her breath, then headed back to deal with the bride,
the groom, the flood and anything else that might happen tonight. Because with
a wedding, it was always something.

Excerpted from Meant to be Yours by Susan Mallery,
Copyright ©
2019 by Susan Mallery, Inc.. Published by HQN Books.

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The Burn Out

I’ve written close to half a million words this year. Three complete manuscripts. A dozen or so InstaShorties. A handful of false starts on novel ideas I lost interest in.

I’ve pushed myself creatively and professionally, going well outside my comfort zone.

When I started the year, I thought my path forward was self-publishing. I didn’t see a home for my writing or books in the traditional space. Well, that’s not entirely the reason. The main reason was self-doubt and not believing my words were good enough. But I’ve written that post a few times already and frankly, I’m tired of it myself.

Querying agents and researching the traditional publishing world was something I used to dread. It seemed too daunting to even try but once I did, I realized it was doable. I still found it intimidating but I could do it. I could write and revise a query. I could take my outline and make it a synopsis. I could live with rejection and learn to grow from it.

The hardest part now is the burnout. I’ve got three manuscripts sitting on a shelf. Two of which I love and one I want to overhaul completely. Like, it might as well be a brand new book. I’ve started a new project, but it’s kind of fallen to the wayside as I wait and see where things in play pan out.

In the past when I hit the burnout stage, I stopped writing altogether. I didn’t even want to think about my books or words. But after the disciplines I’ve put into place this year, the burnout has me antsy. I am constantly thinking about my WIP and the characters, wondering when the words will start flowing again. I know they will.

Maybe that’s the difference. I’ve proven to myself that rejection can’t and won’t stop me. I have more than one idea. I can write more than one book. I can do this.

I just need a little space to breathe for a moment.

Evvie Drake Starts Over, Linda Holmes

I don’t think there was anything about this book I did not love. The wit was perfection. Evvie was relatable. Dean both swoon-worthy and real/believable.

This is one of those books you want to savor and read every word. If for the dialog alone. The sarcasm and biting banter felt so real, I wanted to be sitting in the room listening to the characters. I could actually hear it.

There was so much about Evvie that I connected with. I’ve known far too many men like Tim and not enough like Andy or Dean. The pressure to sacrifice our own happiness to ensure someone else’s contentment is also all too real.

And, that ending was perfect. Well, except I want more Evvie.

One Yes

One yes. That’s all we need. A million rejections won’t matter when that one yes comes through.

When you’re knee-deep in a huge pile of no’s, it’s hard to see above it. It’s overwhelming. But it’s temporary. And hard.

This is where I’m learning to find grace and patience. Those two things are harder than rejection because they come from me. I can control them. How I respond to silence and rejection is 100% on me. The last year has taught me a lot when it comes to this. The initial gut and physical reaction haven’t changed. There is still a slight fluttering in my heart. My stomach knots and a brief bit of anxiety creeps in.

What has changed is the mental and emotional response that follows. I’ve learned how to process these responses in a much healthier way. I can see the reason in the no and understand it much better.

Now, I’m grateful for the rejection. It’s taught me so much about myself and this process. It’s also given me some hard lessons in perseverance.

Most importantly? A million rejections don’t define my value or talent. That’s all on me.

Lightness of Body and Mind, Sarah Hays Coomer

**Review**
Lightness of Body and Mind, Sarah Hays Coomer

Last month, I had the opportunity to attend a writer’s retreat all about overcoming obstacles that women face. I met Sarah Hays Coomer there and learned more about her approach to health and mindfulness. After her first session, I went back to my room and bought both other books.

We’ve always been taught to push ourselves until we break. Starve until our jeans button. Focus on the scale. Lightness of Body and Mind shatters that approach. Sarah promotes the mindset that how we feel is more important than how we look or what the number on the scale says. It dismantles the idea that to be healthy we must stop every bad habit. Instead, work to find what habits truly make you feel good. It’s not about deprivation or killing yourself on a treadmill. Replace the bad with good—if it feels good, keep it, if you feel like shit after, ditch it. Stop fighting your body.

This message resonated with me. I’ve been battling my body for as long as I can remember. Hearing the tips and tools in Lightness of Body and Mind changed my perspective toward food and exercise.

Discouraging Silence

Silence is the most daunting side effect of putting yourself out there. Silence is the sound that haunts your thoughts at all hours of the day and night. It creeps into the crevices of your biggest fears and doubts and eats its way further and further until the wounds fester.

It is in the most silent of moments that you either choose to give up or strain to hear the music. These are the make or break moments for me because in silence, it is very easy to hear the nagging of my inner negative voice. She screams as loud as the silence, their voices creating a chorus of You’re Not Good Enough. Silence calls for me to join in her pity party. As tempting as it can be to dive head first into the Silence’s negativity, I’m working to stay out of it.

That pity party offers nothing for me. It doesn’t invite me to write or create. It places a spotlight on every flaw and mistake and reminds me that those moments are defining.

But they aren’t.

Silence is a liar. Her pity party is a drag and a bore, and it is not one I ever want to RSVP to (though there are times I do attend despite my better judgement).

When Silence creeps in, I like to drown her out with music or audiobooks. If I fill my ears and mind with words and music, Silence can’t get a work in edgewise. Her voice is muted. Her negativity stifled.

It is in those moments that I remember I have the power and the control, not Silence.

Winter in Paradise & What Happens in Paradise, Elin Hilderbrand

**Review**

I won’t lie, I missed Nantucket, but I adored the Caribbean island setting in Winter in Paradise. The cast of characters was compelling and intriguing. I do wish each got more time as there was a lot of unpack with each character. The twists and turns were fun and kept propelling me forward.

As much as I enjoyed Winter in Paradise, What Happens in Paradise topped it. I fell a bit more in love with the island and it’s dysfunctional cast of characters. My favorite part was getting more of Rosie’s story.

I am a tad disappointed that I have to wait a whole year for the next book in this series.

Life is But a Dream

This book right here represents so much for me. I wrote in during NaNoWriMo in 2012. As I wrote, I posted it live to my blog. LIVE TO MY BLOG. Do you have any idea how scary that was?

As terrifying as it was, it helped keep me motivated. I knew people were waiting for the next chapter. Now, I have two friends that read as I write and ask questions or point out inconsistencies. They also help pester me when I get off track.

Life is But a Dream (November 2014)
Poised. Graceful. Organized. Yes, Rebecca Jane has it all – Kyle, her handsome, loving fiancé, her dream career and her five-year plan. She is successful and driven and up for a promotion as long as her evil co-monster Hannah stays out of her way as they tackle an interesting, new client together.

Rebecca is on the verge of greatness – at least in her own mind.

As it usually does, her past finally catches up with her. Now, at thirty, Rebecca is questioning who she is and the choices she made along the way. Is she really ready to settle down and be Mrs. Kyle Turner?

Rebecca is forced to reevaluate everything she thought she ever wanted and to finally face the fact that she never really let go of the past.

Available on Amazon in paperback or on Kindle.

Happily Ever Never

Between Life is But a Dream and Happily Ever Never, I wrote two other books. Both were okay, but neither inspired me like LIBAD had. I started writing HEN in February 2017. My son was almost two and we were trying for a second.

Then it sat on my Google Drive for over a year. One day, I decided to reread it and something miraculous happened. I didn’t hate it. In fact, I love it. I sent it to a few friends to read and they loved it too. Happily Ever Never was really the first book that made me feel like an author. For that, it will always be my favorite.

Happily Ever Never (October 2018)
Janna Hargrove’s life wasn’t a fairy tale, not even close. She’d never imagined her life would have its happily ever after moment. Until she met Ryan. The moment their eyes met, everything changed. She knew he was the one – he was the happily ever after she deserved.

Five years into their two-year plan, Ryan finally popped the question. The moment was everything Janna had dreamed of. She had the man, the ring, the wedding date, the house, the career and the plan for 2.5 kids living in suburbia bliss. Everything was just as she’d always dreamed, designer dress and all.

Everything she’d ever wanted was within reach.

Until it wasn’t.

Available on Amazon in paperback or on Kindle.