Lovelight Farms (Lovelight, #1)

by B.K. Borison

The thought aches like an old bruise, one I press my thumb in from time to time just to feel the dull hurt of it.

There’s a special kind of magic on nights like this, a certain sort of nostalgia when the past intermingles with the present and flirts with the future.

It’s a moment I want to stamp into my soul for the nights when I feel a little bit lonely and a lot bit sad.

And isn’t it silly to love the way someone’s things look like next to yours? Little bits and pieces of lives lived in parallel.

There’s a single beam of light that filters in from the windows at the top of the barn, early morning sunshine beginning to wander its way across the floor. The light just barely catches an old box of garland, a shower of gold exploding like a kaleidoscope as the sun shimmers through the strands.

I recognize the sadness in her words, the loneliness of remembering someone all by yourself.

“Leaning on other people doesn’t make your achievements any less yours.”

feel like one of the snow globes I keep on the very edge of my desk. Like he’s just shaken me all up, and I’m twisting head over heels, glitter and snowflakes rushing around me.