More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
Deep down all women want to be made to feel important, special, and unconditionally loved by a man. Their man.
The silver cross is a wink from God, letting me know I will be okay, even when I’m not.
But I wish people understood that loving someone is a choice you make, and some people make choices quicker than others.
I need to reach a market and gain a readership before I smack them with my unhinged ideas for what a romantic comedy could be and how much heart can be interwoven into the spaces between humor and happiness.
He wants me to share the message that love—true love—is ultimately given and received through Him alone.
Losing three years of my life has taught me a lot, but most importantly, I’ve learned to live with open hands. Because only the God who gives and takes away can decide my fate.
I’m mere mortal flesh who withers and wastes. He is e...
This highlight has been truncated due to consecutive passage length restrictions.
No one told me it would be this hard to download the story from my head to the screen.
But I have a punch worthy of a thousand Bora Bora suns, I remind myself. And I have now acquired a Noah Ashton.
Noah is a wall. Beautiful, broad, and brick. Donald Trump would approve.
🤣
Noah’s voice is always alive in my head, and he says the most inappropriate things at the most inappropriate times.
I will light my torch and carry it high. Because I trust God not to let it catch everything around me on fire.
“I’m hot so I must be illiterate?” He crosses his arms in a challenge, biceps flexing.
“That’s a hasty generalization, Meme. You’re hot and obviously a reader since you asked me that question. We can be hot readers together.”
“But, I don’t encourage that, Esme. You should know that right off the bat. Sex is sacred between a married man and woman.” My brain is short circuiting. Who is this man?
Should I be worried about being alone in this bungalow with a stranger? I should be. Why am I not? Did his hotness break me? No, his heroism touched me.
He takes on a focused look like he’s prepping for a battle. It dawns on me he’s keeping me here in case it isn’t our food. What a gentleman.
God and I haven’t been on the best of terms. Why did He allow Ryan to cheat on me? Why did He allow me to get left at the altar? Why did I not listen to Him sooner and leave Ryan after he told me that I had too high of expectations for any man to reach in terms of romance?
“I know, sweetheart. It was a joke. I’m glad you don’t; I want my future wife to be fully consumed with me.” And as if he didn’t imply what I think he did, he carries on. “What do you read?”
“I’m a tough shell to crack, but you can try.” It’s a lie. I have no doubt Noah will know my blood type by the end of our time here.
I don’t believe in past lives or reincarnation, but I believe in predestined, orchestrated events, expertly woven by the hand of the Creator of the universe.
I watch him savor the food I cooked, a warmth blooming inside my stomach. “Esme. This is the best fish taco I’ve ever eaten.”
His arm snakes around my waist as his forehead touches mine, a look of wondrous disbelief in his eyes. “Why does it feel like I’ve known you a thousand lifetimes?”
I slip my hand into his and give it a firm shake. I’m shaking hands with my book character!
“Is this your first experience with writer’s block?” I spurt a laugh. “I’m barely a writer. How can I be blocked?”
“Well, Bryan. I think the woman is uncomfortable around you, so I’d appreciate it if you would allow us to continue our meeting in peace.”
This has got to be the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me. Men really help women out like this in real life? It’s not just a thing of romance novels?
He mocks offense, those eyebrows rising high as his dark hazel eyes widen. “Tell her from here on out he must be referred to as stale crackers. Vanilla wafers are delicious.”
Maybe he’s one of those people who doesn’t chameleon themselves. Maybe he is who he is regardless of whether he’s working, on a date, or talking to his friends and family. I can respect that greatly. I value honesty.
“It took all my willpower not to crawl into bed with you.” My eyes must betray my concern because he quickly adds, “Just to cuddle. You looked unbelievably soft and warm, and I wanted to hold you all night. But I know that could have led to more.”
My heart hammers in my chest, but not from fear. From wondrous desire. A concept I didn’t know I could actually experience with a man. And thankfulness. Because had he not had the discipline, I know good and well I would have thrown those Christian morals of mine right out the window.
But if I spend time ruminating, which I have done on occasion, maybe the almost-marriage wasn’t God’s doing at all. Maybe it was all me, though it stings to admit.
Ryan leaving me at the altar just might be the mercy of God in action. Soul-mauling mercy, but mercy nonetheless.
“It really frees you up, you know? Living like you believe God’s plan will unfurl exactly as it should and when it should. That’s the hope I cling to even ...
This highlight has been truncated due to consecutive passage length restrictions.
“I know I believe God is in control, so I wonder why I struggle to open my fists and surrender my plans. It’s like He has to pry my fingers off the agenda I’ve carefully crafted for myself.”
It’s a fever dream. But it feels a whole lot like forever…
This safety is different. It’s not a cautious, this-is-the-best-I’ll-get-so-I-should-settle type of safe. It’s a soul-securing type of safe. The type of safe where you know he would save you before saving himself.
Make every moment count and live it in joy to the fullest while bringing glory to God. We were created for nothing less.
“Esme, you have to realize you’re worthy of an earth-shattering love.
kisses me wildly and breathlessly, then he whispers, “I have every intention of sticking on your side like a starfish for the rest of my life,” before shoving me into the ocean under the glittering stars.
“Esme, I love your soul. I love your desire for passion. I love how you want to please your family. I love your hesitation and your wild abandonment. I love your heart. Esme, I love you. I didn’t fully understand that word until you. My readers were right. The male characters I wrote were not ones in love with a woman. Because now, I know what it feels like.”
“I don’t care if it’s too soon to tell you that. Genuine, earth-shattering love is deeper than a feeling. It’s a choice, as my mom used to say, and I choose to love you.
“Marry me. Pencil me in. I will be waiting for you at the altar. Let me love you well for the rest of our lives.”
“Esme Samantha Prewitt, will you do me the greatest honor of being my best friend for life?”
“Esme, sweetheart. You think I’d ever turn away your request to be more romantic? I write the genre, baby. I’m all for inventing new ways to woo you.”
And that’s how I know what we have won’t fade. Because every day, I’m going to choose it. You. Us.”
My heart hurts for him, and it hurts for me. It hurts for all the confusing, aching loves that have existed and will exist in this messed up, fallen world.
he only smirks and says, “I’m good with my hands. You’ll find that out soon enough.” Naturally, I look to the sun and blame it for the red blistering my face. “You can’t say stuff like that until we’re married, Noah.” He chuckles. “So I am too much for you?” “I just don’t need thoughts occupying my head.” Surprisingly, Noah sobers us. “Of course. I’m sorry, Esme. I sometimes think before speaking and let the flirt get the best of me. Forgive me?”
Ultimately, I don’t know what I would do if he wasn’t the one holding back. People widely talk about how a man struggles with this stuff, but I’m here to say women do, too. Self-control is a fragile thing.
But who is that woman?
