Angol
In hindsight, I should not have had that fifth mimosa at Breakfast with Santa.
Or the sixth, seventh, and eighth.
Even if the mic-drop moment that resulted was worth the looks on my former friends' faces.
For the sake of my children and my pride, I pack up and head for my childhood home and the small town where I grew up. Cloverleigh Farms would be the perfect place for a fresh start.
Falling for Henry DeSantis wasn't part of the plan.
Sure, he's easy on the eyes and hard in the bedroom (also the hallway, the bathtub, and on top of his desk), but things between us are moving too fast, and I'm afraid neither one of us is ready for what it might mean.
But Henry makes me feel beautiful and sexy and wanted and strong-things I haven't felt in years. We understand each other, and when I'm in his arms,
I'm tempted to trust again. To love again. To let myself be loved without fear.
But deep down, I'm terrified.
Is this all too much, too soon? Or am I a fool to let a second chance at happily ever after pass me by?
