About the Book
Hanna Elliot had worn the ring faithfully at first. Some part of her still clung to the hope that all was not lost. As the days turned into weeks, she finally took it off and set it atop her dresser. When weeks gave way to months, the ring finally went back into its box, where it gathered dust until it was moved to Hanna’s unmentionables drawer. For the first few years, she had taken it out on the anniversary of the day she’d received it, allowing herself to wallow in what might have been.
She had been all but stamped out of Derick Wentworth’s mind.
Sure, he thought about her occasionally, especially on cloudless nights when he lay on the bow of the Laconia looking up at the stars. But as time went on, Derick began to feel grateful that it hadn’t worked out, for one thing was certain: if he ever did settle down, it would be with someone who knew her own mind. Someone who went after the thing she wanted without hesitation. Someone who would never allow herself to be persuaded otherwise.
Author Bio:
Misty Dawn Pulsipher was born and raised in Utah. She attended Snow College where she developed a love for writing. Misty served as a full-time missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints in the Washington, D.C. area. She and her husband now reside in Maryland with their three children, two dogs, and the colony of squirrels that lives in their back yard. When she’s not writing or procrastinating an edit, Misty is reading, baking, sewing, playing the piano, or bribing her family to play Monopoly with her. Visit her Facebook page or author blog: mistydawnpulsipher.blogspot.com.
Excerpt:
PROLOGUE
SUMMER RAIN
Half the sum of attraction, on either side, might have been enough.
—Jane Austen, Persuasion
The sky is bleached white in some places, bruised a foreboding gray in others. The street is slick with rain, and everything is washed of color except for him, as if we are in an old photo. His sea-green eyes and subtle strawberry hair stand out like a beacon in a storm. Do those eyes see that every time his hand flinches up to catch me in case I slip, I want to take it and keep holding on? Maybe he wants that too.
The rain is beating down around us, but we don’t feel it. The harder the drops try to wash away our joy, the more we smile. A flame sparks in his eyes and a childlike smile curves his mouth. Then he jumps into a puddle with both feet, soaking me through. I just laugh, offering my face to the sky, taunting it to do its worst.
When I open my eyes, he is watching me. Has the rain rinsed away his smile after all? Looking at him, I want to memorize every detail: the way his white shirt clings in pleats to his soaked skin, each raindrop on his eyelashes, the smattering of golden freckles on his face and arms. I see him, but seeing isn’t enough. I want to breathe him in and let him sustain me. I want to reach my hands under his skin, beneath his muscles and bones, and brush his soul with my fingers.
Does he see all this in my eyes? He watches me for a moment, and we are still while the rain lashes the ground. When he brings his lips to mine I taste his smile. This moment in time, this point of light in the universe that is us—I stamp it on the flesh of my heart where the erosion of time has no reach.
With every summer rain, I will remember.
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