I’ve only ever loved one man. One gorgeous, maddening, wonderful man. I even managed to marry him. I thought we’d be together forever, but everything changed when I lost our baby.
Instead of being his wife and lover, I was his new project. Something to fix. I didn’t need to be fixed, though. I couldn’t be. I needed my husband, but he wasn’t there. Some other man was there. A man who stopped seeing me and only saw a fragile, wounded woman he had to shelter.
But it was all over. My husband left me. He couldn’t fix me, so he stopped trying. He told me he wanted a divorce, and I had no reason to make him stay. We weren’t the people we used to be. I still loved him, but, as much as I wanted it to be, sometimes love wasn’t enough.
And sometimes life threw you a curve. Like being paired with my husband on an online dating site. Could it be as easy as starting over?
Available Now!
Ebook on Amazon | Kobo | Apple Books | B&N | Google Play | Smashwords
Print on Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Books A Million
Excerpt from His Curvy Wife
Melody’s scent filled the room. Her perfume, the same one she’d worn since high school, floated around me. Her shampoo drifted out from the bathroom. The bed was made, but the indent on her side was more pronounced. Or maybe that was just because my side was covered in pillows.
My old side. It wasn’t my side anymore. Nothing in the room was mine anymore. My clothes were out of the closet, my personal items out of the bathroom. Every trace of me had been erased from the house.
I went down the hall to one of the guest rooms, the one next to Amber’s room. When we bought the four bedroom house, we planned to fill it with children and laughter and love. We had a guest room so friends and family could stay, but the second nursery became a second guest room instead of a second nursery once we lost Steven. I hadn’t been able to bring myself to go into that room.
The bed in the guest room was comfortable. I’d slept on it more than once when I still called the house my home. I stared at it like the death sentence it felt like it was. Melody didn’t come home. After a night at a bar, she didn’t come home. And she didn’t call or text me to say she wouldn’t be. Which left me with only one possibility of where she was.
