I was ordinary. Nice. He was extraordinary. And he wasn’t always nice.
Moody and difficult, brilliant and beautiful, Kes scared me and he protected me. He could be incredibly hurtful and incredibly thoughtful. He wasn’t perfect, but he was perfect for me. He challenged me, he took me out of my safe little box and showed me the world could be magnificent. He was everything I wasn’t.
Aimee Anderson is ten when the traveling carnival first comes to her nice little town. She doesn’t expect her world to change so completely. But meeting Kestrel Donohue puts her life on a different path.
Even though she only sees him for the two weeks of the year when he passes through her home town, his friendship is the most important of her life. As a child’s friendship grows to adult love, the choices become harder, and both Kes and Aimee realize that two weeks a year will never be enough.
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I lived in London for over 10 years and have a love affair with New York. It's only since I have moved to the countryside, that the words have really begun to flow.
I live in a small village by the ocean and walk my little dog, Pip, every day. It’s on those beachside walks that I have all my best ideas.
Writing has become a way of life – and one that I love to share.
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He’d grown taller. Not as tall as his grandfather yet, but nearly as tall as my father. His shoulders were wider and I could see his biceps pushing through his ragged t-shirt, but he was still on the thin side, wiry, I guess. He looked stunning, like he should be in a boy band—you know, the bad one that makes all the parents fear for their daughters’ virginity.
I watched him out of the corner of my eye as I turned to study the competition. I had to admit it wasn’t looking good. The girl was taller than me and wore a low cut tank top that showcased a lot of cleavage. Her boobs were no better than mine, I decided—there was just more of them on show. So whereas I looked safe, nice you might say, she looked dangerous. Her arms were covered in colorful tattoos, her ears pierced five or six times each, and she had silver rings through her lip and eyebrow. Her face was hard, but beautiful, even caked in makeup.
I guessed she was maybe two or three years older than me, it was hard to tell.
As if she felt my gaze on her, she swung toward me, her eyes blazing.
“No rubes back here!” she yelled. “Get the fuck out!”
I was shocked that a complete stranger would speak to me like that. I froze, my eyes darting to Kes. He turned to look at me, his frown of annoyance changing to a warm smile.
“Chill, Sorcha,” he muttered. “The shrimp’s a friend.”
I wanted to laugh. I wanted to cry. He was pleased to see me, but so dismissive. I stood there with my mouth hanging open. And then I was in Kes’s arms, breathing in the scent of sweat and soap and something like fresh hay that was so familiar.
“Hey, kid! How you doing?” he said, as he led me away.
His voice had deepened. No longer childlike, it was a light, pleasant tenor.
“Don’t call me kid!” I snapped, punching his shoulder.
He laughed and rubbed the spot where I’d hit him. His dimple popped out and I wished I’d hit him harder—then kissed him better.
“Okay, not a kid,” he smiled, but then I watched his eyes darken as they drifted down my body, pausing at my chest, then doing a slow sweep along my legs and hips. “No, not a kid,” he said again, and this time his voice was gruffer.
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