to be. I consider this short novella an extended epilogue peeking into their lives together a little ways down the road. As with most couples, their story doesn’t end at the Happily Ever After—the Crawfords will face trials, weather storms, and come out on the other side with their marriage stronger than ever. I hope to be able to offer you more glimpses of this pair as the series moves forward.
Ready for a sneak peek at the upcoming contemporary holiday novella, Sparked ?
“I think…I think I have to give up on him.” It hurt to admit, but Sadie Bower had failed.
Sadie wasn’t used to failing at anything. When she’d told her parents she wasn’t going to the London School of Economics like her older brother Kai, but instead the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art, she had assured them that she would succeed as an actress. From the moment she’d aced her first professional audition—unfortunately for a Beckett play, but beggars couldn’t be choosers—her promise had held true.
Two years ago, Sadie had received her first Oscar nomination. Failure wasn’t even on her radar these days.
But when it came to Ryan Young, she was nothing but a seething mass of fails. And it was time to move on. “It’s silly for me to keep hoping he’ll change his mind.”
“Did something happen?” Fiona O’Brien brushed shimmering highlight powder over Sadie’s pale cheeks before stepping back to examine her handiwork. Sadie had met the makeup artist working on a film earlier this year—the premiere for which both women were attending in a couple of hours—and, since wrapping Vendetta in early July, had struck up a fledgling friendship with the brunette.
Which was why Fiona was now in Sadie’s spacious three-story home, built along one of the coveted Venice canals, helping her with her hair and makeup prior to the premiere.
Sadie sighed, utterly and embarrassingly morose over the subject of Ryan. “Nothing specific happened, no. But I can only pursue him so long before it’s just awkward for both of us, right?”
Packing away her brushes into a travel case, Fiona shook her head. “I’d be more inclined to agree with you if I hadn’t seen firsthand the way he looks at you when you’re not looking.”
“I’ve been looking.” Frustration gnawed at her, making her chest ache, and she lifted one manicured hand to rub at the offending spot. “I feel as though all I’ve done is look, look, look.” Catching Fiona’s sympathetic gray gaze, she shrugged, helpless. “I haven’t seen him since reshoots in September. He won’t return my calls. Or my e-mails.”
Fiona winced. “That’s probably not a good sign.”
Scowling, Sadie stalked across the bedroom to where the designer gown her stylist had delivered that morning hung in a black garment bag. “Probably not,” she agreed as she unzipped the bag to reveal a sliver of gold satin. “I was hoping you’d have some sort of sage advice for me.”
Fiona laughed as she plopped down at the foot of Sadie’s giant bed, tucking her bare feet with their hot-pink painted toenails beneath her. “If only being in a relationship actually made me wise. Please try to remember who I’m dating.”
The happiness that laced Fiona’s teasing made Sadie uncomfortably envious. Sadie’s Vendetta costar, Declan Murphy, had fallen fast and hard for his makeup artist last spring, and only a few short months later had moved into Fiona’s newly acquired Pasadena home with her. The couple had invited Sadie and other cast and crew from the movie over several times in the intervening months between the end of shooting in Italy and the start of post-production back in Los Angeles, and every time she visited their cute little bungalow—and was forced to return to her big, empty house afterward—Sadie had to battle back waves of bitterness.
She and Ryan could’ve been just as happy as Fiona and Declan, if only he hadn’t decided their history meant nothing to him.
Ready for a sneak peek at the upcoming contemporary holiday novella, Sparked ?
“I think…I think I have to give up on him.” It hurt to admit, but Sadie Bower had failed.
Sadie wasn’t used to failing at anything. When she’d told her parents she wasn’t going to the London School of Economics like her older brother Kai, but instead the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art, she had assured them that she would succeed as an actress. From the moment she’d aced her first professional audition—unfortunately for a Beckett play, but beggars couldn’t be choosers—her promise had held true.
Two years ago, Sadie had received her first Oscar nomination. Failure wasn’t even on her radar these days.
But when it came to Ryan Young, she was nothing but a seething mass of fails. And it was time to move on. “It’s silly for me to keep hoping he’ll change his mind.”
“Did something happen?” Fiona O’Brien brushed shimmering highlight powder over Sadie’s pale cheeks before stepping back to examine her handiwork. Sadie had met the makeup artist working on a film earlier this year—the premiere for which both women were attending in a couple of hours—and, since wrapping Vendetta in early July, had struck up a fledgling friendship with the brunette.
Which was why Fiona was now in Sadie’s spacious three-story home, built along one of the coveted Venice canals, helping her with her hair and makeup prior to the premiere.
Sadie sighed, utterly and embarrassingly morose over the subject of Ryan. “Nothing specific happened, no. But I can only pursue him so long before it’s just awkward for both of us, right?”
Packing away her brushes into a travel case, Fiona shook her head. “I’d be more inclined to agree with you if I hadn’t seen firsthand the way he looks at you when you’re not looking.”
“I’ve been looking.” Frustration gnawed at her, making her chest ache, and she lifted one manicured hand to rub at the offending spot. “I feel as though all I’ve done is look, look, look.” Catching Fiona’s sympathetic gray gaze, she shrugged, helpless. “I haven’t seen him since reshoots in September. He won’t return my calls. Or my e-mails.”
Fiona winced. “That’s probably not a good sign.”
Scowling, Sadie stalked across the bedroom to where the designer gown her stylist had delivered that morning hung in a black garment bag. “Probably not,” she agreed as she unzipped the bag to reveal a sliver of gold satin. “I was hoping you’d have some sort of sage advice for me.”
Fiona laughed as she plopped down at the foot of Sadie’s giant bed, tucking her bare feet with their hot-pink painted toenails beneath her. “If only being in a relationship actually made me wise. Please try to remember who I’m dating.”
The happiness that laced Fiona’s teasing made Sadie uncomfortably envious. Sadie’s Vendetta costar, Declan Murphy, had fallen fast and hard for his makeup artist last spring, and only a few short months later had moved into Fiona’s newly acquired Pasadena home with her. The couple had invited Sadie and other cast and crew from the movie over several times in the intervening months between the end of shooting in Italy and the start of post-production back in Los Angeles, and every time she visited their cute little bungalow—and was forced to return to her big, empty house afterward—Sadie had to battle back waves of bitterness.
She and Ryan could’ve been just as happy as Fiona and Declan, if only he hadn’t decided their history meant nothing to him.
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