Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 77827 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77827 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
The Moran Sisters Series is a collection of interconnected small-town romances about love, loss, and the pull of coming home, and the people who make it impossible to leave. From the fiercely loyal older sister who swore off love, to the free spirit running from her past, the quiet heart who’s always lingered on the sidelines, and the firecracker who masks fear with laughter, each sister is about to fall hard for the last man she ever expected.
More details and official blurb coming soon
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Prologue
Baylor
* * *
The apartment is quiet when I open the door, and I know immediately that Todd’s not here. He told me he was coming home to change, and we could grab dinner together before he went back to the office. I’m heading home tomorrow for a surprise baby shower for my older sister, Ellison. I won’t be home for a week, and I wanted to spend some time with him before I left.
Closing the door, I step inside and kick off my heels. I love my job, numbers are my jam, but the heels, ten out of ten, do not recommend having to wear those torture devices all day long. This girl misses her cowboy boots.
I can’t help but smile when I imagine my boss and my coworkers’ expressions if I were to roll up into the office on Monday morning wearing them.
The smile fades as quickly as it comes.
The apartment doesn’t just feel quiet… it feels empty. Not the peaceful kind of quiet I used to crave after a long day, but the kind that presses in on you, that makes every small sound too loud. The hum of the fridge. The soft tick of the clock over the stove. The faint echo of my own breathing.
I set my bag down on the counter and glance toward the bedroom, half-expecting to see a trail, his jacket tossed over a chair, his shoes kicked off by the door. Something that says he was here, that he meant it when he said he’d come home.
But everything is exactly the way I left it this morning. If not for the stack of mail on the counter, I’d think he was never here. Reaching for my phone, I hit his name and place it to my ear.
“Baylor,” Todd greets me.
“I thought we were having dinner together tonight?”
“I came home to change, you weren’t there, so I picked something up on my way back to the office.”
“Really, Todd?” I ask, not bothering to hide the annoyance in my voice.
“I’m busy. Is that all?”
His words should affect me in some way, but this has been our normal for far too long. I don’t know what it will take to get us back to what we used to be. “What time will you be home?”
“Late.”
“Of course,” I mutter, the words slipping out before I can stop them.
“Don’t wait up,” he says, and the call ends.
Placing my phone on the counter, I brace my hands, bow my head, and slowly exhale. I know he’s trying to make partner. I know his job is demanding, but lately, okay, a lot longer than lately—over the last year, probably even longer—he’s been even more distant. He puts every part of himself into his career, and there’s nothing left for me. For us.
I walk over to the fridge and open it, staring at the contents without really seeing them. I had my heart set on going out. I hate cooking for one, and I’ve been doing it a lot lately. I close the fridge a little harder than I need to without taking anything out.
My stomach twists, but it’s not with hunger. It’s anger and disappointment. It’s an all-too-familiar, sinking feeling settling in my gut, the one I’ve been trying to ignore, trying not to name. The one that whispers that this is becoming a pattern, our new normal.
I hate it.
I lean back against the counter, arms crossing over my chest, as I stare out into the apartment. At the space that’s starting to feel a little less like ours and a little more like it’s just mine. We hardly see one another these days, and I don’t know when it happened, but it’s not Todd that I miss. It’s his company.
Too many nights at the office. Another dinner missed. Another promise that sounded good when he said it, but didn’t last long enough to matter. Rinse and repeat. That’s our life. We met five years ago. I’d been living in New York for three years in a shitty one-bedroom, but it was mine, and I loved it. He came to my office for a meeting and asked me to dinner. A year later, I was moving in with him. We were good for a while, but ever since he was told he had a chance at making partner nearly two years ago, each day we’ve drifted further and further apart.
I know he’s busy, but it no longer feels like we’re in a relationship. We’re roommates at best. Hell, it’s been months, far longer than I care to admit, since we’ve been intimate. I don’t even get goodbye kisses in the mornings before he leaves anymore.
I don’t know how to reach him. I don’t know how to bridge this gap that’s formed between us.
With a heavy sigh, I push off the counter, pull the stack of mail toward me, and start sifting through it. Of course, Todd left his all open, and papers everywhere. The “maid” will get it. In other words, he knows I’ll pick up after him because that’s what I do. I justify it by saying he works so hard, but what about me? I work hard, too. When I reach the bottom of the stack, I see it’s a medical bill.