A'S

charcoal sketches of Jace...a Jace, however, who I've never seen in real life. The drawings span the time from when he was a newborn to his mid teen

ather's painting. He was...reverent when he ran his hand over the glass, and there was a palpable longing in the way he gazed at the empty spot. Judging from the

igures a month to maintain. The place feels like a slice of southern Florida heaven...so long as I don't look too far beyond the poo

in all caps...like that would make Jace notice. Despite the lack of return address, I immediately know who sen

y ostentatious for an assistant, but it's part of Jace's home, so that's that. Interior decoration isn't my responsibility or prerogativ

an never signs her name. And she always sends food at least once a week. The card reads, The expressway to a man's heart is through his stomach. Pure delusion. There's no expressway to

life. I shake my head. She never used to say that until Jace starred in a blockbuster retelling of Cinderella. He playe

ood items delivered to Jace. Everything is restuffed into the boxes for storage. Ever since a psycho fan tried to run him over in her Jeep screaming, "If I can't have you, nobody can!" Jace has every

heart stickers. Just the logo and address of one of the most expensive and exclusive hotels in the state. What is this about? It's not the place I went to drag Jace out of the hot

ter and start reading, toying with the apple shaped silver pendant around my neck that I never take off. The general manager has ad

ood or bad that the general manager used such polite yet pointed language. The H&D women can be forces of destruction, fueled by spite and a sense of betrayal. The former is completely understandable, but the l

sand dollars? Did Jace pick up a feral cat? I scan the enclosed photos. The minibar is cleaned out. Broken glass everywhere. Numerous green and brown sta

enty over my worthless ex, Cole. I take a few deep breaths. How did I get on Cole? I'm better off without him. He only wanted me for my connection to