Plotting Summer (FALLING FOR SUMMER) by Jess Heileman EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Jess Heileman
- Language: English
- Genre: contemporary romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 4 MB
- Price: Free
Present Day
I’M ENTIRELY CONVINCED there’s no sweeter sound in this world than
the rapid clacking of keys on a keyboard. Specifically, my keyboard. More
specifically, my keyboard when I’m nearing the end of an epic love story I
plotted months ago.
Yes, my fingers are begging for reprieve from the onslaught of catching
each detail of the unfolding scene in my mind. And yes, my back is in near
spasms from sitting for hours in this supposedly-ergonomic luxury chair I
fully regret purchasing. But I can’t stop. I intend to take advantage of every
glorious moment the words are flowing. Not just because I’m on a deadline.
But mainly because I’m on a deadline. And it’s a tight one.
Brant’s eyes are warm and alluring, making the choice to step closer
effortless. “I always knew it was you.” His voice comes out rough as
gravel, but the sensation of it against my skin is …
I tap my index finger mindlessly on the H key, conjuring up the right
word. Welcome? Pleasant? No, I need something with more intensity.
Exhilarating? Maybe a bit too intense for what I’m going for.
My finger tapping grows more pronounced.
Oh! How about intoxicating? I consider the word a moment. I do like it,
but I’d have to change the rough as gravel to a more applicable metaphor.
Mid deliberation, I sense my state of flow coming to an abrupt halt.
Intoxicating it is.
Until edits.
… intoxicating.
My legs grow heavy and my head spins. “Always?” There’s a
waver in my voice with the rise of emotions—
My phone buzzes on the desk next to me. Without even a glance, I
silence it. Where was I? Oh yeah. Rise of emotions.
… swelling inside me. He couldn’t know what his admission meant.
He couldn’t know how deeply my very being longed to—
Buzz. Buzz.
I glare at the phone like it needs to understand how intensely I resent the
interruption. But then I see the name on the screen: Tala. Of course it’s her.
My sister is on a three-person list of permitted callers (along with my mom
and my best friend, Jane) when my phone’s set to concentration mode, and
her second attempt to reach me might mean it’s important. Like it was last
fall when I didn’t answer either of her back-to-back calls only to find out
hours later that Grandma had been admitted to the hospital with a heart
scare. I haven’t ignored a repeat call from Tala since.
Reluctantly bidding my state of flow farewell, I accept Tala’s call.
“Hey! Is everything okay?”
“Do you have a minute to video chat?”
Her tone is light, but I’m also aware she doesn’t answer my question.
“Sure.” I exit concentration mode and the phone immediately beeps with
the incoming video call.
When I accept it, Tala’s dark eyes and rosy cheeks fill the screen. It’s
uncanny how much we look alike—down to the similar smatter of freckles
across our nose and cheeks—except my chestnut brown hair still hangs to
the middle of my back while Tala recently chopped hers off just below the
chin. Drastic hairstyle changes must be a step in her postpartum recovery
because she’s undergone one after having each of her three kids.
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