How Much Is Too Much For An Ebook?

I’ve been thinking about the books I have out on Amazon, the reviews they’ve gotten and the fact that I can probably improve them a little. I know I’ve grown as a writer over the past year or so. I’ve been reading my ass off, giving reviews when I can and seeing how others write. I’ve also been getting really good at spotting mistakes (especially spelling mistakes) and although I’m not always grammatically correct (I have trouble with a comma issue…it’s a disease I’m sure there is a treatment for), but I think even that has improved.

Recently I’ve been toying with the idea of raising the prices of my cheapest books to match the price of the more expensive prices. However, before I do that, I’m going to make sure that they are better…revising, editing them better and having them read-thru by some beta readers, just as if they were brand new novels that no one had ever read before. I’m even toying with the idea of changing/adding to the titles.

But how much is too much for an ebook/novella/short story? With any of these, there are no printing costs, no overhead and although you would make more with having your book priced at a higher price, will people buy it?

I’ve seen some novels that, in my opinion, were priced too low. Some too high. Do people buy these books?

According to my husband (disclaimer~he is NOT an expert), in his opinion, pricing your full length book too low (like at the .99 cent level) means that you don’t think enough of your book and therefore, others won’t think much of it either. But, on the other hand, pricing them on the too-high end, does that mean you think you’re the best and that you stand up there with the likes of Stephen King, Ken Follet, Amanda Hocking and Dean Koontz?

Um, hate to break it to you, but you probably aren’t.

However, what about the people who have been traditionally published and published through small presses? Apparently the authors don’t have any say in what price the publisher places on their books. So, a nobody for whom nobody knows suddenly has a book out on the market that is far too expensive for the average book out there. I’ve seen ebooks as high as $11-14 dollars from small presses. Are they selling?

There are some really great Indie authors out there that feel their work is worth $5-7 dollars, yet they’re not selling. Why is that? Why aren’t they selling?

On the other hand, I’ve read books from some Indie authors and thought to myself, “This book could be priced higher,” because it was that good. However, would it sell better just because of one person’s opinion? Not likely. Several? Maybe.

So, how do we price our books to get them to sell? What is the answer?

I have to admit that I don’t have the cash to throw around to buy those expensive books, even for a friend (although I did just purchase a short story by my friend Evie…she does some reviews for friends, so it’s a tit-for-tat sort of thing.) I have in the past paid the “small press price” but now I just can’t justify spending that much money on something that I can’t hold in my hand and place on my shelf when I’m finished with it. I also have to admit that the majority of ebooks on my ereader were free books. I wait until the book becomes free at Amazon, then grab it, just as I would hope that my friends do with me.

All of my online friends (or at least most of them) have gotten, or will get, a free review from me. I get your book for free, I’ll give you a free, honest review in return. Even if you’re not my friend, if I have your book on my Kindle, I will eventually try to get around to giving you a review. Right now, besides beta reading for a friend, I’m also reading a book I got for free on the Amazon free list. I’ll do a review in return for the free book.

So what’s the right answer? Price them too low and make people think you don’t really like your work, or price them too high as if you’re a bestselling traditionally published author and have low sales? Even successful bestselling authors who are now Indie know that pricing yourself too high will lead to lower book sales.

How do you come up with the price of your books?


A Short Scene That Begged To Be Written

I’ve just recently been thinking of this one scene…not sure why it’s been on my mind, but it’s been begging me to write it. I’m not sure how I will write a story around it, but I’ve got a few ideas.

I love this scene, and will write more.

I’ve tentatively called this scene, “Remember Me”…not sure if this might become a title or not since there was a movie made a few years back called this. For now, though, I’ll call it that…so here goes. Let me know what you think.

He curled his arm around my waist and brought me closer to him. He leaned down to kiss me while he brought his right hand up towards my left breast. I moaned into his kiss, loving the way he felt against me, but knowing that we had to stop. I pushed away from him and said, “Can I say something before we go any further?”

He nodded his head and said, “Sure, I guess.”

I looked up into his wanting blue eyes, knowing I wanted him as much. “I don’t want this to be just a one night stand between us. I don’t want to be just another notch on your bedpost. I want to be the one that you want to be with in the morning light.” I stepped closer to him and wove my hand through his suit jacket, my hands sitting comfortably on his hips. “I don’t want to be the girl that you forget. I want to be the girl you remember.”

You Scratch My Back And…Thanks! That Felt Great!

Recently I was asked to read and review someone’s book. I don’t mind doing that, especially when it’s an indie author. Sometimes the little guy could use a boost, and sometimes you’ll find their writing to be way better than some stuffy traditionally published author as well.

One author sent me a copy of his book as a gift from Amazon. He sent it to me a while ago, but I was just in the middle of reading another book and then I was reading Norma Beishir’s The Unicorn’s Daughter so that I could give her a review. And now I’m beta reading for William Kendall’s debut novel Heaven and Hell. I will get to this author’s book when I’m finished with William’s book, giving it a review. I think I owe it to him to give him that much since he did send me the book as a gift.

Norma, William and Mike Saxton have all beta read for me, short stories and novels alike, and Martin Rus has edited for me before. Eve Gaal has done reviews and read-throughs, as well as Shelly Arkon. And all of us have been promoting a little known author from my brand name, Bent River Books, named Devon Cooper. She is the author of Bad Day, and is promoting when she can. She is a newbie to Twitter and Facebook, but we scratch each other’s backs. We care that the other’s work is well written and I would do what I could for them.

I do tend to gravitate to romances and romantic comedies more so than thrillers and horrors, but I have been known to read my fair share of paranormals. I’m not a huge sci/fi and fantasy fan, but if it’s well written, then I’ll read anything. I do tend to stay away from mysteries and horror, but sometimes you have to try something new once in awhile.

If any of my friends asked me to beta read for them, I would. If they asked for a review, I’d give them as honest a review as I could. So, why is it that I feel that I’m scratching everyone else’s back, but not getting any relief from my own itch?

It seems that there are many Indie author’s who are hellbent on writing that “next best novel”, and expecting it to be read and reviewed, and yet, do nothing for anyone else.

One fellow author told me once that she would do a bloghop with me (whatever that is, exactly), but that I would have to pay for her services. WTF? I couldn’t believe that! Paying for a service because it would take up some of your time was a ludicrous thing for her to do/say. If I did that for every time I’ve read, reviewed, formatted, blogged about or otherwise promoted someone else by tweeting or by facebook etc, then I guess I’d be a rich woman who wouldn’t have to write to try to earn a little extra spending money.

What I’m getting at is that there are authors out there that aren’t interested in anyone but themselves. They tell everyone on Facebook how many words they’ve written that day and that after the beta reads come back, they’ll be starting their next novel. I-haven’t-got-time-for-anyone-else kind of attitude.

I don’t know. Maybe it’s my Canadian nature. Canadians tend to be a little more giving of ourselves, wanting the “little guy” to succeed. I want every one of my friends to succeed. And they will. You know why? If you haven’t figured it out yet, it’s because they give back.

I’m not saying that you have to read and review all books that come your way, (because I have a shitload of free books on my Kindle) but I think it would be nice to take time out of your otherwise busy schedule to read and review your friends books. And don’t think because I read and review books that I don’t have a life. I work fulltime, I’m a fulltime mother and wife, and that means there’s always stuff to do. I write, and because of the reading, reviewing, promoting, formatting etc, I haven’t blogged that much lately. I have my online relationships that are maintained through emails and Facebook, and those relationships are important to me because those people have been supportive of me and my works as I’ve been supportive of theirs.

Let’s just put it this way. We’re all struggling to make a go of this. It’s a difficult thing to be #1…and especially in this industry when there are so many great indie authors out there that are just begging to have their works read and reviewed…yet, there are others who won’t don’t want to take the time out to give a little scratch for someone else.

Fifty Shades Of Sparkles

 Shades of Sparkles

I’ve always been dull.

Ok, that didn’t come out right. That’s not what I meant. What I’m trying to say is, is that I’m not stupid or dumb or otherwise lacking in the brains department, because, in fact, I’m actually quite the opposite. I’m at the top of my senior class, and have an IQ of 250. Two more months of boring high school, and then I’ll be off to college. No, I’d say I was far from dumb–just dull.

And, what I mean by dull is, my life and everything about it is dull. I just don’t shine. I’m over-shadowed by those around me, and I mean, everyone. Even those in my class that are dumber than myself.

My looks are sub-standard at best, and my hair won’t do anything that I want it to. In fact, the day it looks good will probably be the day that I’m dead, laying in a casket awaiting my funeral. It’s a dingy brown colour with absolutely no highlights in it at all. My dull hair hangs down against my pale, sunless skin. If I go out in the sunlight for even a minute, I’m burnt to a crisp. It’s just easier to wear SPF 100 proof sunscreen and a floppy hat instead of having to endure the wrath of a burn just so I can look as if I’ve been tanning.

As for my facial features, even they are lack-lustre. My eyes are a dull grey brown that look like murky rainwater puddles laying beside a commonplace nose. My lips are thin and flat. Even I cringe when I look in the mirror. I’m definitely no Snow White, although, I have to confess, my skin is whiter than hers. Even my name means white–Biancha. And, my nickname is Snow Ball. Fitting actually, since my last name is Ball.

However, even though my looks are kind of in the toilet, my grades are exceptional. That being said, I wish my love life was. It’s kind of in the toilet, too. Always has been. With my looks, I’d end up with the pimply-faced kid with the broken glasses and pocket protector. Even then, it’s a crap-shoot. I’ve had worse looking kids laugh at me.

My parents are divorced. I’m now living with my pocket-protected dad with the zit scars on his face and the miles of computer cordage hanging out of his back pocket. He might be a computer nerd, but he’s a great dad. He doesn’t hover. I like that about him.

I just moved here to this school the other day, and already I’ve been kicked out of groups. I tried out for the cheerleading squad, but the head cheerleader told me I was pathetic, and that my moves were lifeless. I thought they were pretty good. They told me that my cheers brought tears to their eyes, and not in a good way.

Next I tried out for the glee club, hoping that a little music and drama would make my life a little less dull. I auditioned for the spring musical which was Silence Of The Lambs. The drama teacher told me that I didn’t make a very nice moth and that when I sang, dogs were barking in response.

See what I mean? I’m dull. Lifeless. A matte finish in a shiny world. I suck.

I arrived at school much like I had any other day, alone and uninteresting, when my one and only friend, Alyssa, caught up with me and walked me to the cafeteria.

“Hey, Biancha. Whatcha doin’?” she asked enthusiastically.

“Um, walking to class.” I shifted my books in my arms and adjusted the strap of my purse back onto my shoulder.

“Well, do we have a few minutes before class? I want to talk to you about my math homework. I don’t get it.”

I nodded. “Yeah, sure. What don’t you get?”

Alyssa shoved her math book at me and muttered, “All of it! I don’t get any of it.”

We walked to the cafeteria and sat at the extra nerdier table. Alyssa opened her book to the page she wanted help with but I was far from paying attention. I couldn’t pay attention. Not when this extremely beautiful guy just walked by our table. I elbowed Alyssa and asked, “Who’s he?”

She looked up to see who I was looking at, then back at her book, pointing to the questions she needed the answers for. “Oh, that’s Fredward Coolson,” she said nonchalantly. She shoved the book over at me again and said, “Here, these are the questions that I don’t get.” I was too busy looking at Fredward Coolson to notice what questions she was talking about. Suddenly I was whacked from behind. I turned around to find Alyssa with a glaring look in her eyes and her book shoved ever closer to me. She poked the book with her finger and said, “Pay attention to me, not him. Besides, Fredward doesn’t like anyone here. He never dates, and he doesn’t even talk to anyone, so get that thought out of your mind.”

I tried to concentrate on the questions she had laid out before me, but my eyes kept wandering up to where Fredward sat on the other side of the cafeteria. Alyssa whacked me again.

Suddenly, in the mere blink of an eye, he was standing beside me. I looked up, and I know a stupid smile came upon my face. He didn’t have a smile on his though. Mine quickly disappeared.

“You’re Biancha.” It wasn’t a question but more of a statement. I nodded, my jaw waving in the air as it hung loosely from my face. “Are you ok? Is she bullying you?”

I didn’t know what to say. Was she? No, silly, she just needed some help. I just couldn’t help but stare at him instead of helping her. He was the most handsome guy I had ever seen, and certainly one that cute would never speak to me under normal circumstances. Was he normal? Or was he as abnormal as I?

Suddenly I felt another whack to the back of my head. It was Alyssa again. I looked back at her and she whispered through clenched teeth, “Answer him.” She moved her eyeballs in his direction, alerting me that he was kind of glaring at her.

I looked back at him. “Ah, no.” Pointing to Alyssa, I added, “Um, this is my friend, Alyssa. She needs some help with her math homework.”

Just then the bell rang. Like a shot, he was gone. I watched him leave with no regrets and no goodbye’s or “I’ll maybe see you later at lunchtime”. There was nothing. He was just gone. God, his backside was to die for.

“Sorry, Alyssa. Maybe I can help you at lunch time.” And, with that, I took my dullness and headed for my first class which was biology.

I went to my seat and sat down. The seat beside me had been empty the last few days, but now it was filled with sparkles and light. It was filled with Fredward.

Fredward was beautiful. His eyes were a sparkling gray and his perfectly highlighted hair was absolutely perfectly coiffed. I wondered how much gel he actually used to get it to stay that way. He stared at me the whole class. Well, it was almost a glare, but I’d like to think he was just staring.

At lunch time, I headed for the cafeteria to get my usual french fries, gravy and cheese curds, when I suddenly felt a draft behind me. I turned, and there was Fredward.

“You know, you really should stay away from me,” he uttered, then turned and walked away quickly.

I stood there dumbfounded. Huh? WTF? He’s the one that’s been coming around me, and yet he tells me that I should stay away from him? Weirdo.

I shrugged my shoulders and then went to sit at the nerdier table. Alyssa joined me soon after but all I could concentrate on was looking at Fredward. He was staring at me, too. Double weirdo.

“I need you to help me with my math. It’s my next class. You’ve got to…” I was staring at Fredward again. I couldn’t help myself. WHACK! Alyssa clobbered me again. Ok, I probably deserved it since I’d been kind of ignoring her, but he was just so darn cute.

In a flash, he was by my side again. He glared at Alyssa and then grabbed me by the arm, hauling me away. His eyes were sparkling, his grip firm but not hurting me as he dragged me away from Alyssa. I looked back at her and she just sat there dumbfounded at his actions towards me. For someone who didn’t talk to anyone or like being with anyone else, he was certainly going out of his way to talk and be with me.

He lugged me outside and around to the back of the school. I thought he was maybe going to hurt me. Should I run? Yell? I was pretty sure that it wouldn’t do any good anyway. He seemed to be pretty fast. And, what kind of name is Fredward anyway?

“Are…are you going to hurt me?” I asked, stuttering my words a little out of fright.

He backed me into the wall and put his hands on either side of me. The expression on his face looked like I had slapped him. “Hurt you? I…I feel very protective of you. Your so-called friend keeps whacking you.”

“Are you following me?” I asked, my voice squeaking just a bit. I was a little frightened of him. He had me boxed in.

“Well, just a little.”

“You always seem to be where I am. You’re always staring at me. You never eat or drink anything. You’re definitely fast. And, what kind of name is Fredward?”

“It’s just a name.”

“It sounds old”, I told him.

“It is.”

“How old are you?”

“Seventeen,” he replied.

“How long have you been seventeen?”

“A while.”

“You’re frightening me.”


“Good?” God, what kind of psycho is this?

“Yeah, we shouldn’t be friends.”

“Why not?” I asked.

He grabbed me by the arm and dragged me further behind the school to where the bleachers were. It was deserted. Now I was extremely afraid. Was this guy some sort of serial killer? Some whacked out junkie who raped poor innocent girls? Should I scream? Or run?

But I didn’t do either of those. Instead, I let him drag me over behind the bleachers. He stood away from me and opened up his shirt. His skin sparkled as the sun beat down on him. There was so much sparkle that I thought I would go blind.

What the hell?

“This is what I am. I’m an alien from a far distant planet named Sparkletur.”

“You’re beautiful.”

“Biancha, this is the skin of an alien.”

“I know. I heard you. How can I get skin like that?”

He looked at me astonishingly and started to do up his shirt buttons. I just wanted to look at him all day long. He curled up his nose at me and said, “What?”

“I want skin like that, too. I’m so….you know, blah. There’s nothing remotely pretty about me and you’re so gorgeous. I want that. I need that. I’m nothing but….drab.” I shuddered with the thought.

“You want to be like me?”


“And, you’re ready right now?”


He eyed me warily but pulled me closer to him, letting me feel his warmth against me. His sparkly skin was glaring right into my eyes. I wished that I had a pair of sunglasses right now.

But, I still wanted it. If I could be as beautiful as him, maybe I wouldn’t have to sit at the nerdier table anymore. Maybe the cheerleaders would want me on their team just for my beauty. Maybe I could be a butterfly instead of a moth.

He leaned in closer to me, his breath warm on my neck. I opened my neck for him and then it happened. He licked me.

A sudden rush of coolness dashed over my skin, making me shiver. As I held my arms out in front of me in the sunlight, they tingled. I squealed with delight as tiny sparkles emerged on my skin. I looked at a strand of my hair and it was suddenly a beautiful shade of chestnut with lighter and darker highlights throughout.

I opened my purse and pulled out my compact mirror. I bit my lip in anticipation of what I might look like. When I looked, I was amazed. The person staring back at me had sparkly gray eyes and was beautiful beyond any other girl in school. I looked way too beautiful to have to sit at the nerdier table again. I was even too beautiful for the cheerleaders.

I could honestly say that I wasn’t dull anymore.

Thanks to Fredward, now I sparkled.

As we walked back into the school together, hand-in-hand, my skin, hair and eyes sparkling as if some fairyland fairy threw up on me, I suddenly realized that everyone was staring at us. At me.

Alyssa grabbed me by the arm. I looked at her and smiled. “What happened to you?” she asked, looking at me from head to toe. She squinted her eyes from the glare.

“Fredward is what happened to me.” Looking at him with googly eyes, I said, “Isn’t he dreamy?”

“What have you done to yourself? You look like you just took a bath in silver glitter. You’re like fifty shades of sparkles.”

“I know. Isn’t it beautiful?” I held out my arm, watching the glitter catch the fluorescent lights from above.

“Well, I hope for your sake that it washes off. You look silly.”

I glared at her. How could she think I looked silly when I was now more beautiful than everyone else? “You’re just jealous because now I’m beautiful, and I now have a gorgeous boyfriend.” Looking at Fredward I said, “He’s going to ask me to the prom, aren’t you Fredward?”

“Ah, yeah, sure.” Fredward didn’t look so sure.

“What’s the matter, Fredward?” I asked, suddenly concerned about my social status. I mean, really, I would look hot in any outfit. And, I wouldn’t need jewellery. I was already blinged out.

“Um, well, it’s like this. Sparkleturians can’t dance. We all have two left feet.” I looked down at his feet. He appeared to have both a right and left foot.

I smiled, understanding that he just didn’t know how to dance. “That’s ok. I can always make you. Don’t worry. With my new looks and moves, I’ll have you dancing up a storm. They’ll be fifty shades of blown away when they see us coming.”

He smiled back at me, taking me into his arms. For the first time ever, I felt the luminosity of our love. When he kissed me finally, we had a tingly glow about us. People were stopping to stare. I didn’t care. I was shimmering now in the dull world I’d just been a part of.





All Three Free Tuesday, Wednesday And Thursday

I’ve given books away before, but this time I thought I would do something different. I usually just give one book away at a time…this time though, you can get the whole trilogy for the grand total of—FREE!!

The first in this paranormal romance trilogy is Remember The Eyes. Here is the back cover blurb.

Eighteen year old Riley Abbott is about to meet the man from her past life dreams.

Riley has been having some weird dreams lately. But, that’s nothing new. Riley already has some pretty weird traits—telekinesis, astral travel and mind-reading abilities, to name a few. But, her dreams are so real to her, that her hands ache in the morning from pushing the heavy fruit cart down the path to the marketplace in her dreams. She even feels the kisses of the man that’s in her dreams.

Riley discovers that the dreams she is experiencing are past life dreams. She begins to believe this when she goes to University, and she meets Michael, a guy that when she looks into his eyes, she sees the man from her dreams, and she knows they have to be together. As their young love blooms, her dreams reveal to her that Michael could be in danger.

When another mind-reader, Brenda, won’t leave him alone, and threatens the lives of both Riley and Michael, Riley vows to do anything to keep him alive.


The second book in the series is called Nothing Without You. It is the continuing love story between Riley and Michael.

Riley surprises Michael with a trip back to England for Christmas so he can see his parents again. For Christmas, Michael gives her a ring that matches the brilliant blue of her eyes. He knows now that he can’t live without her.

When they return back to Canada, they find her dorm room has been ransacked. Her friends tell them that someone was around looking for her, but they didn’t know who it was. While Michael calls the police, Riley runs to the security guards office to find out if anyone was let in her room, but she never makes it.

Kidnapped by Brenda, Riley is taken to an abandoned warehouse where she is tortured by an evil doctor who wants her for her amazing special abilities. While held against her will, both Riley and Michael discover that she’s not the only one with special abilities.


And lastly, the third book, Infinite.

On their 25th wedding anniversary, Riley and Michael celebrate their infinite love by renewing their wedding vows. They prove that their love is everlasting and will stand the hands of time.

But Riley is holding onto a secret that could very well kill her. A secret that she’s even afraid of telling her family about. While a friend of the family needs Riley’s mom and Michael and Riley’s daughter, Clara, is pregnan, Riley doesn’t want her family to know that her own health is failing.

When it looks like the end is near for Riley, someone special and unexpected comes along to heal her.



Debut Romantic Comedy Novel, “Bad Day” By Devon Cooper Free!

Bent River Books is proud to announce the debut novel by Devon Cooper, a romantic comedy called, Bad Day.

Devon tells me that her novel will be free on Friday May 11 until Saturday May 13 for all readers at Amazon.

Here is a link to the book at Amazon, and Devon has provided Bent River Books blog with a short excerpt from the book.

Congratulations again, Devon, on your debut novel, Bad Day. I hope it becomes a bestseller!!


As soon as I realized that my keys and cell phone were sitting in the cup holder in the console, I tried the door, wondering against all odds that I might have forgotten to lock the doors. That’s when the stupid car alarm went off.

“Oh, for crap’s sake! What else could go wrong today?” I tried the driver’s door one last time, thentried the back door. It was no use. My only means of getting home or contacting someone to take me home, were sitting in the cup holder.

I checked my watch and realized that I only had ten minutes before my presentation was slated to begin. I really wanted the position and the recognition that went along with it. It was all I lived, breathed and wanted for the past four years since I started here. It was all I ever really dreamed about. My social life was nearly non-existent because of it, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to be at the top.

I ran towards the elevator that would take me to the bottom of the parking garage. I wondered if maybe taking the stairs might actually be quicker.

I didn’t have time to calculate the amount of time the elevator usually took and the amount of time that I had left. Instead of pushing the down button, I used my hip and elbow to open the door to the stairs. It slammed against the wall with a bang as I took the stairs running.

With the heavy load that I was carrying, and the fact that I was in heels, it was extremely difficult navigating the stairs with any precision. At any moment, with the way my morning was going, I half expected to do a header down the stairs, resulting in broken bones or loss of life. Internal bleeding at the very least.

When I body slammed against the door, my heel caught in the grate just outside. I knew that the grate was there, and I had often complained about it to deafened ears of management, but it was the furthest thing from my mind right now. I forgot about it this morning. I ran out the door, my heel snapping off in the grate, then plopped to the bottom with a plink as it hit a puddle of water.

I looked at the grate momentarily with disgust, knowing that I didn’t have time for this sort of thing. I juggled my presentation, my briefcase and my computer bag, adjusting them in my arms. I hopped on one foot as I took off the broken shoe, then took off the other, throwing them into a corner of the garage.

I ran as fast as I could in my bare feet towards the front entrance. I checked my watch for the time. I realized with dismay that I had just under eight minutes to get to the sixtieth floor. I wasn’t sure I was going to make it.

Contemporary Romance, “Wildflower”, Is Free Wednesday And Thursday May 9th and 10th

Well, my 90 days is almost up, and I have two days remaining for Wildflower to be free. So, Wednesday May 9th and Thursday May 10th are the days. If you haven’t gotten your free copy, you can now.

Will I be doing the free offer again?

You bet!!!

Here is a link and a short excerpt.

I slept in Nick’s tux shirt, and I think I slept the best I’d slept in a few days. He’d called me before he went to bed, wondering what I had on. I told him that I still had his shirt on but that I was about to get ready for bed, so I would be taking it off soon.

“No, keep it on, Wildflower. Sleep in it. I want to dream about you sleeping in my shirt.”

I could feel the heat rising in my face. “Oh, Nick. You’re silly.”

“You keep the shirt on and then I can see you in my dreams. You’ll be laying there sweetly and in the morning, it will be askew.” He paused, then added, “This morning when I saw you sitting out on the patio, at just the right angle, I could almost see your left breast.”

I suddenly felt exposed and embarrassed. I pulled the shirt collars around me, hiding myself.

“Nick, you’re embarrassing me.”

He laughed. “Why? You looked beautiful this morning.”

“You didn’t tell me that you could see me.”

“Of course I’m not going to tell you that! I wanted you to take the whole thing off!”

I got in under the covers, wearing the shirt like he requested. I looked over to the pillow that his beautiful head had occupied just the night before. I could almost see him smiling over at me.

“I can’t wait to see you tomorrow,” I stated.

“Me too, Wildflower. Me, too.”

In the morning, I awoke to the sun shining in on the bed like it had yesterday at Nick’s place. As if he could see into the future, Nick’s prediction was right. His shirt was askew, revealing me to the world. If he had been there, I knew what he would do and that made me smile.