Title: Dear Isobel Author: Jinny Alexander Genre: Contemporary Fiction
Two marriages, a bucket full of dreams and a pile of broken hearts.
She’s not sharing her name. She’s been judged enough.
Once, she had it all: a supportive husband, lovely children, and a prestigious career revitalising failing businesses in the wake of Ireland’s recession.
When her friend Isobel suggested she take on a new job in their tiny rural community, she didn’t expect to fall in love.
Now she has become the other woman, the marriage wrecker, the cheat, and the betrayer.
When the illicit relationship ends, she’s stuck between the ruined affair and a crumbling marriage. Jobless and bereft, she must try to salvage what remains.
Will talking to Isobel help pick up the pieces or shatter their lives forever?
My tears anger her, she does not understand them. Nonetheless, it still catches me unawares, almost an entire week later, when I am the recipient of the emotional outburst bleeping into my inbox to inform me that my own emotional outbursts are unwelcome.
Dear Isobel,
Thank you for your emotional outburst to ask me not to have any emotional outbursts. It is good of you, as always, to tell me not to reply, just in case we begin an everlasting text conversation reminding each other not to have emotional outbursts.
Among the many things I cannot comprehend, I cannot comprehend her lack of understanding that this is an emotional time for me, as well as for her. How can she not understand I have lost the family I’ve known for the last four years and that her family have lost me? How can she not understand that for me to leave everything I ever wanted behind me, with the tears I shed on her doorstep, will undoubtedly make me cry and cry and cry? I know I am the cheater and not the cheated, but, at times like this, it still feels as if we have lost the same things, Isobel and me. I can still put myself in her shoes, so why can she no longer fit into mine? Her text is emotional, with misspellings and anger, and I can tell she has been drinking.
Dear Isobel,
You should hide your phone before you open wine.
There is an element of hypocrisy I must admit to, as I send this text with the uncomfortable knowledge that I, too, should hide my own wine, along with my phone.
Dear Isobel,
It is good of you to keep up this regular contact, approximately once weekly, I believe so far, to remind me not to have any contact with you. I appreciate it.
She clearly doesn’t realise I will think of her weekly even without her reminding me not to think of her. Daily, even. Hourly, in fact. I wonder will there ever come a time when she and Charles do not fill my thoughts in all my waking hours?
Dear Isobel,
Why don’t you realise that each time you contact me, it triggers a thousand memories, and I then spend far longer thinking of your husband than I was before your message came through?
Although I was pleased to have seen him, and to have spoken to him, while the girls had their lesson on that dark night, and to have remained calm and civil, I then go to bed thinking of him, and wishing it was not like this. I lie against my own husband—I drape my arms and legs around and across and over him—but it is not him I am thinking of as I fall asleep.
Dear Isobel,
Which of us is Charles thinking of as he lies next to you and falls asleep?
Jinny was first published in Horse and Pony magazine at the age of ten. She’s striving to achieve equal accolade now she’s (allegedly) a grown up. She secured a publishing deal in December 2020 and her first two novels will be released by Creative James Media in 2022.
Jinny teaches English as a foreign language to people all over the world, which gives her an endless source of new inspiration for stories. Her home for now is in rural Ireland, which she shares with her husband and far too many animals. Her two children have grown up and flown the nest – mostly. She quite likes to shut the door on them all and write.
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Title: Red Author: Cambria Hebert Series: House of Misfits #3 Genre: MM Contemporary Fairy Tale Romance
Once upon a time…
An orphaned boy runs away, knowing he is better off in solitude than in the company of those with whom he does not belong. However, Little Red is not meant to be alone, his crimson halo a calling card to those far and wide. And so off he goes… into the woods to attract the eye of a wicked wolf.
Better to see you with. Better to hear you with. Better to taste you with.
Astoundingly, the woods are not a frightening place, and Little Red flourishes among the weeds and thorns until he isn’t so little anymore. And the wicked wolf he’s gone to catch? Well, this forest has more than one, and perversely, their snapping teeth and sharp claws make him feel at home. Years after walking into the woods, Red is expected to walk back out, carrying with him the head of the most dangerous predator.
But those who sent him into the forest failed to take into account that not everyone fears the bite of the big bad wolf. Some crave it…
Not even the noise-canceling headphones could drown out his shout. My fingers paused in flying over the keyboard but resumed when nothing else followed.
A moment later, he yelled again. I glanced up out of the blue-toned bubble the monitors always surrounded me with. He was not a peaceful sleeper. I normally ignored him, but tonight I couldn’t. Tonight he was annoying me more than usual.
Shoving back one side of the headphones, I listened anew.
“No,” he wailed, and something twisted in my gut.
I tossed the headphones onto my desk, moving out from behind my setup, adjusting the beanie I wore as I strode toward the bedroom. Pushing open the door without knocking, I folded my arms over my chest in the doorway.
“Hey,” I called.
He seemed too big for the bed as he thrashed around, breathing heavily and muttering too low for me to understand.
Sighing, I stepped into the dark room out of the light spilling in from the living room. His forehead was damp with a sheen of sweat, his messy dark hair matted in it.
“Wake up,” I intoned, still staring down.
His body stilled for a brief moment, making me think I’d managed to wake him. “I’m trying to work,” I bitched, turning away.
A keening sound filled the room, followed by a broken sob. Footsteps faltering, I turned back, realizing he was still trapped wherever he was. The pain etched in his features made my chest tight, and a sudden need to comfort had me leaning over him.
“Daeshim,” I called.
His face softened just a bit, and it made something inside me ease.
“Daeshim.” I called out to him again, this time reaching out to tap his cheek.
He moved so fast I didn’t even realize what was happening until I was on my back, pinned beneath him. The mattress was soft, but maybe it only felt that way because the body pinning me in place was rock hard.
“What the hell are you doing?” I grunted, trying to shove him off.
His eyes snapped open, but there was no one home. An uneasy feeling wormed around inside me, my fight-or-flight response coming in hot.
I shoved at his shoulders again, watching his face contort in menace. Daeshim was basically a gangster. A criminal and an asshole. He was also my roommate. I’d never been scared of him.
But as his hands shot out, locking around my neck to squeeze, fear bloomed.
I opened my mouth to yell at him, but all that came out was a strangled sound. Panic assaulted me, bursting over everything else and making me feel like I was fighting even though all my physical movements stopped.
Get it together! A voice demanded inside me, effectively stopping the absolute control of the panic.
Grunting, I twisted under him, but his weight pushed me harder into the bed.
Wheezing and eyes bulging, I grappled at his arms, digging my nails into them, trying to pry away his hands.
The set of his mouth was grim, and his eyes glittered with that creepy, empty, nobody’s-home look.
“Dae—” I wheezed, twisting and slapping his arm. “Daeshim.”
He blinked, and I was able to drag in some air before he started strangling me anew. He was in there.
I just have to—
The thought cut off as spots started to swim before my eyes. It was do or die. Literally.
Letting my body go lax under his, I put every last bit of effort into the fist I clenched at my side.
Then, just before this asshole overpowered me, I launched a right hook into the side of his head.
Cambria Hebert is an award winning, bestselling novelist of more than twenty books. She went to college for a bachelor’s degree, couldn’t pick a major, and ended up with a degree in cosmetology. So rest assured her characters will always have good hair.
Besides writing, Cambria loves a caramel latte, staying up late, sleeping in, and watching movies. She considers math human torture and has an irrational fear of chickens (yes, chickens). You can often find her running on the treadmill (she’d rather be eating a donut), painting her toenails (because she bites her fingernails), or walking her chorkie (the real boss of the house).
Cambria has written within the young adult and new adult genres, penning many paranormal and contemporary titles. Her favorite genre to read and write is romantic suspense. A few of her most recognized titles are: The Hashtag Series, Text, Torch, and Tattoo.
Cambria Hebert owns and operates Cambria Hebert Books, LLC.
