True love never dies.
Emma Donohue begs to differ.
When a late night accident claims the love of her life, Emma secludes herself in memories of James. In his sandy brown hair and clear blue eyes. In their innocent first kiss and declarations of love. In their plans for a life together after college. But happy dreams can’t rid her of the guilt she carries. She can’t erase her actions the night he died. She can’t erase her reaction at his funeral. And she can’t erase the hollow void that fills her chest and consumes her heart.
The first time Emma hears James’ voice, she’s astounded. It sounds as if he’s standing right beside her, and she fears her shattered heart is trying to drive her mad. But, as she continues to hear the voice, she finds comfort in it. With the help of her best friend Shel and handsome newcomer Dane, she tries to move forward and start living again.
Until the voice in her head turns out to be more. So much more.
You know what they say.
True love never dies.
Sara Mack is a Michigan native who grew up with her nose in books. She is a wife and a hockey mom on top of being trapped in an office – which now has a window! – forty hours a week. Her spare time is spent one-clicking on Amazon and devouring books on her Kindle, cleaning up after her kids and two elderly cats, attempting to keep her flower garden alive, and, of course, writing. She has an unnatural affinity for dark chocolate, iced tea, and bacon.
Emma's world is turned upside down when James dies. Her reaction at his funeral scared her family...and offended James' parents. Emma thought she had lost James forever.
Little did she know he was with her all along.
My chest tightens. I remember the feel of plastic against my back as I slid from the chair. I remember how rough the carpet felt as I crawled across the floor on my hands and knees. I remember trying to stand and my legs failing me; my hands reaching to grasp the casket, but sliding off the varnished wood. I remember trying again and again only to have my father and my brother grab ahold of me to pull me back. I struggled with them; pushed them away as my fingers finally found purchase on the shiny wood. I remember gripping it as tight as humanly possible and feeling my brother try to pry my fingers off as my father held me around my waist and pulled me back. All the while I was screaming, “No! Let me be with him!”