I’ve fallen in love twice in my life.
The first time, I was nineteen. Naïve. Passionate. Willing to believe fairy tales existed.
The choices I made for love back then ruined my ballet career, destroyed my dreams, and left my heart shattered. I survived by closing myself off to any possibility of repeating the same mistakes.
This time, I’m forty-nine. Older. Wiser. Unwilling to give up my independence and risk losing myself again.
But this city girl has never danced with a cowboy before, and his rugged good looks and gentle charm are threatening to tumble the walls I’ve built around my fragile heart.
The past has a way of coming back around, though, and sometimes we can’t escape the mistakes we’ve made.
This standalone novel in the Tales Behind the Veils series is a roller coaster ride of emotions with parallel love stories that prove love is a risk no matter what age you are.
Excerpt:
Dax chose a table against the wall and held out a chair for me as I removed my coat and positioned it across the back of the chair so the sleeve could dry.
He handed me a laminated menu card from the bucket on the wall, but I noticed he didn’t take one for himself.
“What do you recommend?” I asked.
“A little bit of everything. You won’t know what you like until you try it.”
I handed him back the menu. “Then surprise me.”
His eyebrows raised a bit, but his smile grew wider. “Okay. I like it. How adventurous are you?”
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
He chuckled. “Any allergies? Major dislikes?” I shook my head and he continued. “You want a drink? They have cucumber water.”
The thought of him sipping cucumber water was too much for me, and my laughter bubbled up and out of me before I could contain it.
“What? What’s funny about cucumber water?” he asked.
“Nothing,” I replied, clearing my throat and trying not to laugh again. “I’m sure it’s wonderful. Let’s have cucumber water.”
“It’s good for you.”
My laughter bubbled up and out again. “I’m sure it is. I would love to have some. I’m looking forward to it. I never knew cowboys drank cucumber water.”
“Oh,” he said with a smirk. “I reckon cowboys drink whatever they want to. I thought you didn’t know many cowboys.”
“I don’t.”
He leaned forward and grinned. “Then how do you know what cowboys drink?”
I laughed again, surprisingly relaxed and at ease with our banter.
“I don’t. Obviously.”
AUthor Bio:
Violet Howe enjoys writing romance with humor. She lives in Florida with her husband, who is her knight in shining armor, and their two handsome sons. They share their home with three adorable but spoiled dogs. When she’s not writing, Violet is usually watching movies, reading, or planning her next travel adventure. You can follow Violet’s ramblings on her blog, The Goddess Howe.
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