Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Hope Barlowe is a vow away from a lakeside wedding to her high school sweetheart. Next, check off her follow-up two kids, a dog, a home, and a happy ever after. But suddenly, ever after seems like a very long time. Instead of saying I do, Hope thinks I can’t and bolts for the woods—right into the unpredictable life of a handsome tattooed hiker.
Days into a three-week getaway, struggling musician Ben Taylor is in search of inspiration. He never thought he’d find a bride stumbling through the bramble. Right away her sweet baby blues, confounding dilemma, and spirited independence strike a chord. Ben has found his muse, and he’s falling fast. Hope is finding something just as important—herself.
Soon enough Hope and Ben have all of Maple Creek talking—and divided. Where do they go from here? If Hope has learned anything, it’s that happiness is more than a checklist, and dreams can change in a heartbeat.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Chapter 1
HOPE
“Hope Mercy Barlowe, if you are not in the truck in five minutes, I’m leaving without you!” Mom yells through my bedroom door. If I had a dime for every time she’s told me that, I’d be richer than Bezos—but this time I have the perfect answer . . .
“You’re not going anywhere without me, Mom. I’m the bride!”
I grin at myself in the mirror, quite proud of the once-in-a-lifetime retort. Surrounding my reflection are stickers from high school; Polaroids of my soon-to-be husband, Roy, and me at homecoming; and a good luck–kiss print I made the night we went on our first date. Behind me is the childhood bedroom I’m desperately ready to leave. College was short, but it showed me that I’m ready for more—more than coming home to my parents’ house, for sure. Last night was the final time I’ll sleep under the pink-and-purple comforter Mom bought for my sixteenth-birthday room makeover.
Because today I’m the bride, and tonight I’ll be a wife. Mrs. Roy Laurier.
“Hope Laurier,” I whisper, the way I have hundreds of times before.
This has been the plan since I was a sophomore in high school, and I’ve tried out the name dozens of times. I’ve written it over and over to figure out my new signature, practicing my new introduction. The completed paperwork for my updated driver’s license is already in an envelope in my purse, waiting for a copy of the marriage license. What can I say? I’m a planner to the nth degree, plus infinity.
It’s quiet on the other side of my door, and I can almost see Mom frowning at my sassy response to her urgency and coming up with one of her own. Finally, she says, “Well, fine, but if you’re late to your own wedding, the whole town’s never gonna let you live it down. You’ll be nearly fifty years old, planning your twenty-fifth-anniversary party at the lodge, and people will still give you hell about how you’re always late. They’ll say, ‘Hope’ll be late to her own funeral.’ All because you were late to your wedding when you were twenty-three years old.”
I sigh. Mom can be dramatic when it serves her, but in this situation, she’s not exaggerating. The people of Maple Creek have long memories and love nothing more than to rehash old gossip during dull moments.
I twirl one of the loose curls by my ear around my finger, careful not to damage the magic Bettye worked to make my straight, thin light-brown hair look full in the romantic upsweep she said would go perfectly with my dress and veil. Looking in the mirror again, I smile. But it doesn’t reach my eyes, which are blank and vaguely fear filled.
Mom’s right.
Today is the start of everything. All that I’ve planned, all that Roy’s planned, all that everyone expects from us.
Finish high school: check.
Go to college: check—me getting my dental hygienist degree, and Roy, a business degree.
Secure jobs? Check. I’m working at Dr. Payne’s office, and Roy’s been at the local bank for almost two years.
Get married on the banks of the creek where it meets the lake, surrounded by family and friends and the maple trees our town is known for? Half check.
Next? I’m moving into Roy’s apartment so we can save enough money to eventually afford a small house and a couple of acres outside of town. We’ll have two daughters, Olive and Sage (Roy’s picks—his favorite color is green), and a dog named Chester (my pick), a cattle dog who’ll wear a blue bandanna and herd the girls to the dinner table every night. And we’ll live happily ever after.
It might as well be inscribed on a granite tablet and put up in the town square with a velvet rope around it.
I just have to get in the truck.
So why am I still sitting here, unable to move from the bedroom I hated coming back to after college because it made me feel like a child? Why do my feet feel like they’re encased in concrete, not specially selected white cowgirl boots with blue stitching? Why does my stomach feel like I’m both starving and completely full of June bugs buzzing around a porch light on a summer night?
Oh God. Am I pregnant?
No.
I know I’m not. Roy and I have been sexually active since the night of his senior prom, but we decided to abstain for a little while before the wedding so that tonight would be extra special. Well, “special” was my phrasing; “horny as fuck” was Roy’s. Either way, I’m definitely not pregnant.
Just nervous, I guess.
I shouldn’t be. I’m getting all I’ve ever wanted. My every dream is coming true. Today’s ceremony is the official start of my life with Roy.
It’ll be a good life—I know that. It’ll be fine, perfectly picturesque and Instagram-worthy.