Ashe held my face with the palms of his hands, wiping my tears with his thumbs. He looked into my eyes, just like Gran had told him to, and said, “She held on, Pearl. She fought for as long as she could. She wanted so badly to be here when you got out. And now, she’s up there”—he nodded toward the sky—“watching over you.”
Even my lungs were quivering as I tried to take a breath. Wetness coated my lips. My chest ached, as though something were tearing through it. “S-standing from her seat, clapping h-her fragile hands from h-heaven.”
Something at our side caught my attention. It was two birds, chirping from the branch of the tree that was next to us, their fat red bodies balancing on a thin limb.
I looked at my fiancé’s face, etched with as much pain as mine. “Gran’s taking care of Dylan. Neither of them is alone, I promise.”
He pulled me into his arms, the letter wedged between my heart and his, and he pressed his face into my neck, his breath hitting my skin as he whispered, “She’s holding his hand right now.”
Have you read the other two books in the Moments in Boston Series …
When Ashes Fall—Book One
When We Met—Book Two
Acknowledgments
Nina Grinstead, no one—and I mean, no one, aside from B—believes in me more than you do. You see things I just don’t believe are possible, and you encourage me to reach for them. You show me dreams I never in a million years thought I’d achieve, and you push me to exceed them. Your belief, partnership, friendship are things I’ve written about but never experienced in my life. Until now. Love you doesn’t even come close to cutting it. Team B forever.
Jovana Shirley, I’m beyond blessed and so grateful to have you as part of my publishing dreams. You’re not just someone I trust implicitly with my words; you’re a genius at what you do, and I continue to learn and grow because of you. Like I say at the end of every book, I wouldn’t want to do this with anyone but you. Love you so hard.
Hang Le, my unicorn, you are just incredible in every way.
Judy Zweifel, as always, thank you for being so wonderful to work with and for taking such good care of my words. <3
Chanpreet Singh, thanks for always holding me together and for helping me in every way. Adore you, lady. XO
Kaitie Reister, I love you, girl. Thanks for being you.
Nikki Terrill, my soul sister. Every tear, vent, dinner, virtual hug, life chaos, workout, you’ve been there through it all. I could never do this without you, and I would never want to. Love you hard.
Sarah Symonds, I feel like we’ve been on this journey together for centuries, but, girl, it’s only the beginning. Thank you for holding my hand through this ride. Love you.
Donna Cooksley Sanderson, another one down, my friend. Thank you for your endless support. I can’t wait for the day when I can hug you again. xxx
Ratula Roy, being inside your head, especially with this book, was a true treasure. You always have my back, my heart, and my love. Forever, baby. Love you.
Dawn Fuhrman and Patricia Reichardt, thank you for being such a massive part of this process. I said this last time, and I’ll say it again—no one has ears like you two. Heart you both.
Kimmi Street, my sister from another mister. There’s no way to describe us; there’s just something special when it comes to our unbreakable bond. Nothing and no one will ever change that. I love you more than love.
Extra-special love goes to Valentine PR, Kelley Beckham, Kayti McGee, Chris Fletcher, Tracey Waggaman, Sally Ilan, Elizabeth Kelley, Jennifer Porpora, Pat Mann, and my group of Sarasota girls, whom I love more than anything. I’m so grateful for all of you.
Mom and Dad, thanks for your unwavering belief in me and your constant encouragement. It means more than you’ll ever know.
Brian, my words could never dent the love I feel for you. Trust me when I say, I love you more.
My Midnighters, you are such a supportive, loving, motivating group. Thanks for being such an inspiration, for holding my hand when I need it, and for always begging for more words. I love you all.
To all the bloggers who read, review, share, post, tweet, Instagram—Thank you, thank you, thank you will never be enough. You do so much for our writing community, and we’re so appreciative.
To my readers—I cherish each and every one of you. I’m so grateful for all the love you show my books, for taking the time to reach out to me, and for your passion and enthusiasm. I love, love, love you.
Marni’s Midnighters
Getting to know my readers is one of my favorite parts about being an author. In Marni’s Midnighters, my private Facebook group, I post covers before they’re revealed to the public and excerpts of the projects I’m currently working on, and team members qualify for exclusive giveaways. To join Marni’s Midnighters, click HERE.
About the Author
USA Today best-selling author Marni Mann knew she was going to be a writer since middle school. While other girls her age were daydreaming about teenage pop stars, Marni was fantasizing about penning her first novel. She crafts sexy, titillating stories that weave together her love of darkness, mystery, passion, and human emotions. A New Englander at heart, she now lives in Sarasota, Florida, with her husband and their yellow Lab. When she’s not nose deep in her laptop, working on her next novel, she’s scouring for chocolate, sipping wine, traveling, or devouring fabulous books.
Want to get in touch? Visit Marni at …
Also by Marni Mann
STAND-ALONE NOVELS
Even If It Hurts (Contemporary Romance)
Before You (Contemporary Romance)
The Assistant (Psychological Thriller)
The Unblocked Collection (Erotic Romance)
Wild Aces (Erotic Romance)
* * *
MOMENTS IN BOSTON SERIES—CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE
When Ashes Fall
When We Met
When Darkness Ends
* * *
THE DALTON BROTHERS SERIES—EROTIC ROMANCE
The Lawyer
* * *
THE AGENCY SERIES—EROTIC ROMANCE
Signed
Endorsed
Contracted
Negotiated
* * *
THE PRISONED SERIES—DARK EROTIC THRILLER
Prisoned
Animal
Monster
* * *
THE SHADOWS DUET—EROTIC ROMANCE
Seductive Shadows
Seductive Secrecy
* * *
THE BAR HARBOR DUET—NEW ADULT
Pulled Beneath
Pulled Within
* * *
THE MEMOIR SERIES—DARK MAINSTREAM FICTION
Memoirs Aren’t Fairytales
Scars from a Memoir
* * *