By Randy Russell
Until loss of life Jana Webster and Michael Haynes have been in love. They have been destined to be jointly perpetually. Do yet Jana's future used to be fatally unsuitable. And now she's in useless university, the place Mars Dreamcote lurks at the back of the school room, along with his beguiling blue eyes, mysterious smile, and irresistibly hot contact. Us Michael and Jana have been incomplete with out one another. there has been no room for Mars in Jana's life—or death—story. Jana used to be convinced Michael might rush to her part quickly. half yet issues are usually not going in keeping with Jana's plan. So Jana makes a decision to do no matter what it takes to make her desires come true—no subject what ideas she has to damage.
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It smelled like fish. Small swarms of gnats hovered nearby. It was now or never, Beatrice decided. If they came out of the woods without kissing, they weren’t going to. Beatrice wanted to kiss Brad hard and long enough that he would have to ask her out. She stopped walking. Brad turned to look at her. She took his other hand in hers and kissed him. It was an easy, simple kiss. To get things started. Then she pressed up against him and his hands went around her back. When they leaned back from each other, Beatrice realized that the left strap of her swimsuit had slipped over her shoulder.
Transfer. This was the wrong school for Jana. She didn’t fit in here. She didn’t fit in anywhere without Michael. Thinking it over, Jana crossed off item 2. Her mother had never checked on her, after all. And there was a neighbor who was paid to take care of her mom when Jana couldn’t. Her mother owned the house Jana grew up in and that was about it as far as mothering had gone. Until her retirement a year ago, Jana’s mother had never actually lived there. Instead, her mother lived a glamorous life in glitzy apartments on one coast or the other.
Whatever you want. ” Drama would be Jana’s elective, of course. Drama or speech. They had to have one or the other. The two girls picked up trays as they reached the service counter. ” Jana asked. “Journalism,” Arva said. ” “Not at all,” Arva croaked. “I just can’t get enough air out and my vocal chords are jammed. ” “But you’re stuck like that? ” “Pretty much,” Arva said. ” Jana nodded. Arva must have seen Jana jab her arm with a pencil. Two of the grayish-looking students stood behind the service counter in the cafeteria.