Marlena Evans entered through the door of place that she had grown to call home for the past seventeen years of her life. She crept cautiously upstairs, careful not to wake the tiny blonde beauty that lie asleep on her shoulder. She settled her daughter into her bed, turned on her nightlight, and left the …
What I had with John was a thunderstorm. It was full of lightening and wind and drama and passion.
The Jarlena Journal 