Prologue He woke up alone in the bed; the French doors open allowing the moonlight to stream in. He sat up and called her name. Getting no response, he began to panic, calling for her over and over. "I'm here." He came out to find her draped in a sheet from the bed. "Not tired?" …
What I had with John was a thunderstorm. It was full of lightening and wind and drama and passion.
The Jarlena Journal 