✿ A MATTER OF FATE (Fate, #1)
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✿ BEYOND FATE (Fate #1.5)
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✿ A MATTER OF HEART (Fate, #2)
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✿ A MATTER OF TRUTH (Fate, #3)
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✿ A MATTER OF FOREVER (Fate, #4)
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AUTHOR INFORMATION:
AUTHOR BIO:
Heather
Lyons is known for writing epic, heartfelt love stories often with a
fantastical twist. From Young Adult to New Adult to Adult novels—one
commonality in all her books is the touching, and sometimes
heart-wrenching, romance. In addition to writing, she's also been an
archaeologist and a teacher. She and her husband and children live in
sunny Southern California and are currently working their way through
every cupcakery she can find.
AUTHOR LINKS:
Website: http://www.heatherlyons.net
Twitter: https://twitter.com/_heatherly ons
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/heat herlyonsbooks/
Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/hymh eather/
Amazon: http://amzn.to/29oQIt2
Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/2Lkij
A
MATTER OF FATE - EXCERPT 1
chapter
1
I
am a chronic daydreamer.
Not
so much because school bores me—in
fact, a number of my classes are pretty interesting. No, I tend to
daydream about escape routes. Places to run to when the inevitable,
predetermined outcomes of my rigid life leave me no other choice. If
it’s
possible, even in the tiniest way, just how would I break away from
what Fate and family has set before me?
Florence
is currently my favorite spot to imagine disappearing in. It’s
a city of impossible beauty and history, one I’ve
longed to explore. Maybe I’d
become an artist there—
not
that I’m
artistic by any means, but maybe I’d
be inspired to be something new. Different.
There’s
also the possibility of New England. My parents took me there once
when I was little, the only time I’ve
ever been outside of California. My father went for work, and while
he was busy, my mother drove me to a number of little towns running
up and down the coastline. One particular small city in New Hampshire
is rooted in my memory, where flowers practically raced in bursts of
color straight to the ocean’s
edge. It was incredibly charming, the perfect sort of place to go and
be someone—anyone,
really—who
isn’t
me.
Are
you kidding? snorts
a little voice in the back of my mind. C’mon,
why pick these places, when there is a much better place for you, and
you know it?
Inwardly,
I groan at the thought. My conscience has always been far too
opinionated.
I
move on, wondering what sheer anonymity would be like—to
simply be a girl in a nondescript place, serving pancakes and mugs of
coffee to weary travelers on long journeys. The land would be flat
and golden as far as the eye could see, and driving through it, with
the windows down, I’d
be able to smell sweet grass in warm air.
And
there’s
the far north, where the Northern Lights illuminate the sky. I’d
be speechless upon seeing them for the first time, standing in snow
while gazing upon ribbons of color streaking across the stars. I
wouldn’t
have to be anyone there, either. I’d
be just another person, in another small town, making my own choices.
I
don’t
bother looking up when the classroom door creaks open, because I’m
still imagining those Northern Lights, still wondering how liberating
it’d
be to feel so small and insignificant for once. For as long as I
want.
A
voice breaks through, though. One impossible to ignore. “Excuse
me,” it
says, “I’m
new to the class.”
My
entire body freezes, all except my heart, which goes berserk. Because
I know this voice, and this can’t
be real.
He’s
not
real.
The
ground under me shifts. It’s
like an earthquake—not
the rolling kind, but the jarring sort that comes out of nowhere,
hits you hard, and then disappears just as quickly. The kind that
leaves you stunned and wondering if it happened at all, it moved so
fast. All I can do is reach out and grip the edges of my desk and
pray I don’t
fall out of my seat.
Because
it’s
not an earthquake. It’s
a shift, and I’m
the only one in the room who can feel it. A quick glance once the
ground settles confirms this. Everyone is working, talking quietly to
one another, or watching the front of the room. There are no signs
from anyone that anything had just happened.
But
something did.
And he’s standing in front of the classroom next to Mr. Snook.
I blink a few times as I stare at him, trying to determine if I’m
And he’s standing in front of the classroom next to Mr. Snook.
I blink a few times as I stare at him, trying to determine if I’m
actually
awake. Every time I open my eyes, though, he’s
still here. Oh my gods. He’s
here.
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