Page 1 of Love Harder

Four simple letters which, on their own, are hardly remarkable. But strung together…they have the ability to fuck you, and fuck you hard without buying you dinner first.

Why do we put our trust, our faith, in a stranger? Because of…love? Are we all just hopeless romantics at heart, chasing the proverbial happily ever after?

Once upon a time, I looked at love through rose-tinted glasses because love is meant to conquer all, right? Love was the reason Romeo drank the poison, why Bella sparkled, and why Jack froze to death as Rose sprawled out comfortably on a door big enough for ten and caught some zzz’s.

Being a romance writer, one may think I have my shit sorted when it comes to love.

I hate to spoil the ending for you, dear reader, but love and me, we aren’t friends. We haven’t been for quite some time. And that’s not because I don’t believe in love.

On the contrary.

I love love…but it seems love doesn’t love me. Or perhaps love is a sadistic bitch that enjoys giving me a taste of what I want, only to blow me a raspberry and sing na nah na na nah.

I am no one special.

I am someone who wakes every single morning and appreciates everything she has. These voices inside my head have been my saving grace in a way. I write to deal with my pain. I write to help myself heal. I write to survive because some days are a struggle.

Some good.

Some bad.

But all in all, I’m just like you.

I laugh.

I cry.

And I love.

There’s one thing my friends know to be true: when I love, I love hard. There’s no in-between. I don’t love easily because, like every single human being on this planet, I’ve been hurt. Been hurt to the point of losing parts of myself that I’ll never be able to get back.

I see these losses as character-building, a lesson learned, but that doesn’t mean it lessens the pain. Or that it doesn’t fucking suck.

My experiences with life and love are the reason I write, and I’m fortunate enough to have readers from all over the world connecting with my words. Whether it’s one book, one chapter, or one page, I never take for granted that something I created resonates with people.

It blows my mind.

And that’s what brings me to the now.

Buckle up, bestie. Things are about to get wild.

I wanted to write something different because, like all my story ideas, this idea wouldn’t let me sleep. It wouldn’t let me breathe without thinking about…him.

We all have a him.

A her.

A person in our lives who gives us hope that there is more to life than…this.

For me, that person caught me unawares because I wasn’t looking both ways when crossing the street, and that’s when life best throws you a curveball and screams KEEP UP! And most times, we can’t. We’re thrown into the deep end without a life vest and expected to swim through the currents that are sure to drown us.

Love and I were on a sabbatical, ETA unknown. And I was happy with that reality. If you’ve readLOVE HARD, you know that love and I were no longer on speaking terms.

I have always been a solitary being. It comes with the job, I guess. But even before writing, I always enjoyed the silence more than the noise. I took solace in simplicity because it’s where beauty truly shines.

I survived a failed marriage and a rekindled love that should have never been relit.

I don’t regret my time with these men, but would I have done things differently? The answer is hell to the fuck yes. But the thing about hindsight is that it’s fucking useless. I don’t look back and regret my choices because, at the time, those choices were the right ones to make.

---