White Carnations - pure love, sweet and lovely.
Daisy - Innocence, beauty, simplicity.
To florist, Georgina
Nickols, every flower has a meaning and a purpose. Flowers are something she
knows,
lives, and breathes. But when they start mysteriously showing up on her porch, she’s unsure of their meaning, and of who is leaving them.
lives, and breathes. But when they start mysteriously showing up on her porch, she’s unsure of their meaning, and of who is leaving them.
What do these flowers
mean to the messenger?
An old friend from
high school, Corbin Waylay, moves back to town. When he shows up, he stirs up
all kinds of trouble for Georgina. Her life-long friend, Sid Trail, hates him
and makes that fact clear to Georgina. But despite the warnings from her
friend, she just can’t help the feelings that resurface. The feelings she hasn’t
felt for anyone since high school graduation, the feelings that only Corbin can
induce.
As Corbin moves closer
into her life, it causes a rift between her and Sid. The mystery flowers
continue to appear and begin to add to the stresses of life.
Love, secrets, pain,
and lies surround Georgina, putting her trust to the test.
When the messenger is
finally revealed, will the meaning of the flowers be enough to repair the
damage of those hidden secrets?
Forget Me Nots - Remember me forever, good memories, hope.
Single Red Rose - I love you.
“Who’s that for?”
A smooth male voice pulls me from my work.
I place the last
white flower into the vase, and spin it, checking appearance at all angles.
“This is actually for no one in particular, Sid.” I shrug to my best friend and
employee.
“Come on, G,” he
coaxes, using my nickname for effect.
I sigh. “I’m just
puttin’ it together. They’re my flowers, so who cares why I arrange
them?”
“Yes, I’m well
aware who my boss is,” he deadpans. “I’ve seen you at work, and I’ve seen you work. There’s a
difference.”
I glance up to
him. His eyebrow is arched, daring me to deny what he’s said. His blue eyes are
drilling into mine, knowing that I’m hiding something. If I hadn’t known him since grade school, I’d ignore him and tell him to mind his own business. But this is Sid, one of my best friends, who will eventually pull out my mystery flower messenger anyway. Quickly, I remind myself why I’ve hired him to begin with. I can trust him, and he’s known me for so long he knows how to help me and not be a distraction.
drilling into mine, knowing that I’m hiding something. If I hadn’t known him since grade school, I’d ignore him and tell him to mind his own business. But this is Sid, one of my best friends, who will eventually pull out my mystery flower messenger anyway. Quickly, I remind myself why I’ve hired him to begin with. I can trust him, and he’s known me for so long he knows how to help me and not be a distraction.
I blow out a slow
breath of resignation as I side step him, placing the vase on the wide
windowsill. “When I left my house this morning, there were four white
carnations on my porch. There was no note either, so I just brought them here.
And I can’t sell them - they’re not mine.”
His usually
smiling mouth opens and closes like a fish sucking for air. “So you just bring
stoop flowers in here?” While his eyes usually seem hooded, giving him that
lazy surfer look, now his eyelids widen as his eyebrows disappear under the
baseball cap that’s hiding his shaggy blonde hair, making his pastel blue eyes
pop wide. The more he sputters, the more his nostrils flare. “Go wash up! There
could’ve been poison on them!”
I burst out
laughing. “Sid, calm your conspiracies. Who would poison carnations?” Ever
since middle school, he’s always had crazy conspiracies. The teachers had a
hidden agenda with pop quizzes and homework. Parents having evil plans by
giving us chores, and then there was the driver’s license hoax. Thankfully
we’re interrupted by the bell chimes above the door.
I work to calm my
rolling hysterics, taking a deep breath, and trying to think about anything
other than poisoned carnations or Sid as I walk to the front of my store.
“Welcome to G-Quets. I’m Georgina,
can I help you?” I ask to the back of someone’s head.
The man spins
around so fast he’s a blur and wraps his arms around me, pulling me into a huge
bear hug. “G-G! Is this your store?”
That voice, the familiar husky
scratch.
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About the Author:
Rachel lives in Central
Pennsylvania, is a stay at home mom, and has a wonderful husband, total of 4
kids, 3
of which are step kids. She’s a true Pittsburgh Penguins and Steelers fan. She’s an insomniac that loves coffee, Johnny Depp movies and bonfires, dislikes driving on the interstate, bugs of any kind, and a too quiet house. When she’s not playing with the people inside her head, making her family think she belongs in the loony bin or writing, she enjoys spending time with her family, finding new music, new books, helping someone or plotting something equally crazy with her Critique Partners. Be sure to check out her debut YA Paranormal True Connection.
of which are step kids. She’s a true Pittsburgh Penguins and Steelers fan. She’s an insomniac that loves coffee, Johnny Depp movies and bonfires, dislikes driving on the interstate, bugs of any kind, and a too quiet house. When she’s not playing with the people inside her head, making her family think she belongs in the loony bin or writing, she enjoys spending time with her family, finding new music, new books, helping someone or plotting something equally crazy with her Critique Partners. Be sure to check out her debut YA Paranormal True Connection.
Where to Stalk Rachel:
Giveaway US Only:
a Rafflecopter giveaway
Giveaway International:
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