KCBR Blog

Synopsis
Chris King never saw it coming…
In some ways, closing the book on my first love was the worst day
of life. I was gutted, and yet I was completely at peace with my
decision. I walked away knowing that I did what was best for her,
unsure if I could ever recover. Little did I know that one concert
would change the entire course of my life. There I stood, signing
autographs and snapping pictures with fans when a familiar face
in the crowd catapulted my mind back in time—Salem Honeycutt,
once a balm to my pain and a calm in my storm. Yet again, her
smiling face gave me hope. Only one question remained: did she
still see me as a wayward teenage boy who was completely off
limits, or could she see the man I'd become…focused and driven,
yearning for another chance at love?
For Salem Honeycutt, postpartum bliss seemed like a lie...
No one told me that I’d hate my baby when I brought her home
from the hospital. No one told me that I’d want to put a pillow
over my husband’s head and smother him in his sleep. No one told
me that I’d want to slap every person who gave me the ever-so-
cliché advice to ‘cherish every moment.’ No one told me that I’d
despise my life the minute I became a mother, but I did. Then I
met Chris King, the kid who made me want to pull myself up from
the dark recesses of my mind and face each day. This kid, whose
passion for life and talent for music, touched my soul deeper
than I could ever touch his. Chris gave me a reason to live. I was
once affectionately known as Mrs. H., Chris’s juvenile detention
counselor. This is our story.

About The Author
Melanie Dawn is a thinker, a dreamer, and a hopeless romantic.
When her head isn't in the clouds, she spends her time as a jack
of all trades to her family. Melanie resides in the hills of North
Carolina with her husband, her three children, and her cat. She
enjoys lazy summer afternoons cruising around the lake on the
pontoon boat with her family.
Melanie graduated from UNC-Chapel Hill with a BA in
Psychology and earned her MA in School Counseling from
Appalachian State University. She spent the first six years after
graduate school as a middle school counselor. Those were years
she deems as some of the best years of her life. That is, until she
had children of her own. The last seven years have been spent as
a stay-at-home mom. She has learned some tough life lessons,
like what the inner absorbent pellets of a diaper look like scattered
in the washing machine. She has also learned the strength of the
willpower of a two year old lacking a nap. Through it all, Melanie
has learned how to roll with the punches and appreciate the time
she has been able to spend at home with her children.
Now that her last child has started Kindergarten, Melanie is ready
to add a new chapter in her life. That chapter begins with her debut
novel—So Much It Hurts.

FACEBOOK | TWITTER| GOODREADS

Giveaway


Excerpt
Popping the top off his own bottle, he leaned toward me, his voice gravelly, “I mean,
come on. I’m not gonna dance around it. You’re beautiful.”
I nearly choked on my beer, but quickly recovered, masking my freaking-the-hell-out
face with a subtle smile.
He continued, nervously glancing at the beer in his hand. I wondered if he was
praying to the gods of liquid courage like I was. “Salem, you’ve…you’ve always been
sexy as hell,” he stammered. “You had to know how hot all the guys at Fairbanks thought
you were, and you probably just chalked it up to some silly teenage fantasies.” His eyes
shot up to meet my gaze. “But I hope you know that you meant way more to me than
that.”

I nodded. I understood where he was coming from because he’d always meant more
to me than ‘just some client.’ He was my saving grace. “You were more to me too,” I
said softly.
Continuing to stir up my already mixed emotions, he added, “You were my lifeline
back then.”
He stood up, walking over to the massive windows. Leaning both hands against the
glass, he stared out at the city for several seconds. “And yet, here we are again…crossing
paths.”
Without thinking, I spoke what had been on my mind all night, “Does it make you
question fate?”
He whirled around to face me. A brooding expression was plastered on his face, and
he seemed just as perplexed as I was. With each ragged breath, his sculpted pecs rose
and fell, defining themselves in his fitted, thermal shirt. Finally speaking up, he said,
“Yeah…yeah, it does.”
Suddenly the air between us changed. I soaked in the way he looked at me with a
softness in his eyes. The expression on his face was different than the canned smile he
normally used to pose for the cameras of his adoring fans. This smile was warm, inviting,
comforting—a smile meant just for me.
What does all this mean? Part of me felt so ridiculously wrong, but then again,
another part of me felt so utterly, hopelessly…right.