Monthly Archives: May 2025

Garden By the Water

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Bella curled into the porch swing, lemonade sweating in her hand, the hum of cicadas and scent of jasmine wrapping around her like a lullaby. Rosalie leaned on the railing, golden hair caught in the breeze, while Jasper watched from the shadows, still and steady. For the first time in months, Bella wasn’t bracing for the next demand, the next correction. Here, under the soft Southern sun, she wasn’t broken or fragile—she was becoming. She didn’t have to speak for them to understand. The quiet between them said everything: You’re safe. You’re seen. You’re free. And maybe, finally, she believed it.

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Summer of Yes

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The note smelled like pine and leather:
Midnight. Swimsuit. Quiet. —J
Forks was hushed at night, mist coiling between the trees. Jasper waited by the Jeep, barefoot, moonlight touching his pale skin. He looked at her like she was the beginning of something.
They swam in a hidden lake no map could find, floating in silver water and silence. “I feel everything,” he confessed. “Too much.”
Bella drifted closer. “Do you feel what I’m feeling now?”
He nodded. “Yeah.”
Then she kissed him—weightless, barefoot, brave. And everything changed.

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Casino Caper

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Jasper Whitlock stood beside Bella on the sunlit deck, his hand resting lightly on the small of her back. To the world, they were a wealthy American couple disembarking for leisure in Monaco. In truth, they were spies, their Louis Vuitton luggage concealing weapons, comms gear, and secrets. Bella smiled with effortless grace, accepting a tourist map from a weathered man by the kiosk—a courier, code embedded in the ink. “Merci,” she said sweetly. Jasper scanned the harbor, already cataloging threats. Behind the charm of luxury, Monaco bristled with predators. And one of them, he was sure, was watching Bella.

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What Happens in Vegas…

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Bella Swan wakes up naked, glitter-covered, and definitely not alone. Her thighs are bare, her dignity is missing, and Jasper Whitlock—smirking, naked, and far too pleased with himself—is sprawled beside her like a Calvin Klein ad gone rogue. Oh, and there’s a wedding ring on her finger. Her left hand. A very real, very silver wedding ring. “Mornin’, Mrs. Whitlock,” he drawls with that honey-thick accent that does terrible things to her pulse. Cue the chaos: a highlight reel, a bite mark, and a tattoo she doesn’t remember getting. Outside the bedroom, their friends are prepping brunch, mimosas, and a slideshow of the night’s… festivities. Jasper’s completely unbothered. Bella? Not so much. But here’s the problem—she doesn’t regret it. Not the ring. Not the bite. Not the cowboy in her bed. And that’s what terrifies her most of all.

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Cats Don’t Care About Vampires

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Bella turned wide eyes on him. “The cat just… talked.” She said it with the same tone someone might use to announce they’d just seen Elvis riding a unicorn through the Walmart parking lot.

Jasper’s hand froze halfway to his mug. “What now?” For once, the empath looked genuinely surprised.

“About time your aura opened up,” the cat said. “Took me three visits and a moon cycle just to get through that human static. You’re broadcasting on all frequencies but receiving on none. Typical.”

“Okay,” Bella whispered. “I’m officially losing it.”

“Not necessarily,” Jasper muttered, golden eyes narrowing. “I felt something. Not words. Not thoughts. But… something pushed.”

The cat stretched and leapt onto the bench between them like it was a throne. “Technically, I’m a familiar. The name’s Mabs. Short for Mabigail. Don’t laugh. My witch had a sense of humor that died with the Black Plague.”

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