Where do I even begin? I’ve been trying to write this for days.

This book is unlike anything else I’ve ever written so far. And it’s probably my favorite thing I’ve ever written.

When I set out to write this book, everything about it felt like a risk. I’d just finished releasing my Book Boyfriends series—three sexy, fun romcoms. What were my readers going to think about this book, after those? How many readers were new to me from that series, and would give this one the side-eye? What’s up with that dark cover? That description? Where’s the lighthearted, romantic, cotton candy book?

Not here, obviously.

I like to challenge myself creatively, and this represented one of the biggest challenges I’ve ever undertaken (even bigger than redeeming Weston, and that was quite the challenge). There are things about this book that don’t fit the typical romance mold. I was worried about that, but as I write this Afterward, I’ve already had more private messages, emails, and posts in my reader group from ARC readers than I’ve ever had for any release, ever. And the response is utterly overwhelming. So I think it’s safe to say that those risks I was so worried about paid off.

One of the main risks I took was making you wait so many chapters before the hero and heroine meet. Who does that? Everything I’ve ever read about “how to write a romance novel that readers will love” says you need the hero and heroine to meet early. You want readers to be invested in them getting together from an early point in the story. After all, that’s what a romance is about. If there’s confusion over who we’re supposed to ‘ship, we’ve got issues.

It’s one thing to break a rule (or an established genre expectation) because you don’t know the rule exists. That’s often a mistake, and perceived as such by the reader, even if they’re not sure what went wrong. It’s another to break a rule on purpose, with a specific intent behind it. And that’s exactly what I did.

I knew Sebastian and Brooke weren’t going to meet until about a third of the way into the book. At one point, I told my friend Tammi about this and her response was something like, “I trust you, and you can probably take your readers anywhere, but… are you sure?”

Yes, I was sure. I realized very early on—when I was still brainstorming ideas for this book—that Brooke and Liam’s story, and the progression of Sebastian’s illness, couldn’t be treated like regular backstory. It wouldn’t be enough to begin the book with Sebastian telling Charlie that he’s going to meet the organ donor’s family, and then relate the story of his illness through conversations and inner monologue. And it wouldn’t be enough to begin Brooke’s story with her in the bar listening to Jared’s band, and then reveal to the reader her history with Liam through dialogue and memories.

You needed to live it all with them.

Granted, what you’re given in Part I are milestones and highlights, not a full storyline detailing those two-plus years of their lives. But you’re given the important points that show both what Sebastian lost as a result of his illness, and what Liam meant to Brooke—and what she lost when he died.

If we hadn’t lived through that, the impact of this story wouldn’t have been the same. We had to suffer with Sebastian while he deteriorated. We had to see him go from a healthy, driven athlete, to a young man ready to give up and die.

We had to experience where Brooke came from—get a taste of what life was like with her mother. And we had to live through her relationship with Liam. Yes, we had to fall in love with Liam, just like she did, in order to understand everything that happened afterward.

My hope was (and is) that readers will hang in there through those early chapters, knowing a connection is being made. Knowing Sebastian is indeed the hero in this romance, and his path is going to cross with Brooke’s. That their early stories are compelling enough that you want to keep reading, even if you aren’t quite sure where it’s all going. Or if you do know, and aren’t sure if you want to go there.

I reached a really interesting place while I was writing this. It was a struggle and there were moments when I had so many doubts about whether I could pull this off. As I was delving into Part II, I was holding back. I was trying to keep from going too far with Brooke, especially. Maybe she was just kind of down on her luck. Maybe she’d gone back to school, but she was having a hard time. Maybe she’d sworn off men completely, and she was just lonely.

I was afraid of taking her too far into the darkness, and putting readers off. I didn’t want her to be so far gone that no one wanted to read her story. But what that fear produced was a first post-Liam chapter that fell totally flat. It wasn’t the Brooke in my mind that I was putting on the page. I was whitewashing it all too much. Afraid to go too far.

Then I said, fuck it. I knew where she’d really gone after Liam died. It didn’t happen all at once, but by the time the story picks up again four years later, yes, she’s a mess. She’s living with some trashy piece of shit. She’s drunk half the time. She’s lost her job and doesn’t have much going for her, because she’s hitting rock bottom.

Once I let some of my inhibitions go, the story came to life in a whole new way. I stopped shying away from the darkness inside Brooke. I didn’t want her to seem pathetic or weak. I didn’t want her to be such a terrible disaster that no one liked her. But I also wanted to be true to the story I was trying to tell. And it had the messy parts in it. So, I wrote them. I left them in.

That’s what you have here. A story with the messy parts left in.

There were times when I wasn’t sure what the hell I was doing. I told some author friends, “I meant to write a book about a man who gets a heart transplant and falls in love with the woman who’d loved the heart donor, and I wound up writing a book about child abuse, addiction, death, loss, and grief. What have I done?”

But you know what, this was their story. Parts of it weren’t pretty. Parts of it were terrible, and tragic, and sad. I’ll never be able to read that epilogue without tearing up (at the very least). Death and grief are hard. They’re hard to talk about, and hard to live with. But they’re also a universal human experience. We’ve all lost people who are important to us. And sometimes those losses are life-changing and devastating.

I wanted to show that you can come back from that. Even when you’ve been enshrouded so deep in darkness that you don’t think you’ll ever feel good again, there is still hope. Love is that hope. Maybe it

won’t be the love of your life, like Sebastian was for Brooke. It could be the love of another family member, a spouse, a child, a friend, even a stranger. Love has the power to get us through the worst moments, the worst things we can experience. We can come out on the other side of the most tragic of circumstances and find joy again.

Turns out I had a lot to say about writing this book, I suppose. I’m not sure what to say about the emotional intensity. I’m sorry? I feel like I owe every reader a box of tissues and maybe a glass of wine and some chocolate. But I hope it was worth it. I know it was for me.

Thanks for reading,

CK