As the only caregiver to my ailing, dementia-clouded, hateful grandmother, my life is stagnant. That means no great love story, no fun, no excitement, and only a regimented routine to keep what’s left of my sanity intact.
Maybe sanity is overrated.
Appearing on my doorstep, covered in darkness and seeping death, Malachi and Salem weren’t the men you’d find in an advertisement for adventure. They weren’t who you’d call your best friend, giddy and lovesick over. They were dangerous. But I wasn’t afraid; I was excited.
They’ve shown me what unconditional love is.
Body and soul, I’m theirs. They’ve changed me.
Salem and Malachi mean more to me than my next breath.
With an avaricious appetite for stories, Kerri Ann can be found quite often with her nose in a book or writing it. On many occasion it has been said that she’s in her own world, living in the stories of those she reads about, giving them a life they deserve. She can easily be found under a tree in the shade, or reclining at Starbucks scribbling notes about new stories and new characters, all while keeping the coffee chain in business. Whether late at night, at a music festival, or sitting on a ski lift, when the thoughts arise, Kerri Ann will add them to those in progress. So be wary, your antics could be in her next book.