Novelas de Shealyn

SLOANEBy morning, everyone knows. They don’t know what happened. They just know something did.That’s how towns like this work. They don’t need facts- just proximity and history and the way people look at you a second too long.I feel it the moment I step off of the private elevator walking towards the hotel café. “Good morning Ms. Hart.” Maya the hotel clerk from last night calls cheerily- does she live here? I think to myself as I give a polite wave and smile back. As I enter the Cobblestone cafè, I notice it all. The pause in conversation. The flicker of curiosity. The barista’s smile that’s a little too knowing. What I noticed further was every detail that I had in a dream as a kid- one a poor girl from the wrong side of this town, with a criminal father and a mother that ran away could have never accomplished. I look at the dining area with its cozy booths. On the perimeter- Smaller ones lead to large circular ones in each corner flanking the room. The center of the room is f

SLOANEThe storm comes in fast, like it always does here.One minute the sky is heavy and bruised, then the moon and stars shining through regardless.And in the next, the rain is slamming against the hotel windows like it has something to say. Thunder rolls low and close, rattling the glass and my nerves right along with it.I stand on the balcony outside my room, arms wrapped around myself, watching the town blur beneath the downpour. Thank God Rhett and whoever built this place remembered Oklahoma is full of side winding rain. I remind myself- I should’ve gone to bed.I should’ve taken the moment in Rhett’s office for what it was- closure of some sort. adjacent to any feelings, an actual business deal, dangerous, unfinished- and walked away.Instead, my hand still tingles where his hand covered mine. I’m longing for something I can never have again while watching a raging storm. But then, a knock sounds behind me. I freeze.It’s late. Past midnight. And there is only one person in

SLOANE “Ms. Hart” the front desk attendant starts shouting loudly towards me the moment I step from the elevator- I try to picture anyone else in this building as Ms. Hart and not me, not the full fledged professional that was reduced to dust up there. “Ms. Hart” she continues, following me and making a scene- restaurant goers stop consuming their salads and drinks like I’m a criminal at this point- watching and waiting.I spin on my heels and turn and face the young girl- looking at her she’s maybe sixteen. Blonde, young, the biggest blue eyes I’ve ever seen in real life- and she looks scared “Yes?” I say to her breathlessly trying to make it look like I just didn’t see or hear a hotel employee. “Ms. Hart,” she says again, so worried “I didn’t want to upset you But Mr. Whitmere wanted me to remind you that you are a special VIP guest and your quarters are located on floor eleven with the rest of the special guests and family.” As she relays the end of her message she tugs at her bl

SLOANERhett’s office smells like leather and whiskey and something dangerously familiar. Him. I’ve spent ten years avoiding this for a reason. I’ve spent ten years leaving a situation if it reminded me of him- hell he I’ve spent ten years avoiding anyone of the male species unless I needed one thing.I tell myself that this is ridiculous. That ten years is plenty of time to unlearn the way a man makes your body remember before your mind catches up. Ten years can stifle any desire in the human body- doesn’t it take twenty-one days to learn a new behavior? Apparently not.“This is a bad idea,” I was standing next to the door so I could leave if I needed to. And I’m honestly considering it. Damned putting my company on the map. Damned all those long nights and early mornings. From controlling every aspect of every project- from blueprints, to contractors, to designers. I need peace. I built a life without him. I thought I had it, I thought I had reached peace and success.. and I thoug

RHETTI told myself I wouldn’t look for her. And I hadn’t for 10 excruciating years. I told myself if Sloane Hart ever came back to this town, I’d let her pass like a ghost- unacknowledged, unimportant. The way she wanted it. That lie lasted me exactly six hours.I know she’s back here, at my family's estate grounds before anyone tells me. Albeit I knew she rolled into town in her rental at nine am sharp, from my assistant Hailey. But, aside from that, The Whitmere Hotel has a way of humming when something important walks through its doors like the walls themselves are paying attention. Tonight, the air feels tighter. Charged.When I exit the private elevator I'd just been in, she's walking in the lobby of the Whitmere Hotel, black stiletto heels clicking softly against the marble I paid for with blood and broken knuckles. She looks like she stepped out of a fashion magazine in a cream silk dress, oversized designer sunglasses, and her fiery red hair curled around her glossy and loos

SLOANEThe first thing I see when I pull up at The Whitmere Hotel is his truck. White. Lifted. Massive Tires. Every accessory he could buy in the state of Oklahoma. And who could miss that custom front bumper with the Whitmere family brand right on the front? Parked front and center crooked like it owns the place.Just like him.My pulse stutters, the breath rushing from my chest. How will this ever work? I learned a long time ago that wanting something doesn’t make it safe to choose. I can’t do this- even after ten years of telling myself I’m over Rhett Whitmere.I’m over him, I remind myself.I’m over him in the way his name still feels like a bruise- one I press just to see if it hurts. It does.Of course it does.Sitting in my rental I’m just reflecting back on my drive into Whitmere county, as I marvel at this place. In the morning sun I passed the plains of Oklahoma after leaving the City- there were sprawling ranches and farms before pulling into my hometown. The place I vowe