Every Wish Way by Shannon Bright EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Shannon Bright
- Language: English
- Genre: Time Travel Romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single woman in possession of
profound independence and a successful occupation must not be in want of a
husband.
Except being lonely sucks.
It’s Friday night, and I’m sitting in a restaurant alone. Mingling smells of
pancetta and parmesan permeate the air, and my stomach churns, not with
hunger, but with nausea.
I won’t be alone much longer. That fact should be comforting. But since
it’s my mother who will be joining me and not a Mr. Darcy-esque soulmate,
the whole situation rises to a brand-new level of pathetic. As it turns out,
caring for an asthmatic cat and a demanding career as an architect leave little
room for romance.
I know I don’t need a romantic partner, but I do wish for one. What’s the
use of good fortune when you have no one to say things to you, like “You
must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you”?
Surely there’s a way to balance it all. If Jane Austen were alive today,
writing romance novels about career women, she wouldn’t make them
sacrifice anything for their relationships. It must be possible to have
independence, an occupation, and love.
I check my texts for at least the tenth time. There’s nothing new.
Me: Dinner tonight? Have something I want to talk to you about.
Mom: Reservation for 7:00 @ Olive Garden.
The texts mock me. “Look at Iza, the grown woman who has to seek
approval from her mother before making decisions.”
“Shut up,” I say under my breath, glaring at the phone.
“You shut up!” A little kid, a table away, shrieks with laughter and points
at me.
His mother shoots me a scathing glare.
Yikes. Setting the phone aside, I give myself a pep talk. I’m not seeking
approval. I’m simply telling Mom about the plan so she’ll be forewarned
she’s about to dine on crow.
I choke on my own saliva and nearly die as Mom enters the restaurant,
whipping her oversized sunglasses onto her highlighted hair. The door swings
shut behind her, and her leopard-print cardigan billows in the draft from the
air-conditioning like a Disney villain’s cape.
Her voice booms strong and crisp, audible even from my seat on the other
side of the buzzing dining room. “I’m meeting my daughter, Ms. Kiches.”
The hostess points her in my direction, and Mom plows forward like a
tank.
Grimacing, I start mentally filling out a witness report, waiting for her to
bulldoze over some frail old guy or perhaps the small child still happily
chanting, “Shut up, shut up.”
Thankfully, she reaches me without causing anyone bodily harm.
I stand, wiping sweaty palms on my slacks. “Mom.” I resist the urge to
bow.
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