"Don't Amanda me. This is my wedding day. If I tell you to go talk with Carter so he can tell you he was an idiot, then go talk to him. Don't make me tell you twice."

The bride has spoken. Looks like I have no other choice than to listen to Carter.

"Fine." Lifting up my dress so it doesn't drag on the earthy terrain, I start walking toward the venue when Carter gently pulls on my arm.

"This way, actually. I have something to say to you and show you."

Irritated, I huff my way next to him while mumbling, "This is so inappropriate. The last thing I want to do right now is talk to you. I'm only doing this because Amanda said to. If it was my option, you would be sitting on a bus back to Denver, gnawing on your own shoe because I would refuse you any and all food from the venue despite the long trip you might have taken to get here."

"Are you done?" he asks when we stop by a bunch of bushes.

"Hey, are you being mean to me?"

"No." He holds up his hands. "Never."

"Good." Crossing my arms over my chest, I lift my chin and avoid all eye contact. "Go on, say what you need to say so I can go back to the party and get my drink on."

Exhaling loudly, he turns me so I'm facing him and then with a gentle touch, he forces me to look at him. "Daisy, that morning when Sasha turned up, it was the worst thing I could have ever done. Not stopping you from leaving. The minute you walked out that door, you took my heart with you, but I was just too damn scared to admit it."

Why am I listening intently? Maybe because I still love him and I wish he loved me back.

"God." He wipes his hand over his face. "It's impossible for me to get my words straight with you in that dress. You're just . . . you're so damn beautiful, Daisy." Darn him and his stupid flattering words.

Shyly, I thank him. From the minute I put this dress on, I wanted him to see me in it. And from his reaction right now, I'm glad he had the chance, because it's worth this awkward conversation.

"Nothing happened with Sasha, nothing could, not when I'm so desperately in love with you."

My heart starts pounding like a drum, my pulse skyrocketing, and the smile on my face brightens-there is no stopping it. Carter's in love with me?

"You took me by surprise, Snowflake. When I showed up at Dear Life, I wasn't expecting to meet someone so unconventional who took my breath away, who had such an addicting thirst for life. But I did, and you stole my heart with every quirky turtleneck and conversation about crafts. You brought light into my dull and aching life. You gave me a purpose, you gave me love, the one emotion I've never felt with anyone else." Taking my hands, he brings me in closer. "I love you, Daisy. I don't want to keep walking on this earth without you by my side. Please tell me I don't have to."

Darn it, he's ruining my makeup. Gently, his hand cups my face and wipes away my tears.

"Do you need more convincing?" he asks. Not waiting for me to answer, he brings us around the bushes where a food truck is parked by the sidewalk. It's bright red with a large comment bubble coming from the ordering window. Inside, it reads, "Ma, the meatloaf!"

"What is this? And what does Ma, the meatloaf mean?"

Chuckling, he pulls me in front of his chest and wraps his arms around my waist. "This, Snowflake, is my food truck. I specialize in making different types of meatloaf sandwiches. And Ma, the meatloaf is from Wedding Crashers, the movie."

"You have your own food truck?" I ask in awe. "What about your uncle?"

"He helped co-sign so I could get it. We worked out our differences and he told me what a dickhead I was for letting you go, because even he saw the changes you made in me." Gripping me tighter, he leans down into my ear and says, "You make me a better man, Daisy." Pointing to the sandwich at the very top, he reads it out loud to me. "My number one sandwich is for you. I called it Daisy Owns My Heart. It's a play on the first drink we ever had together with cranberries and oranges. I chose meatloaf because hell, I couldn't think of anything else that would make me happy to cook. Everything about this truck is about you. You've influenced my life in such a short period of time that I had to have you be a part of it, if anything, just so I could hold on to what was left between us."

"I can't believe you have a food truck."

"Is that a good thing?"

Turning around, I let him embrace me. "It's a great thing, Carter. I'm so proud of you."

His face breaks out in a large smile and everything inside me melts. I might have been mad at him, but I can't stay mad forever. I love him. I went to Dear Life to experience life and I found a warm, loving man with so much love to give, but he didn't know it at the time. It doesn't seem like he has that problem anymore.

"You really love me?" I ask him, needing to hear it one more time.

"I really love you, Daisy."

"Would it be okay if I said, I love you, too?"

Laughing, he answers, "It would be completely fine."

"Good." Standing on my tiptoes, I kiss his jaw. "I love you, Carter. I guess this means the groomsmen I had lined up to take me home are going to be disappointed," I joke.

"Not funny, Snowflake. You're only going home with one man, and that's me."

"Are we going to ride into the sunset in your meatloaf wagon?"

"Hey, meatloaf is what brought us together at first, so it only seems fitting."

"So romantic," I sigh, right before Carter tilts my chin up and presses his lips to mine.

This right here, this is what experiencing life is all about: living, learning, and loving each moment. I'm one lucky girl to be able to spend it with this man who swept me off my feet with one broody glance.

Dear Life, I once blamed you for making me a widow at such a young age. I tore you apart for tearing me apart. I swore at you every day, hating what you did to me, giving me such heartache.

But as I write this letter, my shoulder pressing against Jace's, I get it. Life isn't always about the good; it's about the trials and tribulations and how you come back from them.

I thought I lost everything when Eric passed. I cowered away from what you had to offer because I was too scared to put myself out there again. Now I'm glad I did because the joy I feel being in Jace's life eclipses the pain I once felt from losing Eric.

I will always remember, love, and reminisce about him, but he's my past, and I'm now focusing on my future. I'm proving my existence.

Sincerely, Hollyn.

Dear Life, Singin' in the Rain is one of my favorite musicals of all time, not just because the tap dancing is mesmerizing and the vocals are exquisite, but because the backstory of the making of the movie resonates with me. Debbie Reynolds was the underdog coming in when it came to dancing. Gene Kelly and Donald O'Connor were magicians when it came to tapping, leaving Debbie behind, having to practice over and over again until her feet were bleeding. Everyone knew she was the underdog, and even Gene Kelly made a comment saying her dancing wasn't up to par.

But then a white knight came along. Fred Astaire guided her, helped her, and gave her the confidence and opportunity to succeed.

Carter is my Fred Astaire. Without him, I don't think I would have succeeded in this program. I don't know if I would have been able to continue to step out of my comfort zone and become that woman in the mirror. But I have.

I'm her. I'm vivacious, outgoing, assertive, and able to live, truly, from the depths of my body, live.

It's never too late to learn how to live, and I'm just glad I started now.

Sincerely, Daisy Dear Life, You gave me a daughter when I couldn't take care of her.

You gave me a love when she wasn't ready.

You gave me an indecisive baby mama who put me through hell and back.

You gave me a lying best friend who would do just about anything to protect the woman he loves.

You gave me two strangers with kind and warm hearts.

Weirdly if you add it all up, what you really gave me is a family, and for that, I will forever be grateful.

Jace Dear Life, Thank you.

Carter Dear Life, January 11, 2016, was a pivotal day for me. At the time, I was blind to the meaning of it all, not sure why you would throw me for such a loop when my wife and I were trying to adopt a baby. Why you would take away something so meaningful to me, something I enjoyed and took pride in. I didn't get it.

January 11, 2016, I was let go from my job, for reasons I still don't understand. Probably for reasons I will never understand. Driving home that day, a box full of my belongings in the back of my car, all I could do was cry and think about how ashamed, embarrassed, angry, and upset I felt. I experienced every bitter emotion you could conjure up. I curled up on my couch and waited for my wife to get home, only to cry onto her shoulder while she held me, never letting go until I was ready.

Unsure of our future, our adoption chances, with a few adoption misses already under our belt, I dove head first into becoming a full-time author, hoping and praying it worked out for me, but with the worry in the back of my mind that losing my job would affect any chance we had at adopting a baby.

Ten days later, ten short days later, in the midst of the release of a book, I got a phone call that would alter my world forever. It was from our adoption advisor. A birth mom in Florida picked our profile. We were expecting a baby boy in May.

Those were the hardest five months of my life. I wasn't the same person. The normally jovial, sarcastic, crazy person I am was nowhere to be found and in her place was a worrisome, numb, shell of a woman. I didn't want to become emotionally invested, knowing there was a chance the birth mom could change her mind and we would lose everything.

I will never forget that day, in the hospital, when I watched my birth mom say goodbye to her son and hand him over to me. I will never forget it. The sterile smell of the room, the small, quiet sobs from the birth mom, the nearly silent clicking of photos, and the precious coos coming from the little boy I soon would call my son. It's branded in my memory, forever reminding me that in this crazy, upturned world, there are still selfless people out there, making decisions that don't necessarily benefit themselves, but instead benefit others.

When I was at my lowest, I didn't know there was a grander scheme out there for me, a bigger picture I was unable to formulate in my mind.

You see, Life, I thought you took away my job just to put a fork in my road, but instead, you took away my job so I could prepare myself to be a stay-at-home, working mom. You took away my job so I can spend my days watching my little boy grow, laugh, smile, and look at me with those deep-chocolate eyes with such love that I don't think I will ever feel more fulfilled in my life.

I thought you were trying to ruin me, when in fact, you were preparing me for the next chapter in my life.

You took away my job and in return made me a mommy. It's the best job replacement I could ever ask for. So, thank you, from the bottom of my heart. Thank you. I'm forever indebted to you.

Much love and boob squeezes, B>> Meghan Be kind. Be Courageous. Do good. Own you. And Prove your existence.

THE END.

Thank you for reading DEAR LIFE. I hope you enjoyed it! You can find the rest of my books on KINDLE UNLIMITED. See below for a list.

Keep flipping the pages for a SNEAK PEEK of the first chapter of my ROMANTIC COMEDY, The Mother Road.

Would you like to know when my next book is available? You can sign up for my new release e-mail list at http://www.authormeghanquinn.com/newsletter.html and receive ONE FREE KINDLE EBOOK per person.

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The Romance Novelist Series (Hilarious, laugh out loud romantic comedies) The Virgin Romance Novelist The Randy Romance Novelist Romantic Comedy Standalones (Full of heart, humor, and heat. Both heroes are sweet, yet demanding) The Mother Road Newly Exposed The Stroked Series (HOT sports romance with plenty of humor) STROKED.

STROKED LONG.

STROKED HARD.

The Bourbon Series (Sassy, erotic romance with a gorgeous, protective alpha male) Becoming a Jett Girl Being a Jett Girl Forever a Jett Girl Repentance The Love and Sports Series (New Adult, college football forms into professional football careers. Love triangles.) Fair Catch Double Coverage Three and Out The Hot-Lanta Series (My first series ever. Baseball sports romance with lots of drama!) Caught Looking Playing the Field Warning Track Hit and Run The Addiction Series (Rock star romance, minor cheating and love triangles. Book three still to come, Rehab.) Toxic Fame The Warblers Point Series (Three Irish brothers, their younger sister, and the drama they get into. Love triangles. Book three still to come.) Beers, Hens and Irishmen Beers, Lies and Alibis

The Mother Road

Prologue.

"Marley, put the axe down and step away from the flannels," Porter says, hands extended, as if he wants to help.

"You're not in a good frame of mind. This is not who you are. You're not an axe wielding psychopath looking to make a pile of long sleeved cotton into your very own plaid colored mulch," Paul tries to convince me.

"Buttons, please put the axe down. We can talk about whatever is bothering you. Please don't chop up Daddy's Americana flannel shirt."

Let's pause for a second; do you see those three men standing to the side, fear in their eyes, sweat at their temples, with their hands clutched at their waists and their asses tight enough to pop open a bottle of beer?

Yeah, those three, they're the reason why I'm foaming at the mouth, gripping an axe three sizes too big for my body with my heels dug deep into the wet and muddy ground.

That's me, Marley McMann, the brunette in the "rustic" orange bridesmaid dress with a bouquet sticking out of my hair and a pile of multi-colored poly-blend barf rags resting in front of me, waiting to be minced into my very own personal hamster shit shavings.

I'm not usually threatening to slice the buttons off of men's clothing with a lead shiv big enough to cut down a knotty vagina-looking sycamore tree. But I've had my limit.

There comes a time in a girl's life when she has to reach deep down into her soul, clear the pathways of her inner goddess, and let out her nuclear Satan. You know what I'm talking about.

The crazy.

Don't try to act like you don't have it; every woman does.

Let me paint you a picture. It's that time of the month; its shark week, as some may say. The civil war is being reenacted by your ovaries and death is scatted over your fallopian tubes. You're crippled over in pain on your couch, half a Snickers bar hanging out of your mouth, a heating pad pressed against your innards, and a blanket wrapped around you as if you're a cocktail wiener in a Pillsbury croissant. The Hallmark Channel is airing that Mario Lopez movie you've been dying to see and not because the plot looks good, but because you want to reminisce on your Saved by the Bell days. Mario is the only thing getting you through this time of need, that and the chocolate drool slowly dripping into the back of your throat.

You're content, minus the battlefield in your uterus, when all of a sudden, out of nowhere, the mister in your life flops on the couch, causing a ripple within your cocoon. Your heating pad shifts and your Snickers bar falls to the ground, a travesty in itself. The swoon-worthy shot of Mario with his shirt off gets rudely switched to some stupid sporting game just as the mister lifts his ass in your direction and blasts two large farts.

Can you feel the monster start to awaken?

You try to remain calm; you tell yourself it's going to be alright, you're life isn't spiraling out of control into the depths of hell...until one simple crack of his knuckles rings through the room.

One single pop.

You lose it. Your eyelids flip inside out, fire shoots out of your vagina, and your toenails grow to exponential pterodactyl lengths. You're at his throat, scratching his jugular with your toes until you're satisfied enough with the human carnage you've turned him into.

That moment right there, that's where I'm at.

In all honesty, I'm a pleasant human. I have my own beauty blog and live in sunny Los Angeles, where I pay an ass ton of money to live in a two-bedroom apartment the size of a walk-in closet, but I make it work. You know those hidden Murphy beds? I have one; be jealous. I get to work from home, test out different cosmetics, and write about them. I've got a pretty easygoing life, or at least I did.