The spark of hope she’d held inside, the one she’d foolishly allowed to grow into a tiny flame, flickered then snuffed itself out completely. Jack—Prince Jack—sat stiffly at the raised table mere steps away from her. His face was a rigid mask. He looked straight ahead, ack...
“That’s it, baby girl. Start at the bottom and just do a little bit at a time. Work your way up.” Her voice is sweet as butterscotch with just a little bit of rasp to it. I do like she says, holding a section of hair in one hand and the comb in the other. I pull through th...