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Butterfly Dreams is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

A Loveswept eBook Original

Copyright © 2015 by A. Meredith Walters

Excerpt from Should’ve Said No by Tracy March copyright © 2015 by Tracy March

All rights reserved.

Published in the United States by Loveswept, an imprint of Random House, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York.

LOVESWEPT is a registered trademark and the LOVESWEPT colophon is a trademark of Penguin Random House LLC.

This book contains an excerpt from the forthcoming book Should’ve Said No by Tracy March. This excerpt has been set for this edition only and may not reflect the final content of the forthcoming edition.

eBook ISBN 9781101965573

Cover design: © Okay Creations

Cover photograph: © Simone Becchetti, Stocksy.com

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Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Preface

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Epilogue

Dedication

Acknowledgments

By A. Meredith Walters

About the Author

The Editor’s Corner

Excerpt from Should’ve Said No

Preface

Corin

I’ve always dreamed in butterflies.

Wild. Free. Colorful butterflies.

To me they were a real, breathing thing. As real as you or me.

When I was a little girl, my head was full of beautiful, flying creatures while I slept. Soft touches on my face as they swarmed my body, enfolding me in their reassuring protection.

My mother used to tell me they were my guardians. That they looked over me while I slept. That to dream about butterflies was good luck. That I was destined to have a wonderful, amazing life. Pretty words filled with well-intentioned lies.

She decorated my bedroom in butterflies. Pink, blue, purple wings on my walls. Shimmering stained glass hanging in my window.

But as I became an adult and real life set in, my butterfly dreams weren’t so benevolent. They became dark, twisted things suffocating and paralyzing me.

They weaved into my nightmares. An overwhelming press of bodies that I couldn’t break free of.

And then one day, my once happy butterflies found their way into my waking world. But they weren’t there to protect me. They filled my nose and put pressure on my chest. They rendered me blind and wrapped themselves tight around me, making it impossible for me to move.

I started to hate my butterflies.

They terrified me.

Prologue

Corin

Breathe. In and out. In through the nose. Out through the mouth.

I couldn’t breathe. My chest felt tight and my throat constricted painfully. The all-too-familiar black spots in my peripheral started to bleed across my vision.

I was going to pass out.

This was my waking butterfly dream. The feeling that had once only lived in my dreams was now very real and very present. It was a scary, debilitating panic attack.

I felt my heart hammering violently in my chest. Fluttering madly in its attempt to break free from my rib cage.

My hands started to tingle. My extremities were going numb and all I could think was, I’m dying.

I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to block out the sounds of traffic whirling past me. I stumbled blindly along the sidewalk, shoving and pushing my way toward sanctuary.

I’m having a heart attack.

I was going to die here, in the middle of town, wearing my ugliest pair of shoes and my ratty blue jeans that should have been thrown out three years ago.

Why hadn’t I thrown out these jeans? The conspicuous hole below the ass pocket should have been the only sign needed to not wear them in public. Ever.

I made a strangled, gurgling sound and dropped to my knees, not caring that people were staring. Not caring that I was making a scene. I didn’t feel the cold, wet snow beneath me, nor did I register the frigid wind cutting through my clothing on the late February afternoon.

None of it mattered because I was dying. There was no denying the truth that stared me in the face.

It was my time to die.

Goodbye, cruel world…

My overly maudlin inner voice was at it again. Eager to throw an added flair for the dramatic into an already overly dramatic situation.

I gritted my teeth together and clenched my hands into fists, digging my nails into the tender flesh of my palms.

Breathe! I commanded myself.

I covered my face with my hands and started to rock. A full-body repetitive motion that soothed me in a way nothing else could.

Go to your happy place, Corin, I urged myself silently. Panicked and desperate.

My happy place. Where the hell was my damn happy place?

Waiting at the DMV…no!

Standing in line at the post office…hell to the double no!

Running into Shannon Peters, my high school nemesis, and seeing that she’d gained forty pounds since graduation…maybe.

My mind was a whirling, discombobulated mess. It was like an out-of-control seesaw. Up and down. Frantic and scary.

The only thing I could really focus on was what would happen to my cat after I died. I had made plans for my sister to take Mr. Bingley in the event of my early passing. But I didn’t particularly like my sister. She had elevated bitchiness to an art form.

I didn’t want her to have Mr. Bingley! She’d never remember to feed him his special yogurt at six o’clock every evening. She wasn’t the touchy-feely type so I knew she’d never let him climb on her lap and rub him behind the ears in the way that made him purr.

Her idea of being nurturing involved snotty looks and a healthy dose of ridicule.


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