Hannah Morgan's life is at a standstill. Her dreams of becoming an artist vanished with the sudden death of her grandmother and mentor. To appease her distant and disapproving mother, Hannah gets a respectable job at a high-end day spa.
Instead of painting masterpieces, Hannah spends her days painting nails and giving facials to wealthy women. Her dreams for the future have become a hideous nightmare. And it just keeps getting worse. She catches her boyfriend cheating, loses her job, and has to watch from the sidelines as her best friend, Jasmine Blue, goes after her own dreams of owning her own salon.
Then she meets Aaron, a working artist, and finds in him a kindred spirit. And, to her surprise, she finds the courage to follow her dreams. When circumstances beyond her control threaten to destroy both her relationship with Aaron and her dreams of a bright future, Hannah fears her mother was right-that some dreams aren't meant to come true.
“As a small child I dreamed of growing up to be a chestnut mare. I was terribly disappointed when I found out people couldn’t magically transform into animals but I got over it by immersing myself in the world of fairy tales and thus began my lifelong passion for reading and make-believe.”
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Top Ten List
1. Animal: Fruit Bat
2. Colour: Pink
3. Flower: Pink Peony
4. Food: Chocolate
5. Drink: Champagne
6. Place to live: in an enchanted cottage in the woods
7. Season: Fall
8. Place to hang out: Book Store
9. Hobby: Gardening
10. Weekend Activity: A nap on a sunny porch or hammock.
SNIPPET
The bus filled up with people making their way from their downtown office jobs to their families waiting in the suburbs. The air smelled like wet wool and close bodies. I squished myself against the window to make room for an elderly woman carrying two large, overstuffed, plastic bags and a large needlepoint handbag. I kept my gaze focused out the window, but because it was dark outside and the bus was lit from the glowing advertisements above my head, the window acted more like a mirror. I saw the old woman and the people around me reflected back in the glass.
“Excuse me dear, could I ask a favor?” The old woman tapped me lightly on the shoulder.
I turned reluctantly to face her. “Sure.”
The old woman scrounged around in one of the bags, trying to balance the other one and her large purse on her knee. “Oh dear, this is just too awkward. Here, take this for a moment.”
Before I could protest, the woman plunked the larger of the two bags and her purse onto my lap. I had to juggle my knapsack and my handful of empty envelopes to adjust to the new load. Her purse was surprisingly heavy.
“Here it is,” she exclaimed, pulling a big purple scarf out of the depths of her bag. “I’ve been knitting this for my granddaughter for Christmas, and I’m not sure about this purple. I couldn’t help but notice that you have her same colouring. I just want to see if this shade is right for her hair and eyes.”
Before I knew what was happening she threw the scarf over my head and wound it several times around my neck. It was very long and very purple. The yarn was soft as a whisper. It felt comforting up against my cheek.
“Now let’s take a look.” The old woman dug her hand underneath her coat and produced a pair of half lenses attached to a gold chain looped around her neck. She placed her spectacles gingerly on the end of her nose and surveyed her scarf. “Yes, that is darling, isn’t it. I was right. It makes your eyes more violet, and your skin warms to this colour.”
Satisfied with her assessment, the old woman removed her glasses, returning them to the depths under her overcoat.
“You do have very pretty eyes. Not many people have that colour. They’re a true violet, not just dark blue. And such a pretty mouth. Too bad you are ruining your looks with so much worry.” She pointed to the area around my eyes and mouth.
I kept silent, but that didn’t stop her from giving me more advice.
“The longer you choose to play it safe, the more miserable your life will become. The universe rewards risk my dear; you know what you need to do.”
The bus lurched to a stop and the old woman looked up. “I must be going, this is my stop.”
She stood up, and I quickly unraveled the scarf, savoring the delicate feel of the yarn, and handed it over.
“Thank you, I would have forgotten that and my granddaughter would have been without a Christmas present.” The woman stuffed the scarf in her bag, grabbed up her purse and the other bags that were sitting in my lap. She carefully walked up the aisle and stepped off the bus.
What a strange woman.
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