When I was a teenager, I struggled with choosing between two guys. I wanted them both for different reasons. G was sweet and caring, older and away at college. J was rough around the edges, rode a motorcycle, and was also older. Eventually, I picked only one and ended up marrying him. I can totally relate with our heroine in The Acorn Tattoo. There's two seemingly perfect men in her life.... Who should she choose? Who would you choose??
Sometimes Neverland isn’t the place you go to stay young; it’s the place you leave to grow up.
Claire Baker is an orphan who has always been afraid to open her heart – that is, until she meets Jake Holland, the Boy with the Acorn Tattoo, who sweeps her off her feet with his ocean-timbered voice and sheepish Lost Boy grin. Consumed by their budding romance everything seems to be perfect for Claire, completely perfect --
– Except for Davie, Claire’s childhood friend who’s always held a corner of her heart – the dark, somber-eyed boy who has grown into a handsome, enigmatic man – and who has hooked himself so deeply inside of her she cannot escape him. When Davie professes his love in an unexpected burst of loosened passion, Claire finds herself torn between the two men: the one that’s stolen her heart and the one who’s held it all along.
Now, Claire must navigate through the purities and passions of love and accept the consequences of finally letting her heart take the lead.
Lost in Neverland, how does a girl choose between the Pan and the pirate?
“I think I—hic—love you.”
The words tumbled eagerly over Jake’s lips and spilled into the air like offbeat tap dancers, a graceful quintet momentarily tripped by an unexpected step. Jake grinned sheepishly and dipped his head, sending sandstorm blond locks tumbling across the deep hollow of his angled cheekbones. A second hiccup followed the first, and his head bobbed in tandem with the sound. Even with his face downcast, Claire could see the upturned curve of his lips pinched in his profile. He was grinning again.
Claire and Jake had finished their picnic of fresh fruits and cheese nearly an hour before. Afterward, when the wine was empty, they lounged together comfortably under the brilliant kaleidoscope colors of the changing fall leaves. Together, they watched the sky turn from robin’s egg blue to cornhusk yellow. Jake had fallen quiet, as he often did—his back propped lightly against the crackled white bark and his long, nimble fingers plucking at the blades of sun-warmed grass that brushed against his knee, as familiar as if they were the strings of his guitar. Claire lay on her back inside Jake’s shadow, staring past his grinning profile to the sky. It was a spectacularly beautiful day in the simplest of ways—the kind that seems to want for daydreaming. The kind of day that was made of the stuff of dreams itself.
Musings from Michigan