This is a story that has no ending. At least...not yet. R.C. is thirty-four years old and checks the 'single' box on official forms that feel entitled to such information. A hopeless romantic at heart, she's still waiting for Mr. Right to come along. As he seems content to take his time, she's set her heart on other goals--namely, living the dream as a full-time author. Though, as her royalties aren't enough to put a roof over her head, that dream has yet to come true, either. In truth, R.C. is tired of pretending she's not the one writing this blurb. Here's the deal. I wasn't going to write this book until I had my happily-ever-after. You know--a husband, a best-selling novel, two-point-five kids, and a KitchenAid mixer sitting on my expansive kitchen counter. Then one day I looked at my life and wondered--
who's to say this isn't my happily-ever-after?
I'm single as the day is long and the oldest virgin I know. I write contemporary romance novels, and the only thing I can tell you about being self-published is it's hard as hell. By the world's standards, I'm doing something wrong. From the outside looking in, I haven't made it yet. But in spite of all that, I've never been so content. My readers know me as R.C.
You can call me Rosalyn.
And this is my story.