Table Of ContentPULLED
BACK
AGAIN
BOOK THREE:
THE FINAL FLAME
DANIELLE
BANNISTER
This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the
product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to
actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © September, 2013
by Danielle Bannister Smashwords Edition
All rights reserved
DB Books
First Edition
For information about permission to reproduce selections from this novel, e-
mail: [email protected] Pulled Back Again: a novel about
Twin Flames reconnecting.
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BISAC: Fiction Romance Suspense ISBN-13: 978-1490930978
ISBN-10: 1490930973
Cover Design by Kari’s Literary Solutions
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Acknowledgments
“Love is composed of a single soul inhabiting two bodies.” | —Aristotle
The End
Author Bio
Acknowledgments
First and foremost, I need to thank my beta readers: Kari Suderely (my first
reader of anything I write), Kellee Fabre (who inspired what has become
Chapter 20), Tawnya Peltonen, Jennifer LaFon, and Judith Frazee (who all
suggested more insight into Hawk), Amy Miles, (for making me slow down the
ride so you could breathe), Grace Davis (for making sure it worked with the teen
group), Laura Anile (my indie author friend from down under who was never
afraid to give it to me straight), and Jen Wendell (who inspired the character of
Jenevra).
Without their suggestions, this book would still be only 30,000 words and
missing its heart, so thank you, truly. You have no idea how important beta
readers are to authors!
I also need to thank my editor, Cassie McCown over at Gathering Leaves
Editing. Without her, you would be indulging in my misuse of the comma and
semicolon.
And finally, I’d like to thank my husband, Jason, and my kiddos, Tristan and
Marina, who, reluctantly, allowed me the mass amounts of time needed in front
of the screen so I could take this journey with you.
“Love is composed of a single soul inhabiting
two bodies.”
—Aristotle
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Prologue
June 15, 2031
Tobias
Gazing around Ma’s living room covered in half-deflated balloons and
colorful bits of torn-up pink and purple birthday paper, I can't help but smile. My
baby is a year old today.
Looking at them now, mother and daughter, snuggled up close underneath
the early summer sun, you’d never know their lives had been anything but
perfect. Even the afternoon sun seems to agree with me as it pours into Ma's
living room. Its warmth makes everything feel calm and perfect—my own little
cocoon of happiness.
“Looks like someone had a good birthday,” I whisper to Jada. She’s sitting
on Ma’s trusty old blue-and-white-checkered couch beside me. Janelle’s blond
curls mirror the exact color of her mother's: sun-kissed fields of wheat.
Aside from those weeks in the NICU, she hasn’t been sick a day since.
People always marvel that she is the happiest baby they’ve ever seen, and she is.
Ma calls her an old soul. I can’t help but agree. She just seems so at home in
her brand new body. While other newborns tend to flounder with their new
limbs, Janelle is like a baby Buddha, reassuring us that all is right in the world
now that she is here.
Smiling, I notice Janelle’s hand is clasped tight around a lock of her mother’s
hair as she sleeps in her arms. She has on the cutest pink sundress peppered with
white daisies. Her white ruffled cloth diaper pokes out from underneath, hugging
her plump little legs.
She is just getting to the age where she can tell something is “different”
about her mommy, though. Jada has been worrying about what effect the terrible
scar lining the side of her face would have on her daughter. Although she won’t
talk about it, I know Jada is embarrassed by the permanent mark that runs from
the edge of her left eye and along her jaw. When she found out she was
pregnant, she convinced herself that no child would love a mother who looked as
hideous as she thought she was.
It didn’t matter how many times I told Jada how beautiful she was, in those
first few months after Janelle was born, she worried that she would end up
scaring her daughter. She thought of herself as a monster.
That’s why we all held our breath the first time Janelle touched her mother’s
scar. Jada gasped, but her daughter’s eyes lit up like a flame. She smiled and
giggled, much to our relief. Since that day, it’s Janelle’s favorite spot to touch.
She will sit in her mama’s arms and run her finger up and down the length of her
scar like a zipper. She hums a soft tune to herself as she does it, almost like she’s
trying to soothe away her mama’s “boo-boo.”
