it will help or destroy her? Bittersweet by Kimberly Loth

Every Sunday Savannah Ray gets an email from her dead dad. She doesn’t know how the emails work and she doesn’t mind either as she’s not ready to let go. Now that her mom is fed up of her rebellious behavior, she has to go to the one place she swore she’d never set foot in after he died—Haunted Valley, the amusement park.

Description:

Published: March 21st, 2015

Every Sunday Savannah Ray gets an email from her dead dad. She doesn’t know how the emails work and she doesn’t mind either as she’s not ready to let go. Now that her mom is fed up of her rebellious behavior, she has to go to the one place she swore she’d never set foot in after he died—Haunted Valley, the amusement park. 

Once there and bullied by co-workers & customers, she is distracted by the charming Dallas and falls hard for him. But Savannah and Dallas both hold secrets that threaten their new relationship. Will Haunted Valley help her move on, or will it destroy her from the inside out?

"Bittersweet is powerful, moving and beautifully written. As readers, we should feel privileged that an author has opened up so honestly about a difficult time in her own life. Bittersweet wrapped its way around my heart an not only do I recommend it as a brilliant story, but I hope that readers are touched enough to donate to the fund which Kimberly Loth set up in honor of her own father: "- Goodreads, Kirsty Vizard

EXCERPT

We met at Cracker Barrel, which was just mom indulging me. My favorite meal in the whole world was biscuits and gravy from Cracker Barrel. If I could I’d subsist on chocolate alone, but I tried that right after Dad died and nearly ended up in the hospital.

“Grant just texted me that he already has a table. We’ll eat and then you two need to get on the road,” Mom said.

I recognized him immediately even though I’d only met him twice before, once at a family reunion and then again at the funeral. He had the same dark hair and eyes my dad had. Except skinnier. Grant gave my mom an awkward hug and shook Dave’s hand. They all smiled at each other. I sat down before he could touch me at all.

He tugged at his collar and smiled at me. It wasn’t a real smile, it was the kind of smile you gave when you felt like you were supposed to smile but didn’t really want to.

“So, Savannah, how was your school year?”

“Oh, fine. I got suspended, barely passed my classes since I wasn’t allowed to take the finals, and got dumped by my boyfriend.”

This was a test. If he were like my dad, he’d say something funny to lighten the mood. Dad hated anything serious.

Grant frowned and fidgeted with the menu. “I’m sorry to hear that. I hope this summer will be better for you.”

Fat chance of that. I rolled my eyes. He seemed so unsure of himself. Which was odd, because Dad was always the life of the party and completely in control of social situations. This aspect of him I didn’t inherit. Well, I did. I used to have it, but then he died and I threw it away.

They made small talk until the food arrived. Grant didn’t try addressing me again. Probably didn’t want me to tell him how horrible my life was. Just as the food arrived I hiccupped. Damn. My mother glared at me and Teddy giggled.

Hiccups are part of the family curse. Through my dad’s side, of course. We didn’t just hiccup. We made a loud and obnoxious noise that was more like a crow cawing. There was no way to get rid of them, I just had to wait them out. My mother always had new suggestions on how to stop them and they never worked. My hiccups were unbelievably embarrassing in class, but mostly they just reminded me that I’d inherited a curse that killed my great-grandfather during the Depression, my grandfather after Vietnam, and most recently my dad. There were other signs of the curse, but the first was always the hiccups. When I was little I thought the whole thing was about the hiccups, that my grandfathers died of hiccups. It wasn’t until a few years before my dad finally died from the wretched curse that he tried to convince me that hiccups had nothing to do with it. Sometimes, I still thought the hiccups were going to kill me.

“Damn curse,” I muttered.

Grant put his fork down. “Not you too.”

“Excuse me?” I asked.

“Your Dad was always going on about the curse. It doesn’t exist. He made it up as a party story to deflect attention off of his hiccups.”

“That doesn’t make it any less real. He’s dead, isn’t he?” I met his eyes. Those tiny almost-black eyes that were just like Dad’s.

“From a disease, not a curse.”

“Disease, curse, same thing.”

He put his fork down and crossed his arms. “It is not the same thing, if your Dad had recognized it as a disease then he would not be dead.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but my mother cleared her throat. Grant and I looked at her and then turned our attention back to food.

The rest of dinner was tense and silent. Except for Teddy jabbering on about Thomas the Train. To try to distract myself I listened to him intently. Half way through dinner, Grant looked at me but spoke to my mother.

“Savannah will have orientation on Tuesday. She’ll have to spend tomorrow getting up to dress code.”

My head jerked up and I wasn’t sure I heard him correctly.

“I’m sorry, what?” I asked.

“Your nails can’t be black. You can paint them a light pink, but no black or bright colors. You’ll have to remove the ring in your eyebrow.” I dropped my fork. This would not do at all.

“What about brown, can I paint them brown?” I wanted to continue, to explain that my nails were not black at all, but a dark brown of the richest chocolate. The kind that comes from Argentina. They couldn’t be black, because I threw the black nail polish away after Candie betrayed me and I shaved all the hair off my head. Before I could finish, he shook his head and took a bite of his omelet. I glared at my mom.

“You didn’t tell me they were going to make me change the way I look.”

She shrugged. “I didn’t know. But you’ll do it.”

“I can’t remove my eyebrow ring, it will close up.” My palms began to sweat. This was not the way I’d envisioned my summer. Pretending to be someone else. I was eighteen and they weren’t going to boss me around.

Grant scowled.

“If you want a job you will,” he held my gaze, which was hard because it was like staring straight into my father’s eyes.

“I don’t want a job anyway.” I shoved a biscuit in my mouth, emptying my plate, and waited for him to retort. He just looked at my mother and sighed. Perhaps he thought he was getting a docile little girl that would do whatever he wanted. The eyebrow ring would stay. I’d see to that.

In the end they decided I could put a clear stud in it.

Win-win. Not.

****

Dallas sat on the rock, his face turned up to the sunlight. Damn, he was hot. My head went a little fuzzy. Whoa. Where did the nothing go? Feelings were coming more and more often now. It was crazy that I’d never felt a thing for Zane, but in less than two weeks I was feeling all kinds of crazy things for Dallas.

“I’m still not sure about this,” I said as we walked out into the park. He wore a real polo shirt with a popped collar and loose khaki shorts. Definitely a rich boy. Usually I avoided this type at school, they were cocky and never had the time of day for a girl like me unless I was the butt of a joke.

“Do coasters make you sick?” he asked.

“No, they just hold too many memories,” I kept my eyes trained on my tennis shoes instead of him.

“More cryptic answers. I’ll get them out of you one of these days.” I risked a look and he had that devastating smile plastered on his face again. If he kept looking at me like that, then he was right. I’d spill my guts faster than the Demon Drop plummeted.

All of the rides in Spook Alley were built with dark brown wood, and when I stepped inside I felt like I was in a massive haunted tree house with pictures of little witches and cute ghosts everywhere. The smell of cotton candy was overwhelming. Instead I inhaled deeply and smiled. Amusement parks always smelled like cotton candy. That and corn dogs.

He cocked his head.

“What?” I asked, suddenly self-conscious.

“You’re smiling a real smile. It’s a sight I don’t see very often. It’s much prettier than the fake one.”

I blushed.

“I smell cotton candy. It’s one of my favorite smells.”

He nodded. “I’ll remember that next time I buy cologne. Cotton candy and chocolate.”

I laughed. “Good luck with that one. FYI, chocolate scented things don’t really smell like chocolate. It’s the real stuff or nothing.”

“So if I carry a Hershey bar in my pocket, will that work?”

“No. That’s weak chocolate. Go European.”

He was quiet for a minute as we walked deeper into Spook Alley. The rides got smaller and smaller. I didn’t even know if we were allowed to ride them.

“Do heights bother you?”
            “Not really.” I looked around at the little kid rides. All the lines were empty.

“Then the Sneaking Ghost it is.”

“Sounds scary.” I replied.

He laughed.
            “Oh yeah, real scary.”

We climbed two flights of stairs and into a little ghost car. The girl checking our belts flirted with Dallas. I rolled my eyes. Was there any girl who didn’t want him?

“When are you going to come out with the Spook Alley gang again? We miss you.” She pouted a little. Unfortunately, it just made her look cute. He really could have anyone. No way he actually wanted me. This was either about Grant or chocolate.

He held up his hands in an “I don’t know” gesture.

“My evenings are a little full,” he said and put his arm around me. Some girls would’ve been ecstatic, but I was a little annoyed he used me to put her off. Shame on him to lead me on.

The car jerked a little and off we went. About two miles per hour on an elevated flat track. I shrugged off his arm.

 “My, my, you are in high demand.”

He grimaced and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Obviously that was a total lie. Most nights I go home and read a book.”

I didn’t believe that for a second.

“Right and I party every night with a different guy.” I folded my arms in front of my chest. Why was I doing this again?

He sat back and looked out over the kids running around under the track. I thought maybe I’d offended him until he turned back to me, his eyebrows creased.

 “It’s true. But I have an idea. Why don’t we hang out every night? Then I wouldn’t be lying, would I?”
            I looked over at him and he smiled. I replied without thinking.

“Okay.”

He put his arm around me again. This time I let him. The girl was nowhere in sight and so he wasn’t just using me. Plus, it felt nice. Then I immediately felt guilty. What right did I have to feel nice? Never mind that I was feeling again.

“Why are you so concerned with the little white lie?” I asked.

“I don’t like lying to people. Ever. But when she pounced on me like that I didn’t know what else to say.”

“I take it you don’t like her.”

He sighed and tugged me a little closer. My heart beat faster. I took a deep breath, hoping to still my heart. He didn’t seem to notice. A few kids screamed below us and I had to lean closer to him to hear. He had very nice lips. They weren’t cracked like a lot of boys’. He must use Chapstick or something.

“She’s nice enough. But she came with us to the casino last week and I couldn’t shake her off. She followed me around to all the tables. I’d finally found a slot machine deep in the middle of a crowd and I thought I’d lost her but just after I put a twenty into the machine the person next to me left and she sat down. She went on for thirty minutes about why we would be perfect for each other. As soon as she said the M word, I bailed. Left six bucks in the machine and didn’t look back.”

“The M word?”

“Marriage.”

I laughed. “Poor girl.”

He mocked outrage.

“Poor girl? Poor me. Well, not anymore, as my social calendar is now completely full. Thanks to an unsuspecting Savannah.”

The little ghost pulled back into the station and Dallas held out his hand to help me out. Instead of letting go, he adjusted his grip so that our fingers intertwined. His hand was smooth and his fingers swallowed mine.

Butterflies.

Holy crap.

The last time I felt butterflies was the summer before my sophomore year when Eddie kissed me on the Ferris wheel at the fair. So cliché, but I remembered the butterflies because Dad had died the following week. I hadn’t felt that way since. Even now my chest ached, the pain of my dad’s death as raw as it was two years ago. I shook my head. Empty. Go back to the empty.

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About the author:

Kimberly Loth can't decide where she wants to settle down. She's lived in Michigan, Illinois, Missouri, Utah, California, Oregon, and South Carolina. She finally decided to make the leap and leave the U.S. behind for a few years. Currently, she lives in Cairo, Egypt with her husband and two kids. 

She is a high school math teacher by day (please don't hold that against her) and YA author by night. She loves romantic movies, chocolate, roses, and crazy adventures. Kissed is her first novel.

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