Enjoyed this post on “dramatic irony.” Thank you, Allison Maruska!

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B017WHH3BC

She doesn’t know who she is or why she’s come to Colorado Springs. Dustin has no idea why he’s met her. Kayla whispers that her name is Ruby—if he can believe the voice of a spirit in the night. Separate tragedies, years apart, form an invisible bond between Ruby and him. A chance encounter over the Holidays? Or a match made in Heaven? Only Kayla knows for sure…

Excerpt

     All Dustin wanted to do was go home and take a nap. He deserved that, didn’t he? Hadn’t he done enough chivalrous shit for one day? Driving away from the hotel, he felt guilty for leaving Brandy—or whoever the hell she was. Why hadn’t he minded his own business in Lutz’s? No one else cared that she was crying. Why had Janette sat him in the booth near Brandy’s? Why hadn’t he plopped his ass on a stool at the counter like he usually did?
     Damn it, Kayla. Get out of my head. Stop trying to be my moral compass…
     Dustin slowed at the first intersection, swung into a gas station, and turned his truck around. He knew he should go back to the shop to pick up his SUV, but he didn’t have time.
     When he entered the hotel, he didn’t see her. He approached the desk clerk. “Excuse me. Did the lady who was here check in yet?”
     “She went to the restroom.”
     Dustin headed down a hallway. He halted at the correct door, knocking. “Brandy, are you in there?”
     She came out, her eyes red-rimmed. “Did you forget something?” she asked, sniffling.
     He commandeered her suitcase. “Yeah—you. Look, I can’t leave you here, okay? Not in your present state of mind.”
     “Don’t make me go to the police, Dustin. They’ll think I’m nuts and have me locked up.”
     “I want you to stay with me, at least until we can make some sense out of this.”
     “Is it all right with your…significant other?”
     “Yeah, she’s on board. Believe me.”
     She trailed him into the lobby. “I’m sorry to be such a pain. I know you didn’t ask for this, to be burdened with a stranger who has amnesia, and I…”
     “Please, stop crying and stop apologizing. I’m not the saint you make me out to be.”
     “But you’re helping me, and you don’t have to.”
     “That’s where you’re wrong, Brandy. Sometimes, we have no choice in the matter.”

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