Michael Carlucci, the hot, young musical genius behind the successful rock band, NinetySeven, knows that he’s found the woman for him. Diane Matthews is not just beautiful and smart, she’s got an infectious passion for everything in her life, from her three daughters to her new play. For him, the search is over. He knows they belong together.
For Diane, it’s not as simple. She’s almost twenty years older than Michael. She’s not interested in remarrying – she’s very happy with her life just the way it is, thank you very much. But she can’t deny the growing attraction between them – and it’s not just his touch that she craves. But it’s not until Michael is gone and an old love returns that she realizes just what he meant to her. He said he would love her forever. Can she trust that? Or should she find a safer route to happiness?
A Different Kind of Forever is the story about two complicated people finding – and trying to hold on – to love.
They went into the house together, Diane turning on lights as they walked through the empty living room. She could feel him behind her. He’s waiting, she thought. He’s waiting for me.
She turned suddenly. They were face to face, and she could feel the heat from his body, and his eyes were endless, impossibly blue, and he leaned forward very gently and kissed her. She was trembling, and he kissed her again. This time she kissed him back, softly at first, then with a growing hunger, and her arms went around him, his waist, under the thin fabric of his shirt and pulling him toward her. His body was lean and hard, and she opened her mouth, and she could feel the smoothness of his skin against her hands. As his arms went around her, she made a small noise, like a sob, and then his hands were in her hair, and his lips were brushing her neck, soft, down her throat, a trail of kisses that shook her entire body. She brought her hands up, between them, gripping his shoulders and pushing against him abruptly.
He let her go, stepped back, and dropped his arms to his side. She pressed her hands against her forehead.
“I’m sorry, "his breathing was strained "I thought — I’m sorry."
“No. No, don’t be sorry.” He took a step toward her, hesitant, and she moved away. "I need to think I can’t think if you touch me."
He stepped back again, and she pointed. Her hand was shaking. "Sit. Please, sit down."
He obediently sat down in a wing chair, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped. He was watching her face.