Transcend
by Jewel E. Ann
Self-Published
Book 1 in the Transcend Series
“In another life, she was my forever.”
An unexpected tragedy leaves Professor Nathaniel Hunt a widower alone with a newborn baby.
He hires a nanny. She’s young, but well-qualified, with a simple life, a crazy name obsession, and a boyfriend she met at the grocery store.
Over time, he discovers she knows things about him—things that happened before she was born—like a hidden scar on his head, his favorite pizza, and how he cheated on a high school Spanish test.
She speaks familiar words and shares haunting memories that take him back to over two decades earlier when he lost his best friend in a tragic accident.
“I’m afraid of what’s going to happen when you realize I’m not her.”
Transcend is a sexy, mind-bending journey that uncovers possibilities, challenges beliefs, and begets the age-old question: is there life after death?
Genre
Triggers
Unexpected death during childbirth, grief
I've read Jewel E. Ann books before.
I know she can write a hell of a story with a huge emotional punch.
So one would assume I would be prepared for what this book was going to do to me.
I wasn't.
When I tell you I bawled through most of this book, I am not exaggerating.
My face was pink and puffy during the 24 hours it took me to read this book.
Yes. One day.
I couldn't put it down.
Jewel E. Ann has this amazing ability to write the most beautiful stories that evolve from tragedy. Transcend is a blend of many tragedies, all of a different caliber, and while normally these events would never work in one novel (or duology), the way Jewel writes it, it does.
It's heart wrenching.
It's beautiful.
It's the purest love story with so many twists and turns, it takes your breath away.
I didn't expect to love it this much. Which is nuts, because I've loved most of Jewel's work to date. But this story - these characters - stayed with me weeks after finishing.
I 1000% recommend Transcend to you. If you love emotional, unpredictable love stories, Jewel E. Ann's Transcend series is utter perfection.
I’ve always had a thing for guys with wavy hair, especially the ones who don’t fight it and just say “Fuck it.” Really, there’s nothing more appealing than unruly, fuck-it hair.
Griff: “Another lover?”
The corner of his mouth quirks, but his eyes don’t move from the TV.
Swayze: “Griff, I have many lovers. How do you think I pay for my groceries?”
I slip off my shoes and hang my purse on the hook by the door. He rubs his hand over his mouth, hiding his grin.
Griff: “Get over here so I can fuck some sense into you.”
Swayze: “I have to finish a website design by morning.”
Griff: “Then you’d better do less talking and more stripping.”
Griffin sits on my black leather sofa.
Griff: “Swayz, your day. Hop on and tell me about it.”
He strokes himself. Still no eye contact. It’s not easy to act unaffected by his large hand fisting his thick cock, but who says “hop on?”
Swayze: “You’re not one of your bikes you work on.”
I grab the remote from the arm of the sofa and shut off the TV.
Swayze: “I’m not hopping on.”
Playful brown eyes finally focus on me, accompanied by a cocky grin.
Swayze: “It looked like you were masturbating to NASCAR.”
My teeth trap my grin. I want to be mad at him for this anti-romantic gesture, but he keeps stroking himself, and all I can do is squeeze my legs together.
Griff: “I love NASCAR.”
Swayze: “You have to leave.”
I block the doorway to my bedroom when naked, insatiable Griffin follows me down the short hall connecting my bedroom and bathroom. His gaze slides along my naked body, and that’s why he has to leave.
Griff: “You’ve stopped by the shop, and I’ve kept working. Why can’t you work when I’m here?”
Swayze: “Because it’s late and my bed is inviting enough without you in it. With you in it … I don’t stand a chance. I need to finish the website so I can pay rent and stop whoring myself out for groceries.”
He drapes his shirt over my head.
Griff: “Then stop looking at me like you want more.”
Erica: “I don’t think rich people live in this building.”
Our footsteps echo in sync as we approach the main floor.
Swayze: “You’re a cardiologist and you live here.”
Erica: “Second year resident. Dirt poor. Buried in school loans. I’m not rich. Nor do I have a ridiculously hot boyfriend who rides a Harley.”
Musings of Griffin and his overabundance of hotness elicit something between a chuckle and a dreamy sigh.
Erica: “In fact…”
her blue Saab parked behind my car beeps when she unlocks it
Erica: “…I’m quite certain I’m the only one in the building not getting any.”
Swayze: “But you’re saving lives.”
I hop off the curb, riding my Griffin high. She tosses her backpack in her car and leans on the top of the open door.
Erica: “When your inked god is in your bed, do you wish you were saving lives instead of …”
Her eyebrows waggle. I open my door.
Swayze: “Are you asking me if I’d rather have sex with Griffin or save the world?”
Erica: “Yes.”
Swayze: “No brainer. Griff all the way.”
Erica shoots me the bird and slips into her car.
Swayze: “I love you, Grocery Store Guy.”
He stops his motions and looks at me with those sable eyes that won me over at our first grocery store encounter. I’ve stopped pinching myself and settled into the fact that he sees something in me that I don’t see in myself. We’ve “loved” many things about each other: his tattoos, my birthmark, his body, my hair, his fingers, my mouth. But neither one of us has used “you” without the “r” after the word love.
Griff: “You’re pregnant.”
I grin, not offended one bit by his assumption.
Swayze: “If I were?”
His gaze flits over my face. If I were pregnant, I might fear the thoughts rolling around in his beautiful head. But I’m not, so my thoughts revel in the anticipation of his next words.
Griff: “I’d have to design a sidecar to accommodate a car seat.”
Swayze: “And that’s why I love you.”
Swayze: “It’s a thing. When women hold babies and get a whiff of that newborn smell, our ovaries go into overdrive.”
Griff: “So, you’re not pregnant, but you want to be?”
His eyes shift from my face to my neck then slowly ease down my body, doing all the things I know his hands and mouth want to do.
Swayze: “No,”
I say a little breathy. I know that look of his and so does my body.
Griff: “But you said…”
his gaze makes a quick return to mine
Griff: “…you love me.”
Swayze: “I do. But I love you because you ask me about my day—every day. And you remember everything I tell you. And you’re observant. You know my favorite flower because you know the scent of my favorite lotion. You know the size of my clothes because you’ve peeled them from my body so many times. You hand me a tissue five seconds before I cry during a sad scene in a movie, but you never actually look at me. You just … know.”
He shrugs, staring at me so intently a shiver snakes along my spine.
Griff: “It’s because …”
His teeth dig into his lower lip.
Swayze: “That’s my point.”
I grin and lean toward him, teasing his lips with mine until he rewards me with a smile.
Griff: “It’s because I love you,”
he whispers over my mouth.
I pull out his money clip and count out eighty dollars.
Swayze: “Mind loaning me thirty dollars to buy raffle tickets from my boyfriend’s sister?”
Batting my eyelashes, I glance up at him, trapping my lower lip between my teeth.
Griff: “I’ll let you work it off.”
His gaze leaves no question as to how I will be working this off.
Chloe: “I’m not five. Your innuendos are weirding me out. Just hand over the money before I mini-vomit.”
Swayze: “I love your sisters.”
With a content sigh, I plop back down on the bucket.
Griff: “Kinda takes away from the specialness of you declaring your love to me. Don’t you think?”
Swayze: “I assumed you and your family are a package deal. If I love one of you, I have to love all of you.”
Griff: “Well, I sure as hell love all of you."
Swayze: “I’m going to pick her up. You can physically stop me, but I will fight you, or you can fire me, but I’m. Picking. Her. Up.”
Swayze: “Do you have nightmares about losing your wife?”
I whisper as we stand toe-to-toe in the hallway. Nate’s brow knits together. I wait for him to answer.
Nate: “Sometimes.”
Swayze: “Maybe she does too.”
I press my palm over his heart. He stiffens under my hand.
Swayze: “I’m not hitting on you. I’m just reminding you that touch is a basic human need, and it’s an expression of love. If you were self-soothing you wouldn’t be seeing Dr. Greyson.”
I remove my hand.
Swayze: “Touch is the only kind of love Morgan can feel right now. So remember that the next time you count the hours I spend holding her while you’re at work.”
Hayley: “It’s one tiny freakin’ tattoo! Griffin has them everywhere, probably in places we don’t know about. I bet his ass has a tattoo on it.”
Griffin keeps his chin down, mouth full, so everyone looks to me for confirmation. My skin feels like it matches the color of the umbrella above us.
Chloe: “Does he, Swayze?”
Swayze: “I … well …”
This is great. Two curious parents, and three girls—seventeen, fifteen, and eleven—wait for my reply. My love for this family is waning at the moment.
Griff: “Would it just be easier if I showed everyone?”
Griffin pushes back in his chair and stands while unfastening his worn, faded jeans. I twist my body away from him and slap my hands over my face.
Scott: “Leave your pants on, Griff.”
A deep chuckle rattles from Scott’s chest.
Sophie: “I wanna see it!”
Sophie bounces in her chair and giggles, not realizing that seeing her older brother’s ass is inappropriate, especially during dinner. She’s eleven. She’ll figure it out in a few years.
Hayley grumbles and shoves a bite of coleslaw into her mouth, and everyone gets back to eating. Griffin leans over and whispers in my ear,
Griff: “Really, babe? Out of everyone at this table, you hid your face at the prospect of seeing my ass?”
I press a napkin to my lips and finish chewing.
Swayze: “Reflex.”
I laugh.
If my father’s death taught me anything, it’s that last goodbyes don’t RSVP. Take lots of mental pictures of favorite moments. And being present with the ones that matter most is the wisest investment of time.
Swayze: “Your place or mine later?”
I grab my stuff neatly lined up on the kitchen table.
Griff: “Yours. It’s a mess. We should clean it up tomorrow.”
Swayze: “Great. Your place it is. Bye, Griff.”
Morgan: “I don’t like them teasing us.”
She sat up facing me, crisscrossing her legs.
Morgan: “You’re not my boyfriend. We’ve never kissed.”
Nate: “We did kiss.”
Morgan: “That doesn’t count.”
Her eyes narrowed at me.
Nate: “It counts.”
I smirked because I could never forget the day I met Morgan Daisy Gallagher. We were seven. She’d just moved to Madison mid-school year.
Morgan: “I whispered over your mouth. Remember? I asked you to scoot over and let me sit by you after I kicked Benji for not moving his stupid leg.”
Nate: “Our lips touched.”
Morgan’s brown eyes looked like marbles rolling around in their sockets.
Morgan: “The bus driver went over a speed bump and we…”
she sighed
Morgan: “…bumped lips.”
Nate: “A kiss. You kissed me so I would protect you from Ben. You always try to fight with people bigger than you.”
Morgan: “Fine. I’ll be your girlfriend, but only until I find a real boyfriend.”
Nate: “A real boyfriend?”
She pulled her hair over her shoulder and started braiding it. I could spend all day watching her braid her hair.
Morgan: “Yes. A real boyfriend. One who brings me flowers and chocolate and opens doors for me like my dad opens doors for my mom. And one who kisses me right here.”
She pointed to a spot on her neck just below her ear.
Morgan: “My dad kisses my mom there and it always makes her giggle.”
I shrugged.
Nate: “I can get you flowers and chocolate and hold open doors for you.”
My hand dug into the front pocket of my shorts and pulled out a half-melted candy bar.
Nate: “Here, chocolate. And I call you Daisy which is better than giving you flowers.”
As if I were asking her to eat my vomit, she frowned in disgust.
Morgan: “Fine. But the next time your dad gets popsicles for you, you have to give me all of the good flavors.”
Nate: “The red ones?”
Morgan: “And the orange.”
Nate: “That only leaves the purple. Nobody likes the purple.”
Morgan: “Do you want me to be your girlfriend?”
She finished her braid and tossed it back over her shoulder.
Nate: “Yeah.”
The grin that slid up her face was equal parts evil and sweet.
Morgan: “Then you’d better learn to like purple popsicles.”
Swayze: "Your best friend … you named your daughter after her. Hello? Of course you should introduce them. I introduced my boyfriend to my dead father.”
Swayze cocks her head to the side.
Swayze: “It went much better than I expected. My father didn’t say much, and I felt certain he’d have something to say about my boyfriend’s tattoos.”
Nate: “You’re morbid.”
Nate: “I loved Morgan—Daisy—and she died. I loved Jenna and she died. See any pattern?”
Swayze: “Oh … wow. I can’t believe Dr. Greyson has let you get away with that train of thought.”
Nate: “I haven’t told him. We’re still in the why-does-God-hate-me phase. I’m pretty sure we’re stuck there.
Nate: “I met my soulmate when I was seven. She didn’t care that I was poor and living in a dysfunctional home. She always gave me half of her allowance. When I refused to accept it, she’d leave a bag of groceries on our front doorstep with a note that said, ‘For now … I love you.’ She agreed to be my girlfriend until she found a real boyfriend. That went on for nearly five years.”
I pick at the grass.
Nate: “I was her now. She was my always. And I thought that would add up to forever.”
Nate: “I’ve spent my entire adult life trying to convince myself I was too young to really love her. It has to be the trauma of losing her so suddenly at such a vulnerable age. Some people think kids are resilient. They heal faster because their cells divide faster. It’s true on a physical level. But … emotionally, I think what happens to us when we’re young changes us forever. A broken bone is nothing compared to a broken heart. One is a scratch. The other leaves a scar on your soul.”
Griff: “I’m not mad. I just wondered when we’d get here.”
Swayze: “Here?”
I follow him to the front door where he puts on his boots.
Griff: “When one of us doesn’t want sex. I’m not complaining. We’ve had a good run.”
Swayze: “We’re over?”
I say with a screech to my voice.
Griff: “No.”
Griff laughs, grabbing my face and pressing a firm kiss to my lips.
Griff: “We’ve changed. That’s all. We’re comfortable with each other. I no longer feel the need to warn you before I come in your mouth, and you have no issue sharing paranormal experiences and your lack of desire to have sex with me.”
I can’t believe I called him an old soul. Right now he’s the epitome of a young twenty-something.
Crude.
Selfish.
Cocky.
Swayze: “You think I’m crazy. Just say it.”
He opens the door, steps out into the hall, and turns toward me.
Griff: “I think you’re sexy as fuck.”
Swayze: “But crazy.”
After one last kiss to my forehead, he descends the stairs.
Griff: “Crazy for not wanting to get naked with me tonight, but I love you. Night, babe.”
Nate: “You’re snoopy.”
He winks.
Swayze: “If I’m Snoopy then you’re Charlie Brown.”
Hazel: “The people in our lives give color to our existence. When we love, we choose to let part of our heart—part of our soul—live inside of another person. Their happiness is our happiness. Their grief is our grief. And when they die … part of us dies too.”
Griff: “Dry off. Get dressed. And go home. Or I’m going to fuck you and it won’t mean—”
My hand covers his mouth. His jaw clenches and his eyes redden, but he doesn’t push me away.
Swayze: “It will mean everything,”
I say calmly, but with an equal edge to my own voice.
Swayze: “Because what we have is so much more than a missed birthday, a bad week, a good week, a string of misspoken words, a few bad decisions, or the whole goddamn world coming to an end.”
With my other hand, I shove his chest, but my brick of a man doesn’t budge. And he doesn’t look pleased that I just tried to shove him.
Swayze: “So you don’t have to forgive me right now. And you don’t have to be gentle with me. But don’t you ever try to tell me that you inside of me won’t mean something.”
It’s crazy to think of the big things that couples weather together and the little things that can undermine everything over time. These little things multiply like cancer and ruin even the strongest relationships.
Griff: “Shh …”
He palms my ass and pulls me closer.
Swayze: “Don’t you think we should talk?”
Griffin rolls onto his back while sliding me onto his stomach.
Griff: “No talking yet.”
Swayze: “Why not?”
I whisper. He sits up until we’re nose to nose, my legs straddling his lap, his erection sliding against my clit.
Griff: “Because I’m not done taking.”
A single touch can say things twenty-six letters can’t even begin to say.
Griff: “Shh.”
He holds a finger to his lips and presses his ear to the door.
Griff: “Okay. She’s gone.”
I giggle.
Swayze: “What are you doing?”
He tugs at the button to his jeans, giving me a heated look as he pulls down the zipper.
Griff: “On your knees.”
I shoot him the hairy eyeball.
Swayze: “Really? You just embraced my mom. It was a special moment. I had tears in my eyes.”
Griff: “It was special. I had tears in my eyes too. Now … on your knees.”
Swayze: “I don’t need you to fix anything for me. I just need you to hold my hand sometimes as I try to figure this out for myself.”
He sits up a little, and I slide off his lap onto the cushion next to him.
Griff: “How can I hold your hand when I can’t reach it? That’s my point. On Friday I realized your answer to a shitty week was distancing yourself from me. What happened to the girl who said I made her feel safe? What happened to the girl who fell into my arms after a long day and said one hug righted all the wrongs?”
This love thing hurts.
Swayze: “I guess I didn’t look at it like that. You have been my pillar of strength. You still are.”
Griff: “And you’re my greatest weakness because I let you into the part of me that’s unguarded.”
He takes my hand and presses it to his chest.
Nate: “You think I’m supposed to learn how to tie my tie from a video?”
Swayze: “No.”
She hooks the tie around my neck and gives it a playful tug.
Swayze: “I’m going to tie it for you while watching the tutorial. And if you’re lucky, someday I may teach you how to tie it on your own like a big boy.”
The mind isn’t simply a dangerous place, it’s the most dangerous place. All that’s wrong, sinful, and evil starts in the mind. It’s ironic how the part of the human body that controls everything is also the most out of control part of the body.
Swayze: “Don’t be such a jerk. If I sound insecure it’s because I love you. And loving someone the way I love you is kind of scary, and scared people can sound insecure because nothing makes you feel more vulnerable than putting your heart on the line.”
He studies me, every piece of my heart stripped raw, bared to him in a bed of insecurities. I’ve never pretended to be something I’m not with Griffin. It’s all of me or nothing at all. We both know it without needing to say the words. Griffin steps closer. His hand slides behind my head.
Griffin: “I love you for staying. I hate you for not going. But your heart isn’t on the line. Your heart’s just … mine. And I take care of what’s mine.”
Insecurities suck. But they make you fight to keep the important things in life. They’re a solemn reminder that emotions are not a choice; they’re a toxic mix of chemicals running amuck in our bodies, playing roulette with our relationships.
Nate: “We don’t love with our brains, we love with our hearts. We love on instinct. Love is undefinable and resides in all of us. There are no requirements to love someone. Daisy was my first love. Jenna was my last love. Morgan is my forever love.”
Swayze: “Nate …”
My chin inches higher until our eyes meet.
Swayze: “I’m afraid of what’s going to happen when you realize I’m not her.”
He cups the side of my face with his hand. I can’t breathe. If he kisses me, I will shatter.
Nate: “I’m afraid of what will happen when you realize you are her.”
Sherri clears her throat.
Sherri: “Should we come back in an hour or so?”
Griffin and I both grin at each other.
Griff: “We’re not old like you guys. Hours. We need hours … maybe all night.”
My skin heats to a blood-red shade of complete embarrassment. Scott chuckles.
Scott: “Chip off the old block.”
Kill me now.
Sherri: “Since when?”
Sherri laughs.
Dear Mr. and Mrs. Calloway, I love you to pieces. I want to be your daughter-in-law someday soon, but would you please please please leave so I can do really kinky stuff with your son?
Swayze: “I like that you do laundry in just your underwear. That fascinates me.”
Griff: “Are you listening?”
He squints at me. I could not care less about his laundry sorting rules. Domestic Griffin is my porn.
Swayze: “Yeah, yeah, I got it. Reds on hot and washed with whites.”
Griffin starts the washer and lifts me from the dryer, tossing me over his shoulder.
Griff: “Just continue working on your cock-sucking skills and leave the housework to me.”
He smacks my ass.
Swayze: “Ouch!”
I laugh and smack his butt just as hard, blood running to my head.
Swayze: “I know how to do laundry, cook, and clean on a need-to basis. And there’s nothing wrong with my cock-sucking skills. I’ll be a fine wife. Just wait and see.”
Griff: “But this is it … this is the epic proposal that you’ll tell our kids and grandkids. You pinned against my truck, in tears and pissed off at me. And me refusing to let you go. I will never let you go.”
I swallow back as much emotion as I possibly can. The rest stays lodged in my throat.
Swayze: “I can’t believe you remember the time of day and checkout lane number,”
I whisper.
Griff: “I remember all life-changing moments.”
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