Hello everyone,

As many of you already know, I've decided to work on publishing my Unexpected Series.

It's going to be hard work to make sure that I'm putting out my best work for all of you that have started with me from the beginning of this journey.

I'm fairly certain there will be many panic attacks along the way, but I'm determined to get my work out into the world so that many of you can hold in your very hands a copy of the first AND second book in the Unexpected Series.

Right now, it's still in the earlier stages, however, please sign up for my newsletters on my website: roxannseason.com

While I'm in the process, I do have to remove a percentage of the story so that I can publish it. I've decided to take out the last 20-30% of the story.

By subscribing to my newsletters, you'll get emails from me when I have secret news (such as when I'll publish Unconditional, Unbroken, His Forgotten Mate, Loving Ashlynn and Shattered) I only share with my treasured and enthusiastic readers.

Also be the first to know when:The Unexpected Series (Book 1) is going to be released and where you can pre-order/order your copy.

Again, my website: roxannseason.com

Like my fan page: facebook.com/roxannseason

Want to discuss my work with other fans? Check out: Facebook.com/RoxannSeasonAddicts

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So... please comment and don't forget to vote if you liked the chapter :)

© 2015 new_season All Rights Reserved

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Hi so the rant, I'm actually sorry that I wrote it, because I was watching this live show on youtube hosted by Wattpad people... and they were saying how some writers don't get people saying to "please update."



I want to take a minute to say how MUCH I appreciate all of you that read, comment and vote. I just also want to add that there is a difference between asking me to ''please update soon," and telling me that "I'm not going fast enough."

That being said, once again thanks.

the party i went to: is it horrible that I waited until more people came and then cut out? Anyone ever do that?

QUESTION/ANSWER:

hahaha! spank them good. Now serious for a moment. can't you keep the question and answer separate from story? no offence to you but i think some of your readers must be to immature to read your story to ask the questions they do. for the readers who try to tell you how to write. . . write your own G¤D D@mn book! Stop all the whining and complaining. Okay... some of the questions I answer, I do because I want to show my opinion on the question so yeah.

Plus I want readers to know I'm reading ALL your comments. I tend to pick the ones that are asked in various ways by multiple people that way I can answer it once for all the people that asked. Another thing I do is look for questions/comments where one person says it and it just stands out... I'm not sure... someone people like seeing their comments in the A/N's here.

It lets you guys know that I'm really taking what you say seriously. I can't respond to each and everyone... but I do read them.

Keep them separate? I would probably have to start another book and use that JUST to answer questions... IDK.

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So if you haven't already read my new story or taken a look, here is the prologue of 'Loving Ashlynn,' the rest of the story is up on 'MyStories.' I would LOVE LOVE LOVE if you could all take a look and let me know what you think, if you're not interested that's cool too lol.



- - PREVIEW - -

Prologue - Faith POV



Two months, all of May and all of June. Truly that was the longest I had ever gone without seeing Dmitri in my whole life, although maybe that was to be expected because I had long figured out that the older I got, the less independent on him I was, the less frequent his trips became. Though, now I could tell something was wrong, two months, with very limited supplies, he would have made an appearance a month ago. I'd never had to ration food for three days over that of nearly nine.



Sighing, I walked to the window overlooking the forest around me, my mind drifting the age-old question of what was beyond those trees? Beyond the mountains? Had things calmed? Had the war finished? I had been inside my whole life, never setting a foot outside in the poisonous air that killed many. I wondered how different things had become since many of the videos that donned the living room? I knew that progress had been made, the proof in the selection of videos that Dmitri brought along with supplies when he came.



Restless, I left the window, pacing in the kitchen, wondering if any danger had come to Dmitri? Had someone witnessed him leaving our safe place and taken him from me? It was already the third of July, my birthday, and in the previous sixteen years he had never missed a single one, always bringing me a new batch of things, books to read, records to play, movies to watch, new special treats. Yet today on my seventeenth, he had yet to make an entrance.



With no way to reach him, I pushed the negative thoughts from my mind, despite my greatest fear coming true, being truly alone in the world. Fading away in my safe place, taking my last breath alone and forgotten, an empty existence in this new dangerous world. A part of myself ached that I would never get to visit the many places I had read in my stories, never using the lessons Dmitri brought for me to study, to feel the sun on my face outside of my glass walls.



Although I guess I wouldn't get to feel the heat on my bare skin, no one could survive that way anymore, without a protective suit, a mask and tank with clean breathable air. All my life Dmitri had searched for one for me, never being quite so luckyto my greatest disappointment. Other children, like myself had to wait, until they had reached the right size, to fit the nearly one size fit all overall. But I had grown, his next visit, the one that should have been many days before, I would've been able to use his suit if just for a moment had he not found one for me.



They were rare, expensive, as a child when he found me; he had placed me inside of his own suit, bringing me to safety.



Putting on the Revolver LP vinyl, Taxman croons, the sound calming me easily, I listen to song after song as the sunsets and the usual darkness encroaches my home, I sigh, and I Want To Tell You brings a old memory of Dmitri rocking me to sleep, the same rocking chair still in my room, though he has long stopped rocking me to sleep. At first I noted the changes, him distancing himself and thought it was me, that I had done something wrong to push him away, but with age my, with my love for literature, for numbers for learning and devouring all the books he brought, I learned that it wasn't anything I could help.



Things changed.



People changed and the less problematic solution was to adapt.



So I did.



Turning away from the window, lights dancing off the trees below reflecting in my peripheral, and I do a double take my heart thumping quickly as I lift a hand against the cooler glass. He's coming, my forehead against the earlier tension falls away, and my bottom lip trembles, my breath fogging the glass, and in a moment of panic I wipe away the condensation obscuring my view.



"He didn't forget me," I sigh, repeating those words that quell my panic in small momentary relief. The headlights shine through the darkness and in a last ditch moment, I run to the mirror to fix myself, my wild curly hair fans around my face, my face smaller, thinner from lack of food, under my bluish- green eyes dark circles from worry and lack of sleep startle me. I know Dmitri will notice and the last thing I want is for him to believe I am not taking care of myself while he is away.



My lips red from chewing on them, I look at my clothes, a plain black shirt and shorts I made on my sewing machine with fabrics Dmitri obtained for me. I run back over to the window overlooking the barely used dirt road to see a car not at all like what Dmitri drives? The panic I pushed down, flares instantly, black body, the windows darker, the car larger and even in my panic I feel my face turn up to a slow smile. It's much bigger, hope swells inside that he's brought a new bigger car because I'll finally be able to join him out there.



I exhale shakily, and before the car has come to a stop I run to the steps, down, going to the door that has the lock that only Dmitri knows, I wait bouncing on the balls of my feet. And when through four thick glass windows a man that looks nothing like my Dmitri leaves the car - not wearing a suit - and my brain stumbles.



His brown eyes connect with mine and all I see is dread and something I cannot understand. He isn't wearing a suit, I note on the side. Where is Dmitri? He's not wearing a mask, and I see him inhale. The air out there is no longer dangerous? Where is Dmitri?



The man continues to the door, his eyes not leaving mine, he lifts his hand to the keypad outside - "Anyone that comes here with the code to the keypad Faith, you can trust them," words said years back creep into the chaos.



He isn't wearing a mask, or body suit, and he's breathing outside, the air is safe? He steps inside and the process I'm so familiar with startles him, the decontamination process. He shakes his head and the connection between us breaks and I stand waiting, tense until the final glass pushes to the side automatically.



"Where is Dmitri?" my voice shakes and again, his words from years before is all that keeps me in place.



The man blinks, "Fatima?" I shake my head. That is my name of course, Fatima Safiya Ashlynn, "Faith," I murmur, "Dmitri calls me Faith." The man nods, his eyes are pained. That's it! The part of my brain working to deconstruct his facial expressions notes and the next step is connecting his pained expression with its reason.

On my seventeenth birthday, I break.

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