inventing the character name and superhero powers for Cupcake Girl.
Thank you to the best parents on the planet, Clarke and Karen Doxey. I am grateful for their valuable editing suggestions, for my dad’s sailing expertise, and for my mom’s wise and patient encouragement, without which this book never would have been written. Thank you also for the constant example and support from my wonderful in-laws, Bill and Renae White, and grandparents, Martin and Tressa Tidwell.
I am grateful to my amazing brothers and sisters and their families. My sister Carolyn Webster served as my ultimate consultant for anything romantic. I’m grateful to Christine Lerohl, Diane Graham, and Michael Lerohl for serving as some of my earliest readers, and to Michael and Robert Doxey for their artistic input and website design. Thank you to Andrea Landaker, April and Shawn Snelling, Merikay Richardson, and Anne McDonald for their influence on this book and for their treasured friendship. Thank you also to my insightful editor, Linda Prince.
I would also like to pay tribute to three extraordinary families whom I have admired only from a distance—the Petersons, Pedrottys, and Parkers. Though I do not know them personally, I have been deeply touched by their faith in the face of great trials, and the way they so wholeheartedly cherish their precious children, Stephen, Matthew, and Emilie.
And finally, my deepest gratitude to my Father in Heaven and Savior Jesus Christ for so richly blessing me with all I hold dear.
1
Summer Storm
I first realized I was hopelessly in love with my best friend on the day we both almost died. Okay, maybe I’m exaggerating about the death part, but it was the closest I’ve come to dying in my seventeen years, and it was the day my life changed forever.
It started as a perfect summer day at the lake, the kind of day Lexie and I spent together on Elephant Butte Reservoir every summer since we were little kids.
“Hey, Max!” She greeted me with a smile when she arrived at the marina my family had owned and operated for three generations. “My mom’s working the lunch shift today, so we have until 4:00.”
Since it was just the two of them, Lexie tried to be home when her mom was. Mrs. Duncan put in long days as a waitress at Jay’s Diner, a classy gas station/restaurant with a big banner out front advertising “Eat at Jay’s Diner and Get Gas.” Riiiight.
“That’s practically all day,” I replied. “My mom packed us a lunch, and she gave us the rest of the cookies from last night.”
“Your mom’s homemade chocolate-chip cookies are the best.” Lexie popped open a tube of sunscreen and rubbed it into her tanned nose with its faint sprinkle of freckles. She’d pulled her long dark hair back in its usual ponytail, but a small cluster of curls hung loose near one ear. Her violet-blue eyes, defined eyebrows, and long lashes always get to me. When we were kids she complained that her eyelashes were too long, since they would brush against the inside of her swim goggles. I could seriously look at her eyes all day, but I hopefully looked away before she noticed I was staring at her.
“Here, do you want me to do your back?” she asked, walking over with a handful of sunscreen.
“Come on, you know I never burn.” It was true—the longer summer wore on, the darker my skin got and the blonder my hair became. My mom liked to call me the “ultimate sandy blond,” since she could usually find grains of lake sand in my hair, no matter how many showers I took.
“I know—it’s totally unfair, but you still have to do it,” Lexie said as she started to rub the cold lotion across my shoulders, causing a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold. I was hoping she’d let me do her shoulders too, but she kept her swim shirt and shorts on over her suit. Tan or no tan, we knew better than to mess with the scorching New Mexico sun.
“My dad rented out
Thank you to the best parents on the planet, Clarke and Karen Doxey. I am grateful for their valuable editing suggestions, for my dad’s sailing expertise, and for my mom’s wise and patient encouragement, without which this book never would have been written. Thank you also for the constant example and support from my wonderful in-laws, Bill and Renae White, and grandparents, Martin and Tressa Tidwell.
I am grateful to my amazing brothers and sisters and their families. My sister Carolyn Webster served as my ultimate consultant for anything romantic. I’m grateful to Christine Lerohl, Diane Graham, and Michael Lerohl for serving as some of my earliest readers, and to Michael and Robert Doxey for their artistic input and website design. Thank you to Andrea Landaker, April and Shawn Snelling, Merikay Richardson, and Anne McDonald for their influence on this book and for their treasured friendship. Thank you also to my insightful editor, Linda Prince.
I would also like to pay tribute to three extraordinary families whom I have admired only from a distance—the Petersons, Pedrottys, and Parkers. Though I do not know them personally, I have been deeply touched by their faith in the face of great trials, and the way they so wholeheartedly cherish their precious children, Stephen, Matthew, and Emilie.
And finally, my deepest gratitude to my Father in Heaven and Savior Jesus Christ for so richly blessing me with all I hold dear.
1
Summer Storm
I first realized I was hopelessly in love with my best friend on the day we both almost died. Okay, maybe I’m exaggerating about the death part, but it was the closest I’ve come to dying in my seventeen years, and it was the day my life changed forever.
It started as a perfect summer day at the lake, the kind of day Lexie and I spent together on Elephant Butte Reservoir every summer since we were little kids.
“Hey, Max!” She greeted me with a smile when she arrived at the marina my family had owned and operated for three generations. “My mom’s working the lunch shift today, so we have until 4:00.”
Since it was just the two of them, Lexie tried to be home when her mom was. Mrs. Duncan put in long days as a waitress at Jay’s Diner, a classy gas station/restaurant with a big banner out front advertising “Eat at Jay’s Diner and Get Gas.” Riiiight.
“That’s practically all day,” I replied. “My mom packed us a lunch, and she gave us the rest of the cookies from last night.”
“Your mom’s homemade chocolate-chip cookies are the best.” Lexie popped open a tube of sunscreen and rubbed it into her tanned nose with its faint sprinkle of freckles. She’d pulled her long dark hair back in its usual ponytail, but a small cluster of curls hung loose near one ear. Her violet-blue eyes, defined eyebrows, and long lashes always get to me. When we were kids she complained that her eyelashes were too long, since they would brush against the inside of her swim goggles. I could seriously look at her eyes all day, but I hopefully looked away before she noticed I was staring at her.
“Here, do you want me to do your back?” she asked, walking over with a handful of sunscreen.
“Come on, you know I never burn.” It was true—the longer summer wore on, the darker my skin got and the blonder my hair became. My mom liked to call me the “ultimate sandy blond,” since she could usually find grains of lake sand in my hair, no matter how many showers I took.
“I know—it’s totally unfair, but you still have to do it,” Lexie said as she started to rub the cold lotion across my shoulders, causing a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold. I was hoping she’d let me do her shoulders too, but she kept her swim shirt and shorts on over her suit. Tan or no tan, we knew better than to mess with the scorching New Mexico sun.
“My dad rented out
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