𝗖𝗮𝗻𝗱𝘆 𝗖𝗼𝗹𝗼𝗿𝗲𝗱 𝗦𝗸𝘆 by Ginger Scott is LIVE! This is a coming of age love story, stand alone. One-click your copy and take a peek inside below!
Universal Link: https://books2read.com/CandyColoredSky
★Add it to your TBR: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/56553619-ccs
“This book is coming of age PERFECTION. You’ll see pieces of yourself, of your heart and your soul in this story. This is a top read forever for me. There aren’t enough stars. HIGHLY recommend!” – Bestselling Author Dylan Allen
Jonah Wydner has been in love with his neighbor Eleanor Trombley for years. He has watched her life play out from the sidelines—homecoming dances, football parties, and first dates. Her life seemed easy…simple…𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵. The complete opposite of his own.
But when Eleanor’s younger sister goes missing and the national media sets up camp in the middle of their street, the girl with the seemingly perfect life shows up in Jonah’s garage in search of a place to hide from the hurt and chaos. What begins as one night becomes many filled with unexpected surprises and unveiling, healing truths about Jonah’s own messy past.
Soon, Jonah gets to know the real Eleanor, and discover all the ways they’re the same. Friendship blossoms into more, plans turn into promises, and hopes and dreams become shared under the warm glow of the fading Midwestern sunsets. But how far can a kiss under a candy-colored sky take them? And what happens when the clouds close in?
“You know, it’s an excellent time to climb up on the roof and watch the sun go down.” Her fingers slip away as she makes the suggestion, and I find my hands frozen in place for a moment all on their own. I shove them back into my pockets.
“Is it really that late?” I lift a brow.
“It’s almost four.” She winces and I join her.
“I don’t think I’ve slept this late since I had the flu sophomore year,” I admit.
She laughs at my response, then hits the button for the garage door.
“This used to be a regular Saturday morning occurrence for me,” she says.
“I’m pretty sure you can’t call it morning,” I add.
She spins on her heels as she moves out of the garage and points at me.
“You are probably right.”
We cross my driveway to the very dead grass in our side yard. Eleanor leaps up to grab the eave but her fingers slip at her first attempt. She crouches to jump again but stops, spinning to face me as she points over her shoulder with her thumb.
“You been sunset watching without me?” she asks.
The ladder is still out. I haven’t touched it since the last time we went up there.
“That would sound a lot better than admitting I’m too lazy to put it away, but sadly, I’m a lazy ass.” I mush my lips together and shrug.
“Well, my muscles are not feeling it today, so let’s just say you were planning ahead.” She marches to the ladder and scales it two rungs at a time. Even at her laziest, she’s got me beat.
She waits at the roof’s edge for me this time, and I’m a little embarrassed because I climb ladders the same way my grandfather does—like one wrong move might break a hip. I crawl onto the shingles as she stands and holds a hand out for me.
“I can’t run and leap over there like you do,” I say, waving my hand just out of reach. It’s like I’m about to shake on a deal and I want to make sure I know the terms.
Eleanor leans her head back and the sound of real laughter pours out with the rasp that I’ve missed.
“It’s fine. I’ll go slow,” she says, taking my hand and helping me to my feet.
I sway a little, only half joking that I’m searching for my balance. I notice that she walks along the rooftop on her toes, almost like a ballerina making her way to center stage. I move with the grace of a Clydesdale.
We settle in the ridge this time and I lower myself carefully, dividing my weight over both sides of the roof. Eleanor seems to collapse into a sitting position, her legs knotted together as she perches at the apex facing me. I breathe out a laugh at how different we are.
“What?” she asks.
“Just, you can tell you do things like gymnastics and stuff. It’s pretty clear I work out math equations.” I shrug.
“You’d think that would make you more confident up here, being able to compute the exact angles and all that junk,” she argues.
“Huh,” I say, taking her reasoning to heart. I glance to my left and then my right, but before I can fully take in the angle of the descent behind me I grip the roof’s surface beneath my thighs.
“Nope. There’s no math logic for this,” I say.
She giggles, an actual giggle. It’s the best sound, like a children’s birthday party with a petting zoo kind of glee.