A Billionaire Second-Chance Romance
Evan Carmichael has spent his entire life chasing success. Polished, intelligent, and ruthless in business, he’s months away from taking over his father’s private equity firm. Love was never part of the plan—until Mallory walked into his life. She’s everything he never knew he needed, and he’ll do whatever it takes to keep her. But love isn’t a numbers game, and fixing the past isn’t as easy as closing a deal.
Mallory didn’t move to Chicago for love—she came for a fresh start. After an alcoholic mother, a controlling ex, and losing her dream, she swore she’d never fall for the wrong guy again. And Evan? He’s dangerously close to proving her wrong. Loving him is easy. Trusting him is hard.
When Evan’s protectiveness starts feeling a little too familiar, Mallory’s walls go up. She won’t be a mistake again. But Evan isn’t the man who hurt her before, and he’s ready to fight for the future they both want—if only Mallory will let him.
No More Mistakes is an emotional, steamy, high-stakes romance filled with angst, longing, and a love worth risking everything for.
Perfect for fans of Elizabeth O’Roark, Lena Hendrix, and Kandi Steiner!
A Billionaire Second-Chance Romance
Evan Carmichael has spent his entire life chasing success. Polished, intelligent, and ruthless in business, he’s months away from taking over his father’s private equity firm. Love was never part of the plan—until Mallory walked into his life. She’s everything he never knew he needed, and he’ll do whatever it takes to keep her. But love isn’t a numbers game, and fixing the past isn’t as easy as closing a deal.
Mallory didn’t move to Chicago for love—she came for a fresh start. After an alcoholic mother, a controlling ex, and losing her dream, she swore she’d never fall for the wrong guy again. And Evan? He’s dangerously close to proving her wrong. Loving him is easy. Trusting him is hard.
When Evan’s protectiveness starts feeling a little too familiar, Mallory’s walls go up. She won’t be a mistake again. But Evan isn’t the man who hurt her before, and he’s ready to fight for the future they both want—if only Mallory will let him.
No More Mistakes is an emotional, steamy, high-stakes romance filled with angst, longing, and a love worth risking everything for.
Perfect for fans of Elizabeth O’Roark, Lena Hendrix, and Kandi Steiner!
“Eleven.”
I hear this over my headphones and my closed eyelids.
“Mallory. I said eleven. Are you even listening to me?”
I groan inside my mind and barely open one eye. My best friend, Erin, sits beside me with her body twisted in her seat, a pout on her lip.
Slamming my eye shut, I slowly nod. Resigning that I will not finish my audiobook any time soon, I pull the earbud out of the ear closest to her, “Yes. I heard you the first three times.”
She crosses her arms against her chest with a hint of annoyance, “How many did you bring?”
I shift in my seat, returning it to the fully upright position, take out the other headphone, and knot my auburn hair on top of my head.
“How many what?” I ask, situating myself in my seat. We’ve been rehashing what we packed for hours.
“Bikinis,” she hisses at me.
I giggle. I love my best friend, I really do. But she’s got this thing about her where she likes to review things. Things we’ve already discussed. Things that I don’t care about. Especially not when it’s the seventeenth time we’ve rehashed the same details.
“I’m not sure… maybe three?” I mumble as I reach down to my feet, pulling out my backpack to put my headphones in their carrying case. I’m trying to keep a straight face as I feel her gaze searing into me.
“Three?” she nearly screeches as if I’ve just told her I sold my soul to the devil. The middle-aged lady in front of us turns and gives a disapproving glare.
“Yeah, I think,” I shrug, and once I’m done clearing the cobwebs out of my brain from attempting to relax on this flight, I give her a wide smile. I know exactly how many bikinis I brought, it’s six, which is more than enough for our four-night trip. But doing this is just a little bit of fun.
“That’s not even one per day! What if you get a hole? What if you lose a top in the ocean? What if one doesn’t dry? That’s a yeast infection waiting to happen!” Erin is mortified, and I can’t help but bite my tongue to keep my laughter in.
I give her another shoulder shrug and then press my hands into my thighs, straightening my posture, “What can I say? I like to walk on the wild side.”
Erin groans at me and unclips her seatbelt, “Mallory. Renee. Gunner. Tell me right now how many bikinis you brought,” she cocks an eyebrow at me. “For. Real.”
The lady turns around again, and this time, I roll my eyes at her before turning back to Erin.
“You can calm down. I’m not a monster. I brought six.”
“Oh, you are absolutely infuriating sometimes, love!” she huffs as she slams her back into her seat, dropping her crossed arms to the armrests.
I chuckle to myself, and just as I’m about to ask Erin a question, the captain comes over the intercom system.
“We should be landing in the next fifteen minutes, arriving at our gate in the next twenty, folks. The weather in Punta Cana looks great today – sunny and currently eighty-seven degrees. So sit back, relax, and we’ll be there shortly.”
I raise my blind to peek out the window and see crystal clear, aquamarine waters below us. I cannot wait to feel it rush over my toes, especially after one hell of a long flight from Chicago. When we left, Chicago was spitting sleet and wind. I can’t wait to warm up my insides.
Beside me, Erin is practically bouncing in her seat like a child in an inflatable castle. Her irritation with me has quickly been forgotten, and she is officially transitioning into vacation mode.
“Let’s party!” she says, giving me a wicked smile underneath her thick, black-rimmed glasses.
I grin back at her, giving her a gentle shake of my head. I’m anxious to stretch my legs after the nearly ten-hour-long trip.
“Thank God we could book direct, and who would’ve thought a free upgrade to first class!” Erin gushes as she wiggles her legs in the space between her seat and the row in front of her, “This will be easy breezy!”
I nod, although I know for a fact we didn’t get random upgrades. I know it came from Evan. One last ‘I’m sorry’ for the road. I half expected to see him sitting on the plane when we boarded, his blonde curls tousled just right, a smirk on his face. He wasn’t really going to stand me up for this wedding, was he? I was convinced he was surprising me, especially when we checked in, and our seats had been moved. But when I got on the plane, he wasn’t there. So off I went to the Dominican Republic with my best friend in tow and my fiancé nowhere to be seen.
The next thirty minutes is a whirlwind through the airport, going through customs and the baggage claim. Despite my irrational hopes of Evan surprising me in the airport, I’m met with nothing but the jovial faces of the Dominican people directing us around to keep the pace moving. I sigh as we meet our private driver outside the airport, where the humidity is so thick it catches in my throat. We gladly dip into the cool, air-conditioned SUV and relax in the backseat for another thirty-minute drive to the resort. It’s official. I’ve been stood up.
I exhale, looking out the window and watching the almost desert-like views pass by my eyes. I fiddle with my engagement ring, spinning it back and forth, wondering what Evan’s doing. Erin senses my mood and taps my thigh lovingly. I offer her a weak smile and then reflect on the view out my window.
After a few minutes of silence, I hear Erin rustling around in her bag. I look over, and she’s pulling a tube of bright red lipstick and a hand mirror out of one of the pockets. I watch as she expertly touches up the cherry red stain on her lips despite being in the backseat of a car, “I can almost taste the margaritas from here.”
I shake my head at her and chuckle, “Only you would wear a full face of makeup to sit on an airplane for ten hours.”
She gives me a playful glare, snapping her mirror shut, and responds, “And only you can look totally gorgeous whilst in yoga pants and not a lick of makeup. Have you seen your complexion? It’s absolutely maddening!”
I blush, “Erin, please.”
She reaches over and raps her hand on my knee again, her eyes turning slightly stern, “I’m serious. Don’t you worry, Auntie Erin will make this trip well worth your time, even if we’re mad at Evan.”
I sigh at the sound of his name, my stomach turning, and I stop twirling the three-carat diamond ring on my hand. The oval cut is more than large enough without the added sparkle from additional diamonds haloing it. The stones are further accentuated by intricate milgrain scallop-shaped etchings on the platinum band. It gives a vintage flair with an obvious nod to Princess Diana’s infamous blue sapphire ring style while still being modern. It’s as ridiculous as it is exquisite, as it’s so totally me and yet so totally Evan at the same time.
Erin whips her long jet-black hair into a tight bun and retrieves her cell phone from her pocket, “I’m just going to let my parents know we’ve arrived.”
I rub my lips together and bite my bottom lip. I shouldn’t be surprised he didn’t come, but I am. Disappointment sears through my chest as I try not to let my emotions get the best of me. I should focus on being in a beautiful country with my best friend to witness two people committing themselves to each other. Something I’ve promised to do with someone. Someone who should be here with me now. I groan internally at how quickly my thoughts return to my fiancé and our dinner the night before.
“Mal, you know I‘m absolutely slammed,” Evan was exasperated, “God, I have like four deals closing this week.”
I rolled my eyes. He loved traveling. He was making excuses. For what reason? I wasn’t totally sure. This was the perfect opportunity for us to get away and reconnect, and he was throwing it to the side like it was an annoyance.
“You could’ve canceled your meetings, Evan. Or had your dad go, it’s his company. This is Rachel and Angy’s wedding at a beautiful high-end resort… I’m not asking you to blow off your responsibilities for a spring break bender through the streets of San Juan!”
Evan sipped his wine, peering over the rim at me. “We’ll give them a very nice gift.”
“They aren’t a charity case you can just write a check for!” I slammed my fork down on the table. Shaking my head, I grabbed my glass of wine, “That’s not the point, and you know it.”
Evan sensed my increasing emotions and attempted to reach across the table to my hand, thumbing the back of it softly. His tender touch caused my brows to relax, “Mal, baby. I’m not doing this here. There’s a time and a place,” he paused, “And this isn’t it.”
Oh, how he could push my damn buttons. I rolled my eyes, laying it on extra thick, “Yes, how inconvenient for you to be bothered over a fancy dinner. The nerve!” I dramatically clutched my chest with my free hand, dropping Evan’s touch and batting my eyelashes.
Evan looked at me like he might kill me for a second, but then a wide smile crossed his face, “Let’s not fight. It gives you wrinkles,” he took his thumb, pressed it to my furrowed brow, and winked.
He was adorable when he smiled at me like that. I sighed and accepted a temporary ceasefire. Sitting my Merlot glass back onto the crisp white tablecloth, I smoothed it down and looked across the table at my breathtakingly handsome fiancé.
“This conversation isn’t over.”
------
“Dos tequila shots, por favor,” Erin smiles and slaps two crisp dollar bills down on the bar top adorned with blue and white tile.
The sun is still hanging brightly in the late afternoon sky, and I’m rapidly sweating through my yoga pants, but our rooms won’t be ready for another excruciating forty-five minutes. Unlike Erin, I did not think to pack a change of clothes in my carry-on bag. So, while she looks absolutely chic and cool in a long melon-colored sundress, I feel like I’m suffocating in my clothes meant to bear the November wind of Chicago.
Sweat beads at my forehead as I draw a hand up my brow, “Er-in,” I whine, “You said a cocktail, not a shot. You’ll have me plastered before we even get into our rooms!”
Erin waves me off with a hand as two shot glasses land in front of us, lime wedges poised on the rims. “Oh, come on, love. It’s time to let loose!” She tips her head back, downing the shot in one full sweep without so much as a second to wait for me. She comes back up to wipe her lip with her thumb. The lime sits unscathed.
I follow suit. The tequila hits my throat quickly with a hard burn. As I lick my lips, I lean over the bar top and ask, “Señor, ¿dos aguas? Por favor.”
“Water?! You’re such a killjoy!” Erin remarks with a hint of disdain in her voice.
I roll my eyes, “It’s called proper hydration, Er. Plus, when I unpack, I want to have my wits about me so I know where everything is.”
I’m not sure if it’s the heat, the lack of food, or the chilled tequila, but I can already feel the warmth bubbling in my chest, unlocking the twist that’s been tight for the past few days. It’s making it a little easier to breathe.
“I’m going to run to the bathroom, love,” Erin states, hopping off her stool and pointing toward the sign, “El baño!” She’s been practicing Spanish for months, preparing for this trip. However, the mix of her British accent and Spanish is too much for me to handle, and I chuckle as she walks away.
Turning back to face the bar, I spin the empty shot glass between my fingers.
“¿Otra?” the bartender asks, gesturing at my shot glass.
I think about it because I shouldn’t do a second shot, especially not two minutes after the first. But Erin’s right, we’re on vacation, “Si, gracias.”
He turns to grab the bottle of tequila, and I loosen the knot on top of my head, letting my auburn locks drop over my shoulders. The shot glass lands in front of me, tequila sloshing up the sides, and I catch it in my hand. Without thinking, I take it down, and it feels just as smooth as the first, and my lungs expand another notch.
Things have been tense between Evan and me for a while now, especially over the past week. And our fight the night before was just another stake driving between us. I glance around the resort, taking in the lush gardens, the relaxing pools, and, of course, the bright blue skies. It really is relaxing here. Maybe a few days away from him will help me sort out what’s awry.
Erin springs back onto the bar stool next to me, knocking me from my thoughts. She looks at the second empty shot glass before me and gives me a wide grin, “Didn’t wait for me?”
I nod my head, “Sorry, not sorry.”
Erin’s bun bounces on her head as she tsks me and then turns to the bartender, “One more?”
My muscles haven’t felt this relaxed in weeks, so I oblige.
“¡Uno mas!” Erin declares.
We take another shot, and I twirl my ring again.
“So, what’s going on with your wedding plans? I’m dying to hear the details. Evan keeps hogging you to himself, and I feel like we haven’t had time to talk in forever,” Erin grins at me as she pulls her oversized sunglasses down.
I press my lips together. The wedding, or lack thereof, has been a large topic of conversation between Evan and me. We’ve been engaged for several months, yet nothing has been decided. Evan was really hoping for a spring wedding, but given that it’s early November, we’ll be lucky to get married next fall. Even though I’ve only met Evan’s father and have yet to meet his mother, there is a definite undertone to the fact that our nuptials are expected to be no less than extravagant.
“Oh, you know….” I start, unsure how to give a generalized answer that will keep Erin from asking too many questions. Taking a sharp inhale, I say, “We haven’t really made any decisions yet. Evan and his mom were hoping for a spring wedding, but it’s a little late.” I spin the empty shot glass in front of me, a frown on my face. “I wasn’t sold on spring anyway. It can be so rainy and unpredictable.”
Erin nods, “I agree… lots of mud. But rain is supposed to be very lucky.”
I’m silent.
“So… have you called your mum?” she asks carefully.
I look down at the empty shot glass and shake my head. A long sigh escapes from my lips.
“Mallory!” she chastises me, but it’s gentle. She knows it’s hard for me.
“I…” I trail off. I don’t have a real reason. Other than I just don’t want to. That maybe I don’t need to. Maybe I should forget about the past and try to move forward. And, sometimes, for me, that is reason enough.
Erin gives me a loving smile, “You’re going to, though… right?”
I sit back in my chair, “I don’t know, Er. I don’t know if I will.” I look past my friend out towards the beach. I imagine being able to see the waves lap along the shoreline, but all I see is the gorgeous skyline and the sway of the palm trees in the wind.
“But… you’re getting married!”
I keep my gaze focused on the beach, “Yeah… it’s just… it’s not really…” I look back at my best friend with concern dripping from her face, “It’s just not that easy, ya know?”
Erin nods and daps her napkin to the corner of her mouth, “I know, love. I’m here for you, though. I promise. I don’t want you to regret anything, you know that.”
“I know… it’s…” I groan and then turn towards my best friend, “I have never loved anyone like I love Evan, Er. It happened so fast and it’s so much that sometimes it scares me … I worry about how I look to other people. I don’t have anyone to walk me down the aisle; my mom doesn’t even know where I live. And Evan’s family seems to expect nothing less than perfection, and I’m worried I won’t live up to the hype.”
Pausing to take a sip of my water, I can still picture how Evan looked at me with pity in his eyes when I told him my dad passed when I was a teenager and my mom used gambling and alcohol to cope. His gorgeous face crinkled into anger when I told him that one of the biggest reasons I moved to Chicago was because my mom had stolen nearly everything from me, forcing me to file for bankruptcy. He’s only the second person I’ve ever admitted that to, the first being Erin.
“Oh love,” Erin wraps her hand around my forearm and gently squeezes it. “You’re a dream—an absolute catch. I have no doubt you will exceed everyone’s expectations. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
I smile at her, but inside, I’m anxious. Not only do I feel like my life is in disarray, but Evan is also on the verge of the most significant move in his career. He works for his family's private equity firm, Carmichael and Sons, the largest in Chicago and one of the biggest in the country. With his father's imminent retirement, Evan is set to take over as CEO soon.
I don’t have any doubt that the board will vote him in, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t been working his ass off recently. I can see the stress starting to chip at him, even when he thinks he’s hiding it from me. I see it in his body language, the way he tosses and turns at night, and I’ve been trying my damnedest to get him to lean on me, but his pride is too powerful. Evan likes to be in the driver’s seat, and his need to control has quadrupled in the last month. He thinks he can take on the world himself, and no one can tell him otherwise.
------
Glassware clinks, and the buzz of quiet conversation surrounds us. We relish the warm evening sitting at the Italian restaurant. It’s decadent and exactly what I need after a ten-hour flight. The oceanside location is perfect, and the vibe is chic yet relaxed. I take a deep breath, relishing the air that remains salty and thick even without the presence of the sun’s rays.
“¿Señoritas?” A server awaits permission and pours champagne into our flutes.
Shortly after our glasses are filled, two bowls of delectable pasta are placed in front of us. We ooh and ahh appropriately, and then the wait staff leaves us to enjoy our meals.
We twirl pasta quietly for a few moments until Erin looks up at me.
I point my fork at her, “Don’t look at me like that.”
She smirks, “I’m not looking at you like anything.”
“Yes, you are,” I put my fork down, “You’re looking at me like you’re going to start pestering me about something.”
She laughs and shakes her head, “I’m sorry, I just feel like we have so much to catch up on. I hardly see you anymore because you’re so wrapped up in Evan. And, you know me, I’m boring. You’re the one with all the stories to tell.”
I roll my eyes and push my pasta around my plate, “Trust me, it’s not all that exciting.”
Erin grins, raises her champagne to mine, and we clink glasses, “So… what’s going on with the bakery?”
Internally, I groan. The bakery—my bakery—my pride and joy, my end goal, my dream—the one that shattered into one million pieces when I filed for bankruptcy? Absolutely nothing is going on with it. My dream is effectively nonexistent at this point.
Shortly before I moved to Chicago, my mom had begged for rehab, promising to turn her life around. I believed her again. But this time, she drained my entire account, funding her addictions after checking out of rehab without my knowledge. I was left with nothing for my bakery. Loans, contractors… everything crumbled. Bankruptcy was my only way out, plunging me into financial ruin and effectively putting an end to the relationship with my ex. It was the catapult for me to pick up everything and move far away from Pittsburgh, my hometown.
I pat my napkin against my mouth and lean back in my chair. “I’ve been trying to save money to secure a building, but real estate is insane. Evan keeps insisting I talk to his friends who want to invest. But it feels wrong. His parents probably think I’m a gold digger already. Leveraging business deals with his friends leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I really need to do this for myself. You know? A real do-over.”
She hums, “Yeah, so you’ve said. And I get it, Mal, I really do. But I also think it’s okay to ask for help when you need it. You don’t have to be a martyr. And I hardly think that accepting a connection is grounds to call someone a gold digger. You don’t even know if his friends would say yes after you’ve talked, and yet you’re already shooting the idea of it down. You said his father seems lovely? So, you’re this hung up over dear ole Mummy?” Erin shakes her head, “Evan’s stuck in, love. He adores you and believes in you.”
I sigh and look down at my pasta, “I know, but… it’s just…” Groaning, I pick up my fork and take another bite. I give her a weak smile and then change the subject, “When’s everyone else getting here?”
“I think most of the family is here already… maybe a few more tomorrow?” she responds, accepting the change in conversation without making a scene. This is why she’s my best friend. She knows when to push and when to back off.
I watch her take a large bite of her fettuccini and groan as she dramatically sinks into the back of her chair, hand across her brow, and says, “Oh my god, this is absolutely divine.”
Happy the awkward moment is already long gone; I nod in agreement, “It really is.”
“¿Les gustaría más, señoritas?” the waiter reappears as if on cue, and our flutes are magically refilled without having to ask.
“Oh, I could get used to this,” Erin giggles.
I gingerly place my glass on the table and run my hand along the table, pulling the condensation from my glass across the surface.
“You okay, love?” Erin asks, her pasta hanging precariously in front of her face.
I shake my thoughts and nod, “Yeah… sorry, just thinking.”
“Hey,” she puts down her fork and reaches her hand to my forearm, “I’m sorry you’ve been having a rough go, but if anyone can do it, I know you can. And you will. You’ve not been in Chicago that long, just three years, right? Things take time, yes?”
I give her a soft smile and nod, “Thanks, Er. Sorry, I don’t mean to spoil the mood.”
She lovingly pats my arm and then goes back to her pasta. Another few moments pass before I can get out of my head and enjoy the beautiful resort.
“Man, I don’t think I’m going to have room for dessert,” I groan as I press my dish back from me. “That was amazing.”
“Oh, not to worry, the dessert here isn’t anything special. But I have the perfect post-dinner cocktail!” Erin offers as she pulls up her phone. Undoubtedly, there is an organized list of every single drink and food we will be sampling.
“Do you have to plan everything?” I shake my head at her as I prepare for the inevitable.
Erin fans me away and presses on her screen until she discovers what she’s looking for, “Aha! Here we go, now… we’ve done the focaccia, and I’ve had the fettuccine.”
I sink my chin into my palm. This is going to take a while.
“So, right. There’s a piano bar just upstairs from this restaurant, and that’s where the espresso martinis are, so I think it’s the perfect next stop. Then, tomorrow morning, we’ve got to go to the buffet for the Dominican eggs and hashbrowns... it’s supposed to be amazing. Then, we’ll do a light lunch… the nachos at the pool are allegedly perfection, and then we’ll figure out where to eat for dinner tomorrow night. I have notes on the Japanese, French, and dinner buffet, of course.”
She raises her glasses from her nose to the top of her head and returns her eyes to mine. They are sparkling with excitement.
I laugh because although she’s my best friend, we are two completely different people. I love the surprise of a new menu, and Erin already has every meal and snack planned for our entire trip. And it’s probably been planned for at least three months. I can’t help but ask, “Is there any part of our four-night trip you don’t have planned to the minute?”
She pauses to think, “Well... actually—”
I put my hand up to stop her, “Erin. I’m kidding. Let’s go get that expresso martini. And then I’m going to bed. Aren’t you exhausted?”
Four nights. It seems too short for the ten-hour flight we endured to arrive, but I’m thankful for the time away. My skin crawls with the litany of things to accomplish once back in Chicago. For one, I promised Evan we would make some decisions about the wedding. Second, I need to figure out the mess that is my career. And third, I need to decide if I want to contact my mom. My stomach flips slightly as Erin and I drop some dollars on our table and head towards the piano bar.
We easily find seats at the bar, and I briefly close my eyes, enjoying the warm night breeze tickling over my shoulders and tousling my hair. I draw a deep breath of salty air into my lungs and open my eyes as two espresso martinis land in front of us.
------
The sheets feel delectably crisp on my skin as I lay back and stare up at the ceiling. I’ve been awake since three a.m., and now it’s brushing towards midnight. Despite my drowsiness, Erin’s idea of “an after-dinner cocktail, a nightcap!” turned into two. Or three, I can’t be sure as I can barely feel my face from the buzz running through my veins. Groaning, I peel myself from the bed and rummage through my makeup bag, grabbing two aspirin. Between the tequila, the champagne, and the martinis, I’m cruising for a huge hangover. We should both know we can’t drink like we’re in our twenties anymore.
“Cheers!” I say to myself as I knock back the aspirin with a gulp of bottled water. I stumble slightly as I make my way back to my bed.
I slip out of my teal sundress, letting it fall to the floor by the foot of the bed. I have absolutely no desire to run myself a shower and instead pull the luxurious bedding down. Flopping myself down into the bed, I let the smooth fabric caress my bare back and take in a deep breath. After a couple of moments, I reach for my cell phone and decide to give it a look. It’s been hours since I last glanced at it to see if it still has a charge.
Unread messages are displayed at the bottom corner of the screen, and I click on the message icon to open my inbox.
Evan. Six unread messages. Shit. I hadn’t even thought to message him when we arrived. Well, that’s a lie. I thought about reaching out but left my phone on airplane mode until just before dinner. I needed space.
I bite my bottom lip and click his name. Glancing through the first three, I exhale, unaware I was holding my breath. I read them all in a row, and by the end, there’s a dumb smile on my face.
Evan (2:12 pm): Flight tracker says you arrived, let me know when you get settled at the resort. The bed already feels empty without you.
Evan (3:42 pm): Going out for a cocktail with Ben tonight, but message me when you can. love you.
Evan (7:21 pm): x x x
Evan (8:32 pm): Mal? Are you upset with me?
Evan (9:28 pm): wifey… where are you? are you giving me the silent treatment? :(
Evan (10:14 pm): Can’t stop thinking about you. You know you’re my world. x x x
I shake my head with a goofy grin plastered on my face. I lick my lips as my fingers race over the screen.
Mallory: (11:56 pm) Hi! Erin’s had me running laps around this place since we arrived. Back in the room now!
I don’t have to wait long for his response, and I’m swiping into my messages before the alert even finishes sounding off.
Evan: (12:01 am) There’s my beautiful wifey! I miss you already … weather good?
My heart aches because, at this moment, I realize I miss Evan so much. This version of Evan. Not the one I left back in Chicago. No, that Evan was a stressed, tight-laced Evan. But this one texting me is an awful lot like the one I fell in love with, and it makes my heart yearn. I want to wash all the negative away and get back on the right track. It feels like we’re on the verge of a potential landslide, and now that I’m over a thousand miles from home, that’s when I feel the closest to him I have in weeks. Seems unfair.
Mallory: (12:03 am) Weather is gorgeous. Food amazing and drinks STRONG. Just wish you were in this big bed with me ;)
Evan: (12:04 am) Don’t worry, we’ll make up for it when you’re home. Sleep tight. x x x
I stretch again, relaxing into the alcohol coursing through my system. I open and close my fists and plug my phone into the bedside charger. As soon as I curl my legs underneath the covers and shut off the light, I am grateful that Erin and I opted for separate rooms. It was double the cost, but the silence is perfect. Closing my eyes, I snuggle into the pillows and barely remember having another thought before sleep finds me.
Mallory and Evan had a whirlwind romance from the beginning. They both fell fast and hard. Now that they’re engaged, it seems they are starting to grow apart rather than closer together.
Mallory’s past trauma still haunts her, and she becomes worried that she’s making the same mistakes again. She knows Evan loves her, but she’s starting to see a familiar pattern. Evan on the other hand is feeling immense pressure at work and determined to keep those problems out of his relationship with Mallory. All he wants to do is protect her and provide for her. But when the truth is revealed, Mallory’s worst nightmares are seemingly coming true. Walking away is the hardest thing she’s ever done, but she refuses to let the past repeat itself.
No More Mistakes is an honest and raw story of love and heartbreak. Despite Mallory and Evan being together for such a short amount of time, it was clear they loved each other. The flashbacks from when they first met and started dating were romantic and sweet. But as time went on, it was evident that there were some red flags that neither Mallory nor Evan were addressing, and it wasn’t much of a surprise when their relationship started unraveling.
I initially was not a fan of Evan. I figured he would end up being the typical jerk who couldn’t see his faults. But I was proven wrong, and I began to empathize with him as things continued to get complicated between him and Mallory. I empathized with Mallory as well, as she had experienced a lot of trauma in her life that affected her ability to develop relationships with others. However, it became frustrating to witness the same cycle continuously throughout their relationship. I admit I was relieved to see that cycle end, although it was heartbreaking to witness.
Overall, I think this was a raw and realistic story of the obstacles many people face in relationships. Many people come with a past that they struggle to let go of, and Mallory was no different. And though both Mallory and Evan made mistakes, they were both eventually able to own up to them, as well as take action to better themselves. This book was equal parts heartbreaking as it was inspiring.