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this around Christmas. I was going to write a whole speech. Maybe get my sisters involved. Do something really elaborate, one of those proposals that you’d post on Instagram. I had it all planned. But then…”

He licks his lips and looks up at the sky, the lights reflected in his eyes. “Then I saw the aurora. And I took it as a sign. That I don’t need to plan anything, because life is what happens when you’re making other plans, and I think now, that really applies to us. Because we’re just taking this all one day at a time, as long as we’re moving forward.” He pauses, giving me a sweet smile, one that brings tears to my eyes. “All I know is I want to move forward with you. I want you to marry me, to become my wife, so we can keep moving forward together. Shay Lavji, you are my past, my present, and my future, and I would be so very honored if you would marry me.”

He glances down at my hand, which I’m clutching to my chest. “It would help if I could have your hand,” he says.

I start laughing, sticking my hand out, feeling so overwhelmed that I can hardly breathe, hardly think, hardly move.

He holds my left hand and peers at me with worried eyes. “And it would help if you said yes, too.”

I laugh again, trying to shake some sense into my brain. “Yes!” I exclaim. “Yes, yes. Always yes, Anders. Of course I’ll marry you.”

He grins at me, and with quivering hands, takes my glove off, takes the ring, and slides it over my left ring finger. It fits perfectly, pear-cut, shining like the godly lights above.

“It’s so beautiful,” I whisper, unable to look away. This ring, this gorgeous ring, is on my finger. Anders just gave me this ring. Anders just proposed.

I’m going to marry Anders.

“Oh my god,” I cry out, tears starting to fall down my cheeks, warm against my chilled skin. It’s all hitting me now. I’m fucking engaged!

Anders is laughing, his eyes wet, and then he’s pulling me to my feet, wrapping his arms around me. “I love you,” he whispers, kissing my neck, my ear. “Tusen takk for saying yes.”

“Vær så god,” I tell him, saying you’re welcome in Norwegian.

Then I pull back and let out an excited squeal, my happiness bowling me over, making me want to run around and yell at the sky with joy. I’m bright and shining too.

Engaged.

We’re getting married.

We’re getting married!

Anders grins at me, then cups my face in his large hands and gazes down at me with so much love, love that sinks right into my heart, making me his for life.

And in his eyes I see my past, present, and future.

I’m with him all the way.

THE END

Thank you for reading Bright Midnight. Did you know that Todalen is a real place? It’s where my father was born and where most of my family lives. I’ve been there many times & will be sharing pics of Norway and the village on my Instagram, so make sure you give me a follow-> Instagram

You can also keep touch by

-> joining my Facebook Group (we’re a fun bunch and would love to have you)

-> Otherwise, feel free to signup for my mailing list (it comes once a month) and Bookbub alerts!

PS reviews are ALWAYS appreciated! Thank you so much!

PPS If you’ve read my Italian-set romance, Racing the Sun, you will have recognized Shay from that. Conversely, if you want to see how Shay was in Capri, before she met Anders again, you can check out the book here, or wherever books are sold. Bright Midnight was originally to be published following the release of Racing the Sun, but the publisher cancelled the book. Once I finally got the rights back, I decided to share the book with the world. So a big thank you to those who have waited six years for Shay’s story. Hope you enjoyed it!

PPPS want to read another romance set in Norway? What about one about Norwegian Royalty? How about the bad boy Norwegian Prince and the arranged marriage he’s forced into? Check out an excerpt of The Wild Heir by turning the page.

The Wild Heir A Royal Marriage of Convenience Romance

CHAPTER ONE

Magnus

“You fucked up!” Ottar says yet again.

Not exactly the thing you want to hear mere seconds before you’re about to fling yourself off a 3,200-foot cliff and free fall to the fjord below.

But in this case, as Ottar has spent the last five minutes drilling into my head what an idiot I am and how badly I’ve fucked up my life, hurling yourself off a cliff seems like the right thing to do. Maybe the only thing to do in this situation.

As I run toward the edge of Kjerag Mountain, I keep my eyes focused straight ahead at the fjord cutting through the valley like a blue knife, and let all thoughts, all worries, all self-awareness, melt away.

I jump.

Those first few seconds of free fall are what I imagine being born is like. A terrifying rush as you’re propelled from the solid and steady world you know into the cold abyss. There’s nothing like it, leaving safety and life for what should be certain death.

Then you’re flying, arms out, weightless, a bird in the sky, an angel’s descent, a step beyond being human.

Then you’re falling.

Wind rushing against your face, pulling your skin back into a smile, rattling your helmet. There’s nothing to anything anymore, nothing but you and the wind and the greatest adrenaline rush you’ll ever know. Better than sex, even.

Maybe.

The timer goes off, interrupting the rush before my brain has started to blur together. I quickly reach into the chute to deploy it and I’m jerked back, the blast of the free fall reversing for a second as the parachute spreads and the easy descent begins.

Usually this part of the jump is where your heart starts to slow, where you realize

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