A Knight to Remember Read Online Free PDF

as I dive into the words again.   The steam from the bathtub crinkles the already-crinkled pages further as my breathing becomes soft and even, as my muscles relax, as I feel the warmth of the water and the story and the tea cradle me and take me to someplace else, someplace better, just like they always have.  
    Here’s the secret:   in the beginning, when I first read this book, I thought I wanted to be Miranda.   Go off on countless adventures, be able to ride any magnificent steed, woo any lovely lady.   But I don’t want that anymore.   If I was going to be perfectly honest with myself (and, really, when am I ever honest with myself?), I know the truth:   I wish Miranda was real, so that I could fall in love with her.
    Growing up, I had to be the strong one.   I had to be, and I’m glad I was.   But I’ve always been the aggressor in every relationship, and I’ve always been the one who went after the girl and after the woman, and I’ve always been the one to hold it together.   But when I read these lines, this story, see how dashing Miranda is, how she builds this beautiful character of chivalry and honor and romance and devotion, I feel parts of myself beginning to crumble.  
    I want that, I know, as I close the book because the words are becoming too blurry.   I set the hardcover on the edge of the sink and slip down, down into the water again, letting a single tear shed down my cheek.  
    I want that.
    And I honestly don’t think I’m ever going to get it.
    I have the tendency to fall for exactly the wrong woman.   Carly could tell you that I have really terrible taste in the romance category.   Yes, I want the kind of love that’s written into a book, a woman sweeping me off my feet, fully devoted to me, thoughtful, considerate, kind.   But instead of a woman who exemplifies those things coming after me, I don’t wait to see if it will happen.   I end up going after the woman I feel might be what I want, but who never ends up being that way.  
    I don’t wait, I don’t have much patience when it comes to dating, but secretly, I want to be gone after.   But I’m never in the right place or the right time for someone who makes my heart flutter and wants me, too.   The one time that a woman aggressively pursued me was this lady who worked at the local coffee shop, who had a husband and a kid.   I honestly believe that I just have really, really terrible luck in the love department.   I mean, have you ever heard of anyone else this unlucky?   Someone who gets impatient waiting for someone to come along, so pursues all the wrong women?
    Through the open bathroom door, I see another white-hot blast of lightning, and I begin to count until the thunder, but I don’t even whisper the word “one” before the deafening explosion of sound makes the walls of the house shake.   From out in the hall, I can hear Shelley whimpering and then she comes dashing into the bathroom as the lights flicker.   I reach out with a wet hand, pet behind her ears as she plaintively puts her long nose on the side of the tub, staring up at me with wide eyes, her long, feathery tail wagging limply.  
    “It’s okay, baby…it’s just the storm…” I whisper to her as the lights flicker again.   “You’re okay, baby, you’re okay…” I murmur, and she lies down beside the tub, flattening her head between her paws, and staring up at me morosely with big brown eyes.  
    I glance up as the power flickers, as the lights begin to dim.   For half a heartbeat, they come back brightly.  
    But then they go out.
    “Well, crap,” I mutter, reaching over the edge of the tub and patting the bathroom floor as I search for the soft, plush fabric of my bathrobe.   My fingers connect with soft plush and long dog hair.   Shelley’s lying on my robe.   I tug at the corner of the robe trying to gently dislodge her off of it, and I’ve almost gotten her off of it when I stop, because every hair on my body stands