When Two Worlds Collide by LauraLoo7

a href=".com/albums/af20/scoops777/?action=view¤t=" target="_blank"img src="." border="0" alt="Two Worlds Collide banner"/a

Disclaimer: The one and only Stephenie Meyers owns all things Twilight. That includes Dream Edward, lovingly featured here. The other characters in When Two Worlds Collide – Maggie, Sarah and this particular Jacob, belong to me. When Two Worlds Collide and its author (moi) are in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Please enjoy and leave reviews!

Chapter 1: My life before the book

It's always difficult to launch the telling of an incredible story, so I'll take the predictable route and simply start at the beginning, where it all began.

I had been working as a freelance book reviewer for three years – the perfect combination of my adoration of writing and unending thirst for a good read – before the book that began my journey ended up in my hands. My boss had informed me that I was to review the first in what was to be a four-book series about a teen romance – with a twist. The genre wasn't one I gravitated to naturally, but I love to read just about anything and I was getting paid for this series of reviews, which always helps. So I agreed, thinking that in the least it would afford me some steady work, a bit of money in my pocket and additional clips for my portfolio.

Book reviewing in and of itself isn't exactly a moneymaker, but I had carved out a rewarding and satisfying career for myself by freelancing for two major publishing houses, and by freelancing for a number of high-profile magazines. In my spare time (the little I had) I was tinkering away at my own novel. The pieces of it kept me up into the wee hours of the night; I had all of them floating around in my head and on my laptop, but they refused to settle down and come together in a fluid sequence. It was a frustrating phenomenon, given my line of work.

My chosen profession had evaded me during my earlier years, although writing was a constant companion throughout my schooling. It took a failed attempt at my first college major – countless frustrating hours spent in the biology lab and far more dollars later – to come to my personal epiphany. Once I returned to what I knew best – putting emotions, ideas and sentiments into words – the rest of my college years and my jobs laid themselves before me like Dorothy's yellow-brick road. I loved my job, and I liked to think I was good at it.

An unfortunate side effect of my profession, however, was that I tended to excel at putting feelings on paper, but failed miserably at expressing them in the more socially acceptable forms. I had had a few boyfriends in college, if I wished to indulge myself in calling them that, but a serious relationship has thus far evaded me. I was, in truth, a bit of a bookworm – shy, studious, a bit of a nerd and honestly a tad afraid of grown men at this stage in my life. At 30, I didn't have what most of my friends had: a husband, 2.4 children and a minivan. But I had a career, a home that was mine, and a wonderful family and best friend I wouldn't trade for anything. I was happy, satisfied, and blissfully unaware of what my life was lacking.

The day after the discussion with my boss, I received the first installment, conveniently delivered to my house. I tore open the protective packaging and was intrigued by the cover illustration: two feminine hands holding a juicy red apple. Perhaps a reference to forbidden fruit? Or an homage to the poisoned apple? Even though I was in the middle of paying some bills, I couldn't resist, and I opened the book to read the preface. Since it didn't accomplish much in giving away any of the plot, I pressed on and began the first chapter.