State of Mind

state-of-mind-smallIt’s not writer’s block. But there’s this thing … this crazy thing that sometimes happens to the state of a writer’s mind, and you know, without knowing how you know, that your writing–if you do it right now–will not be … right. Sometimes it’s because you’re too tired, or too busy, or in love, or falling out of love, having too much sex, or not enough. Or it might be because the dry cleaner told you your clothes would be ready on Wednesday and you got there and they weren’t.

I’m not kidding–the state of a writer’s mind is a delicate thing. A part of me thinks we’re all half-crazy anyway, living our most significant lives in our heads while others live them in the “real world”.  In that ‘head-world’ of ours, things have to be just so, the balance has to be just right for the words to come.

I know when my balance is off. I know when the words will be wrong, so I’ve learned to just let it alone and not panic. You see, while all other things may be in flux, one thing is certain about the state of the writer’s mind — no matter what, no matter how long it takes, it will always, eventually, finally, relentlessly, seek to … create.

That’s all.

N.

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Posted in nia forrester, Writing | Tagged , , | 16 Comments

SAMPLE SUNDAY: From ‘LIFTED’

Tessa6 promo flat“How’ve you been, Tess?”

“Excellent.”

Tessa leaned back into the plush fabric of the sofa and propped her boots up on the coffee table. Dr. Young’s mouth twitched a little. She was a fastidious little woman in appearance, so Tessa could only imagine how it irked her. But she lived to irk Dr. Young.

“I haven’t seen you for almost a month. What moved you to make your appointment this time?”

“Nothing in particular. Just thought I’d stop in and make sure my brother’s money isn’t being wasted.”

“You could always tell him you no longer need these appointments. I’d be happy to validate that view. If you aren’t a partner in this process there’s no point in our continuing.”

“I’m sorry I missed my last two appointments,” Tessa said. “Are you happy now?”

“It’s not a question of making me happy, Tess. It’s a question of whether or not you’re willing to be here. And if you’re not, I don’t think …”

“I wonder if for once you could express a genuine emotion,” Tessa said. “Just say you were disappointed I didn’t come. If you could do that for me, maybe I’d be more likely to be honest about my emotions as well, Dr. Young.”

The doctor smiled. “Fair enough. I was disappointed you didn’t come in for your last two appointments. I thought we were making some progress talking about your parents, and your brother. I’d hoped we could continue.”

“We can continue,” Tessa said affably.

She looked about the doctor’s office at the carefully neutral décor. Things were selected to look like personal objects but were actually impersonal. The art, the rug—all homey, but probably not at all like Dr. Young’s home. She’d been coming here for over a year, but felt like she knew nothing of this woman, her fifty-something year old shrink.

Trey had insisted on it, thinking that she needed someone as her safe harbor because she was moving to a new city and starting a new life. He was worried she would start messing around with drugs again because she was so far away from him. Her brother worried too much. And the irony was, the biggest stressor in Tessa’s life wasn’t her life, it was the fact that her brother worried about her life.

Trey, who had taken care of her, Tessa now felt like she had to take care of. At least emotionally. His problem was that he loved too much, too hard.

He loved her that way, and he loved his wife, Shayla that way too. Like he would lose it if anything happened to either of them. Whenever she put herself in dangerous situations—and she had done that far too many times to count—Tessa never wondered about her own safety, she wondered instead about how her brother would cope if she were seriously hurt or killed.

“So shall we pick up where ..?”

“I can’t believe you used the word ‘shall’,” Tessa said. “Like in casual conversation. Who does that?”

Dr. Young smiled. “You’re being passive-aggressive. Why?”

Tessa rolled her eyes. “I was just wondering something out loud. How is that aggressive?”

“I think you want to deflect. Not talk about your parents and your brother, so you tried to put the focus back on me.”

“Okay fine. Let’s talk about Trey and my parents again.” Tessa sighed her defeat.

“Or, if it makes you more comfortable, we can talk about why you felt like coming back here today. What’s going on with you, Tess?”

What the hell? The woman was being paid. May as well use her for something useful for a change.

“Lisa, the woman I’m sleeping with asked me to brunch with her and her parents.”

“Ah.” Dr. Young sat forward. “So the relationship is getting serious.”

“No,” Tessa said quickly. “Or at least she’s pretending it isn’t. She’s pretending it’s about Tyson her brother—long story—but I think that’s just a ploy to get me to meet her parents. Which is weird since she’s not even out to them.”

“So maybe she thinks this is a way to connect two important parts of her life, even if the two parts have to remain largely separate in other ways.”

“Exactly!” Tessa let her feet fall to the carpet and sat forward. “A ruse. She’s introducing her girlfriend without saying I’m her girlfriend.”

“Are you?”

“Her girlfriend? Hell to the no! That’s my point. All we’re doing is hooking up and now I’m wondering whether she thinks this is some love affair or something. And I am so not down for that.”

“And you’ve told her this?”

“Many times, yeah. But women are complicated. They say one thing, mean another.”

“You’re a woman. Do you say one thing and mean another?”

Tessa looked at her doctor. “No … sometimes maybe, but …”

“So Lisa may justifiably think you’re saying you don’t want a relationship but don’t actually mean it.”

Tessa leaned back. “Oh my god, Dr. Young. I think you just earned your fee!”

The doctor smiled. “It’s just a theory.”

“No! I think you might be right. There is no way I should go to this brunch. What if she thinks I’m on some hard-to-get shit?”

“Is that something else women do?” Dr. Young asked.

“Ye-ah,” Tessa said.

“You have very fixed stereotypes about female behavior, Tess. Have you ever wondered why?”

“No, because they’re not stereotypes. They’re opinions formed from personal experience.”

“And in your personal experience, are all women alike?”

“Of course not.”

“Then those views are stereotypes. Do you see why?”

Tessa spread her arms across the back of the sofa. “Sometimes it’s exhausting talking to you, y’know that?”

“How so?”

“Because of that – how so? The incessant questions.”

“Would you prefer I provide answers?”

“Yes, I really, really would.”

Dr. Young smiled yet again. “Only you have those, I’m afraid.”

Tessa shrugged. “Well then I’m going to tell my brother he’s wasting his money,” she said, concealing her smile.

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SAMPLE SUNDAY: From ‘Mother’

 

Mother cover mistress FINAL

From ‘MOTHER’ coming Summer 2014

No.”

The word was out before Keisha could stop it. Before she’d even completely thought it. And from the look on Jayson’s face, it surprised him, too.

“No?”

“I mean …”

“You don’t want to?”

“I meant not now,” Keisha amended. “Just not now, that’s all.”

Ignoring the hints had been simple enough, especially since she was sure he couldn’t possibly be serious. They’d been married less than a year, and things were still up in the air, with his new business, her new career.

“I don’t mean now either,” Jay said. “I meant maybe in a year or so. But you’re taking those shots and that’s for like, three months, right? What if we decide to do it sooner?”

And so there it was.

He might say he didn’t want babies now. He might think he didn’t want babies now. But once she wasn’t taking her Depo shots, all bets would be off.

Keisha lifted her eyes from her plate and focused instead on her husband. Standing in front of the fridge, reaching in for orange juice turning to pour them both glasses, he had no clue that he’d just dropped an atom bomb.

Having babies was not something Keisha was willing to contemplate. They were something she hadn’t been forced to discuss before they were married and she’d been operating under the vain and foolish hope that somehow, she could avoid the subject for, say, the next thirty or more years ‘til she was too old to have them. But that wasn’t true either, because even before the ‘I do’s’ Jay had mentioned wanting sons and she’d easily avoided talking about it because neither of them had been confident about taking care of themselves let alone children.

“Tea or a cappuccino?”

Jay had moved on to making the hot breakfast beverages. Following their Saturday morning routine of eating early at their kitchen table and talking about their week, Keisha was going with him to the store.

Almost a year ago, Jay had acquired a small photo business in town, a modest place that was barely enough for him to eke out a living at. But now it was taking off, because he’d turned it into a photo studio where he took family portraits and vanity shots, booked events and did natural light photography of engaged couples and women seeking glamorous headshots for dating sites.

“Cappuccino.”

It was the only way Keisha was able to have caffeine—with frothy, warm milk that almost masked the taste. Jay had gotten her a machine for her twenty-sixth birthday, his attempt at a joke about her past as a barista in a Brooklyn coffee shop. The real gift had been four days in South Beach, a belated honeymoon in a resort where all their needs were taken care of from sun up to sundown. Hands down, those days had been the happiest of Keisha’s life—just her and her man, thinking about no one and nothing else, wrapped up in the newness of being married, and in each other. The way it was supposed to be.

After eleven months of marriage, Jayson Holmes was still the most incredible stroke of luck to have happened to her in her entire life. Every day began with her staring at him, and wondering at the cosmic mistake had led to her finding him, and having him fall in love with her, of all the women in the world who might have had him.

“So what d’you think?” Jay asked looking over his shoulder. “You stop taking the shots and then take the Pill instead so that if we want to get pregnant sooner, it’ll only be a month before we can try for real.”

“I don’t know,” Keisha said, shoveling a piece of toast in her mouth to avoid giving a full answer.

“Or,” Jay said, “we could just … roll the dice.”

At that, Keisha almost choked on her bread. She swallowed hard, now eager to get some words out, because that ridiculous suggestion could not go unanswered.

“We’re nowhere near ready for something like that. Your business just got off the ground, I’m going to …”

“But you’re assuming it would happen right away. Sometimes it takes a while. And I read that when you’ve been on the shots, it sometimes takes longer.”

“Where have you been reading stuff like that?”

“The internet. I looked it up.”

He’d been looking up stuff about going off birth control and conception times? Holy shit.

Posted in Jayson, Keisha, Mistress, Mistress part 2, Mistress Trilogy, Mother, nia forrester, Wife | Tagged , , , | 12 Comments

Blog Stop: Chicki Brown, author of ‘Till You Come Back to Me’

Till You Come Back to Me coverI became acquainted with Chicki Brown’s work when I read her novella, ‘You Make Me Feel Brand New and it was refreshing because it wasn’t about the perfectly-proportioned twentysomething woman meeting the perfectly-proportioned thirtysomething man and being swept off her feet. It was about a woman of a certain age meeting that thirtysomething man and sweeping him off his feet. How could you not love that?

And then I read A Woman’s Worth and knew that from then on, I would read everything of hers. I haven’t made it through them all just yet, but I am hooked by the Stafford Family, so I’m riding that out before I get to her backlist. So it’s my pleasure and honor to host her today, and get a sneak peek of her new release, ‘Till You Come Back To Me.

From ‘Till You Come Back to Me':

When she arrived at the hospital, immediately she sensed a change in the atmosphere. Dr. Ijalana and Dr. Pategi were huddled together in front of the laptop and barely noticed her entrance.

“Good morning, Doctors.”

“Adanna, come and look at this!” Dr. Pategi said with more excitement in his voice than she’d ever heard. Rarely did the doctors consult with her on patient diagnoses. Her involvement focused on treatment, so she approached them expecting to see photographs of a particular medical procedure. Instead, text filled the screen. She leaned in to get a better look. The document was an e-mail from Doctors Without Borders. Their prayers and requests were finally being answered. The organization was sending a team of doctors to work at their small facility.

“This is incredible!” Adanna exclaimed knowing what this meant for their patients, many of who had been waiting for years for surgeries they could not afford. “When will they get here?”

“It says in the last paragraph that the doctors should be here the first week in May. They will evaluate all patients and decide which surgeries will be performed and when. We will assist them in the operating room. Before the team arrives, we need to review the patient waiting list and try to get them in for a final evaluation.”

“I can start doing that right now, Doctor.”

“I had the feeling you’d be excited about this. You are an excellent nurse, Adanna. We could not function without you.” He smiled, and the smooth ebony skin around his eyes crinkled. Dr. Pategi was one of the kindest people she had ever met, and Adanna considered it a privilege to work with him. As a husband and father of four, he sacrificed much of his personal time seeing to the needs of the sick, most of who couldn’t afford to pay the normal fees. He worked tirelessly to obtain funds from social and religious organizations to provide the care their patients needed.

“Thank you. Did they include background information on the surgeons who will be coming?”

He scrolled down the page and clicked on a link. The attachment opened. “Yes, there is a photo and a CV for each, if you would like to find out more about our visitors. Take your time. Everything is quiet right now.” Dr. Pategi stood, made the seat available to her, and left the room.

Adanna replaced him in front of the screen and casually browsed through the physician information. She stopped suddenly when a photo jumped out at her. The man she’d seen in her dream! The antithesis of African standards of male attractiveness, which generally included a wide nose, thick lips, and dark skin, this man had a fair complexion, a beard, and — she leaned into the screen to get a closer look at his professional photo — green eyes. Yet, she couldn’t rip her gaze from his image. There weren’t many men in her country who looked like him. A twinge of guilt stabbed her over admiring his intriguing face, and it wasn’t because of his fair complexion.

The issue of skin color had become an issue in Africa. Recently, a South African musician faced severe criticism over her decision to lighten her naturally dark skin, and subsequently a good number of people in her country had followed suit. The sale of skin lightening products was also a lucrative business in Nigeria, and the debate continued on the ethics of it all. Adanna heard it more often than not from her brother. Even though he had spent his teen years in England, Emeka was fiercely devoted to their tribal culture. He believed that the practice of bleaching one’s skin was tantamount to denying your heritage. This isn’t the same thing, she told herself while she stood mesmerized by the doctor’s high cheekbones and intense eyes. This man would be considered extremely handsome no matter what color skin he had.

She scolded herself for her mental wandering and scrolled down to read the résumé of Dr. Charles Stafford, which was impressive for such a young man. He had gone to medical school, done his residency at a major US hospital and eventually opened his own plastic surgery practice. Now he was giving up private practice to lend his gifts to the people of her nation.

And, in a couple of months, this fascinating man was arriving at her hospital.

Buy links

On Amazon (Kindle only for the first 90 days)

How to reach Chicki Brown:

Blog

Twitter

Facebook

Pinterest

Amazon Central Author Page

Goodreads 

Posted in Authors, Books, Romance, Writing | Tagged , , , , , , | 9 Comments

The Writing Process Blog Tour

I got tagged by Kim Golden, author of ‘Maybe Baby‘, and ‘Snowbound‘, two great books I read this year, to participate in a blog tour of writers, discussing their “process”. Now if you’ve spent any time on my blog at all, you’ll know that I love, love, LOVE talking about my “process.” Such as it is.

Maybe Baby

Part of it for me is that I like learning how other people create, and hope that by sharing how I do it, it will tease out responses from others. So this blog tour is right up my alley, because when I’m done answering the four blog tour questions, I’m going to tag three other authors, who will in turn post about their process in the next couple of weeks.

So here goes:

1. What am I working on?

I’m currently finishing up my next release, ‘Lifted’ which was inspired by a short drop-in on one of the secondary characters in my book, ‘Secret’. Tessa, the main protagonist in ‘Lifted’ is the younger sister of Trey, main male protagonist in ‘Secret’. Tessa is a bit of a wild-child and a free spirit. She’s never traveled the straight and narrow path and is incredibly restless, which often throws her life and relationships into chaos. In ‘Lifted’ she meets Tyson, who was similarly challenged by the demands of family and friends that he choose a sensible course for his life. Tessa and Tyson connect in an unexpectedly profound way that makes them both question things about themselves that they believe they’d long settled.LIfted cover final

I’m also writing ‘Mother’, the final part to a trilogy about Keisha Crawford, who was also featured in my books, ‘Mistress’ and ‘Wife’. And after that, I’m working on ‘The Education of Miri Acosta’ who you might have met in ‘The Seduction of Dylan Acosta’.  And after that, I have a couple of other projects lined up that should take me to the end of 2014. It’s going to be a busy year!

2. How does my work differ from others of its genre?

I like to think I don’t conform to a specific genre. I think there are always elements of romance in my work, but I don’t like to say I write romance novels. Nothing against romance novels (I read tons of them) but that label connotes a certain formula which I hope I don’t always follow. Romance as a genre is about escape, I think. And I don’t want my books to be pure escapism–I want them to be thoughtful, realistic explorations of messy, complex relationships. So I never tag my books romance when I sell them online, because I don’t want to give people the false expectation that there will be a neat romantic HEA (happily ever after) at the end. So I’ve taken to saying I write romantic realism.

3. Why do I write what I do? 

Because I find people interesting (never met a boring person!) and even more so, I like learning ‘why’ about everything, I bring that analytical nature to my writing. Since I read a fair amount, I think I also do some creative mimicry–if I were reading a lot of mystery and suspense right now, I would probably try my hand at writing those genres as well. So what I’m writing now is a reflection of my current reading material, my interest in relationships and people, and my tendency to analyze things to death. Who knows what’ll happen next year?

4. How does my writing process work?

Hell, I have no idea. Sometimes I see an interesting couple in an airport and imagine their story, sometimes I hear a song, sometimes a character springs to mind from nowhere, or a piece of dialogue I overhear intrigues me, or a reader says, ‘what if you wrote …’ Anything in the known world can spark an idea for what I want to write. Most often, the bigger challenge is not to write. Inspiration and ideas are everywhere, it’s the sifting through of all of them and deciding which to pursue that’s tough.

And once I’ve actually sat down to write, I do so in spurts and rather inconsistently. I can write half a book in a couple of days, or take a week to complete two pages. But the one thing I know for sure is that I am always writing in my head. Always. In fact, the typing is oftentimes the easy part so that once I feel like I know the characters–their hopes, their dreams, their fears, their motivation–they practically write themselves.

So that’s my story. I’m going to tag three other authors now and we get to hear theirs!

My picks are:

Christopher Bynum, author of , ‘With Benefits’ and ‘The Professional’.

Chicki Brown, author of ‘You Make Me Feel Brand New’, ‘A Woman’s Worth’ and the new release, ‘Till You Come Back to Me’.

Linden Hughes, author of  the bestselling new release ‘Taste of Lacey’

Be sure to check their books out, and in the meantime …

Happy Reading!

N.

Posted in Authors, Books, Inspiration, Romance, Writing | Tagged , , | 2 Comments

SAMPLE SUNDAY: From ‘Lifted’

Tyson

From ‘Lifted':

In the dim sum restaurant, there was a table full of women. Ty thought they might be gay too. All of a sudden, he seemed to be noticing gay people more. Maybe it was because he was in San Francisco, the Gay Mecca of the United States; or maybe it was because he was with Tessa, the first gay person he’d ever wished wasn’t.

One of the women at the table couldn’t keep her eyes off Tessa. She was trying to make eye contact.

“You like Asian women?” Ty asked, thinking about Anzu and Tessa making out at the nightclub.

“They seem to like me,” Tessa said, so he knew she’d noticed the woman staring as well, though she hadn’t acknowledged her.

“Why do you think that is?”

She shrugged. “Some people like chocolate adventures.”

Ty spluttered. “Chocolate adventures?”

“You know. Testing out the rumored insatiable sexual appetite that we Black folks seem to have.”

He nodded. “Oh.”

“So?” Tessa asked, looking about the restaurant for the next passing server with a steaming tray.

“So … what?”

“Have you had any? Chocolate adventures? D’you like Black chicks?”

“Only been with one. She was a little crazy.”

Tessa laughed. “Oh that is so wrong of you.”

“Why is it wrong of me? I’ve been with plenty of crazy White chicks. It just so happens the one Black one I was with was also crazy.”

“How was she crazy?”

“She liked to … you sure you want the details?”

“Oh, please give me the details,” Tessa said. She almost looked gleeful.

Before Ty could begin his story, another tray went by and they paused to take some of the soft, pork-filled rolls, then another of rib tips in a bright red sauce that looked hot and spicy, but was really sweet.

“Okay, spill it,” Tessa spoke with her mouth full.

“Her name was Charmaine. She was a sophomore at my school. And she came onto me at a party. And I liked it because she wasn’t shy about it, she didn’t pretend she would hold out. She let me know she wanted me, and that made me want her too.”

Ty didn’t know why he was telling Tessa all this, except that she was different from other women, and wouldn’t care if he said he’d wanted another woman, because she wasn’t looking to compete in the same arena.

“So did you hook up the same night?” Tessa rested both elbows on the table and leaned in, rapt.

“Yeah. She liked the lights on, which was different from other chicks. Her body wasn’t perfect but she didn’t care. And that made her way hotter as far as I was concerned.”

“And that turned you on?”

“I feel like you’re psychoanalyzing me.”

“I kind of am. I like that too—when women aren’t all, ‘don’t look at my stomach’ or ‘dim the lights a little’. I like when they let it all hang out.”

Under the table, Ty was getting some wood. Hearing Tessa talk about what she liked was a turn-on, even though part of him wished … well, it didn’t matter what he wished.

“So tell me more about Charmaine. Wanting the lights on didn’t make her crazy, so what did?”

“She had a boyfriend,” Ty said, beginning to wish he hadn’t brought Charmaine up at all. “And she liked …”

“C’mon, spill it! What did she ..?”

“She liked to call him while we were doing it. She liked to watch me sliding in and out of her while she talked to her boyfriend on the phone and pretended she wasn’t being …”

Tessa put a hand over her mouth and muffled a laugh. “Freak. How many times did she do that?”

“Every single time we had sex except for the first time.”

“And you had to like it too, or you wouldn’t keep doing it,” Tessa accused.

Ty shrugged. “Once we were in the act, I didn’t give a shit what she did, just as long as we kept … you know.”

Tessa laughed again. “She put that ol’ Black Magic on you, huh?”

“She was pretty wild in bed,” Ty admitted.

“So what ended it?”

“The beginning of the end was when I saw her boyfriend one day when they were walking across campus together. He looked like the Incredible Hulk. I mean, this dude was a beast. After that I started avoiding Charmaine’s booty calls.”

Leaning back in her seat, Tessa nodded and folded her arms. “Now that’s what I call a good story.”

“Oh, but it’s not done. After a couple weeks thinking I made it out with my life, she corners me at a party. Told me we weren’t done till she said we were done.”

“Now you’re just making stuff up.”

“Scout’s honor.” Ty raised a hand, then reached for one of the rib tips, enjoying the expression on Tessa’s face.

“Okay, so then what?”

“I had to keep doing her until she was done.”

At that, Tessa laughed out loud–loud enough for other patrons to look over at them–and clapped her hands.

“You had to, huh?”

Her eyes were bright and she was looking at him differently, like he’d been inducted into some Cool Kids Club or something. Ty could see how it might be that Tessa seduced people—with her looking at him that way, he thought there were probably very few things he wouldn’t do just to remain in her favor.

Posted in Lifted, Preview | Tagged , , , , | 8 Comments

Meet Tessa …

Tessa6 promo flat

From ‘Lifted':

This time, though full of breakfast food and still somewhat drunk, they didn’t pass out when they hit Tessa’s futon mattress. This time, though she still stripped down to her boy-shorts and sports bra, Tessa lay on her side and talked to him. Ty kept his clothes on at first but soon grew uncomfortable in the warm apartment. Doing so slowly, checking Tessa for any sign of discomfort, he finally stripped off his shirt and jeans so he was lying next to her bare-chested and wearing only boxer briefs.

The lights remained on and neither of them made any move to change that, so Ty got a good look at Tessa, her face only about two feet from his. When he stared at her, she stared back, right into his eyes like babies do, completely without artifice or pretense. Ty wondered whether she would ever look away if he didn’t.

Her eyes were dark, dark brown, like burnt molasses. Her skin was the color of warm caramel and so smooth he wanted to touch it to see whether it was real. And her hair … Ty could imagine wrapping his hands in strands of her hair, which was as wild, uncontrolled and beautiful as its owner. On a whim, he reached out, slowly to see whether she would flinch. But she didn’t. Instead, she just blinked and smiled with her eyes when his hand made contact with her hair. It was soft and coarse at once, each strand thick and substantial, not silky like his.

Ty twisted several strands about his fingers and brought the hand back to his face and sniffed. Coconut. He smiled.

“Why didn’t you show for the brunch?” he asked, not even knowing he was about to.

“I didn’t want to be there to see it if your parents hurt or embarrassed you,” she said. And she seemed surprised by her own answer as he had been by his question.

Ty let his eyes drift away from hers, then he closed them and took another whiff of her hair. The scent was calming.

“They didn’t embarrass me,” he said.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come,” Tessa said. “If it mattered to you that I wasn’t there.”

“It mattered.”

She took a breath and opened her mouth to speak, pausing for a moment before continuing. “I’m not the best friend to people who befriend me,” she pronounced.

She didn’t just say it, she pronounced it, as though it was in capital letters and she wanted him to take note.

“That doesn’t sound true,” Ty said.

“It is. I’m the friend you hang out with on Friday nights who’ll get you fucked up; the one you call when you want to do something crazy like scale the side of a city monument at two in the morning.” She stopped for a moment and caught his gaze again. “I’m not the friend you call if you’re stuck at the airport and need a ride. Of if you were stranded at the Mexican border with no money in your pocket. I wouldn’t show up.”

“That sounds like bullshit,” Ty said. “It sounds like something someone said to you and now you believe it, even though it’s not true.”

At that, Tessa gave him a wry smile. “No,” she said with complete certainty and more than a little sadness. “It’s not bullshit. It’s true.”

 

Posted in Lifted, Secret | Tagged , , , | 9 Comments