Sunday, January 20, 2013

#SampleSunday - January 20, 2013

Good Sunday morning, everyone! Before I post today's Sample Sunday excerpt, I wanted to mention two things:
Ain't Too Proud To Beg is back on the Kindle bestseller list! #This morning it was #44 in Kindle Store > Kindle eBooks > Fiction > Genre Fiction > Romance > African American and #49 in Books > Romance > Multicultural
On another note, recently I've seen a huge jump in readers here on the blog from Sweden. Välkommen!

Now, for today's snippet...

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Yesterday the plastic surgeon called and gave me a choice of dates for the surgery on my face. Since I’d been here at Weinstein Lodge, I had tried not to think about it. Sure, I knew it was inevitable and necessary, but I just wasn’t ready. It had been two months, and I still wasn’t ready. All that came to mind was coming out of the operating room looking like Michael Jackson, Mickey Rourke, or Bruce Jenner. This operation was nothing like the ones on my leg. I’d been tripping about ending up walking like Quasimodo, but this one offered the possibility of my future movie roles being only in horror movies. I needed time to think about it, and we ended the call with him saying he needed an answer ASAP in order to get me on the schedule.  Thoughts of what was to come swept over me like a tidal wave. I dropped my head into my hands and ran my fingers over my face. When I looked up, TC’s daughter was standing in the doorway.

“Can I come in to see you?” she asked from the threshold where she appeared to be hesitant to step across. I assumed TC had warned her about wandering into my room without permission.

Edna glanced over the top of the magazine she was reading and waited for me to answer. “If you want.”

The little girl hopped up beside me on the bench without saying a word and swung her legs. She looked up at me with those eyes that would one day drive men crazy. “Are you sad?”

“I was just thinking.”

“You look sad.”

Women. Did they get that emotional radar at birth? I wanted to tell her to go away and leave me to my misery, but then she leaned over, rested her bushy head on my knee and patted my leg.

“I’m sorry you don’t feel good. My mommy always hugs me when I don’t feel good. Can I hug you?”

When I opened my mouth to answer, my throat closed up and nothing came out.

She didn’t wait for an answer, just stood up on the bench, put her arms around my neck, and gave it a long, silent squeeze.
“I knew this is where you’d be.” TC cleared her throat and entered the room. I turned back to the window so I could blink away the unexpected moisture in my eyes. The next time I went back to Dr. Liu, I needed to ask if he knew someone that could fix the other stuff that was wrong with me. I think the accident had somehow changed my emotional chemistry, and I hated it. When I was really young, I’d been a crybaby, but I hadn’t cried over anything in twenty years. After all I’d been through in my life, why would a car accident turn me into a sentimental chump. 

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