The Never Say Never
Blog Tour
Books: “Tasting Never”
“Finding Never” “Keeping Never” “Never Can Tell”
Tasting Never, a New Adult Novel Recommended for Ages 18 and
Up"Never Ross wants to be loved.
It's that simple, but it's not that easy."
Never is a girl with a broken soul who doesn't date nice guys and can't seem to go to bed at night without crying herself to sleep. She doesn't need any complications in her life, especially not when they're attached to a man that could be her emotional twin.
Ty McCabe can't stand Never the first time he meets her. He's aware that the feeling's mutual and the two don't think they'll ever see each other again, but when fate takes a hand and puts them both in the wrong place at the wrong time, Ty and Never form a tentative friendship that opens the door on their dark sides and shows them what it's like to live in the light.
"Sometimes, the only way to go forward, is to take a few, careful steps back."
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I'm not more than three feet in the door when I spot him.
There's a guy standing in the back corner. He's wearing a black T-shirt and a pair of low cut jeans that emphasize the curve of his ass. His arms are covered in tattoos and his hair is black and spiky, gelled up enough that I know he cares but not enough that I think he wasted time slaving over it. This is the kind of guy I like. I know that before he turns around and sees me staring at him. His dark eyes and suggestive smirk tell me that this is the kind of guy that cheats on you when your back is turned and that spouts a lie with every other word he says.
Unfortunately, this is the kind of guy that I want. At least temporarily. I'm never looking for something long-term, usually just a few weeks or even a few hours. Thanks to my red dress, I don't have to think up anything to say. The guy walks right across the room and pauses next to me. Lacey is already gone, hitting on some chicks near the pool tables.
“Hi, I'm Ty,” he says and his voice oozes over me and fills all the little cracks in my psyche. If Rick were to do that, if he could ever even think to do that, maybe he could glue me back together, keep me in one piece? This Ty, this person with wicked sexy lips and arms that curve with gentle swells of muscle, fills my cracks with foam that expands and breaks me into a million pieces.
“I'm Never,” I say and do my usual explaining thing that people need when they hear my name. “Never is my first name. I don't give out my last name to strangers.” Ty smiles and I can't help but feel this surge of heat in my lower belly. The woman in me wants the man in him. She doesn't care why or how or if he'll even be there later. I hate her for that. I hate myself and my hormones, and I hate men. I hate everybody.
Ty reaches out and takes a strand of my hair between his fingers. His nails are rough and cracked like maybe he does hard labor or something.
“Do you want to dance, Never?” he asks me, and I look around him at the empty expanse of floor between us and the bathrooms.
“This is a bar, not a club,” I say to him as I reach inside my coat and find a piece of gum. I like to chew gum when I'm around other people. That way, if I run out of things to say then I can always blow a bubble or something, pretend that I'm busy even though I'm not. “You can buy me a drink though.”
“Are you sure you're legal?” Ty says, and I don't like his attitude. He didn't like that I turned him down for a dance. I bet that's his best pickup line. Girls probably think it's cute. I bet he scores a lot by using it. I don't need pickup lines to score, so if Ty doesn't want to play then I'll find somebody else. I shouldn't be thinking like that. I don't need to fuck somebody, but at least if I do, then there'll be one, tiny, little second where I feel like somebody cares about me, even if it isn't true. Plus, seeing Ty has made me horny and I can feel my thighs clenching in anticipation. They want him almost as much as I do.
“Cute,” I say as I shrug my jacket off and let him see my shoulders. I have nice shoulders, smooth and covered with a dusting of pale freckles. Guys go nuts for them. Ty sees them alright, and his eyes travel down to my chest, searing me with heat. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”
“Maybe you're right?” he says, as he drops my hair and takes a step back. “Are you jealous?”
“Hardly,” I say as I try to move forward. Ty blocks my path.
“Want to go somewhere else, somewhere we can dance?” I stare at him, wondering if he's really serious. He's cute, but he can't function without his pickup line. That's a bad sign. Still, maybe he'd be interested if I asked him outside.
“We can go somewhere else,” I say to him, closing the distance between us and standing on my toes. I let my heels rise off of the dirty floor as I press my lips to the smooth line of Ty's jaw and put a smoldering kiss there. “But I don't want to dance.” Ty looks down at me and smiles. When he does this, he gets dimples in his cheeks that make my heart palpate painfully. Something about other tortured souls calls to me, makes me want them. When I look into Ty's eyes, I can see that we're exactly the same. He's as wounded as I am, and we're both bleeding all over one another. It's a recipe for disaster.
There's a guy standing in the back corner. He's wearing a black T-shirt and a pair of low cut jeans that emphasize the curve of his ass. His arms are covered in tattoos and his hair is black and spiky, gelled up enough that I know he cares but not enough that I think he wasted time slaving over it. This is the kind of guy I like. I know that before he turns around and sees me staring at him. His dark eyes and suggestive smirk tell me that this is the kind of guy that cheats on you when your back is turned and that spouts a lie with every other word he says.
Unfortunately, this is the kind of guy that I want. At least temporarily. I'm never looking for something long-term, usually just a few weeks or even a few hours. Thanks to my red dress, I don't have to think up anything to say. The guy walks right across the room and pauses next to me. Lacey is already gone, hitting on some chicks near the pool tables.
“Hi, I'm Ty,” he says and his voice oozes over me and fills all the little cracks in my psyche. If Rick were to do that, if he could ever even think to do that, maybe he could glue me back together, keep me in one piece? This Ty, this person with wicked sexy lips and arms that curve with gentle swells of muscle, fills my cracks with foam that expands and breaks me into a million pieces.
“I'm Never,” I say and do my usual explaining thing that people need when they hear my name. “Never is my first name. I don't give out my last name to strangers.” Ty smiles and I can't help but feel this surge of heat in my lower belly. The woman in me wants the man in him. She doesn't care why or how or if he'll even be there later. I hate her for that. I hate myself and my hormones, and I hate men. I hate everybody.
Ty reaches out and takes a strand of my hair between his fingers. His nails are rough and cracked like maybe he does hard labor or something.
“Do you want to dance, Never?” he asks me, and I look around him at the empty expanse of floor between us and the bathrooms.
“This is a bar, not a club,” I say to him as I reach inside my coat and find a piece of gum. I like to chew gum when I'm around other people. That way, if I run out of things to say then I can always blow a bubble or something, pretend that I'm busy even though I'm not. “You can buy me a drink though.”
“Are you sure you're legal?” Ty says, and I don't like his attitude. He didn't like that I turned him down for a dance. I bet that's his best pickup line. Girls probably think it's cute. I bet he scores a lot by using it. I don't need pickup lines to score, so if Ty doesn't want to play then I'll find somebody else. I shouldn't be thinking like that. I don't need to fuck somebody, but at least if I do, then there'll be one, tiny, little second where I feel like somebody cares about me, even if it isn't true. Plus, seeing Ty has made me horny and I can feel my thighs clenching in anticipation. They want him almost as much as I do.
“Cute,” I say as I shrug my jacket off and let him see my shoulders. I have nice shoulders, smooth and covered with a dusting of pale freckles. Guys go nuts for them. Ty sees them alright, and his eyes travel down to my chest, searing me with heat. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”
“Maybe you're right?” he says, as he drops my hair and takes a step back. “Are you jealous?”
“Hardly,” I say as I try to move forward. Ty blocks my path.
“Want to go somewhere else, somewhere we can dance?” I stare at him, wondering if he's really serious. He's cute, but he can't function without his pickup line. That's a bad sign. Still, maybe he'd be interested if I asked him outside.
“We can go somewhere else,” I say to him, closing the distance between us and standing on my toes. I let my heels rise off of the dirty floor as I press my lips to the smooth line of Ty's jaw and put a smoldering kiss there. “But I don't want to dance.” Ty looks down at me and smiles. When he does this, he gets dimples in his cheeks that make my heart palpate painfully. Something about other tortured souls calls to me, makes me want them. When I look into Ty's eyes, I can see that we're exactly the same. He's as wounded as I am, and we're both bleeding all over one another. It's a recipe for disaster.
"Tell me, Never, do you still love
him?"
Never Ross and Ty McCabe have come a long way –
but they can't stop now. Their pasts are still there, ready to sweep over and
consume them if they don't confront them. A visit to Never's family seems like
the first logical step, but will it make things better or worse? And what about
Noah Scott? Ty is Never's tortured other half, but can he also be the healing
balm that she so desperately needs? With McCabe's past still a virtual unknown,
Never is going to have to make more than one decision capable of breaking both
their hearts.
"Ty has changed; I have changed, and things
are not always what they seem."
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“Come with me,” I choke out as I search Ty's face, try to peel back some layers and see what's lying underneath. Never before have I descended into the mind of someone who's as dark, if not darker, than I am, and it's fascinating. Or at least I think it is. Ty knows what I'm doing, and he doesn't let me dig very deep, not yet.
“Okay,” he says finally. I grab his hand and pull him around the barn that we've never used, take him past the rusted cars that used to belong to my father and around the back where long, golden grasses stretch as far as the eye can see, punctuated by the dark shadow of a single house. Otherwise, it's just us. Just me and Ty alone with the whispering wind and our pasts that are now so tangled together that I don't know if they can be separated without killing one or both of us.
“Tell me,” I say to him as he flicks the lighter and his eyes dance with flames. “Are we going back to SOG?” Ty shrugs and lets his head fall back. His eyes flicker closed and he inhales deeply. His throat is smooth and perfect with just the slightest hint of an Adam's apple, muscular with the briefest glimmer of butterfly wings. They trail down his shoulders and arm, fade into the birds that line his back.
“Depends,” he tells me as he drops his chin and hands the cigarette to me.
“On?” I ask as I take it and slide it between my moist lips. Ty steps towards me and puts his hands on either side of my face.
“On you,” he whispers against my lips. “All I need is you. You're my cure.”
“Ty,” I say as I try to step back, but he doesn't let me. He runs his hands down my arms, touching me so slightly that I swear I can feel the whorls of his fingertips against the fine hairs on my skin. “Don't say things like that,” I tell him. I don't want to be his cure. He can't let so much ride on me. I'm unstable. I'm just … so fucked up. I can't be Ty McCabe's chance at salvation. He's been making it for himself, for me. He has to keep doing that or neither us will survive this.
“Never,” he tells me, voice strong but quiet. “I love you.” My heart chokes on his words, and I try to pull back, but Ty won't let me. I don't know it yet, but Ty will never let me go. For better or worse, I think he's my soul mate. I might not understand what that means yet, but I will. Oh God, I will, because Ty won't let me run away from it.
“Stop it,” I whisper as the cigarette slips out from between my teeth and hits the dirt. “You can't keep saying things like that.”
“Why not?” he asks me, unashamed, unabashed at his words. “You said it, too.” Ty grins at me. “Say it again,” he commands, but I can't form the words. They slipped out before at the bus station. I can't say them again, not yet.
“I can't,” I whisper, and I wonder if he's going to get upset or hurt or angry. I'm afraid to find out, so I blurt, “Come see my fantasy?” Ty smiles and follows me over to an old tractor. It sits in a clear bit of dirt, rusty and perfect in the moonlight like a solid, corporeal memory of my father. I have hardly any in my head, so it's nice to see one sitting here undisturbed. I'm surprised my mother never sold it. “This,” I say as I put my hand on one of the big rear tires. “Is a 1951 Farmall 'Super C' vintage tractor.” Ty whistles and steps up beside me.
“I love a girl that can talk shop,” he says as he runs his ringed hand over the metal with a gentle touch that tells me he senses how important this thing is. “Now, tell me, how does this hunk of junk play into your fantasies?” Ty asks with a wink. I spin slowly, follow him as he walks around me and continues around the front of the tractor like a predator circling prey. It's kind of hot.
“Listen to me, Ty McCabe,” I say, feeling bold in the white moonlight. Her touch gives me strength and banishes the demons, at least temporarily. “When I was in high school, I used to entertain thoughts about this tractor.” I pause. “And about a guy fucking me on it.” Ty's brows shoot up and he pauses across from me, facing my body with his own. I can practically feel the electricity in the air between us, sizzling, getting ready to shock us both if we're not careful.
“I see,” he says, voice low and husky.
“So, what are you waiting for?” I ask him. “Fuck me on it.”
“Okay,” he says finally. I grab his hand and pull him around the barn that we've never used, take him past the rusted cars that used to belong to my father and around the back where long, golden grasses stretch as far as the eye can see, punctuated by the dark shadow of a single house. Otherwise, it's just us. Just me and Ty alone with the whispering wind and our pasts that are now so tangled together that I don't know if they can be separated without killing one or both of us.
“Tell me,” I say to him as he flicks the lighter and his eyes dance with flames. “Are we going back to SOG?” Ty shrugs and lets his head fall back. His eyes flicker closed and he inhales deeply. His throat is smooth and perfect with just the slightest hint of an Adam's apple, muscular with the briefest glimmer of butterfly wings. They trail down his shoulders and arm, fade into the birds that line his back.
“Depends,” he tells me as he drops his chin and hands the cigarette to me.
“On?” I ask as I take it and slide it between my moist lips. Ty steps towards me and puts his hands on either side of my face.
“On you,” he whispers against my lips. “All I need is you. You're my cure.”
“Ty,” I say as I try to step back, but he doesn't let me. He runs his hands down my arms, touching me so slightly that I swear I can feel the whorls of his fingertips against the fine hairs on my skin. “Don't say things like that,” I tell him. I don't want to be his cure. He can't let so much ride on me. I'm unstable. I'm just … so fucked up. I can't be Ty McCabe's chance at salvation. He's been making it for himself, for me. He has to keep doing that or neither us will survive this.
“Never,” he tells me, voice strong but quiet. “I love you.” My heart chokes on his words, and I try to pull back, but Ty won't let me. I don't know it yet, but Ty will never let me go. For better or worse, I think he's my soul mate. I might not understand what that means yet, but I will. Oh God, I will, because Ty won't let me run away from it.
“Stop it,” I whisper as the cigarette slips out from between my teeth and hits the dirt. “You can't keep saying things like that.”
“Why not?” he asks me, unashamed, unabashed at his words. “You said it, too.” Ty grins at me. “Say it again,” he commands, but I can't form the words. They slipped out before at the bus station. I can't say them again, not yet.
“I can't,” I whisper, and I wonder if he's going to get upset or hurt or angry. I'm afraid to find out, so I blurt, “Come see my fantasy?” Ty smiles and follows me over to an old tractor. It sits in a clear bit of dirt, rusty and perfect in the moonlight like a solid, corporeal memory of my father. I have hardly any in my head, so it's nice to see one sitting here undisturbed. I'm surprised my mother never sold it. “This,” I say as I put my hand on one of the big rear tires. “Is a 1951 Farmall 'Super C' vintage tractor.” Ty whistles and steps up beside me.
“I love a girl that can talk shop,” he says as he runs his ringed hand over the metal with a gentle touch that tells me he senses how important this thing is. “Now, tell me, how does this hunk of junk play into your fantasies?” Ty asks with a wink. I spin slowly, follow him as he walks around me and continues around the front of the tractor like a predator circling prey. It's kind of hot.
“Listen to me, Ty McCabe,” I say, feeling bold in the white moonlight. Her touch gives me strength and banishes the demons, at least temporarily. “When I was in high school, I used to entertain thoughts about this tractor.” I pause. “And about a guy fucking me on it.” Ty's brows shoot up and he pauses across from me, facing my body with his own. I can practically feel the electricity in the air between us, sizzling, getting ready to shock us both if we're not careful.
“I see,” he says, voice low and husky.
“So, what are you waiting for?” I ask him. “Fuck me on it.”
Never's past might
be under control, but Ty's is just starting to unravel. After receiving a phone
call from his broken past, tensions run high between Never and Ty, especially
with Never deciding to do something she's never done and keep her pregnancy a
secret.While visiting a skeleton in his dark, dark closet, Ty is threatened by all that he once was and all that he thought he'd overcome. With his pain about to consume him, Never is the only one who stands between Ty and relapse, who can help him control his emotions and find peace, but is she up to it? After all, with two tortured souls desperate for a healing touch, are they more of a hindrance to one another than a help?
Love, marriage, and a baby. Three things that Ty and Never saw coming. It's judgment time for both of them, time to see if the light really can overcome the dark. Here's to hoping.
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“Do you want me to get an abortion?” I ask him, sniffling and wishing that I wasn't relying on him so much. Surely, he'd like the chance to be vulnerable, too? But when I glance up and see him staring down at me with half-lidded eyes and a gentle smile, his dimples are deep and dark and happy. Ty wants to be strong for me.
“Fuck no,” he says as he grabs my face and kisses me hot. “I want little Never babies with smart mouths and copper hair.” I laugh and try to wipe my arm across my face, but he pushes it down and kisses me again, tasting, finding, keeping me. Ty moves his mouth slowly over mine, runs his tongue across my teeth and pulls back, so that he can stare at me again. This time, I think I see the shine of tears in his eyes, too, but the ass that he is, he doesn't let them fall.
“Guys don't cry, right?” I say and he wrinkles his nose at me, leaning forward and pressing his forehead into mine.
“Who fed you that crap?” he asks me, and I can't help but laugh. “We're the biggest babies on the planet. We just walk off and hide ourselves in bathrooms, bedrooms … what do you think gentleman's club were for? Strippers, just therapists in disguise.”
“I'm sorry,” I tell him, but already, he's shaking his head and his chest is swelling with a big ass breath.
“Don't be. I could've asked you about it. And to be fair, you tried, but I turned you down. I was so busy thinking about my mother … ” Ty swallows and can't speak for several moments, moments where we stand and just hold one another in silence. “Never, I wanted this,” he touches my flat belly. “To be a special thing. I didn't want it tainted with all of this … this shit.” Ty flings his hand out at the house and shakes his head. “I just wanted to say goodbye to the bitch and forget her, but now … now that she's gone, I think I'm finally realizing that I wanted her to see me, too. Before she went, I wanted her to see that I was okay, that I'd survived, so that she'd be okay, too. I hated my mom, Never, but I know that deep down, there was a good person buried under all that insecurity and desperation. Wherever she is now, I hope she knows that I know that. I can see it in those photographs.”
I touch Ty's rings, run my thumb across the metal and take them in. I hope he never stops wearing them. They've become more than just jewelry. Those rings are a piece of Tyson Monroe McCabe and I'm a greedy bitch; I want all of him that I can get.
“You can't hold onto her,” I tell him though I feel harsh saying it granted that she only just passed away. Ty needs a heavy hand though. He isn't a guy that wants to be tiptoed around or lied to. “You have to cut her off and let her go. You can still love her and care about her and think about her, but you can't let her rule your life.”
“I know, right?” he whispers as he pulls me against him again and hugs the bejesus out of me. “Now I have to think about diapers and shit.” I laugh, but I know that we've only just touched on that situation. Ty says he wants copper haired babies, but does he really?
“Fuck no,” he says as he grabs my face and kisses me hot. “I want little Never babies with smart mouths and copper hair.” I laugh and try to wipe my arm across my face, but he pushes it down and kisses me again, tasting, finding, keeping me. Ty moves his mouth slowly over mine, runs his tongue across my teeth and pulls back, so that he can stare at me again. This time, I think I see the shine of tears in his eyes, too, but the ass that he is, he doesn't let them fall.
“Guys don't cry, right?” I say and he wrinkles his nose at me, leaning forward and pressing his forehead into mine.
“Who fed you that crap?” he asks me, and I can't help but laugh. “We're the biggest babies on the planet. We just walk off and hide ourselves in bathrooms, bedrooms … what do you think gentleman's club were for? Strippers, just therapists in disguise.”
“I'm sorry,” I tell him, but already, he's shaking his head and his chest is swelling with a big ass breath.
“Don't be. I could've asked you about it. And to be fair, you tried, but I turned you down. I was so busy thinking about my mother … ” Ty swallows and can't speak for several moments, moments where we stand and just hold one another in silence. “Never, I wanted this,” he touches my flat belly. “To be a special thing. I didn't want it tainted with all of this … this shit.” Ty flings his hand out at the house and shakes his head. “I just wanted to say goodbye to the bitch and forget her, but now … now that she's gone, I think I'm finally realizing that I wanted her to see me, too. Before she went, I wanted her to see that I was okay, that I'd survived, so that she'd be okay, too. I hated my mom, Never, but I know that deep down, there was a good person buried under all that insecurity and desperation. Wherever she is now, I hope she knows that I know that. I can see it in those photographs.”
I touch Ty's rings, run my thumb across the metal and take them in. I hope he never stops wearing them. They've become more than just jewelry. Those rings are a piece of Tyson Monroe McCabe and I'm a greedy bitch; I want all of him that I can get.
“You can't hold onto her,” I tell him though I feel harsh saying it granted that she only just passed away. Ty needs a heavy hand though. He isn't a guy that wants to be tiptoed around or lied to. “You have to cut her off and let her go. You can still love her and care about her and think about her, but you can't let her rule your life.”
“I know, right?” he whispers as he pulls me against him again and hugs the bejesus out of me. “Now I have to think about diapers and shit.” I laugh, but I know that we've only just touched on that situation. Ty says he wants copper haired babies, but does he really?
Never Can Tell, a New Adult Novel Recommended for Ages 18 and Up
(Never too Late #1: This series is a follow up to the Never say Never Trilogy)
"This is love. It's that simple."
Some stories are Never finished being told. After all, we're all victims of
heartache and strife at some point. Maybe I'm a little more susceptible to
both, but I've got an ace up my sleeve. I've got Ty McCabe. He's helped me
survive a lot. More than I ever thought possible. We've come a long way
together, but we can't stop now. What's that old saying? Don't rest on your
laurels? Well, I'm not resting and neither is he. Life didn't even give us that
option. We've got problems. Big ones. Let's see if we can do this, survive the
downs and get back to the ups. Guess only time will tell.
"...We're just one. Just one, f*cking, twisted bit of soul in
love."
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“Mommy,” I say and then wrinkle my nose. Okay, fuck that. I am not a mommy. I can be a mom and a mother and a mama, but not a mommy. “Mom doesn't … she's had kind of a shitty life, and it's not your fault, it's just that I … I want to do right by you and I don't know how.” I start wrangling Noah into a black tee with a ghostly silhouette on the front. “Little goth baby,” I say which strikes me as funny. I start to life and end up crying again. Noah takes this all in stride, listening to his mother's sob story with a smile. “She lost her dad at a really young age and uh, it was fucking horrible.” I get the shirt on and move onto the pants. Little jeans slip over his chubby legs as I get into the groove of this. “And then she hurt her friend so bad, he's having trouble moving on to other women.” I pause. Frown. “Just because you're Ty's son doesn't mean you can be a player, okay? You have to treat women with respect.” Noah drools a little. I wipe it away with my university sweater, the one that says We don't give a dam about your team! “This next part gets kind of X-rated, so I'm going to simplify it a little. I … looked for love in all the wrong places, forgot who I really was inside and almost lost my soul.” This is the worst part of the story, but I'm smiling the widest now because this is where everything changed. This is where two tortured souls found each other in a bar and clashed, came together in a random twist of fate, united as one and did amazing fucking things together. “But I've got it back now, I think, or at least I'm on the right path.” I slip socks and shoes on my son's feet and pick him up, breathe him in, hold him tight. “I'm going to go back to school and learn something random like … Japanese. And then I'm going to take my degree and write a book about broken girls with desperate souls, and then … who the fuck knows, kid. With your dad and me, anything is possible.”
The floorboards in the hallway creek, and my head snaps up. I move over to the door and kick it open only to find McCabe standing there with his hands over his face. He spreads his ringed fingers and looks out at me. My mouth drops open, and I think seriously about hitting him.
“I didn't meant to eavesdrop,” he whispers, dropping his hands altogether. His face is so solid right now, dead serious and full of a tender love that makes my lip tremble and my eyes seek everything but him. “I thought you might need help with the baby. I was going to leave when you started talking, but, fuck, Never. You're so damn incredible.”
“That was a private conversation, Ty,” I whisper. I want to start a fight, but I can't. Not with all of these feelings floating around between us.
“I know, and I'm sorry, baby.” He tries to smile, but ends up laughing instead. He runs his hands down his face again. The butterflies on his arms wink at me.
“Thanks,” I tell him randomly, and he glances at me with a raised brow.
“For?”
“For giving me your jacket that day, for taking me to that clinic, for following me to the bus station. Basically, thanks for not giving up on me.” I step forward and kiss him on the cheek. “I have a stupid housewife gala to attend. See you later.”
As I start to walk away, Ty reaches out and grabs me, surrounding Noah and me with a swarm of colorful butterflies, breathing into my hair and sighing deep.
The floorboards in the hallway creek, and my head snaps up. I move over to the door and kick it open only to find McCabe standing there with his hands over his face. He spreads his ringed fingers and looks out at me. My mouth drops open, and I think seriously about hitting him.
“I didn't meant to eavesdrop,” he whispers, dropping his hands altogether. His face is so solid right now, dead serious and full of a tender love that makes my lip tremble and my eyes seek everything but him. “I thought you might need help with the baby. I was going to leave when you started talking, but, fuck, Never. You're so damn incredible.”
“That was a private conversation, Ty,” I whisper. I want to start a fight, but I can't. Not with all of these feelings floating around between us.
“I know, and I'm sorry, baby.” He tries to smile, but ends up laughing instead. He runs his hands down his face again. The butterflies on his arms wink at me.
“Thanks,” I tell him randomly, and he glances at me with a raised brow.
“For?”
“For giving me your jacket that day, for taking me to that clinic, for following me to the bus station. Basically, thanks for not giving up on me.” I step forward and kiss him on the cheek. “I have a stupid housewife gala to attend. See you later.”
As I start to walk away, Ty reaches out and grabs me, surrounding Noah and me with a swarm of colorful butterflies, breathing into my hair and sighing deep.
C.M. Stunich was raised under a cover of fog in the area
known simply as Eureka, CA. A mysterious place, this strange, arboreal land
nursed Caitlin's (yes, that's her name!) desire to write strange fiction novels
about wicked monsters, magical trains, and Nemean Lions (Google it!). She
currently enjoys drag queens, having too many cats, and tribal bellydance.
Always a fan of the indie scene and 'sticking it to the
man,' Ms. Stunich decided to take the road less traveled and forgo the
traditional publishing route. You can be assured though that she received
several rejections as to ensure her proper place in the world of writers before
taking up a friend's offer to start a publishing company. Sarian Royal was
born, and Ms. Stunich's books slowly transformed from mere baking chocolate to
full blown tortes with hand sculpted fondant flowers.
C.M. is a writer obsessed with delivering the very best and
scours her mind on a regular basis to select the most unusual stories for the
outside world.
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