Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: February 12, 2015
Length: 47 Pages
Cassie Anderson has a history of falling for the wrong guys; ex
-cons, rebels, and hard drinking cheating types. Her most recent mistake
had been her part-time employee as well as her live -in boyfriend, and
now that he’s gone, she’s struggling to make rent and manage her antique
store alone. When her cousin, a man with a history of depression and
suicide attempts, shows up looking for work and a place to lay down his
sleeping bag, she offers him a job and her guest room.
Q is doing better than ever and the close bond they shared as kids is
still strong, but they’re not kids anymore and it’s not innocent.
Cassie is determined to change her ways and stop falling for the wrong
guys, and that means fighting her attraction to a man who is most
definitely off-limits. But is Q really the wrong guy?
After his second suicide attempt, my cousin gave up his quest to find
peace and settled into a nomad’s life, rotating relatives, camping in
attics and basements, trailers and tents, doing odd jobs to earn his
keep. I’ve always known my turn would come, so I’m not surprised to see
Quinton, or Q as I call him, walk into my antique store carrying a
backpack and sleeping bag.
I’m behind the counter ringing up half a dozen Nancy Drew mysteries
to a woman who claims she’s buying them for her granddaughter. After she
spends a full five minutes telling me how fond she was of the books
when she was a girl, I have to wonder who they’re really for. I’m
imagining some ten-year-old girl tossing these books into her closet
without a second thought, or worse leaving them on her bedroom floor
where they will be trampled, while smiling at the woman, agreeing that
of course her granddaughter will love the books, and also keeping one
eye on Q. I’m curious to see what will grab his interest first.
The winner is a barely used erector set still in its original box.
This is not surprising. Q was always building things when he was a kid. I
remember him throwing blocks at me one Christmas, after I accidentally
knocked down one of his towers, and me crying to my mother. He was such a
hot head then, that Grandma Jones used to call him her little Tasmanian
Devil.
Grown up Q has none of the fury of kid Q. He looks too thin in the
large green army jacket, and the faded jeans worn dangerously low on
narrow hips. His dark hair has outgrown its last cut, and a stray lock
falls down over the sunglasses he wears to hide his empty right eye
socket.
When my customer is gone I step around to the other side of the
counter and say, “I’m sorry sir, but you’ll have to leave the backpack
outside.”
Q turns around, lowering his glasses on one side, revealing one big beautiful brown eye. “It’s me, Cassie.”
“Of course it’s you. I was kidding.” I hug him hard, my cheek coming
right up against a cold button on his jacket. I pull back and see that
the button reads, Stop the war in Vietnam. There are several patches
advocating peace. One arm of the jacket has been cut off above the
elbow, revealing the peace symbol tattoo on his forearm, a hand with two
fingers forming a V. I touch the frayed edge of his sleeve. “Uncle
Otto?”
“How’d you guess?”
Otto is the brother of both our mothers. He survived Vietnam minus an
arm and later joined the peace rallies. “I can’t believe he’d give this
away.”
Q shrugs. “It was in an old box in his attic with a bunch of other
stuff. He said I could have whatever I wanted if I got rid of the rest.”
A rush of excitement overcomes me, “What else was in the box? Is there anything left?”
Q shakes his head and a shadow slips over his face. “Sorry, it looked like junk to me. I should have thought of you.”
Of course he should have thought of me. The unwritten rule in our
family is that anything that might possibly be considered an antique
should be brought to me before being discarded, but I never could get
mad at Q, not even when I had a right to.
Tammy J. Palmer writes contemporary romance, has been part of a
writing critique/support group for nearly two decades, and is a member
of RWA. Long ago she
made the wise decision to marry Superman (if he can’t figure it out, it
can’t be done). She had two kids, who were far better behaved than she
deserved, and grew into truly amazing adults. She has a fat, lazy cat
named Betty Boop.
“I believe it’s our contradictions that make us interesting. For
example, I hate the rain and live in the Willamette Valley, one of the
rainiest places in the country. I love artsy places full of interesting,
creative people, and live in a suburb full of 9-5 people wearing
sensible shoes. I shop resale and am surrounded by strip malls. I’m an
introvert and I work part time as a grocery clerk— an extrovert’s job. I
love fiction and find sports boring. I married a man who loves sports
and finds fiction boring. I write and read to escape from the real
world, and yet I love stories that reflect real life.”
Visit Tammy’s website for blog posts on Life in the Express Lane, or email her at tammyjpalmer@hotmail.com
Thanks so much for hosting Tammy and COUSIN Q today on your gorgeous blog - You ROCK!!!
ReplyDeleteThank you for stopping by! Always happy to participate! :D
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