Something to Lose
by Tamra Lassiter
Everyone has something to lose.
Camden Piotrowski is justifiably upset to find her boyfriend in the arms of another woman. But it’s not the end of her world and definitely not something that a bubble bath, good wine, and cookie dough won’t help. Her pity party is interrupted when handsome Seth Vendetti bursts into her bathroom. She soon discovers that her world and those in it are not as they seem. Can she trust Seth’s version of the truth and make him realize that even he has something to lose?
His hands form fists that rest on his hips. “Are you threatening an FBI agent?”
I hadn’t really thought of it like that, but I’m not backing down. I put my hands on my hips as well and stand on my tippy toes so that my face is close to his. I could use those three-inch heels right about now, but I hold my ground. His body is tight. I see his pulse beating in his neck.
“Call it what you want. Just get out of my house.”
His hands move behind my neck. He pulls me to him and before I even know what’s happening, he’s kissing me and even more surprising, I’m kissing him, too. His strong fingers move up and down my back as his lips work their magic on mine. I thought I’d been kissed before, but never have I been kissed like this. I still don’t see fireworks, instead I am the firework. Heat explodes from my lips down my throat and to the rest of my body. This isn’t the warmth of fairy tales where the prince and princess kiss their happily-ever-after. This is the battle of the dragon and I don’t know what because my brain is no longer working.
His stubble scratches my chin and the sensation kindles the fire even more. My stomach lurches and I feel weightless, light as a feather now, falling from high in the sky. His hands move to my hips and he pulls me to him tightly. He kisses my chin and then my neck and down to the opening of my robe.
It’s like I wake up from some out-of-body experience to find myself full of lust and clinging to a complete stranger. His hand slips into my robe. I startle and jump back, hugging myself with one hand, the other covering my mouth as my eyes go wide in complete disbelief.
Balancing life and writing
I, like many other women, wear a lot of different hats. Sometimes it’s quite difficult to be a mom, wife and writer and it feels like I’m being pulled in every direction. I think this is a normal issue for any working woman and would liken the experience to being our own kind of super hero. Who can make lunches, do laundry, cook dinner in the Crock Pot and have a conference call all at the same time? It’s Super Mom! It does feel like that sometimes, doesn’t it?
I’ve been writing for almost five years. During that time, I’ve learned some tricks that work for me. I’m an early riser. I used to get up and piddle around the house before the rest of family awakened. Now, I use this time more advantageously. I’ve found that even though it’s early in the morning, my creative juices are really flowing. My morning writing is much better than when I try to work in the evening and often fall asleep with my computer in my lap.
I also try to write as much as I can when my children are in school. I try to use this time as wisely as I can, even if it means that our house isn’t as clean as it could be or there isn’t as much laundry that gets done. I can do some of those things when the kids get home from school. Writing requires concentration and quiet, two things that are hard to find when the kids are home. Summer vacations can definitely be tricky. There have even been times where I’ve just taken short sabbaticals from writing because I can’t concentrate on my story with everything going on in my life. The important thing I’ve learned is that I need to work hard to enjoy both not beat myself up when life “gets in the way” of my writing.
AUTHOR Bio and Links:
Tamra Lassiter lives in Northern Virginia with her supportive husband, two lovely daughters, elegant Great Dane and not-so-elegant, but very sweet, English Bulldog. She enjoys spending time with her family, reading and of course, writing.
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