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Kathy Lyons is the wild, adventurous half of USA TODAY bestselling author Jade Lee. A lover of all things fantastical, Kathy spent much of her childhood in Narnia, Middle Earth, Amber, and Earthsea, just to name a few. Her love of comedy came later as she began to see the ridiculousness in life. Winner of several industry awards including the Prism—Best of the Best, Romantic Times Reviewer’s Choice, and Fresh Fiction’s Steamiest Read, Kathy has published over 60 romance novels and is still going strong.
Her hobbies include racquetball, rollerblading, and tv/movie watching with her husband. She’s a big fan of the Big Bang Theory (even though it’s over) and her favorite movie is The Avengers because she loves everything created by Joss Whedon. She’s usually found at the loudest table in the coffee shop or next to the dessert bar. To keep up with all things Lyons/Lee, sign up for her newsletter at www.KathyLyons.com You’ll get early peeks, fresh news, chances to meet her in person, plus prizes and geeky gifts.
Always Love Me
CLARE REBECCA MCCARTHY
Chapter One
Of course, it shattered. That’s what happens when fragile and in motion, meets solid and unyielding. Inevitable, really.
Glass shards skittered across the butcher block, coming to rest beside the flower vase and the magnetic knife holder. One jigsaw-shaped piece tiddly-winked into the blue ceramic fruit bowl, where it sat among the mandarins and spotty bananas.
Those were the fragments that tried to defy gravity. Not so lucky, the rest of the carafe. The bottom dropped like, well, like a glass coffee pot smacked on the corner of a maple butcher block. It hit the floor with a pop. What followed was a high-speed time-lapse film of continental drift. Glass continents and islands of various sizes settled amid seas of black decaf. Cabinets and shins were spattered.
Suddenly aware of her bare feet on the linoleum, she stood in place, holding the now useless black plastic handle. She set it down in the sink, bent, pivoted at the waist, and groped under the sink for a dustpan and brush.
She stood again and reached for the paper towels. Feet rooted in place, she gathered the largest bits by hand. That was when the tremors started. Her hands shook. Her forearms cramped as she tried to control the spasms.
Just a coffee pot, she thought. You’re here; this is now. Focus and clean it up. It has nothing to do with…
Saying the name aloud was all it took to break her resolve. She sat against the cabinets, heedless of the glass under her coffee-soaked pajama bottoms, and willed her hands into submission.
“Transactional?” Michelle snorted. “Like prostitution?”
“Oh, please! Not even The Hulk wants to smash this.” Gael waved her hands dismissively at her body.
“Smash? What are you, sixteen? And do I have to remind you that you promised to be kinder to yourself? There are plenty of people who would want to get with you. You’re smart and funny and kind. You need to let someone in. So to speak.”
Gael held her friend’s gaze, nodded to acknowledge the kindness. Pre-transition, Gael had been so steeped in self-loathing that she couldn’t even take a compliment. Michelle was training her not to deflect or reject.
“Maybe you’re right,” Gael said.
“Maybe?!”
“OK. You’re right. But looking for someone means getting into the marketplace. That’s a transaction. And shopping requires money. In romance, what’s the currency? Wealth, prestige, youth, or beauty. Preferably a combination.”
“OK,” Michelle agreed.
“The first two are out of the question because we decided to be teachers.”
Michelle rolled her eyes. “Yeah, what were we thinking?”
“I was drunk for most of the 90s,” Gael shrugged. “I blame that. So, no money, no power, no youth.”
“Speak for yourself.”
“Objection sustained,” Gael continued. “Anyway, that leaves beauty. And I’m not even close.”
“Yes, you are. Look at you in your sundress, with the girls on display. And don’t start listing off all the body parts you’re unhappy with. We all feel that way; insecurity doesn’t make you special. Nobody looks like the magazine covers, not even the cover models.”
Gael nodded. “But you know how, when you create a LinkedIn profile, you’re marketing yourself, right? You need to have something that grabs their attention within five seconds, or they move on to the next applicant. Dating’s the same. Only, instead of selling yourself to potential employers, you’re targeting. . .”
“Potential johns?”
“And we’re back to prostitution,” Gael smiled. “Seriously, though. The five-second takeaway on me is not compelling. And most people aren’t gonna look any deeper than that. Which sucks, because I’m like a novel; I come with a time commitment. Besides, I’m not sure I have the skill set to be in a relationship. ”
“I disagree. Your past doesn’t count. You weren’t really you when you were closeted. You’re different now, body and soul. But I agree: online dating isn’t for you. You need to get out and meet people. You can’t spend the rest of your life making out with your cat.”
