Hey all!

Hope you had a fantastic holiday last week.  The day off from work was necessary and well-deserved, and I'm sure everyone's barbecue went swimmingly.  I'll share with you a recipe one day for a foil-packet grilled pork loin that kicks much ass.  But that's not why I'm here today.

For the last several months, I've been editing my next novel, titled 4play.  No, it's not done yet, not completely (I'm employing the wonderful and affordable talents of Robyn Brand, a Seattle-based freelance editor), but we're getting there.  As a matter of fact, I think we're close enough that I can effectively start talking about it.

4play follows Alex and Sabrina, married for seven years who, after a tragedy threatens their marriage, turn to extramarital sex and voyeurism to try and reignite the spark.  Enter Max, a student at Sabrina's dance studio, and Lucy, a waitress at Alex's favorite diner, two people at crossroads in their lives who become unwitting participants in this experiment in maintaining a marriage.  It's a dark romantic comedy about the rules of a marriage and lonely people seeking connections.

And now that I've talked about it, I can say two more things.  One, I'm putting forth the open call for secondary beta readers.  I need ten people to give me impressions on what works and what doesn't, and in exchange, I will send you a signed copy of 4play upon publication as well as a digital copy of my previous novel, The Favorite.  I will also give you a by-name mention in the acknowledgement section.  If you're interested, subscribe to my website and/or shoot me a message with your name and email address on the contact section.

The other thing I will say is... here's a taste!

Prologue.

Alex

     As I close the door to the spare room, Sabrina says, “Are you ever gonna let me see what it is you do in there?” 

I turn toward her and press my back against the door, and she’s reaching around me for the doorknob.  She’s eight and change months pregnant and all belly, not an ounce of weight gain anywhere else; she swears she’s big as a house.  She still has her dance moves, even as pregnant as she is, and almost gets to the doorknob.

     I brush her hands away and ask her if she even understands the concept of surprise.  I can barely hide my laughter.

     Her face goes red.  “You’re a jerk,” she says and sticks her tongue out at me.  “How are you gonna deny a pregnant woman?  Don’t you know that’s illegal in Washington State?”

     I tell her she can call the cops if she has to, but she’s not getting in that room.  It’s a surprise.  Plus, there are all kinds of paint fumes going on in there.  She doesn't want to go in there yet.

     Sabrina huffs.  “Two months,” she says.  “You’ve been working on that room since we bought this house.  When is it gonna be ready?”

     I laugh and ask her why she’s so impatient; it’ll be ready soon. She can see it when we bring baby home from the hospital.  I kiss her forehead and tell her she’s beautiful.

     “Stop lying to me.”

I tell her she’s glowing, more beautiful than yesterday.

     She spreads her arms.  “Then give me a hug.”

     I make a show of trying to get my arms around her waist.  I stick my butt out and squat to her height to get my arms around the baby belly and grunt as I work harder than I should to pull her close for a hug.

     She shoves me back hard and turns her back to me, making me laugh again.  “You punk,” she squeals.

     I walk up behind her and get my arms around her waist and place my hands on the belly housing our son.  I apologize and lean in to kiss her neck.

     “Whatever.”  She’s trying to sound angry, but her body relaxes into the embrace, and her head falls into my chest.  “You’re lucky I won’t have our child hear me cuss before he gets here.”

     I turn her around and drop to my knees, right at her belly level.  I tell my unborn son that we’re both lucky she can’t cuss.

Sabrina

     This pregnancy thing sucks.

     I can’t eat the stuff I want.  I can’t have wine.  I have to remind myself not to swear, even though I want to say fuck and shit every few words.  I forget things.  I fart.  I pee, like, all the time.  And I can’t go into certain rooms of my own home because of paint fumes.  (Paint fumes?  What kind of radioactive stuff is he using in there?)  I get to carry this kid while my darling husband gets to brag about being a dad with an awesome son.  What a rip-off.

     Alex says that at least the pregnancy sex is fantastic.  I didn’t realize I said all that out loud.  Another excellent side effect of carrying this kid.

     “Pregnancy brain,” I say.  “You weren’t supposed to hear that.”

     He laughs.  I love his laugh.  It lights up his whole face.  He says that it doesn’t sound like I’m denying the sex is awesome.  He bites his lower lip and humps the air in my direction.

     I can’t help but smile.  “Shh,” I say.  “The baby.”

     He kisses my belly and apologizes to our unborn child for being dirty.  He puts his ear to my stomach for a moment and looks up at me.  He asks if little Nathan is sleeping.

     I laugh.  “I don’t know who Nathan is,” I say.  “Little Marley is sleeping fine, though.”

     Alex stands up, and now he’s back to being taller than I am.  He whines that Nathan was his father’s name.

     “Cowpies,” I say instead of bullshit.  “Your father’s name was William.  And we said we weren’t using our parents’ names anyway.”

     I start toward the bathroom, and he asks if there’s any way he can at least make me reconsider the name, Nathan. 

     “Let me in that room,” I say. 

He shakes his head and says maybe he can carry the next baby for at least part of the term.

     I smirk at him.  “What ‘next baby?’”

Alex

     I can’t get my wife to take my name; I don’t get to name my kid.  What kind of nonsense is this?  This wasn’t in the marriage brochure.

     She turns and heads to our bedroom.  “You should have read the fine print.  Too late, now.”

     Sabrina’s a huge Bob Marley fan.  Can’t say I blame her.  And don’t get me wrong, I like the name Marley for my son.  I know how much she hates the name Nathan; apparently, that’s the guy she dated in high school that she let get to second base and he told everyone that she was a slut and that he banged her.  She didn’t take it well and punched him in the face during gym class.

     I just like giving her a hard time about it.  She makes this half-grimace, half-smirk that whenever I push her buttons, and it’s adorable.

     She’s going to love what I’ve done to the baby’s room.  We’d been looking for a new home since we found out we were pregnant.  It was time to expand from a one bedroom to a two, anyway.  We’re in our thirties, after all.  It was a pain in the butt to find what we needed in our price range, and we almost gave up, but then we found this lovely little two-bed, two-bath near the movie theater, and everything lined up.

     This is the place where we raise our son.

     Did something just hit the ground?  What was that?  I head out of the nursery and listen around. 

I call her name.  Nothing.  Maybe it was in my head.

     “ALEX!”

     The scream kicks my heart rate into overdrive as I dash to the bathroom.  Sabrina’s on the floor cradling her belly.  Did she go into labor early?  Oh my god, is that blood on the floor?

     She looks up at me.  Her eyes are wide, and she’s breathing heavy.  There’s a bloody handprint on her t-shirt and tears streak down her face.

     In between gasps, she says, “It hurts!”

     And I call 9-1-1.

     The next thing I know, we’re in the back of an ambulance. Sabrina squeezes the hell out of my hand.  An EMT rips a blood pressure cuff off her bicep and inserts an IV.

I ask what the hell is in it.

     “Saline,” the EMT says.  He looks like he’s barely out of school.  “Her blood pressure’s dropping”

His partner looks into Sabrina’s eyes and says, “Ms. Vasquez, I need you to breathe, okay?”  The woman puts two fingers on Sabrina’s wrist.  “Just relax and breathe; we’re getting you to the hospital.”

     Sabrina looks at me, eyes full of tears, and says, “Alex, what’s happening?”  Her voice is weak, and her face is pale.  She’s sweaty and crying and breathing too fast.  “The baby, what’s happening?” 

I have no idea. But I tell her that everything is gonna be okay.

#2018 #uthor #4play #comingsoon #TheFavorite #freesample