Returning to her flooded New Orleans home to face Henry Boudreaux, the man she jilted at the altar, is the hardest thing attorney Sonja Bosco has ever doneâeven before she discovers sheâs pregnant. Sonja backed out of the marriage for Henryâs sake. He wants to be part of his fatherâs law firm, and his parents will never approve of an interracial marriage. Better to bruise his heart than ruin his life.
Henry canât forgive Sonja, and doubts that he can trust her again. But learning that theyâre going to be parents means thereâs no avoiding each other. Springtime on the bayou is already steamy enoughâŠnow theyâre living in the same small space while their damaged house is repaired. And with each passing day theyâre getting a little more honest. A lot more real. And realizing that nothingânot even New Orleans at Mardi Grasâglows brighter than the desire theyâre trying to denyâŠ
Do you have special writing rituals to avoid writerâs block?
First, I donât believe in writerâs block as an existential crisis. Sometimes writers need a breakâafter a serious illness, the death of a loved one, a protracted series of deadlines that have led to burnout. As a general rule of thumb, I try to take good care of myself to avoid the worst pitfalls of writing. This means a good nightâs sleep, regular refilling of my creative well ala Julia Cameron, and the basics of good fitness and nutrition. If the words arenât flowing then Iâm procrastinating for a reasonâmaybe I donât have the characters as fleshed out in my mind as I need them to be, or perhaps I havenât figured out why these two people should be together, in love, in their own happily-ever-after or happily-ever-after-for-now. Sometimes I need to take out a pencil (and sharpener!) and brainstorm on a legal pad, or go for a long walk. When Iâm putting the words down, however, I can do that anywhereâI take my iPad Pro everywhere and write in all kinds of fancy and not-so-nice coffee shops. Iâve been known to get words in while sitting in my car, waiting on a child at drama or sports practice. Now that Iâm an official empty nester, Iâm able to write for longer stretches at home or out and about. But it always comes back to knowing my hero and heroine (and villain if applicable) and forging ahead with the next scene.
You say it took six years of submissions (and rejections!) to sell your first novel. Why did you keep going?
Why not? I wish I had the âmagicâ formula for how long it takes to sell, to make a bestseller list, to write the best story ever. The answer is that itâs different for each and every writer. The venue, be it indie-pubbed, digital-first, paperback, etcâdoesnât matter. What matters is STORY. It will take the rest of my life to be able to make the words on the page accurately reflect the vision in my mind. That said, even if I decided to âleaveâ writing and enter corporate life, nothing would changeâIâd still be a writer. Writers write.â
Today I keep going because itâs clear from the readers I meet and my reader mail that these stories about military characters and families are important and worth the extra effort to get them to the page. My gratitude to our vets will never be deep enough.
Where do your ideas come from?
Iâve asked my writer pals about this, and the answer is different for each of us. I have a friend who outlines her entire story before she even gets to know her hero or heroine. Another friend uses a cork board, and many make collages of their story before writing. My characters usually come to me first. They show up like snippets of films in different settings, and from there I start the hard work. Some stories find me writing like a mad woman, hour after hour, straight through the first draft. Others require months of research. My stories seem to be as varied as my friends!
Whatâs your favorite way to have fun?
Anything with my familyâright now we enjoy watching âModern Familyâ together, and sitting down at the same table for a meal. A family vacation is always great but with two adult children we have to get creative with all of our schedules. Did I mention knitting? I knit during television programs/movies, and through all vacations, and I even go on knitting retreats/workshop weekends. Our dog and parrot bring a lot of fun to the mix, too. I often post about them via social media. Not the exciting, glamorous life of an author that you expected? Me either, but Iâm so grateful to be able to have a more quiet life in order to make space for the stories and characters to come down and fill up those pages!
To what do you credit your success?
Perseverance. Great mentors. Networking. Bottom line: having a saleable product. Iâve watched so many writers quit after receiving yet another rejection. This isnât a business for anyone who needs instant gratification. My satisfaction has to come from the process of putting the story down on paper, or Iâd never make it. That said, itâs sooo easy to get side-tracked by market trends, the latest way to get my story âout there,â and of course, the Goo Goo Dolls. Is that âIrisâ I hear?
First, I donât believe in writerâs block as an existential crisis. Sometimes writers need a breakâafter a serious illness, the death of a loved one, a protracted series of deadlines that have led to burnout. As a general rule of thumb, I try to take good care of myself to avoid the worst pitfalls of writing. This means a good nightâs sleep, regular refilling of my creative well ala Julia Cameron, and the basics of good fitness and nutrition. If the words arenât flowing then Iâm procrastinating for a reasonâmaybe I donât have the characters as fleshed out in my mind as I need them to be, or perhaps I havenât figured out why these two people should be together, in love, in their own happily-ever-after or happily-ever-after-for-now. Sometimes I need to take out a pencil (and sharpener!) and brainstorm on a legal pad, or go for a long walk. When Iâm putting the words down, however, I can do that anywhereâI take my iPad Pro everywhere and write in all kinds of fancy and not-so-nice coffee shops. Iâve been known to get words in while sitting in my car, waiting on a child at drama or sports practice. Now that Iâm an official empty nester, Iâm able to write for longer stretches at home or out and about. But it always comes back to knowing my hero and heroine (and villain if applicable) and forging ahead with the next scene.
You say it took six years of submissions (and rejections!) to sell your first novel. Why did you keep going?
Why not? I wish I had the âmagicâ formula for how long it takes to sell, to make a bestseller list, to write the best story ever. The answer is that itâs different for each and every writer. The venue, be it indie-pubbed, digital-first, paperback, etcâdoesnât matter. What matters is STORY. It will take the rest of my life to be able to make the words on the page accurately reflect the vision in my mind. That said, even if I decided to âleaveâ writing and enter corporate life, nothing would changeâIâd still be a writer. Writers write.â
Today I keep going because itâs clear from the readers I meet and my reader mail that these stories about military characters and families are important and worth the extra effort to get them to the page. My gratitude to our vets will never be deep enough.
Where do your ideas come from?
Iâve asked my writer pals about this, and the answer is different for each of us. I have a friend who outlines her entire story before she even gets to know her hero or heroine. Another friend uses a cork board, and many make collages of their story before writing. My characters usually come to me first. They show up like snippets of films in different settings, and from there I start the hard work. Some stories find me writing like a mad woman, hour after hour, straight through the first draft. Others require months of research. My stories seem to be as varied as my friends!
Whatâs your favorite way to have fun?
Anything with my familyâright now we enjoy watching âModern Familyâ together, and sitting down at the same table for a meal. A family vacation is always great but with two adult children we have to get creative with all of our schedules. Did I mention knitting? I knit during television programs/movies, and through all vacations, and I even go on knitting retreats/workshop weekends. Our dog and parrot bring a lot of fun to the mix, too. I often post about them via social media. Not the exciting, glamorous life of an author that you expected? Me either, but Iâm so grateful to be able to have a more quiet life in order to make space for the stories and characters to come down and fill up those pages!
To what do you credit your success?
Perseverance. Great mentors. Networking. Bottom line: having a saleable product. Iâve watched so many writers quit after receiving yet another rejection. This isnât a business for anyone who needs instant gratification. My satisfaction has to come from the process of putting the story down on paper, or Iâd never make it. That said, itâs sooo easy to get side-tracked by market trends, the latest way to get my story âout there,â and of course, the Goo Goo Dolls. Is that âIrisâ I hear?
Sonja bit into the almond croissant with the hunger that had plagued her everyday of the past few weeks. Like clockwork, her appetite returned late morning after the morning nausea passed.
She knew the exact night sheâd conceived the baby. Her body had felt âdifferentâ after the lovemaking session with Henry that had lasted the better part of a late winter night after theyâd won a particularly challenging case. At first she hadnât been able to pinpoint it and blamed her exhaustion on prenuptial jitters. The week before the wedding her breasts swelled, her nipples became sensitive to the shower spray, and sheâd felt as though her period was about to start at any moment. But of course it hadnât. Sheâd known two days before the wedding for sure. Thank God sheâd only shared it with Poppy. If Henry had known she didnât think sheâd have been able to walk away from marrying him as she had.
The memory of leaving her soulmate at the altar made the pastry feel heavy in her stomach and she paused, closing her eyes and breathing in and out slowly to ward off a wave of nausea. Anytime she remembered their wedding day she felt sick all over again.
âIs it that good?â Her eyes flew open at the sexy baritone that only a few weeks ago had coaxed an orgasm out of her as he spoke dirty words into her ear while he moved over her, inside her, again and again.
âItâs delicious.â She put the croissant down on a napkin, next to her stack of files. Henryâs gaze dared her to look away and she never backed down from anyone, so she stared back. A quick flash of disgust shadowed his face before Henry looked away and sat in the seat opposite her, reaching over for his files. Usually they sat together, ready to work until whenever it took to get the dayâs items checked off. It wasnât going to get easy, ever, to know he thought so little of her. Knowing she deserved it for something he didnât even know about yetâthe babyâmade it worse.
âI imagine you need time to go over these.â A deft verbal pitch to see how sheâd react. Would she go high, admit she should have been back in the office last week, or go low and blame him for her staying away, or ignore it? âAlesia sent me the files last week. Iâve read through them all.â
He had to be playing herâAlesia told Henry everything. Heâd know sheâd had copies to analyze. Their roundtrip tickets to Bali had gone unused, so it wasnât as if sheâd been out of the country and unable to do any work.
âAny concerns?â He kept his face low, focused on the paperwork, but she saw the blood vessel just above his collar, pulsing in rhythm to his heartbeat. Whenever Henry was agitated that was his tell. She used to like to lick it right before he came. Heat erupted between her legs and made her squirm. Apparently her guilt over not telling him about the baby wasnât the only reaction she couldnât shake. She clasped her legs together under the heavy mahogany table, grateful Henry didnât have x-ray vision.
âNo, nothing to speak of.â Her voice was low and throaty and she wished sheâd tendered her resignation. It would be so much easier, especially now when every damned hormone in her body was setting off emotions she didnât even know she was capable of. But a deft noncompete clause sheâd signed when his father had hired her prevented her from going out on her own just yet.
Brilliant blue eyes watched her with usual alertness. âYou sure about that, Sonja? Youâre acting like somethingâs not sitting right with you.â
âItâs just this.â She motioned very slighting between them, using her finger. âAwkward with a capital âA,â am I right? We didnât talk about it as much as we probably should have this morning.â
Of course dearest Deidreâs appearance had shut down any chance of the conversation they needed to have in private. The curiosity in his eyes turned to frosted crystal.
âLetâs get it out on the table, then.â He splayed both hands on the dark polished surface, and she wondered if heâd forgotten about the time theyâd both arrived to work early, too early. Theyâd ended up here, naked, in under five minutes. Did he see her naked body as sheâd knelt on all fours, waiting for him to take her?
âThere is nothing here. Whatever we shared was wiped out when you decided to ignore my attempt to explain my actions to you.â
âWait a minââ
âNo, hold up.â He shot down her attempt to interrupt him with a flick of his hand. âYou made your choice. And youâve decided to continue on at this firm. We both need to raise the funds to get the house rehabbed well enough to sell. Fine, I get it. But donât think for one minute that there is anything other than our working relationship at stake. Weâve always enjoyed that, correct? And Iâm willing to work with you, until the day you decide to leave the firm. Because, letâs face it, Iâm not going anywhere. This is my family firm. You, youâll go out on your own or take a better offer elsewhere. Thatâs okay. Until then I expect the best you have to offer, and for you to kindly refrain from referring to what we shared. Itâs over.â
Sonja stared at the man whoâd hung the moon for her and only saw the stamp of Boudreaux on his expression. The same look his father had when sheâd told him to take the money and referral heâd offered her to quit when she and Henry announced their engagement and shove them up his tight white racist ass. Heâd never fire her, not as a black woman in his otherwise very white, very male firm. And regardless of his racist views, Sonja brought in a lot of business for their firm that theyâd otherwise never catch. Sheâd expected Henryâs father to give her a hard time, but not so much Henry. Sheâd been a fool.
âOur professional relationship never had anything to do with our personal life. Why should it now?â
Henry didnât respond but instead glared at her. He may as well have thrown a machete at her for how his silent gesture pained her.
The door clicked open and Alesia entered with trays of lunch food, followed by two clients and Rick, the firmâs other NOLA attorney. As she and Henry stood to greet them she eyed her almost-husband. Her ex-fiancĂ©. The man whoâd broken her heart.
Henry was tall and professional looking, whether dressed in a classic suit as he was now or in cargo shorts and a t-shirt like yesterday. Heâd been born to inherit his fatherâs firm, a lawyerâs mind part of his gene pool. And until their wedding weekend, she hadnât seen that heâd also inherited the insatiable need to make everything appear perfect. Hence the pristine wedding theyâd almost gone through with.
Henry wasnât a people pleaser though, especially not to his parents. Heâd bucked their sensibilities and desires by choosing to marry her, a black woman from a bayou family. Henry had never seen her as anything other than the woman heâd decided to marry. She believed that. What Henry had refused to see, however, was that his father was never going to leave the firm to Henry as long as Sonja was his wife. The firm was going to be dissolved and all of his fatherâs money given to charity, eschewing being generous to either of his sons. Henryâs younger sister, a social worker, was in the naval reserves and somewhere overseas, so she wasnât even on the family radar. She hadnât gone to law school; neither had Henryâs younger brother Brandon. It wasnât about the money, which was significant, but about family legacy. Henry was the man to change it, to turn the law firm into a contemporary, relevant part of the community, serving diverse clients and causes. He saw that corporate law didnât have to mean serving the same good olâ boys his father had.
But Henry would never have the chance to improve upon his family legacy if she were around. The younger siblings had gotten the hell away from the family dynasty. But not Henry. Henry needed to be part of his fatherâs legacy in a way the other two didnât. Because Sonja saw this, saw the need in the man she loved so desperately, sheâd had no choice but to back out of their marriage. Sheâd do anything for Henryâs happiness, and Henry would never be happy without knowing heâd made a difference in what his father had began. Heâd never forgive her for leaving him the way she did and that was all right. Sonja didnât want Henryâs forgiveness. Sheâd wanted his love, understanding and trust, but her expectations had been too much.
Henry didnât have it to give.
And as she watched him, the one man sheâd ever pinned all her hopes on, she had to face the cold hard truth. She was as unworthy of trust as Henry.
She knew the exact night sheâd conceived the baby. Her body had felt âdifferentâ after the lovemaking session with Henry that had lasted the better part of a late winter night after theyâd won a particularly challenging case. At first she hadnât been able to pinpoint it and blamed her exhaustion on prenuptial jitters. The week before the wedding her breasts swelled, her nipples became sensitive to the shower spray, and sheâd felt as though her period was about to start at any moment. But of course it hadnât. Sheâd known two days before the wedding for sure. Thank God sheâd only shared it with Poppy. If Henry had known she didnât think sheâd have been able to walk away from marrying him as she had.
The memory of leaving her soulmate at the altar made the pastry feel heavy in her stomach and she paused, closing her eyes and breathing in and out slowly to ward off a wave of nausea. Anytime she remembered their wedding day she felt sick all over again.
âIs it that good?â Her eyes flew open at the sexy baritone that only a few weeks ago had coaxed an orgasm out of her as he spoke dirty words into her ear while he moved over her, inside her, again and again.
âItâs delicious.â She put the croissant down on a napkin, next to her stack of files. Henryâs gaze dared her to look away and she never backed down from anyone, so she stared back. A quick flash of disgust shadowed his face before Henry looked away and sat in the seat opposite her, reaching over for his files. Usually they sat together, ready to work until whenever it took to get the dayâs items checked off. It wasnât going to get easy, ever, to know he thought so little of her. Knowing she deserved it for something he didnât even know about yetâthe babyâmade it worse.
âI imagine you need time to go over these.â A deft verbal pitch to see how sheâd react. Would she go high, admit she should have been back in the office last week, or go low and blame him for her staying away, or ignore it? âAlesia sent me the files last week. Iâve read through them all.â
He had to be playing herâAlesia told Henry everything. Heâd know sheâd had copies to analyze. Their roundtrip tickets to Bali had gone unused, so it wasnât as if sheâd been out of the country and unable to do any work.
âAny concerns?â He kept his face low, focused on the paperwork, but she saw the blood vessel just above his collar, pulsing in rhythm to his heartbeat. Whenever Henry was agitated that was his tell. She used to like to lick it right before he came. Heat erupted between her legs and made her squirm. Apparently her guilt over not telling him about the baby wasnât the only reaction she couldnât shake. She clasped her legs together under the heavy mahogany table, grateful Henry didnât have x-ray vision.
âNo, nothing to speak of.â Her voice was low and throaty and she wished sheâd tendered her resignation. It would be so much easier, especially now when every damned hormone in her body was setting off emotions she didnât even know she was capable of. But a deft noncompete clause sheâd signed when his father had hired her prevented her from going out on her own just yet.
Brilliant blue eyes watched her with usual alertness. âYou sure about that, Sonja? Youâre acting like somethingâs not sitting right with you.â
âItâs just this.â She motioned very slighting between them, using her finger. âAwkward with a capital âA,â am I right? We didnât talk about it as much as we probably should have this morning.â
Of course dearest Deidreâs appearance had shut down any chance of the conversation they needed to have in private. The curiosity in his eyes turned to frosted crystal.
âLetâs get it out on the table, then.â He splayed both hands on the dark polished surface, and she wondered if heâd forgotten about the time theyâd both arrived to work early, too early. Theyâd ended up here, naked, in under five minutes. Did he see her naked body as sheâd knelt on all fours, waiting for him to take her?
âThere is nothing here. Whatever we shared was wiped out when you decided to ignore my attempt to explain my actions to you.â
âWait a minââ
âNo, hold up.â He shot down her attempt to interrupt him with a flick of his hand. âYou made your choice. And youâve decided to continue on at this firm. We both need to raise the funds to get the house rehabbed well enough to sell. Fine, I get it. But donât think for one minute that there is anything other than our working relationship at stake. Weâve always enjoyed that, correct? And Iâm willing to work with you, until the day you decide to leave the firm. Because, letâs face it, Iâm not going anywhere. This is my family firm. You, youâll go out on your own or take a better offer elsewhere. Thatâs okay. Until then I expect the best you have to offer, and for you to kindly refrain from referring to what we shared. Itâs over.â
Sonja stared at the man whoâd hung the moon for her and only saw the stamp of Boudreaux on his expression. The same look his father had when sheâd told him to take the money and referral heâd offered her to quit when she and Henry announced their engagement and shove them up his tight white racist ass. Heâd never fire her, not as a black woman in his otherwise very white, very male firm. And regardless of his racist views, Sonja brought in a lot of business for their firm that theyâd otherwise never catch. Sheâd expected Henryâs father to give her a hard time, but not so much Henry. Sheâd been a fool.
âOur professional relationship never had anything to do with our personal life. Why should it now?â
Henry didnât respond but instead glared at her. He may as well have thrown a machete at her for how his silent gesture pained her.
The door clicked open and Alesia entered with trays of lunch food, followed by two clients and Rick, the firmâs other NOLA attorney. As she and Henry stood to greet them she eyed her almost-husband. Her ex-fiancĂ©. The man whoâd broken her heart.
Henry was tall and professional looking, whether dressed in a classic suit as he was now or in cargo shorts and a t-shirt like yesterday. Heâd been born to inherit his fatherâs firm, a lawyerâs mind part of his gene pool. And until their wedding weekend, she hadnât seen that heâd also inherited the insatiable need to make everything appear perfect. Hence the pristine wedding theyâd almost gone through with.
Henry wasnât a people pleaser though, especially not to his parents. Heâd bucked their sensibilities and desires by choosing to marry her, a black woman from a bayou family. Henry had never seen her as anything other than the woman heâd decided to marry. She believed that. What Henry had refused to see, however, was that his father was never going to leave the firm to Henry as long as Sonja was his wife. The firm was going to be dissolved and all of his fatherâs money given to charity, eschewing being generous to either of his sons. Henryâs younger sister, a social worker, was in the naval reserves and somewhere overseas, so she wasnât even on the family radar. She hadnât gone to law school; neither had Henryâs younger brother Brandon. It wasnât about the money, which was significant, but about family legacy. Henry was the man to change it, to turn the law firm into a contemporary, relevant part of the community, serving diverse clients and causes. He saw that corporate law didnât have to mean serving the same good olâ boys his father had.
But Henry would never have the chance to improve upon his family legacy if she were around. The younger siblings had gotten the hell away from the family dynasty. But not Henry. Henry needed to be part of his fatherâs legacy in a way the other two didnât. Because Sonja saw this, saw the need in the man she loved so desperately, sheâd had no choice but to back out of their marriage. Sheâd do anything for Henryâs happiness, and Henry would never be happy without knowing heâd made a difference in what his father had began. Heâd never forgive her for leaving him the way she did and that was all right. Sonja didnât want Henryâs forgiveness. Sheâd wanted his love, understanding and trust, but her expectations had been too much.
Henry didnât have it to give.
And as she watched him, the one man sheâd ever pinned all her hopes on, she had to face the cold hard truth. She was as unworthy of trust as Henry.
Prior to writing, Geri served for nine years as a Naval Intelligence Officer. Geri served as the Aviation/Anti-Submarine Warfare Intelligence officer for a P-3C squadron during which time she deployed to South America, Europe, and Greenland. She was the first female Intel officer on the East Coast to earn Naval Aviation Observer Wings. Geri also did a tour in the war on drugs, working with several different government and law enforcement agencies. Geri is grateful to be settled in south central Pennsylvania with her husband.
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Sounds like a good read.
ReplyDeletei really like the book cover
ReplyDeleteIt sounds like an interesting book.
ReplyDeleteThis sounds like a great book!
ReplyDeleteI like the sound of Bare Devotion. Louisiana is NOT the place to live if you are in an interracial relationship. I sure hope Sonja and Henry can work things out.
ReplyDeleteI like the cover thanks for the giveaway
ReplyDeletetiramisu392 (at) yahoo.com
Nice book cover and couple depicted in it. Thanks for the chance!
ReplyDeleteLove the book cover. Also like the excerpt. Looking forward to reading it. Thanks for the giveaway.
ReplyDeleteBest wishes on your tour.
ReplyDeleteSounds interesting
ReplyDeleteI like the covers. They are quite nice.
ReplyDeleteDo you have any questions for the author?
ReplyDeletehello
so,who do you think could play the main characters in a movie???