I was looking forward to a week of productivity, having a nice few hours to myself and all.  I had a plan (I swear, plans do NOT work in my world, lol) and intended to stick with it.  I don’t know about you, but I often find that the more time you have, the less you get done.  In a sense, it’s like money.  The more you have, the more you spend and you wonder to yourself, “Where the heck is it all going?”

Time.  My intangible dinero.

Here I was, worried my son would be horribly exhausted, moody, and intolerable after his first week back to school.  We’ve worked to get him back into a routine after a summer of slacking in all those “routine” departments:  Bed times, play times, sleep overs, and whathaveyounot’s.  Monday morning comes along and he’s waking me up, sun-shiney smiles and all.  I pick him up from school that afternoon, still all sun-shiney smiles.  Meanwhile, I’m starting to get grumpy.  Second day, I slept through my alarm and wake once more to my son telling me I need to get up or he’ll be late for school. 

That’s been the first school week in a nutshell.  Then add in the first two soccer practices of the season.  He’s still all smiles,even after he kicked a ball into his face and gave himself a bloody nose that had no shut-off valve.  He didn’t even realize he was pouring out that red stuff.  His concern was to go practice. 

Yup, he’s a boy alright. 

Me, on the other hand, will be adding one more cup of coffee to my daily regimen to keep the wheels turning and my body functioning, lol.  I will also have to do some more writing while the sun’s up, otherwise I’ll get nothing done at all, being that nights are filled with yawns and squinted eyes and mindless thoughts and dreams of supersized coffees and more hours and…

You get the idea  

In the end, I’ve come to this conclusion:  Six-year-olds don’t need to readjust their schedules.  It’s the parents who need the adjustments.  Going to sleep at 3 in the morning to wake up at 7 doesn’t quite cut the daily sleep requirements all those labs and associations keep talking about.

Sleep?  What’s that again?

I’m often told I need to “take care of myself” more.  My response?  Well, I’m not sacrificing my writing time.  I can’t cut back on my work.  I won’t take my son out of sports.  I do intend to get back into dance.  So, what’s left?  Sleep, and that’s what I’ll sacrifice, lol!

Despite all this talk about sacrificing sleep, I will try to fashion my schedule to meet the norm :) 

Maybe that’s why I love writing paranormal and fantasy romance stories.  The unnatural elements come easy when you’re running on fumes =D

Happy thoughts!

Kara

Let me explain one thing to you.  The volume of attendees was incredible.  Despite a rather calm and collect facade I might have been wearing outside, on the inside I was awe-stricken.  So many romance writers, readers, business associates, men.  No, none that I ogled over.  I’m married, remember?  Lol!  But, it was nice to see men who strove to be part of such a community, predominated by women, and I give them a boat-load of credit!  And a few martinis

Now, I’ve been to conferences before.  Mostly full-day workshops and such.  Nothing this intense.  This awesome!  I met so many aspiring authors, so many well-established authors.  I listened to Nora Roberts and Jayne Ann Krentz speak for my first time and all I have to say is wow!  What an inspiration those two are!  I sat in on a workshop being given by a publishing house I dream to be part of.  I listened to an agent I hope to, someday, be contracted with.  I mingled with friends, made new friends, and learned, learned, learned. 

I learned that even I can tire of eating chicken three days in a row.  Damn, is that a feather in my hair?

No one knows everything about the business because it is always changing, as three very successful agents stated.  And they know the business.  They’re living it every day.

Promo and publicity is more than posting excerpts to loops or handing out bookmarks.  It’s about interacting with readers and writers, and supporting others in your field of business.  And with that, I’m going to make an early NYE resolution.  I am going to post to my blog once a week, and you might find something funny, something business related, something completely out there-as my mind often is, lol!-at any given point.

Also, don’t be shy.  Friend me on Facebook and learn what’s going on with me…almost daily, lol.  Follow me on Twitter.  I’m there when I’m not on FB.

What else is there aside of workshops, inspirational speeches, bumping into one of your favorite authors and missing another at a signing?  Uh, books!  Tons and tons of books!  Yes, I have three piles of brand new books sitting in my office.  Most by authors I’m not familiar with.  This conference opened doors to people, ideas and strategies I never imagined, and I can’t wait to indulge in these books.  I can’t wait to find a new author to brag to my friends and co-workers about.

Hell, I can’t wait to implement all my new knowledge in my own work!

And who would ever give up the opportunity to chat with friends over a glass of wine, martini or other drink?  Recapping what you learned through the day with each other, sharing your exciting experiences with those who you’ve connected with?

Not I!

Lunch, dinner, drinks.  Wonderful camaraderie, wonderful stories. 

One bit of advice.  When you’re planning to be on your feet, triple think your choice of foot attire, lol!  

I love shoes, love heels.  I brought all heels and one pair of Old Navy flip flops that ended up in my conference bag as back up for the third and fourth day of conference.  Now, my feet can take a beating, but tile floors and walking up and down between three floors, down hallways and into other worlds, it’s taxing even for me.  So, those flip flops came in handy at the end of the day when I had to make my journey back to my car with a huge bag of books, tons of new information swimming in my head, and the need for food pressing on me.

But I love my heels!  And, yes, I plan on wearing heels at the next conference, with my loyal back-ups in place

To top off the weekend:  The RITA dinner.  Now this is what every writer dreams of, including myself.  I’ll admit it.  I hope, one day, to be a finalist for a RITA.  What an honor!  The awards ceremony was fabulous!  The winners of both the Golden Hearts and the RITAs, congratulations!  Well, well, well deserved!  All that hard work, dedication and perseverance paid off! 

And for dinner?  You guessed it (plucking another feather from my head).  Chicken.

So, after an incredible five days of fun and learning, I can no longer say I’m an RWA Nationals Conference virgin. 

Hugs!

Kara

Yep, he’s a mush. 

I love waking up on the weekend when my husband is still home, knowing we’ll be able to spend some time together.  I love the smell of fresh brewed coffee waiting for me to stumble out of bed, walk into a few walls, and finally reach that pot with only minor bumps and bruises.  I love anticipating a fun day.

I love opening my email and finding a great, upbeat review!

Happily Ever After Reviews made my morning today.  Swing by and check out this fabulous review from LynnMarie for my short fantasy/scifi romance story, The Gala Lover.  And don’t forget to pick up your copy of this fast read!

http://hea-reviews.blogspot.com/2010/07/review-gala-lover-by-kara-wills.html

Hugs!

Kara

Ha!

Looking back, I wonder if time is set against me this year, lol!  I swear I’ve never had more difficulty trying to achieve my goals as I have this year.  Last year, I completed four full length novels (over 100k each) and was over half way through the 5thby midnight, NYE.  It seemed I spent more time with my family, doing fun and exciting things.  Heck, we hit Disney World several times-I have a severe weakness for the Food and Wine (wine, wine, wine) Festival =D.  Although we didn’t travel, we did more things around the area.

So far this year, I’ve completed one, yes uno, story.  A short story.  I have six pieces in the mix as we speak, non of which are done.  I seem to be working far more now than I had last year, and not in regards to writing.  My son begs me to stay home and do fun, special things with him, and that seems to be increasing daily.  We have travel plans, but my first trip this year consisted of a single full day in Indianapolis with two days of traveling to and from.  I am seriously looking forward to the cruise we have planned the end of this year.

Now, looking at the jumbled mess that was supposed to be a strategic plan to attack this year, I had to ask myself one important question: What do I want to accomplish by the end of this year?

Simple, really.  I want to have a polished manuscript in to an agent and possibly accepted.  Furthermore, I want to see that manuscript in a NY editor’s hand.  I think it’s what all writers want.  Now, how do I go about doing this?

Well, after switching between a novella and a few other novels, I was smacked in the brain with an incredible idea for an entirely new book.  (I am forever grateful for an overactive muse, even if it causes some, uh, confusion )  In a matter of a month, I literally purged over fifty thousand words into this story, and I absolutely love it.  Whether or not others feel the same remains to be seen, until I submit it, lol!

I learned one important lesson in this time.  I’ve been so concerned with putting out new material that I’ve been writing to write, and not writing for the love of telling a story.  Many writers, and any hobbyist who turns what they love into a source of income or a career, can probably relate to this transition.  When what you love becomes your job, many fear they will not love it as much.  I definitely beg to differ, since I still love writing with all the passion I can muster.  There are different mind frames, though.  I learned to separate myself from tracking my sales, concerning myself about ranking, all those little branches that takes time away from writing and can really affect performance if something takes a turn for the, well, not so good.  I’m very pleased with all the wonderful reviews I’ve received for all of my work.  It reminds me daily that I can produce a story that can be enjoyed by readers world wide.  I can’t let my sales, my rank, press me to finish something for the sake of finishing it. 

I want to produce quality stories each time, and if it takes a little longer to do it, I’ll be happy knowing I didn’t settle for anything less than what I believe is enjoyable.  After all, my readers dictate my success, and for them, I am forever grateful!  I do have completely manuscripts I’ve been sitting on, two of which were completely last year.  I’m just making sure they’re what my readers would love to pick up and lose themselves in.

As far as my goals, I think I can still achieve most of them.  My family will always come first.  My writing is a very close, on-the-heels, second.  So, between soccer practices, football practices, games, meetings, work both day and night, writing, traveling and all the other goodies I pack into my days, I will get my novels and novellas done.  I will be happy with what I turn in, knowing it’s something that came from my heart, and not just from my fingers.  And, I will strive for that NY contract that I dream about nightly.

Remember, don’t be afraid to dream because they come true every day!

Hugs!

Kara

Barnes and Noble will be running a book store as well.  Stop in and check out some works by additional Romance authors!

For more information, including a list of all attending authors who’ll be signing, visit http://www.rwanational.org/cs/literacy_autographing

Kara

http://mjdaniels.blogspot.com/2010/05/terrific-tuesday-with-kara-wills.html

Be sure to leave a comment

Hugs!

Kara

Well, here it is.  The Gala Lover is a short story (just over 15,000 words), sci-fi/fantasy/futuristic romance.  It’s light erotic, so be prepared for some heat, hehe.  I thoroughly enjoyed creating this story and hope to have a second working up soon

The Gala Lover

by Kara Wills

http://pinkpetalbooks.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=26&products_id=100

Blurb:

Aisia Alistare stands as the last hope for the survival of the human race. Her duty as Nyne is to bond and mate, but the only man she can see herself with was taken from her six years earlier by the gods’ revered warriors: The Gala.

Jericho Geordineous can’t believe his luck when his latest mission, to bring an assassin to justice, lands him in the same room as Aisia. For years he believed her dead after her planet was destroyed by the Nyne assassin. Unwilling to let her slip through his fingers again, he resolves to keep her bonding ceremony from taking place.

Jericho and Aisia reignite their lost love, but someone is keeping a close watch on the two. The Nyne assassin has one more family to destroy, leaving the human race unprotected from the gods.

Can the reunion of Jericho and Aisia withstand the powerful evil determined to ruin them both?

Excerpt:

Kanya lifted her skirt and hurried from the room, carelessly bouncing off the commander as he entered.

The reptilian curl of Varek’s mouth grew, as did the inferno of hunger in his eyes. Nothing could calm the hint of menace feeding those black flames. How did anyone see him swoon-worthy?

“Well, well. I see we have a small dilemma to overcome,” Varek said, dark humor twining through his voice. Aisia took one determined step back as he reached for her hands.

“I would consider my dislike of you more than a small dilemma…sir,” Aisia corrected. In one swift motion, Varek snagged hold of her arms and yanked her to him. She struggled to free herself from his iron grip only to succeed in having him zap her with a hint of magic, leaving her skin hot where his hands touched her. She sneered, “I don’t care who you are or what power you wield over our races, I don’t like you. Nor will I grow to like you.”

Varek twisted her arms behind her back and crushed her flush against his body. “You poor, jaded creature.”

Aisia bit back the urge to scream. Fighting a man with his strength and power was foolish. He just proved he held no respect for the laws forbidding a sorcerer to use magic on any Nyne.

Bile rose in the back of her throat. Oh Gods, this could not be her destiny. It could not!

Aisia turned her face away as he leaned in. His bristled beard scratched the delicate flesh of her cheek. His hot breath drew a path to her ear, and his lips brushed over her lobe.

“Dislike me all you wish. Come morning, you will belong to me. Your father has agreed to a marriage contract and his signature is binding.” His calloused hand slid along the column of her throat, his thumb caressing her bottom lip. Aisia squeezed her eyes shut, silently begging the gods for him to retract his agreement and leave. “Have you forgotten your duty to the human race? With every other Nyne having been killed by assassins, your becoming my mate is crucial for the humans to survive. Without a child of your Nyne bloodline, war will be waged and Earth shall be destroyed.”

Aisia’s breath ceased. The chilling reality of her situation came back to light. This marriage was one of convenience, not love. She had to protect the humans from becoming extinct, which meant sacrificing her hope for true love to prevent a catastrophic, intergalactic war.

That was her duty as the last of the Nyne.

Opening her eyes, she searched for something to focus on besides Varek. Her gaze landed on her future mate’s commander, posed beside the closed doors like an elaborate leather-and-steel clad statue.

Aisia’s heart skipped. No. It couldn’t be possible.

“You wouldn’t want to watch the homeland of your ancestors blow to nothing but a mass of space rock would you?”

Varek’s question echoed in her mind, but she couldn’t tear her gaze from the man standing a dozen feet away. The golden hues of his hair glittered beneath a sliver of sunlight pouring through the windows. Time had not grayed the angelic strands. The godlike perfection of his sun-kissed complexion was marred by a single scar over his left cheek. His strong jaw twitched, the only movement the man exhibited. Even the blues of his crystalline eyes contained a cool disassociation that did little to ease the suddenly sick flutter in her stomach.

Varek tightened his grip on her wrist.

“You will submit to me Aisia. This is the only warning I’ll grant you. As my rightful mate, you will do as I say. I do not take lightly to a woman’s inconsiderate tongue,” he said.

Aisia couldn’t be bothered arguing with him. Not while his commander weakened her at the knees and cast a haze through her mind. Her gaze dropped to his folded arms. The broad width of his muscular shoulders shocked her. He had been a moderately built young man last she remembered. Now he stood a solid and powerfully built soldier, worthy of fighting for the gods.

Black ink created a magnificent design that scrawled over his arms, but her attention soon moved to his wrist.

A sigh escaped her before she could swallow it down. Every muscle in her body relaxed, if only for a moment.

Not mated. Every member of the Gala wore a golden wrist cuff as a sign of their allegiance to the gods. A second band would have been placed above the first had he been mated.

If he had not been mated off to some unworthy high priestess, why didn’t he appear happier to be here? Why did he stare at her like she was a stranger? A commoner undeserving of his attention?

Could Kanya be right and he not remember her?

“Will you comply with my demands, or should we begin with a lesson in acceptable wife behavior?” Varek growled. This time, his biting tone snapped her out of her trance. She leaned back and caught his eyes.

“Try me, you bastard. No one controls me. Not even you,” she said. Poison coated her words, pouring from the confusion and anger welling in her soul. “I am not your wife yet. You will not dare lay a finger on me. I’m sure your commander wouldn’t allow it.”

“That Gala will do nothing unless I command it of him.”

“Since when do the gods assign anyone of human or Merodian blood their own personal Gala escort? They are soldiers to the gods, not to us.”

Varek’s smile melted into a scowl. Aisia cocked her head in a show of defiance. She dared not look over his shoulder. No. Varek couldn’t suspect his assigned Gala was her long lost Jericho. If he ever discovered their past, he would surely condemn his commander to death.

“Release me before I call my guards and have you escorted from my sight,” Aisia warned. She tugged her arms. “Now.”

“You’d be wise not to forget what I said.” The glowing black flames in his eyes smoldered. “Ia.”

“It’s Aisia to you.”

“For another twenty-four hours.” Varek released her wrists and stepped back with his arms extended to either side of him. He bowed, the glowering malice in his eyes searing her with Hade’s promise of what would come. “I expect to see you for midday meal. Do not disappoint me.”

Varek straightened and spun on his heels. The Gala opened a door for him as he stormed from the room. Aisia’s strength failed, and her façade shattered. She began to approach the Gala. Nothing, not even a spark of recognition, reflected in his eyes as they lingered on her.

“Jericho? Is that really you?” she whispered. Her fingers knotted under her chin. Tears flooded her eyes. Pain bolted through her heart, ripping open weak scars. The Gala blinked, then turned and left the room in Varek’s wake.

Aisia’s knees buckled and failed. She sunk to the cold marble floor, tears flowing freely down her cheeks. He may not have answered her, but she saw it a split second before he left. A flash of recognition.

She had a reason to fight for her freedom and cling to her fast-fading hope.

Jericho lived.

Well, the Romantic Times Booklovers Convention in Columbus, Ohio, is coming up fast. A number of Siren-Bookstrand authors will be there, taking in the scene, meeting people and just having fun in general.

If you’re going to RT, here’s an added perk: You have a chance to win a fabulous basket of goodies! Entering to win is easy. All you have to do is find the gift basket from the Siren-Bookstrand Authors in Club RT and fill out the small tickie with your name and contact vitals. The winner’s name will be drawn Saturday. So just what will you win? How about this:

• A $50 gift certificate from Siren-Bookstrand Inc.
• A bag of Ghirardelli chocolates from Emma Wildes
• A funky necklace, from Raina James
• A hand-crafted scarf created by author Mary Lou George
• Angel and the Lawman, by Barbara W. Starmer
• Believing is Seeing, by Corinne Davies
• Blind Date After Dark Series (Mr. Right, The Perfect Tool and The Mistletoe Mistake), by Lara Santiago
• Captured, by Julia Rachel Barrett *
• Cowboy Love, by Sandy Sullivan
• Badlands (collection of Mail Order Bride for Two, Two Wanted Men and Double Chance Claim), by Elle Saint James
• Drawing Blood, by Mary Lou George
• Forbidden Heart, by Kara Wills
• The Jewel Box, Three Tales of Erotic Romance, by Raina James
• The Lady Makes Three, by Morgan Ashbury
• Magic & Love, by Morgan Ashbury
• Pale Stars in Her Eyes, The Starlight Chronicles 1, by Annabel Wolfe
• Rogue’s Run, Galactic Gunslingers 1, by Lara Santiago
• Shadow Hunter, by Kara Wills
• Undercover Lover, by Jane Leopold Quinn
• Watcher, Sexual Studies 1, by Kate Watterson

* denotes ebook download; all others are trade paperback editions
The books in the basket cover the gamut of genres, from thrillers, westerns and contemporaries to scifi, paranormals and fantasies. There’s sure to be something in there to please everyone. So don’t be shy — fill out the ticket in Club RT to enter the draw for our basket, and come meet us at the book fairs, both Wednesday and Saturday, and at our table in Club RT. See you in Columbus!

KARA WILLS

Copyright © 2009

Chapter 1

The nightmare began when he woke. The dream lay in a nightmare he never wanted to leave.

It tugged and pulled and played constantly in his mind.

Bryce Hampton sat up in bed and stared blankly at the stark red numbers mocking him as his alarm sounded with the voices of an early morning talk show. His hand throbbed. His hand always throbbed when he rose from one of his tragic dreams. The only reason he wished never to wake was because of her, the woman he loved in those secret moments of his subconscious life. A woman he believed, from as early as he could remember, to be nothing more than an angel of his imagination.

The dreams never changed.  They brimmed with joy, love, torment and terror. He woke with cold sweat beading along his forehead. Fear racked through him. Fear of leaving her and never feeling the gentle touch of her fingers against his lips. Fear of never hearing her soft, musical voice whisper her love for him.

The shrill ring of his cell phone jolted him worse than a bat smacking the back of his head. He shot to his feet, fingers grappling in the electronic mess on his nightstand. He cussed when his toe cracked against the leg of the damned piece of furniture, his fingers wrapping around the cell. Sucking in a deep breath, forcing the pain to ebb and the stars to dim from his vision, he connected the call. A fogged glance at the taunting clock made his brow furrow.

“’Ullo?” He cleared the sleep from his throat when he heard how crummy he sounded and tried again. “Hello?”

“Hey babe. You’re running late for work. Thought I’d call to see if you’re out the door. I wanted to stop by the store and have some coffee with you. Oh, and I’ll swing by during your lunch. I want to show you the colors I’ve decided on for the wedding.”

Kate.

Christ.

Bryce pinched his forehead between his thumb and pointer finger. He squeezed his eyes shut.

“You’re calling me at seven to tell me you figured out the colors for our wedding. Are you nuts?” he grumbled.

“Hey, grouch,” Kate snapped. “It’s not my fault you decided to stay out until three with the boys over cocktails and football yap. By the sound of it, you should be thanking me for waking you up.”

Bryce growled, tempted to toss his phone out the window, crawl back into bed, and conjure up a pleasant scene from his dream.

“Anyhow, I’ll be stopping by with Michelle. I need a third-party opinion about some things we need to discuss—”

“Kate, why are we talking about a wedding we have no date for? What’s the rush? I certainly don’t care to hear it when I need to be jumping in the shower. ’Kay?” The silence that met Bryce’s ear resounded with Kate’s displeasure. Oh, hell. This was going to be a wonderful day. Just fucking peachy. “I gotta go. And don’t storm into my store if I’m busy. I don’t need another talkin’ to from Mae.”

“That old hag can deal if I need to speak with you. Everyone knows who my father is. She won’t yell at you over me.”

“Don’t hide behind your father’s position as judge. I don’t hide behind my father’s position as mayor,” Bryce groaned. He brushed a lock of hair from his cheek and began to pull a pair of pants and a collared Polo shirt from his closet.

“What the hell is your problem today?”

“If I called you at three in the morning, when I got home, to talk football and party plans for the next big game, would you be thrilled to discuss it with me? No. Didn’t think so.” He draped his clothes over a plush chair and stepped into the bathroom. So much for dreaming. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bryce, don’t hang up. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“Didn’t mean to call and wake me up with wedding plans. Yeah, it’s becoming a regular routine. Listen, Kate. Take a step back from it, okay? You’re stressing out about a wedding with an indefinite date, indefinite guest list, and indefinite details. I’ll talk to you later.”

He hung up without waiting for Kate to respond. He dropped the cell on the sink counter and leaned on the dark-veined marble top. He shut his eyes, his head lowered, hair tumbling over his forehead and cheeks. He thought. He imagined. He wondered. What would it have been like? If his dream spoke more than what he believed, what would she have been like?

Rihanna.

The same name as the woman he spoke to at a club more than five months ago who became a fleeting promise. Nevertheless, her face burned into his memory. He couldn’t overlook the similarities between the real angel and his dream angel. They both had the same thick mane of midnight hair and unusual rainbow eyes. The same—yes—ears. Even the voice of the real Rihanna had sounded like the music in his dreams. She remained the reason for his late night excursions with his buddies, haunting all the local clubs and bars and pubs. Ever searching.

Never finding.

Bryce turned his face to the mirror. The breath of morning filtering through his windows provided the only light. The fiery glow highlighted the evidence of his pain etched in the creases of his forehead and the pull of his frown. A pain based solely in the hopes of a dream.

His hand continued to throb against the cold marble. He turned his palm skyward. A blind sweep of his gaze over his hand showed nothing but the thoughts of his dream and the memories of the night at the club. Upon more focused inspection, he saw the mark, red and swollen. His mother said he was born with the mark, which resembled a healed gash from pointer finger to heel. An unusual skin defect or a scar with no nerve damage or health risks, surgery was never an option. Just a simple mark that throbbed every morning he woke from a dream of the woman.

“Maybe, someday, this will all make sense,” he murmured to the mark on his hand. “Maybe, someday, I’ll know why.”

* * * *

“You’re late,” Mae pointed out, her magnified brown eyes turning toward the clock behind her. She scrunched her face, pushing the glasses higher on the bridge of her hooked nose. “Again, might I add.”

Bryce watched the elderly woman walk away from the pharmacy counter, a scowl pressing to show on his mouth. His first customer of the day exchanged a glance between him and the store manager. Her brows lifted in a short gesture of exasperation before pulling a credit card from her wallet. Bryce took a calming breath before shedding his most appeasing smile on his customer.

“She forgot her cup of joe this morning, huh?” the woman commented softly. As deep as the desire burned to agree with her, he simply chuckled in response. “I’m picking up a prescription for Duboski.”

Bryce retrieved the woman’s bag, rang her up, and turned his attention to filling the prescriptions already called in by local physicians. Into his third order, his morning hit the top of the Officially Ruined list when Kate interrupted him, bearing a cup of coffee from Starbucks and a spring-sweet smile. Bryce forced a counter smile, despite his lack of any remote happiness in seeing his fiancée. In the brief moments he took to compose himself and finish his order, he thought back to a time when he would have given anything to see Kate all hours of the day.

Then he bumped into Rihanna at a club the night after he proposed to Kate, and everything changed. He felt like a shell of a man. No joy. No pride. He was just another human being, moving through the motions on a daily basis. Kate’s professional attire did little to draw his attention. The brilliant flash of her engagement ring against the fluorescent lamps overhead made his stomach flop, a ten-thousand dollar ring with a carat and a half stone as the centerpiece. Picking it out was easy. Giving it to her was easy.

Now, it just didn’t feel right.

Bryce laid aside the finished order and met Kate on the opposite side of the counter. She handed him the coffee with a chaste kiss against his mouth. She had styled her asymmetrically-cut brown hair the way he used to like it, with the addition of two diamond hair clips holding back her chin-length layers from the right side of her face. She wore a pair of pearl earring he had given her as a Christmas present two years earlier, along with a matching necklace around her slender throat. She stood a whole foot shorter than him, even with her three-inch pumps on. Then again, he stood at six-three, a little taller than average.

“Thanks for the coffee. I have a feeling I’ll be needing it today,” Bryce finally said. Kate shrugged, her rouge lips pursed.

“Daddy would like your parents to come by for dinner tonight. What time do you get off work, sweetie?” Kate asked. She put on her most innocent face, one that caused most men to drop to the floor and do anything she asked. Fortunately, Bryce had built up immunity to her antics.

“I’m here all day until my work is done.”

“Honey, you can’t possibly be here later than six. Daddy would be so disappointed.”

“I’m sure Daddy would understand his future son-in-law working to support his daughter. Wouldn’t you?” Bryce asked, lifting the coffee to his mouth. As he let the shock of the strong liquid burn down his throat, he glanced Kate over once.  She seldom wore skirt suits like the one she had on now, taking preference to pantsuits. She flushed despite the lack of emotion behind his casual trek. “Meeting?”

“I’ll be helping our mothers with this latest case. The D.A. is stopping in with the evidence requested by your mother. So here I am, all dressed up to sit in the office. What time is your lunch?”

“It depends.”

“We can go over to Nikki’s and pick up a sandwich. Is that okay?”

“Sure. Let me get back to work. Mae had a meeting with the Punisher today. I have a feeling I’ll be under the hawk’s eyes until she retires,” Bryce said, lowering his voice. Kate snorted, an unflattering sound for a law student to make. Bryce shrugged. “Thanks again for the jolt. I’ll call you later.”

Kate shared one more kiss with him before adjusting her suit jacket and hurrying out of the store, nearly barreling down Bryce’s assistant. Mindy reeled around toward Kate and sneered, shaking her head as his fiancée went on her way as if she did nothing wrong.

“Your woman there needs to watch where she’s going. No offense,” Mindy said as she walked past him and tucked her purse in a small cubby under the counter. “One day, she’s gonna slam into her worst enemy.”

Without a word, Bryce agreed. That’s Kate. Nose-turned-up-to-the-world Kate.

“You know Bryce. You’re such a nice guy. Why do you put up with it?” Mindy asked, signing in and straightening the small mess around the register from the closing shift the night prior. The young woman was in her early twenties, spunky and true to herself. She didn’t dye her mousy hair or apply tons of makeup. She had a rounder figure, and didn’t care. She was genuinely happy and confident. Something, Bryce realized, he lost shortly after Kate took over his life.

“She’s not that bad,” Bryce covered lamely. He rounded the counter and joined Mindy at the register. “She has her days.”

“Keep telling yourself that and you’ll end up on the statistics chart for the greater divorced America.” Mindy shrugged. “But, it’s none of my business.”

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