For those of you who read Susceptible to Him - heck, even if you haven't - here is my inspiration for Lia Risso...
And, here are the very first lines from my very first publication...
“I got you a date for tonight.”
My roommate’s words whipped my head around, and my tossed keys landed on the floor inside our apartment door rather than on top of the bookshelf where they belonged. I glared at the spiked red hair, gelled-to-hell atop her head, while kicking the door shut behind me. “You did what?”
Slumped in her usual spot on our tattered couch, Gwen clicked away on her laptop. “You are going out tonight with a royal hottie.”
“A date. With a hottie.”
“That’s what I said.”
Scowling, I flung my purse on the kitchen table and pulled open the fridge door. A quick peek at the meager contents, and my frown deepened. “Did you eat my leftover lo mein?”
“I had a shitty day, Gwen. I’m not in the mood.”
She snapped her laptop closed, placed it on the coffee table, and stood. “It’s been two years.”
My throat tightened, fading my annoyance. The love of my life since thirteen, my high school sweetheart. The one who, our sophomore year in college, promised me forever with a 2-carat stone set in platinum. The one I had expected to spend every Valentine’s Day with until I lay in a cold grave.
“You know what day it is.” The words tore from my lips. “Why are you doing this?”
“Time to move on, Lia.”
I closed my eyes and tilted my head back. My neck ached. My eyes burned. As with every evening upon returning home from work, I cursed my life, my choice in jobs. Men and accounting sucked ass. “I can’t.”
“You can, and you will.”
Heaving a sigh, I met her hazel-eyed stare. My best friend since middle school, there was nothing Gwen didn’t know about me. We roomed all through college and then got an apartment in the North End upon graduation. Close enough to home to please my papa, but far enough away to enjoy some independence.
Not that I’d done anything to warrant either of my parents’ disapproval since I signed the lease.
The ring through Gwen’s bottom lip twitched, and a smirk soon followed.
My body stilled. I knew the look well, the type that had always landed us in trouble during our college years. “What did you do?”
“Don’t get mad.”
“What. Did. You. Do.”
She tugged on the frayed edge of her faded Princess Ariel t-shirt. Her pale cheeks flushed. “You know that website I use?”
“Oh, good Lord.” I palmed my hips. “The lure-a-lover or whatever the hell it’s called?”
I waited, brow raised.
Gwen sucked in a breath. “Well, I decided to make you a profile and find you the perfect match for a little tickle and poke.”
What the hell? My Italian temper screamed for release, but I strode down the hallway before I could spout off shit I’d regret.
For more info on StH, click on the cover!