Atone is a Rita® finalist!!!
The Rita® contest is the Academy Award of the romance genre. It’s with great pleasure and with some tears that I got THE phone call that my novel Atone is a finalist in the Rita® contest in the romantic suspense category. Winners will be announced in July. Cross your fingers and toes!
‘(Atone) was heart-wrenching but beautiful.’ ~ Tracy, Book Binge
‘Atone was a good combination of all the things I enjoy in a read, romance, a dash of suspense and a good hit to the feels.‘ ~ Shannan, Wicked Reads
Available from: iBooks / Amazon / Kobo / Google / Nook
I follow Cora into the reception area. Savannah blocks whoever it is she’s talking to so I can’t see who it is, but whoever they are, they’re small, much smaller than Savannah’s five-nine frame. Savannah shifts, revealing a pastel confection of a young woman about Cora’s age.
All lace and silk, she’s sweet-looking in her soft colors like she just walked out of a Sunday church service. But the look in her eyes is wary . . . suspicious . . . jaded, reminding me of angry, hard prison stares. This chick’s seen some shit. More than that, she’s experienced some shit, has maybe even done some shit. She’s a survivor. This I understand. I recognize her in the same way I recognize the new man that stares back at me in the mirror.
Her costume is nearly perfect. I bet if I sniffed her she’d smell like baby powder and lemons. I edge closer to her. She catches me with a sudden flick of a glance, freezing me where I stand. Everything about her shouts back the fuck off. It only makes me want to draw closer. Who is she? Who or what made her this way? And why does she look at me like she knows who I am? Not the TV-news-segment me, but the real me, the Beau deep down inside.
For the first time since I got out of prison I don’t feel alone. There really are others out there like me. One of them is standing mere feet in front of me, regarding me with the same guarded, expectant look I’m wearing.
And she’s beautiful.