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Blushed
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Blushed
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Blushed

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In association with The Edge Books.

www.theedge-books.com

 

She shut the door and stood over Morgan, gazing down at her slumbering form, then slowly sank onto her knees. All she cared about was laying right there and in the other bedroom. Why couldn't Carol see that?

 

And why couldn't someone tell her how to take hold of the peace and happiness she'd searched forever to find? Maybe Chris could. Maybe that was why she had such a need to be near him.

 

The day Christopher Piel walked into their mixed household to fix the cable, Tansy Marsh's life changed. Here is a man unlike any she's ever met – kind, generous, faithful.

 

But people like that can't possibly exist. Rejected by her parents and living underneath someone else's roof, the only love she's ever known comes from the three foster kids in her care.

 

Yet what begins as attraction, proves to be far greater, and it just could be that the God he believes in is big enough to fix her heart.

 

A precious story of God's hand in the loves of a blended family by best-selling author, SUZANNE D. WILLIAMS.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateDec 28, 2015
ISBN9781524224066
Blushed
Author

Suzanne D. Williams

Best-selling author, Suzanne D. Williams, is a native Floridian, wife, mother, and photographer. She is the author of both nonfiction and fiction books. She writes a monthly column for Steves-Digicams.com on the subject of digital photography, as well as devotionals and instructional articles for various blogs. She also does graphic design for self-publishing authors. She is co-founder of THE EDGE. To learn more about what she’s doing and check out her extensive catalogue of stories, visit http://suzanne-williams-photography.blogspot.com/ or link with her on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/suzannedwilliamsauthor.

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    Book preview

    Blushed - Suzanne D. Williams

    SUZANNE D. WILLIAMS

    www.feelgoodromance.com

    © 2014 BLUSHED by Suzanne D. Williams

    www.feelgoodromance.com

    www.suzannedwilliams.com

    In Association with The Edge Books

    www.TheEdge-Books.com

    All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the publisher.

    This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.

    CHAPTER 1

    His palm flat, fifteen-year-old Armando Morales pounded the top of the television, causing the picture to blink. You sure they’re coming to fix this? he asked, his voice an irritating whine.

    Said they were. Tansy Marsh flicked him the barest glance and took another drag of her cigarette.

    Wish we could get a new one. Felipe’s got an HD flat screen in his room, he returned. He gave the TV another slap. The pixelated screen froze completely. He frowned and spun his gaze in her direction. She’s going to kill you for smoking in the house.

    Tansy blew her next breath directly in his face, and he reversed himself, waving one hand beneath his nose.

    Knocking the ash from the end, she hung her wrist over her tented knees. A thin stream of smoke snaked toward the ceiling. She ain’t my mama, she replied at last.

    As good as.

    This comment came from twelve-year-old Dwayne Parker. White teeth glowing from the midst of his ebony face, he walked over and removed Tansy’s cigarette from her fingers, putting it out on a food-smeared paper plate. You’re gonna get cancer before you’re twenty-one, he said.

    She frowned. Since when did you become the lung police?

    Since I didn’t want to get cancer before I turned thirteen. Plopping down beside her, he leaned on her shoulder, and she wrapped one arm around his small shoulders. You’re going to outlive us all, she said. Become a famous basketball player and buy me a home.

    "Why can’t you fix it?" Armando continued his complaints, this time grasping hold of the cable box and giving it a shake.

    Because that would void the warranty.

    It doesn’t have a warranty, he returned.

    Tan-ny ... Rubbing her left eye with a balled fist, five-year-old Morgan Gibson emerged from the bedroom hallway. I’m hungry.

    Tansy extended her free arm, and the little girl rushed into it. Balancing her in her lap, she tucked her tiny blonde head beneath her chin. You’ll have to hang in there ’til supper, French fry, she said. Carol said no snacks.

    And what Carol said goes. Except for her because she couldn’t care less. What was she going to do, throw her out? She needed her to babysit the horde while she worked.

    Free labor, that’s what it amounted to, and Carol was all about saving a buck. Even if it meant a five-year-old starved for an hour or two.

    I got half a banana left from my lunch, Dwayne said. She can have it.

    Tansy gave his shoulders a squeeze. He was always doing that, saving his food, and most of the time, giving it to Morgan mid-afternoon. He couldn’t stand to see her hungry either.

    Rising from the couch, Dwayne took Morgan’s hand and headed for the kitchen.

    Armando sat cross-legged in the floor, his face toward the broken television screen, and Tansy reached for a new cigarette.

    A knock on the screen door made the flimsy aluminum frame rattle. Hello? called a voice.

    Wandering in that direction, she lit a new cigarette, taking a puff, and halted to view the man on the other side. Blue work pants, striped uniform shirt with the name Chris embroidered on the pocket in red. Yeah? She leaned on one hip.

    Cable company, he said. You called?

    She didn’t respond right away. He hardly looked old enough to shave, much less repair their box. Brown hair perfectly parted on the right was sealed in place by some form of hair gel.

    Well? he asked.

    Well, what?

    Did you call?

    She leaned her shoulder on the door frame, making no effort to unlock the screen. Not me. Carol.

    Carol Flibbitz?

    She nodded and, drawing in a lungful of smoke, released it in his face. He blinked, his eyes moistening.

    Carol Flibbitz, she returned.

    Tansy, let the guy in, and put that out. Dwayne scowled at her. Morgan’s hand cupped in his, he unlocked the latch and opened the door.

    Chris, the cable guy, stepped indoors, squeezing his lean frame past her. He was tall, maybe six foot one or two and cloaked in cologne.

    She inhaled the pungent smell and coughed.

    It’s beginning, Dwayne said. Another year and you’ll sound like Mrs. George next door.

    Chris looked from her to Dwayne and back.

    What? she asked. My little brother and I don’t favor?

    He gave her a crooked smile. It’s faint.

    She straightened at last and gestured toward the television set. Well ... fix it before Armando passes out. He’s gonna miss Ninja Warriors.

    Tan-ny, I peed myself ...

    Tansy didn’t miss Chris’s expression then, the slight flare of his lashes, the lift of his eyebrows. Scooping Morgan up from her place in the floor, she held her outwards, one hand beneath either armpit and toted her from the room.

    You have to quit doing that, she said, dumping the girl in the bathtub. It’s only a short walk to the toilet. I don’t get why you can’t make it there. Stripping Morgan’s clothing off, she wadded it into a ball and tossed it in the sink. Don’t move, she said.

    Zipping into the bedroom Morgan and she shared, she yanked dry clothing from the floor and returned to the tub to find Morgan seated, her naked butt pasted to the scratched porcelain.

    She was ten minutes rinsing and redressing her, and considerably damp by the end of it. Releasing Morgan, she flushed her neglected cigarette down the toilet with one hand and yanked her shirt over her head with the other. A cough halted her in place.

    Chris stood in the hallway entrance, a clipboard in his hand. I, uhm, need to switch the box out.

    She crossed her arms beneath her bra, unspeaking. So switch it.

    He didn’t reply, but shifted from one foot to the other and back, swallowing hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

    Y-you have tattoos, he said, jerking his chin toward her arms.

    She extended one, turning it toward the yellow light of the living room fixture. Yeah, Carol was pissed, too. But Bobby liked them.

    Bobby?

    "Old boyfriend.

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