2008 EMMA Nomination – Author of the Year

This novel is a must have. Not because the writing is good; because it's excellent. Not because the characters standout; because you will meet some of the most memorable. Not because of the love scenes; because they are HOT. Not because I say so, but because this book is off the hook good. Pick one up, you won't be sorry.
~ Black Butterfly Review
 

“I know you’re not wearing a dress,” Reka dropped her pen and was now staring pointedly at Tacoma who had invaded her office about ten minutes ago to discuss his impending wedding.

Tacoma rolled his contact gray eyes. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”

“Oh, okay, just so we’re clear about that.” Reka straightened in her chair and gave Tacoma her full attention. “Proceed.” She hadn’t really been listening to him when he first came in because she was organizing a file for Cienna and generally Tacoma just wanted to vent, replies weren’t really necessary. But from the looks of him, she needed to throw some serious concentration her way. Her friend was definitely a little on the edgy side this Friday morning.

“I’m not sure what I’m wearing. It’s a cross between this dynamite cream colored Versace I saw in a magazine and this off-the-rack white contraption that Terry likes. I swear he’s monitoring my spending for this wedding like we’re one cracker shy of starving.” Because his nerves were frazzled, Tacoma crossed his right leg over his left and rolled the end of his coral silk tie around his finger. Over Reka’s shoulder he could see it was a bright sunny New York day outside. And to top that off it was Friday. Still his mood was sour and his loving fiancé was the reason why. “Nice weddings cost money and I want mine to be fabulous! I don’t know why he doesn’t understand that.”

“There’s a difference between fabulous and extravagant, Tacoma. Terry wants to take you on a nice honeymoon but if you spend all the money on the wedding itself you’ll be staring out the window of your apartment instead of lying on some tropical beach.”

Tacoma unraveled his tie, smoothed it down and gave himself another nod of approval for putting together the ivory linen pants, melon colored silk shirt and tie that was just a shade lighter. His Kenneth Cole, butter toned tie ups and soft beige dress socks just topped it off. Since his promotion to office manager and the big fat raise that came along with it, he’d been dressing his hundred and nineteen pound butt off.

“We’ve been to Cancun and Jamaica and the Bahamas. I’m about beached out. I suggested Paris.”

Reka watched Tacoma checking himself out and smiled to herself. No matter what was going on Tacoma’s first concern was always his looks. He primped more than she did when they went out. He did have a nice outfit going on today but then that’s because they did most of their shopping together, even though she had nothing to do with today’s citrus look. “Paris isn’t cheap. Why don’t you cut the guest list? That’ll save some money on the food.”

Tacoma made a sound that was dangerously close to a screech and Reka frowned. “I can’t cut my guest list. All those people just have to come. This is my big day,” he whined.

Reka pursed her lips and leaned her elbows on her desk. “Why don’t you fall in the floor and start rolling around? That’s all you need to top of this juvenile tantrum you’re throwing.”

Tacoma gasped.

Reka waved a hand in dismissal. “Save it for somebody who doesn’t know you like I do. You don’t even remember half those people you have on that list, you just want to show off. Cut the list to one hundred and fifty guests and tomorrow we’ll go and find you and Terry nice, Versace-looking suits. But not white, that virginal thing is so played out.”

Tacoma straightened in the chair, his palms on his knees and cracked a smile at her. That’s why he so adored Reka, she knew just how to make him feel better. “Okay, shopping and lunch tomorrow that’s wonderful. Now I have to get back to work.”

He stood and Reka chuckled. “You remember how to do that?”

Tacoma was about to spray her with a smart reply when her speaker phone buzzed and Cienna’s voice filled the tiny office.

“Reka, I need to see you in my office, please.”

Reka pressed the red button on her phone and answered, “I’ll be right there.”

She stood, smoothed down her own knee length skirt in a stunning but professional shade of purple and walked around her desk.

Tacoma opened the door looking back at her for a second. “Girl, those pumps are killer but you should have worn the blazer with that outfit instead of the scarf.”

“Keep walking, I’ve got this covered,” she said as she re-tied and fluffed her lavender and violet scarf so that it hung alluringly over her shoulder. Her sheer lavender blouse was plain and buttoned almost to her neck. The scarf awakened the otherwise drab material and tied the entire outfit together. She’d received two compliments while on the subway this morning so she knew she had it going on.

Not that she would waste her time on the two tired, jobless men that had given the comments though.

Those days were over. Drama-filled relationships, heated break-ups and senseless sex were a part of her past. Since receiving her degree from Queensborough Community College Reka had re-arranged her priorities, putting herself first before any man.

As a matter of fact, at twenty-eight, living alone in a lovely Upper WestSide apartment—that she could now thankfully afford—she felt she’d finally arrived. She was perfectly content with her life just the way it was. Gone were the days when she longed for the company of a man, any man. Now she had enough work to occupy her mind and when work time was over she had found another hobby to wile away the hours.
Men were definitely off limits for her.