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About the author:
Sacha writes to keep herself sane and because THE INK demands it. She is prone to intense bouts of wanderlust, chronic overthinking, and random acts of kindness she soon regrets.
There’s a little bit of her in all the “Hart & Cole” women, who have been pleading with her for over a decade to do them justice.
Visit her website at http://www.sachafortune.com/author/
What inspired you to write your book?
The main characters have been with me for over 15 years now — glimpses of them emerge and haunt me for months on end, and then they go quiet for a year or more.
The Hart & Cole Seris is not a typical romance. My themes are simple: RELATIONSHIPS. MARRIAGE. SEX. INFIDELITY. INSECURITY.
It’s about “After the ‘I Do’ ”… no one rides off into the sunset at the end of one of my novels; sorry. A marriage is not a happy ending; it’s a beginning of so much more to come.
I think it's an important book, with themes we need to appreciate rather than just the glossy fairytale that typical "romances" are. There is love here. Pure, unadulterated love. But there's also so much more.
Here is a short sample from the book:
At eye level to her, she can see the tears forming in my eyes.
“…Are you okay, Mommy?”
I bite my lip. “I’m so… sorry… so… so… sorry.”
“It’s okay.” My five-year old is patting my back reassuringly, her arms suddenly around my neck. “It’s okay, Mommy. Don’t cry.”
Her sweet powder smell swallows me and I have to exhale shudderingly to stop the barrage of tears threatening to flow down my face.
“Are you sure… you don’t want to come home… you and Khai? I miss you,” I manage in a vain attempt to be stoic, a failed attempt to appear normal, to act as if it isn’t such a big deal.
She leans back, biting her lip. “Daddy said I could stay the whole weekend, till Monday. Carrina said so, too. And I’m selling books and I’m having fun and me and Mickey-”
“Okay. It’s okay,” I cut in. “Well… I guess I’ll see you Monday then.”
I have no idea whether Kris expects to be back here to pick them up on Monday, or if Carrina is supposed to drop them home, or if I am supposed to come get them. If the latter is the case, surely Kris would have informed me, not so? I don’t want to ask Carrina. I feel strange and otherworldly – asking another woman what is the situation agreed upon between her and my husband.
This whole thing is surreal. I’m not supposed to be here, begging my child to come home with me. I’m not supposed to be afraid to hug my baby. I’m not supposed to be tearing up every ten seconds. I’m not supposed to sleep in an empty house. I am supposed to be home, making love to my husband, hearing my toddler giggle and my five-year-old chatter nonstop.
“Thanks for the present, Mommy. It was perfect.” She waves, turns and exits the room before I can ask her what present.
Dear God, I don’t even know what present I supposedly gave my own child.
I’m standing, clutching onto the top bar of the crib, tears streaming down my face and dampening Khailam’s rather clean Goober, when Carrina enters.
I know she’s there but I don’t want to turn around, don’t want her to see my pain, don’t want her to know how much it hurts to be me right now.
“You okay, Nicole?” she asks quietly.
My grip on the crib bar tightens.
“Um… look, if you wants the kids home… I can convince Nikita, if that’s what you want.”
Another woman is offering to talk to my child to get her to come home with me, her mother.
“Or you can take Khai alone, and let Nikita choose whether or not she wants to stay. I’m sure she’d go if you took Khai.”
Or Khai might start bawling if he realises Nikita is staying and he’s not.
“Just… let me know, okay?”
Just go away, please.
“Um… I’m going to leave you alone for awhile, okay…”
She closes the door quietly behind her, and I’m left in a room with my big-boy baby and a broken heart.