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About the author:
C.D. Taylor began writing as an item to check off her bucket list. After putting words on paper, she decided that being an author was where she needed to be. She resides on a farm in southern Illinois with her husband, son and a plethora of animals. C.D. is a huge kid at heart. She loves playing practical jokes, challenging her son to a game of Super Mario and rarely rolls out of bed before noon. She enjoys dancing, is perpetually clumsy and has a horrible green thumb. C.D. believes that if you work hard, you must play even harder.
Here is a short sample from the book:
Once I felt like my eyes could spill no more tears, I picked myself up from the floor. I didn’t have the time to be weak. I had several small tasks to complete before my departure the next morning.
The last thing left to do was attack the contents of the top of my bedroom closet. Over the years, I had accumulated boxes of junk, and I needed to go through them and make sure there wasn’t anything I wanted to take with me on my new journey. At first glance, everything on that shelf seemed so overwhelming. I wasn’t an arsonist, but I wanted to strike a match and watch it all burn so I didn’t have to mess with it.
I reached up to grab the first box and ended up placing my hand on something else instead. I stood on my toes to see what it was. I spotted an old scrapbook I’d made from my years at NYU. I’d forgotten all about it and must’ve shoved it in my closet at some point. I pulled it from its cozy resting place. The cover was embroidered with the violet- colored NYU insignia and underneath it was the schools motto in Latin, perstare et praestare. I was surprised that I immediately knew what those words meant, even after all the years since college: To persevere and excel.
I held the fabric-covered album to my chest and walked to my bed. I sat down lightly on the end and placed the book in my lap. Taking a deep breath, I pulled the front cover open and started flipping through the stiff pages. I glanced at numerous newspaper clippings I’d saved, flyers from student events I’d helped organize, and pages upon pages of photos from my time there. I hadn’t looked through this scrapbook in years, but seeing it now transported me right back to some of the happiest days of my life. I’d been able to be myself back then. I’d had a freedom that I didn’t have here in L.A. It must have been the fact that I wasn’t around my stifling family. I’d had a reason to smile and laugh when I was in college. I was doing something for myself when I was there. I was on track to become a successful lawyer, and I was proud of my accomplishments.
My heart nearly stopped when I came upon one certain photograph. I remembered having that picture taken like it was yesterday. It was my last year of law school, and I’d just finished helping a friend move into an apartment. My hair was pulled up on top of my head, with pieces sticking out every direction, and my oversized T-shirt hung loosely off one shoulder. But what caught my attention was the person in the picture with me.
We all have a best friend in life, that one person who lights up our days like they’re carrying rays of sunshine in their back pockets, but my best friend just happened to be a guy.