Angela Rush

“Dad. I love that you aren’t afraid to carry around romance novels with almost-naked men on the cover and hand them out as “tips” to waitresses, hairdressers, and anyone else you come across. Thanks for being one of my biggest fans.”
― Susan Stoker, Protecting Fiona

“Sammi,” Alex said, still holding on to her arm, firmly, but not hurting her. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?” Sam asked a bit peevishly.
“Don’t lie and tell me what you think I want to hear rather than how you really feel.” After a beat where Sam didn’t say anything he continued. “If you want to tell me to piss off, tell me. If I do something that hurts your feelings, tell me.” His voice suddenly lowered and he took her hands in his. Sam had to lean into him to hear him over the noise of the barn.
“For the love of God, you’re the only real person here. If I can’t rely on you to tell me like it is, who will?” He paused. “Now, please tell me what upset you.”
“It’s just that…..” she paused, finally continuing when Alex squeezed her hand. “I don’t fit in with the other women here, and I don’t want you to see me as…less…then they are.”
“I don’t see you as less.” Alex immediately said, not even pausing to think about what he wanted to say. “We don’t really know each other, but when I’m lying in my cot at night I find myself thinking about you and what you are thinking about.” He brushed his knuckle over her reddening cheek and continued, “I would never intentionally insult you like that. I just have to learn how I can tease you and not have you take offense.”
― Susan Stoker