Release Date: August 6th, 2013
New Adult Contemporary Romance
Amazing Book Cover by artist Robin Harper of Wicked by Design
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SYNOPSIS:
I’ve been unsure about many things in
my life except for one thing, that I have always loved him. Every single minute
of every single day that I have been on this earth, my heart has belonged to
him. It has never been a question, never a doubt. The love had taken on many
different forms over the years, but it had always been a constant.
Everyone has their definition of love. There have been countless songs sung about it. A gazillion books, articles, and poems written about it. There are experts on love who will tell you how to get it, keep it, and get over it.
We’re led to believe love is complicated. It’s not the love that’s complicated. It’s all the crap that we attach to it and put in front of it that makes it difficult. If you’re smart, you’ll realize this before it’s too late and simplify
Everyone has their definition of love. There have been countless songs sung about it. A gazillion books, articles, and poems written about it. There are experts on love who will tell you how to get it, keep it, and get over it.
We’re led to believe love is complicated. It’s not the love that’s complicated. It’s all the crap that we attach to it and put in front of it that makes it difficult. If you’re smart, you’ll realize this before it’s too late and simplify
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Amanda Kelly spent
her entire life trying to control every aspect of it, while striving for
perfection. Her obsession with being perfect, along with her feelings of
worthlessness, consumed her. The one thing she thought was perfect in her life
was the bond she shared with her best friend, Noah.
Everything was going
according to her life plan until she woke up one day and realized she had
fallen in love with him. The one thing she couldn’t control was the affect he
had on her. Noah had the power to give her one hundred lifetimes of happiness,
which also gave him the power to completely devastate her. He was the one thing
in her life that was perfect, but she couldn't allow herself to have him.
Her life begins to
unravel. Events take over and force her to let go of her dreams and desires.
She needs to realize that a person cannot control the events in their life,
only their reaction to them...but will it be too late for her to save her
relationship with her best friend? Present Perfect is a story of how past events
have present consequences and how perfect your present could be if you stopped
fighting and just allowed it to happen.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Excerpt 1
Subject to editing/final
changes
Amanda and Noah at
age 6
Halloween 1996
Even at the age of six, I knew I
would look hideous in it. The moms of all my friends were wholeheartedly
embracing the conveniences of modern day America, like store-bought Halloween
costumes. In 1996, my mom decided it would be a wonderful childhood memory for
me and Emily to have homemade costumes. I blame Martha Stewart one hundred
percent for causing my mother’s temporary insanity. Mom didn’t have a crafty or
artistic bone in her entire body.
Emily wanted to be a princess. She
had been taking ballet lessons since the age of five, so she had all the
makings of a decent princess costume.
Mom grabbed a couple of Emily’s light pink
tutus and hot glued one on top of the other for the bottom of the gown. The top
was made of one of Emily’s hot pink leotards. Mom drizzled hot glue all over
it, and then, threw handfuls of glitter at it. She topped off her creation with
a tiara made of foil and multicolored marbles as the royal jewels. Emily’s
costume didn’t look too bad. If you throw enough glitter on something, people
get distracted by the dazzle and don’t notice the ugly as much.
I, on the other hand, wanted to be a
cowgirl. A cowgirl costume was the easiest costume to put together. All that
was needed was a pair of jeans, a plaid shirt, a vest, a pair of boots, and a
hat. Ta- da, cowgirl! No hot glue or glitter required. I had everything I
needed except the most important item.
Mom and I were at the store when I
saw it. It was made of bright red felt, the brim was trimmed in white, and the
word ‘cowgirl’ was stitched across
the front. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. My heart started to
flutter.
I grabbed the hat and ran up to my
mom beaming with excitement. “Mom, look at it. Isn’t it the most perfect
cowgirl hat you’ve ever seen?”
“It’s a very nice hat, Amanda. Now
go put it back. We’ve got more shopping to do,” she said while pushing the
shopping cart down the aisle.
The smile dropped off my face. I ran
up behind her, clutching the hat against my chest. “But Mom, I need it.”
“For what, sweetie?”
“Um…for my Halloween costume,”
Sarcasm flowed through each word, accompanied by a smirk, and an eye roll.
“I’m making your costume this year,
Amanda. You know that.” I followed behind her as she continued down the aisle,
paying more attention to the items she was placing in the cart than me.
“I want to be a cowgirl. It’s the
easiest costume to make. I already have everything except the hat. I need this
hat, Mom,” I pleaded.
She glanced over her shoulder at me
and asked, “Why do you want to be a cowgirl?”
“Because cowgirls are cool,” I said.
As
if this wasn’t the most obvious thing in the world.
“Noah’s going to be a cool knight. I
want to be a cool cowgirl and I will be
if I have this hat. Please, Mom.”
She stopped and squatted down in
front of me, bringing us eye-to-eye, and said, “Sweetie, you are going to be the coolest kid trick or
treating this year.”
“So I can get the hat?” I felt the
smile slowly crawl back across my face. I waited with great anticipation to
hear the word, “yes” float past her
lips.
“No. Guess what you’re going to be
for Halloween?” She smiled at me with her stormy blue grey eyes filled with
excitement. Standing, she started
looking through the shopping cart. When she turned back around she was holding
the biggest bag of bright yellow feathers I had ever seen. I looked up at her,
my face twisted in confusion. “You’re going to be Tweety Bird! Isn’t that going
to be fun?”
I was stunned. “I don’t want to be
Tweety Bird. I want to be a cool cowgirl. Why can’t I be a cowgirl?” I whined.
“Because I already have all the
things I need to make Tweety,” she said, tossing the big bag of feathers back
in the cart.
“We could just put that stuff back,
and you could get me this cool cowgirl hat.”
“Amanda, you’re going to be Tweety
Bird this year. Stop arguing with me. You need to try and be more like your
sister. She never gives me any trouble. You can be a cowgirl next year. Now, go
put the hat back.”
With my shoulders slumped and my
head lowered in defeat, I dragged my feet slowly as I made my way down the
aisle to put the perfect cowgirl hat back on the shelf. “I don’t want to be
stupid Tweety. I want to be a cowgirl. It’s my costume,” I grumbled.
“Amanda, hurry up! We need to get
going.”
My mom was so obsessed with making
the Tweety costume I had started to wonder if she thought I looked like a
jaundiced bubble head with puffy cheeks and lips.
****
The construction of the Tweety
costume was a hell that no child should have to experience. Mom had found the
instructions on how to make the costume in a magazine. Unfortunately, she
didn’t know where she had put them, but she was positive she would be able to
figure things out.
I was standing in our family room
dressed in a skin tight pale yellow leotard that Mom made me put on over shorts
and a t-shirt. She walked into the room weighted down with an armful of
supplies and dumped them out on to the floor beside me. “Whew! Ok, let’s get
the show on the road,” she said, rubbing her palms together. I couldn’t believe
how excited she was about this stupid bird costume.
She began setting out her supplies, as I
gasped for air, and said, “Mom?”
“Hmmm…?”
“This leotard’s too tight. I can’t
breathe.” I gulped in as much oxygen as the vacuum packed garment would allow.
“It has to be a little tight,
Amanda. Otherwise the feathers will weight it down and make it sag. You don’t
want to be a sagging Tweety do you?”
“I don’t want to be Tweety at all,”
I muttered.
“Enough of that. I don’t know why
you’re being so difficult. Your sister didn’t complain about her costume.”
“That’s because she gets to be a
fairy princess like she wants to be.”
“Let’s get started.”
Mom pulled a few more things out of
her tote bag, and then, walked over to the wall to plug in her hot glue gun.
When she turned back around, the glue gun was pointed directly at me.
My eyebrows immediately shot up, I
could feel my eyeballs pop right out of their sockets as beads of sweat
trickled down my neck. My voice was shaky when I asked, “You’re not going to
shoot me with hot glue, are you? I promise I won’t say anything bad about
Tweety ever again.”
“Oh Amanda, you’re so dramatic. I’m
not going to drip hot glue on you. I need to figure out where to place the
feathers while you’re wearing the leotard.”
She pulled out a huge roll of duct
tape, started ripping off small pieces, and rolled them up. She then stuck them
all over me. Taking handfuls of the bright yellow feathers, she began to shove
them against my body. I tipped over a couple of times when she got a little
over enthusiastic.
After she helped me out of the
torture chamber, I watched as she removed sections of feathers from the
leotard, drizzled hot glue, and plastered them back on. Sighing deeply, I
turned away, and went to my room. I couldn’t bear to watch any longer.
****
Each time I walked by the feathered
monstrosity my face crumpled up in disgust. Halloween was in one week. There
wasn’t much time left. I needed help from an adult if I was going to have any
chance of changing my mom’s mind about this bird suit.
****
One night, before dinner, I found my dad alone
in our family room sitting in his recliner watching the evening news. I leaned
over the arm of the chair and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Daddy, can I ask
you something?”
“Can it wait until the news is
over?” His eyes stayed glued to the TV.
I pursed my lips together and
stepped back. “I guess. How long is that going to be?” I asked, gnawing on my
thumbnail.
He glanced at me out the corner of
his eye as he aimed the remote toward the TV, and turned the sound down.
Turning to me, he asked, “What’s up, sweetheart?”
Clearing my throat, I looked him
straight in the eye. “Please, talk to Mom and tell her to let me be a cowgirl
for Halloween.”
“Now Amanda, you know how your
mother is once she gets an idea in her head. Besides, from what I can tell,
it’s a pretty cool looking costume.”
Sweet
baby Jesus, please don’t let insanity
run in the family.
“But Daddy, you’ve only seen it
laying on the coffee table. It just looks like a pile of feathers.”
“You know, Amanda, you are very
lucky that you have a mom who loves you enough to make you a Halloween costume.
There are children in China who aren’t that lucky.”
“Do they even have Halloween in
China?” I asked.
“I’m sure they do.” His attention
headed back to the TV as the volume rose.
I leaned across the arm of the
chair, twisting my body so I was looking up, trying to redirect my dad’s
attention back on me. “Maybe we could send them my Tweety costume and I could
be a cowgirl?”
“That’s a nice idea,
but they don’t know who Tweety is in China. They don’t get Sesame Street over
there. Now, let me finish watching the news.” His eyes were focused straight
ahead.
I pushed off of the
armrest and stood. “That’s a different bird, Dad,”
Standing up straight, I stared at
him for a few seconds, but he had already lost interest in my problem. I huffed
loudly and pursed my lips together before turning and walking away, knowing I
had lost another battle.
****
Halloween day finally arrived. We
were allowed to wear our costumes to school for the party that day. That
morning when I walked into the family room, I found Mom bent down picking up a
pile of feathers that had fallen off my costume. This had become a daily ritual
that made me smile and gave me hope. If the feathers didn’t stick, there’d be
no chick. Maybe my cowgirl dreams would come true after all.
Clearing my throat, I said, “Mom,
would it be okay if I didn’t wear my Tweety costume to school? I don’t want to
get it messed up before tonight.”
She placed the armful of feathers on
the coffee table, stood up quickly, and turned in my direction, trying to hide
the pile of feathers behind her. She didn’t want to admit the fact that Tweety
had a serious molting problem. She hesitated for a moment, running her hand
behind her neck a couple of times as she glanced back at the pile of feathers.
“Sure, that would be fine. It will
give me time to spruce it up a little before tonight. How about you go to
school as a cowgirl. You mentioned about being a cowgirl, right?”
Only
about one thousand times.
****
When the time had come to get ready
for trick or treating, Mom had secured all the feathers back on the leotard. My
cowgirl dreams had been dashed.
The rest of the Tweety costume
consisted of an old pair of fuzzy bedroom slippers, spray painted gold for my
feet. A few extra feathers were left over, so Mom decided Tweety needed a
headband. Then she brought out this sizable jar of greasy neon yellow makeup
that I was sure was laden with toxins. It looked like something she had from
the 1980’s, when apparently, it was cool to smear your child with poisons. The
last bit of humiliation to be added was a handful of glitter that she poured
over me, coating my head, arms, and chest. I looked like the love child of Big
Bird and Liberace.
The time had come. I tried to delay
going outside for as long as possible, waiting for the sun to disappear
completely from the sky. I figured darkness would be my friend. It was a warm
night, so Emily and I didn’t need to wear our jackets. I was willing to risk a
high grade-fever in order to hide this yellow-glitter- incrusted nightmare that
I was wearing, but Mom wouldn’t hear of it.
Emily and I always trick or treated
together. It was her job to hold my hand, ring the doorbell, and say trick or
treat. All I had to do was collect my candy. This year, since she was 10 years
old, Emily wanted to go with her friends. Mom made, what I felt was, a very
poor parental choice when she allowed Emily to go with her friends instead of
staying with me and continuing this sacred family tradition. Didn’t she think of me at all? Didn’t she
understand that I would suffer a severe candy deficit, without Emily by my side?
We were standing at the bottom of
the Dean’s driveway, I swallowed hard as I watched my sister walk away with her
friends to another neighbor’s house.
Mom must have sensed my fear because
she drew me in close to her side and whispered, “You can do this, Amanda.
You’re a big girl now. There’s nothing to be afraid of. Your sister was five
when she started going up to the doors by herself. I’ll be right here.” She let
go of my hand and took a step away from me.
I continued to stand there, frozen.
I felt abandoned and alone. I hated it. I was terrified of a monster opening
one of the doors. I had never seen a monster in our neighborhood, but there was
a first time for everything.
As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t
seem to move my fuzzy gold feet. I felt my face getting warm as butterflies
took over my stomach. I was so scared to move. My eyes began to sting from the
tears that were building up. Although, they could’ve been caused by the
poisonous substance that was smeared across my face.
I took in a deep breath as I looked down,
trying to find my courage, when I noticed a small pile of yellow feathers that
had collected at my feet. My eyes followed the trail all the way back to my
house. The street was covered with so many feathers, it looked like the yellow
brick road. When I glanced up I couldn’t believe my eyes. Walking towards me
was Andrea Morgan dressed in a full Dorothy costume with her little dog too.
I looked over my shoulder at my mom,
then up at the Dean’s front door, then back at my mom.
“Go on, Amanda. Don’t be a baby,”
Mom said.
Tears began to trickle down my face.
I needed to make a decision. Time was of the essence. I needed to suck it up,
walk up to that door, and get some candy before the rest of my feathers flew
off, leaving me naked as a Tweety bird.
I looked back up at the Dean’s
house. I saw my friends walking down the driveway, with their bags overflowing
with deliciousness. Deliciousness that I wouldn’t be getting if I didn’t get a
move on.
Then I saw him, my knight in plastic
armor, with his light blue eyes peeking out from under his hood along with just
a little bit of his dark brown hair.
I got excited every time I saw him.
Noah was a lot taller than I was. I was pretty short for my age. A few kids at
school liked to tease me about it, but not when Noah was around. He never let
anyone be ugly to me.
He was coming down the driveway, by
himself, and headed straight to me. His bag was loaded with candy.
When he got to me, he took the
sleeve of his shirt and wiped my tears away. “Don’t cry.”
“I’m not getting any candy tonight.
My feathers are falling off, and I’m going to be naked in the street.” I was
sobbing so hard that my words came out like hiccups. We both glanced behind me.
“See all the feathers?”
“Open your bag up.” Noah started
filling it with handfuls of candy from his bag.
“Noah, you don’t have to give me all your
candy.”
“I’m not giving you all of it. I’m
giving you half.” He smiled at me and I knew everything was going to be
alright.
After we made the candy transfer, he
grabbed my hand and started pulling me towards the Stevenson’s driveway. I
jerked my hand out of his and stopped. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to take you trick or
treating and show you there’s nothing to be scared of,” he said.
I looked up at Noah and gazed into
his trusting eyes. I reached out my hand timidly and he led me to the next
house.
Noah walked me up to the front door and rang
the doorbell. My heart started beating faster and my palms got sweaty. The door
slowly opened and Mrs. Stevenson stepped out, dressed like a big fat cat. She
made me laugh. Noah dropped my hand long enough for me to hold my bag open and
for him to wipe his palm off on his costume. Mrs. Stevenson gave me two sour apple Blow Pops because of my
bravery that night.
After a few more houses and my bag filled with
candy, Noah and I walked hand-in-hand down the last driveway. Stopping at the
bottom, I turned and gave him a kiss on the cheek.
“Thank you, Noah.”
He smiled. “I’ll always take care of
you and make sure you have candy, Tweet.”
It was the first time he called me
by the nickname that would stick with me forever. And despite my total disgust
with the Tweety Bird costume, I didn’t mind being called ‘Tweet’ at all by
Noah. In fact, I loved it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Excerpt 2
Subject to
editing/final changes
Tweet and Noah age 15
We were all sitting around the table
eating by the time Noah joined us. He sat in the only empty seat left which
happened to be next to me. Dad and Mr.
Stewart talked about work while Mom and Mrs. Stewart shared the neighborhood
gossip. I was trying to recover from the intense moment in my room earlier. I
would have been able to do that if Noah hadn’t been sitting right next to me.
That was bad enough, but he kept finding subtle ways of touching me. What
happened in my room was a mistake, even though it didn’t go very far, it went
far enough. I had to be strong and put a stop to things happening between us.
Noah put his arm around the back of
my chair and reached across me for some bread, which brought his face so close
to mine his lips were almost touching my cheek.
Keeping my voice low, I said, “I
know what you’re doing.”
“I do too, I really like garlic
bread.”
“I could have passed it to you if
you had asked.”
“Yeah, I know, but my way I get to
look down your dress.” My eyes shot
immediately to his. ”Oh, by the way, your bra selection tonight…Excellent.”
I slapped my hand to my chest trying
to close the gap he had been peering down.
“Please tell me your panties match,”
he said, and then leaned back slightly, glancing down. When I looked at him, I
was met with a wink and a smirk before he went back to eating.
“Noah, congratulations,” my dad
said.
Just then I felt a hand on my knee
and fingers creeping under the hem of my dress. My breath hitched and my eyes
darted over to Noah. I’d be completely pissed at him if his hand didn’t feel so
incredible on my naked leg.
“Thank you, sir.”
How he could remain so calm, cool,
and collected in front of our parents while his hand rubbed over my knee was
beyond me.
“It’s pretty rare that a sophomore
gets asked to join the varsity team. We’re proud of you.” My dad always thought of Noah like a son.
“His mom and I are extremely proud
of him. He’s a chip off the old block,” Mr. Stewart added.
The dads laughed as if the comment
was hilarious. Noah smiled at his dad while his hand began to move up my thigh.
I slapped it away and inadvertently hit the table, causing it to shake.
“Amanda, are you okay?” Mom asked.
‘Yes. I’m fine.” Noah snorted as he
tried to contain a laugh. “I was swatting a fly away.”
My mom looked at me, slightly
annoyed, but maintained her cheery voice, and said, “That’s ridiculous. We
don’t have flies in this house.”
“My bad,” I said.
Noah’s hand landed back on my knee. He
squeezed slightly, causing a loud gasp to escape me. All four parental heads
turned to look in my direction.
“Um… Mom would you please pass me
the…um…”
Noah touching was relentless. He
would squeeze my knee then rub the inside of my thigh. It was impossible for me
to think or form a coherent sentence.
“The stuff in the bottle, that
you…um…pour on…um…lettuce?” My pitch grew higher and higher with each word.
“You mean salad dressing?” Mom said, sarcasm flowing from her words like a
torrential rain. I nodded. “You already have some on your salad.”
“I need more. Please give me more.”
She looked at me like I didn’t
belong to her before passing me the dressing.
“How’s Emily?” Mrs. Stewart asked
while I doused my salad.
A prideful smile appeared across my
mom’s face. “She’s wonderful. She’s loving college.”
“That’s fantastic,” Mrs. Stewart
said.
“In fact, she joined the debate
team. She’s an extremely articulate young woman.” Mom glanced over at me. If she
had any idea what was taking place under her dinner table, she might cut me
some slack.
I was so out of sorts, I dropped my
fork just before loading it up with salad. “I’ll get it, Tweet.”
Noah’s hand disappeared from my leg.
I took the opportunity to take a drink of water trying to calm down. Noah
scooted his chair back and then bent down to grab the fork.
“Dead horse!” Dad announced while holding
up the empty wine bottle.
All of a sudden, I felt a pair of
lips on the outer side of my thigh right above my knee. I almost did a full
blown spit-take at the exact same time my dad asked, “Are we game for another?”
Noah sat back up and I had four sets
of eyes staring at me, wondering what had gotten into me.
“I’ll go get you another bottle of
wine. I’m done eating, anyway,” I said, as I wiped the spray of water from my
face.
I quickly rose from the table and
made my way to the kitchen to put my plate in the sink. Without stopping, I
headed to the garage where we had an extra refrigerator that my parents used
for their wine collection.
Standing in front of the open
fridge, I realized I didn’t know if they wanted red or white. I took a bottle of
each to be on the safe side. I closed the fridge and turned around coming
face-to-face with a grinning Noah. I took a step back. He placed his hands
against the fridge on either side of my shoulders, caging me in. He really
liked caging me in.
“What the hell do you think you’re
doing in there with all the touching and the kissing? You kissed my thigh under the table. The family dinner
table, for god’s sake.”
“I couldn’t resist. You’re mighty
tasty.” He waggled his eyebrows and
moved in closer.
Holy crap on a
cracker, tingles were taking over my body.
“Leave me alone for the rest of the
night.” I tried to sound mad, but even I could hear the smile in my voice. It
was hard to be mad at Noah, especially when what he was doing felt so amazing.
“Ok. I will.” He dropped his arms
and stepped back giving me room to get by.
“Thank you.”
As I passed him going back toward
the door I felt the hem of my dress rise up behind me. I quickly stepped to the
side out of his reach. “Dammit, Noah! Stop it! I can’t defend myself with these
bottles in my hands.”
Holding his hands up in surrender,
he said, “I thought you had a speck of something on your dress. I was just
trying to help is all.” I narrowed my eyes at him before heading back into the
house.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Author BIO
Alison G. Bailey,
Author
Alison was born and
raised in Charleston, SC. As a child she used her imagination to write
additional scenes to TV shows and movies that she watched. She attended
Winthrop University and graduating with a BA in Theater. While at Winthrop she
began writing one act plays which she later produced. Throughout the years she
continued writing and producing several one act plays, but then life got in the
way and she hung up her pen for a while. On the advice of a friend, she started
writing again. In January 2013, Alison sat down at her computer and began
writing her first novel, Present Perfect.
Alison lives in
Charleston, South Carolina with her husband, Jef, and their two furry children
(dogs). She’s addicted to Diet Pepsi and
anything with sugar.
Alison's
philosophy: Don't let your obstacles define you, let them refine you. At times
life can get pretty overwhelming, but with a great support system and a lot of
humor you can get through it. If you have humor in your life your spirit stays
strong and you can tackle anything.
-Facebook
-Goodreads
-Twitter: @AlisonGBailey1
-Blog
http://alisongbailey.blogspot.com
This is a heart wrenching story that I was drawn into at the beginning. I loved Amanda, aka "Tweet" and her story of never feeling perfect enough for her love interest and best friend, Noah. There are twists and turns that take you from laughing to crying and making you love Noah and Tweet and hoping everything will work out for them despite the obstacles they must overcome. Be sure to have a box of tissues with you when you read!
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