Isaac Warren is bad business; the kind of bad business that requires focus and determination in order to stay alive. It’s also the kind that caused him to shut himself off from serious relationships after the brutal murder of his fiancée three years ago. Now his cold exterior keeps him at bay from everyone except those he considers family and right now that list doesn't have room for anything more than the occasional tryst and nothing more, especially not with the highly acclaimed lawyer he's accidentally stumbled upon.
*This novel is only recommended for readers 17 and older*
Lovely Lies: Amazon / AmazonUK / Barnes& Noble (Nook) (Women’s Fiction / Urban
Romance, 4.6 stars, 114 reviews)
Lovely Lies 2: Amazon / AmazonUK / Barnes& Noble (Nook) (Women’s Fiction / Urban
Romance, 4.5 stars, 61 reviews)
An Interview with LaShanta Charles
LaShanta Charles has drawn rave reviews for her ability to incorporate romance with
a twist and air of mystery, making it a noteworthy work and earning her the
award of “2013 Breakout Author of the Year.”
When did you start writing, and was there a significant event that prompted you to do so?
I started writing while in high school, around the age of
15. I remember writing a “story” that literally never ended. I would pass it
along to my classmates and friends for them to read and they would be
enthralled and begging for more. I like to think that was my first following!
I’ve had a beautiful relationship with writing since then.
What do you
enjoy the most about writing?
I enjoy creation! I love when that tiny spark of embers
becomes a full blown raging inferno of 80,000+ words. I love the struggle of
developing complex characters. I love filling in blanks within my plots,
answering questions enough to give you that “aha” moment, but not so much I
give you every single detail and leave nothing to wonder. I love seeing a
finished product, a work that I put my heart and soul into, knowing that
someone somewhere will either love it or hate it and I’ll be fine either way.
What was the
hardest part about writing your book?
The hardest part was editing. I wanted to make so many
changes (I actually made quite a few); even after my book went to the editor I
was still making more changes! Then to receive it back from the editor with
critique and suggestions, it was like someone was deciding my newborn baby
could only have blue eyes and not brown. It was by far the worst part of it
all.
Where do you
get the inspiration to write?
I draw inspiration from just about anything, literally.
For example, I just saw someone eating an apple – my current heroine will
undoubtedly love snacking on peeled apples. I’m inspired by my surroundings,
which are constantly changing, therefore I change as well.
Who is your
favorite author and why?
I honestly don’t have a favorite author!
I know that’s a terrible answer, but there are just way too many for me to pick
just one! I’ll read just about anything with a great plot.
What
do you like to do when you are not writing? What is your ultimate luxury?
I’m super lazy, so anything that requires physical effort is
a no-no! I love to read and I love to eat; and I love to do it all at home
alone - no kids, no husband, just me, my food and my books. This can also be
applied to different settings such as a beach, an airplane, etc.
Tell us something funny about yourself that not a lot of people know
about?
Hmm, I sometimes eat a spoonful of flour…can’t believe I’m
sharing this! I’m pretty sure there’s some logical explanation for it and I
should probably mention it to my doctor, but nope, I’m good.
Is there
anything else you’d like to share with our readers?
I love interacting with readers, so feel free to contact
me and let me know how you’re doing or what’s going on with you!
Excerpt from Splitting Karma
My eyes flew open
as I quickly sat up in the bed. What was that noise, a door slamming? I scanned
the dark bedroom and waited for another sound. The voice I heard shouldn’t have
surprised me, but it did.
“Where the hell is
my dinner?” Aaron’s voice boomed through the house.
I scrambled from
the bed, falling to the floor, my feet tangled in a mess of sheets and
blankets. Ignoring the pain in my wrist and hip from my ungraceful fall, I
slipped my robe on and practically ran down the flight of stairs.
“Taylor, get your
ass down here! A good wife wouldn’t let her husband go hungry!”
I spotted him
standing in front of the open refrigerator, his back to me. Without a word I
made my way to the oven where his food was already fixed and waiting. I could
feel his eyes on me, tracking my every movement as I slipped in front of him
and grabbed a beer from the fridge. I refused to meet his eyes. Instead I stole
a glance at the time on the microwave. It was a quarter past three. Working late again, huh? “I made you
shrimp carbonara. I hope you like it,” I said as I placed the beer and food on
the island in the center of the kitchen. Finally meeting his eyes, I pulled the
stool out for him. He said nothing, simply stared at me. My heart pounded in my
chest. Why wasn’t he responding? “I
kept it warm for you,” I said as I closed the refrigerator and took his hand.
Without protest, he let me guide him to his seat. I tried to give him a quick
peck on his lips, but he turned his head away. A smirk played at the corner of
his lip. My lips settled for his cheek and I stepped back. “How was your day?”
I asked.
“I want to take a
shower when I’m done eating,” he replied.
And just like
that, I was dismissed. I took my time going upstairs, hoping he’d call me back.
I could at least get a hug, right? I knew that would never happen, but that
didn’t stop me from lingering on the stairs. The only sound that came from his
direction was the fork as it scraped the plate and the occasional soft thud
from him placing his beer bottle on the counter after he sipped. By the time he
made it to our bedroom I had a fresh pair of boxers and pajama bottoms laid out
for him and the shower was the perfect temperature. He undressed as he made his
way past me in silence. I quickly scooped up the trail of clothes he left in
his wake. While he showered I tossed his towel into the dryer, so that it’d be
warm for him when he used it.
“Dinner was
actually very good. I’m impressed,” he said when he finally emerged from the
bathroom.
“Thank you. I’m
glad you liked it.” I tried not to be, but I was mesmerized by his body. At 32
years old, he looked just as good as he did when we first met and he was only
25. His smooth, brown skin pulled tight against muscles that teased me with
their presence. Not big and bulky, but just right for his 6’ 4” frame. His wavy
hair was always kept cut low, cropped close to his head. Beautiful brown eyes
stared back at me from behind dark lashes. If he’d smile - which I knew he
wouldn’t - I’d see perfect teeth lined up behind those thick lips. He glanced
at the boxers on the bed then smiled smugly as I gave them to him. I snapped my
mouth shut, realizing he knew I was admiring him.
“Take that off,”
he commanded.
I glanced down at
the nightie I wore under my robe then back at him. My confusion allowed him a
moment of amusement. With that same smug smile locked in place, he removed the
towel that hung loosely from his waist.
“Your turn,” he
challenged.
My heartbeat
picked up its pace again as I hesitantly removed my clothes. He closed the gap
between us and let his fingertips skim across my chest. I fought the urge to
touch him, while silently begging him to touch me more. I hoped against all
odds that this wasn’t as far as he would go. He hadn’t made love to me in
months. He still blamed me for his embarrassment. He blamed me for his boss’s
actions. My only crime was accompanying my husband to his firm’s annual charity
banquet in the evening gown that he picked out for me. I looked beautiful in
it. It gave me curves where I knew I had little to none. It gave me a
confidence boost that I knew I didn’t even need. Well, at least not at that
time. Right now a confidence boost would be greatly appreciated. When Aaron’s
boss, Bryan, told me he wanted me to help him with some of the evening’s
presentations, I was flattered and honored. I agreed to retrieve the notes for
a speech he had forgotten in his
office, but when I got there he cornered me and tried to kiss me. I’d never
been in a situation like that, so I had no idea what to do. When I pushed him
away and slapped him, he came back even stronger. My body froze in fear as his
hands gripped every part of me that he could touch. When he tried to force his
tongue into my mouth I bit him. He laughed and went for my neck. Over his
shoulder I saw Aaron and the two other partners from the firm standing in the
doorway. One of the other partners, Kaleb, asked what was going on. I tried to
tell them he attacked me, but he assured them it was just an innocent hug. He
said I’d had a little too much wine – I only had one glass and I didn’t even
get to finish it - and he’d caught me when I tripped. A hug was my way of
thanking him. Aaron hadn’t said a thing. He only stared at me, rage carefully
concealed within his gaze. Of course he hadn’t said anything. He was up for a
promotion to become a partner at the firm; his lifelong dream. He’d given Bryan
and the others a tight smile before reaching for my hand and telling them he
had to take his drunken wife home.
That was six months ago…six long and lonely months.
“I can’t even make
love to you anymore,” Aaron whispered as he slipped an arm around my waist,
pulling me closer him, my body flush against his. The erection that should have
been pressing against me was nowhere to be found. For Christ’s sake, we’re both naked!
“Aaron, please?
You can.” My pleas fell on deaf ears. He let me go and slipped his boxers on.
“Wake me up at
seven,” he said as he climbs into our bed.
“You know I didn’t
betray you, Aaron.”
“Taylor, I’m going
to sleep. I have a long day ahead of me.”
“Aaron, please?
Just talk to me. I didn’t do anything wrong. You can’t keep shutting me out
like this,” I pleaded. I was innocent. I was there for him. I was put into that
situation because of him. I’m his wife. He was supposed to protect me. It
didn’t matter if his career was on the line. His marriage should have been his
priority. I should have been his main concern. Instead he blamed me. He told me
I was lying; Bryan would never do anything like that. Instead of protecting me
when I needed him, he turned his back on me and made me out to be the culprit.
I didn’t think I would survive that. I still don’t think I will. “Aaron?”
Silence was my companion.
The promotion
decision wasn’t supposed to be made until two months later, but the partners
announced Aaron as the recipient that following Monday. I pushed my feelings
aside and became the supportive spouse; celebrations and lavish outings with my
husband and the man who attacked me. Posing for pictures, being nice, and
accepting keep quiet gifts like the
perfect little wife. Aaron had shunned me since then. I made it my mission to
get him to forgive me, but it still hadn’t happened. Six months is a long time
to bear the burden of an act you didn’t commit. I put my nightie back on and
climbed into bed. Although I longed for it, sleep abandoned me.
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