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Everyone has something to lose.


Camden Piotrowski is justifiably upset to find her boyfriend in the arms of another woman. But it’s not the end of her world and definitely not something that a bubble bath, good wine, and cookie dough won’t help. Her pity party is interrupted when handsome Seth Vendetti bursts into her bathroom. She soon discovers that her world and those in it are not as they seem. Can she trust Seth’s version of the truth and make him realize that even he has something to lose?



There are his shorts, lying on the floor. I kneel in the doorway as I reach my arm into the bathroom and stick my hand into the right pocket of his discarded clothing. I can’t even breathe for fear of making a noise. Plus, I need all my energy focused on this task. I wrap my fingers tightly around the keys and pull them out. I slowly stand and then close the door with my other hand.


I expel my breath as a wave of relief surges over me. I turn and take the stairs two at a time. I run through the house, out the kitchen door and straight to the truck. I probably should have tried to find some shoes, but I don’t know how much time I have, probably not much at all.


The key slides effortlessly into the door and then I’m sitting on the bench seat. It’s very dark, but I locate the ignition with my fingers. Before I even register my own movements, the key is in and turned. No trouble at all. If my breathing would work as effortlessly, then I might have a chance at pulling this off without fainting.


I have to back the truck out of its parking spot in order to get it turned in the right direction. My movements are shaky, but I accomplish the task. I find the switch for the lights as I turn onto the road at the end of the driveway. I’m not sure where I am and it’s a fifty-fifty chance at turning in the direction closest to civilization. I steer the truck to the right and congratulate myself at noticing the house number on the mailbox before I leave. I need to get away for sure, but I need to know how to get back, too.


AUTHOR Bio and Links:

MEDIA KIT Tamra-1054_pp

Tamra Lassiter lives in Northern Virginia with her supportive husband, two lovely daughters, elegant Great Dane and not-so-elegant, but very sweet, English Bulldog. She enjoys spending time with her family, reading and of course, writing.

She shares with us her vision of the ideal writing space. Wouldn’t we all like to have one?

I have given this a lot of thought. I would love to have a little house in my back yard where I could go to write each day. This is a complete dream since my yard isn’t big enough for anything of this nature, but I’m dreaming right? I think wanting an outside space is necessary so that I don’t have to look at a dusty table or dishes in the sink. Thinking about those things is distracting. If I give in and take care of the household chores before I write, then that leaves less time for writing. I also think that maybe the reason I want an outside space for writing is because I never got to have any kind of tree house or clubhouse as a child. Maybe, if I had I would have scratched that itch and not be thinking about what is essentially an adult version of a clubhouse.

My ideal writing space would be painted a light yellow to make it cheery with big windows that let in a lot of light. There would be a desk and a big overstuffed chair covered in a floral fabric. The floor would be a dark wood to contrast the light walls. It would be covered with a beautiful rug. There would be built-in bookshelves filled with books and maybe a fireplace to take away the morning chill or maybe add some cozy warmth on a particularly cold day.

I wouldn’t want a whole kitchen out there, that would be too much. Maybe just a small sink, a mini refrigerator and of course, a gourmet coffee pot. I would need some coffee to get me going in the morning or on a sluggish afternoon.

There would be no distractions from television or telemarketers. Just quiet. Just me and my doggies getting work done. You can see that I really have given this a lot of thought. I have an active imagination and once it gets going, it’s gone.