Sara’s Soul
Book Three of the Texoma Series
[September 2005]
SC Ward has put in overtime at the school of hard knocks. Abandoned by her family, she’s made one woeful life choice after another. Is applying for the job of creative designer for the band Bone Cold–Alive just one more? And just what kind of assignment is her first one? Traveling to north Texas to prepare the webcast of a wedding has the look of desperation, not long term employment.
Tib Wilson finally admits he’s accepted his role of perpetual bachelor in Jinks, Texas. After all, being dumped by his longtime girlfriend for a musician is no way to bolster his ego. Now he’s saddled with babysitting the band’s latest addition, a tall, skinny blonde with the temper of a cornered rattlesnake. But if he’s so sure he’s immune to her “charms”, why can’t he stay away when given the opportunity?
Reviews
“Author Kay Layton Sisk continues her ‘rock star’ series with an emotionally moving story about a woman so damaged by life that she believes she’s lost her soul–and a man who seems destined to be a wounded perennial bachelor.”
Books for a Buck
Excerpt
“Then you can leave with a clear conscience, can’t you? No harm, no foul, just a couple of wayward kisses and a little fumble in the dark. But you’ll have given him something to walk into the Quik-Lee with on Monday morning. When the rest of his world is either laughing at him or pitying him for playing the fool one more time, for falling for a piece of West Coast fluff and brag who’s lost her soul somewhere along life’s highway, he’ll know why she’s not coming back. That should be enough to give him the power he needs to survive with his head up in his poet’s world.”
“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?”
The deep voice came from the edge of the deck. Neither of them had heard Tib’s approach up the wooden steps. SC fumbled her glass, and it almost slipped through her fingers to the decking before she grabbed it.
“Tib! You-” She started to rise but Fletch caught her by the wrist and yanked her down.
“Time for me to go to bed.” Fletch stood, took her glass. “You’ve had enough of this. See you in the morning.”
SC was vaguely aware of Fletch’s movement through the doorway to the house. She heard the click of the door but had eyes only for Tib’s slow walk toward her.
He towered over her, reached into his pocket, and tossed something into her lap. The bankroll. She stared at it, then at him. “Tib, please stay. Let me explain.” She clutched the money, but didn’t really feel it, used it as an anchor, as something he’d just touched.
“I knew there were secrets, SC. A woman doesn’t say she hates her father’s name without there being secrets. I didn’t know they could encompass my standing within my own community quite so much.”
“Please sit. Please, Tib.”
He hesitated. She reached a hand for him, but he turned away from it, then sat on Fletch’s chaise, scooted it a foot away from hers as he did.
“Start, Sara Charlotte. I want to know all the problems that are going to make me wish I’d never kissed you.” He studied his hands as he rubbed his knuckles and laced his fingers, leaned forward on his elbows. “Because quite frankly, unless you’re married or on unofficial leave from a penal institute, I can’t think of any reason to take back those kisses.”
Damn. A poet.