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Candi is a hopeless romantic just like me
As Rihanna sings, "I wear my heart on my sleeve!" And so does Candi.
Did you know that I wrote a romance novel? After decades of writing about my relationships professionally, I took the plunge and penned Candi, a romance novelette with fictional Latinx characters that love just as hard as I do.
The protagonist, Candi, has bits of me. (But only the good parts!) She’s a hopeless romantic, like me, who refuses to give up on love, even when it keeps punching her in the face. (It’s like a boxing match!) She’s all bruised up but there she goes, falling in love all over again and hoping for the best!
Also, I’m still considering if I should write the second volume of Love Trips. I decided to go for it and then I asked myself, do I want to relive past relationships? Do I want to spend my writing days and nights like this…
I’ll keep you all posted once I’m sure that writing about my personal romantic relationships won’t kill me. (I am much more sensitive than I lead on!)
Without further ado, here is a snippet of Candi for your enjoyment. Show me some support by buying your copy on Amazon.
Despite the humidity sticking to my caramel skin, I decide to take a walk down Haven Avenue. Other than Yo and Joel I don’t have anyone else to paint the town fuchsia with. Yo has her hands full with Pedro, and I don’t know how I’ll face Joel ever again. I can’t stop thinking about how my tummy fluttered when he caressed my hand. And the look of satisfaction on his smug face, silently acknowledging that he hooked me after all of these years.
“No,” I say to myself, making my way down Cabrini Avenue. “Joel is Yo’s brother. Her twin. I cannot cross that line.”
I gaze up at the sky, the stars twinkling brightly despite the thick, polluted city air. They shine in spite of it. I shake my head and chuckle. What am I, a philosopher now? And where am I going anyway? I look ahead and notice a new bar. Born and raised in Washington Heights, I know my ‘hood like the back of my hand. A new bar may pop up every minute, but I stay in the know of every opening and every bartender's name. What can I say? I like winding down with a glass of something. And I do have a weakness for bartenders.
“Did have a weakness for bartenders,” I remind myself as I swing the door open and enter The Hive. Maybe the owner is a fan of bees - or Queen Bey.
I zoom toward the bar only to realize that there is no one inside.
“How new is this place?” I mumble.
I whip out my phone to search for reviews on my DominiHeights Facebook group when I hear someone call out.
“Come on in!” The bartender appears from the back and waves me over.
“Um, I think I’m going to go.” I begin walking backward, keeping my eyes on him in case he’s a serial killer when I trip and fall - again.
“Ow!” I wince as a shooting pain hits my ankle. I blink quickly, trying to gather my bearings. Did the bartender throw some black magic my way so he could lock me in the basement?!
“Candi!” a voice calls.
Ok, I think I'm going insane because that voice sounds just like...
“Jay.” I gasp.
"Who in the hell is Jay?! Why is this chapter called “Wet Ride”?! What happens next?! Grab your copy on Amazon to find out.