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Would you live life differently if every day could be your last? Meet Tamara James --
On the streets of Chicago's South Side, Tamara James survives one heartbeat at a time. Battling sickle cell anemia and arrhythmia, her life is a fight against the odds -- and against the judgment that follows her every step. Fleeting connections and backseat mistakes have left her empty and scarred, caught in a cycle of rejection and regret. When the weight of her past becomes unbearable, Tamara flees to Savannah, Tennessee, hoping for a chance to escape -- but she finds so much more.
In Savannah's quiet riverbanks and firefly-lit nights, Tamara meets Maurice Harding -- a clean-cut Californian poet whose unwavering kindness and unshakable morals challenge everything she's known about men. Maurice sees Tamara's scars, both visible and hidden, but refuses to define her by them. Bound by promise and honor to his Fiancée, he shows Tamara a love that doesn't hurt -- it heals. Their connection defies expectations, but as their worlds collide, Tamara discovers that real love doesn't always mean holding on. Sometimes, it means letting go.
The Girl No Boy Could Love is a raw, powerful story of resilience, redemption, and the courage to rewrite your narrative. For readers who crave unforgettable journeys of love and self-discovery, Tamara James's story will stay with you long after the final page.
Excerpt:
Impatient. She sat at the bed's edge, awaiting his return. He's been in there for a while. In the meantime, the night continued to progress, and this brief could've-been-summer-romance would soon belong to yesterday. Her smile faded. Tamara played with her fingernails, exhaling despair, until the lights in the trailer blacked out... But with the strike of a match, his figure appeared. The flickering light cast an eerie glow, but she could see that he'd changed into one of those suits that she loved. Her eyes were following him as he transferred the living flame from the match to the candles, and then as he went to flip the switch for the ceiling fan. First a soft whir, then relief came down from above... He stepped into a closer, clearer view, revealing his dark suit, loose and lightweight, along with a partially unbuttoned white shirt beneath. His skin tinged red by the dim flame. With the remote control, he switched the stereo from radio to CD. The music was slow, sensual, and otherworldly. He approached, hand extended. "May I?"
"Dance?"
"Am I out of style?" he smirked, visibly nervous.
Tamara was on edge. "No, not at all. I'm just not sure if this is such a good idea. I want to, I really do. It's just that... " She rose frantically and retreated to his bathroom. Various thoughts filled her head. Lungs restless, she tried to catch her breath. I knew it, I knew it, I knew it. He wants me. But I can't let him touch me and I for damn sure can't touch him. Wait, Tamara you can do this. There's nothing wrong with a little dance between friends, is there?... She opened the door and watched him; he patiently waited behind the dancing candle. "Follow your feelings," Tamara mumbled to herself. Once she drew near enough that he could see her face, he motioned her to stop. The two of them, unsure of how to do this, stood face-to-face, one waiting on the other to initiate the embrace.
Finally, he came to her -- taking her at arm's length, holding her loosely. His hand lay still on her back.
Allowing her wrists to drape over his shoulders, Tamara ensured safe distance by resting her elbows and forearms on his chest.
He closed his eyes. Tamara's, however, stayed with the revealed area of his chest. The two danced as if to different rhythms. Bodies estranged; Tamara wondered if he felt wrong. She did. Yet it felt right. Being with him felt good.
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