Author Override is the place where authors take the reins and take you on a journey into their world. Some may allow you into their private writing dens. Others may take you along with them on research trips or interviews. Whatever the case may be, sit back, relax and enjoy the ride because here you’ll get an in-depth look into an author’s musings.
That Thing You Do
“You never fall in love with anyone the same way you fell in love with someone else. It’s always different, every time, if you’re lucky (or cursed) enough to have it happen more than once. But I’ve never been uncertain about love, not any of the times I found myself in it. Love is always real, even when it doesn’t last.”
This is what Elisabeth, the heroine of Tear You Apart, knows about love. Even so, she’s still surprised when she finds herself in it with Will, the man she meets at her friend Naveen’s art gallery. Elisabeth isn’t looking for a relationship, much less an affair or love, but when she turns around, there’s Will.
“There’s a crinkle, tickle, tease on the back of my neck. The weight of a gaze. I turn around, and someone’s there.
“You’d need a house the size of a castle to hang that piece of shit.”
The voice is soft. Husky. For just a moment, before I look into his eyes, nearly as gender-neutral as the face of the child in the picture, but only for a moment because the second my gaze finds his, my brain fits it into a neat slot. Male. Man. He’s a man, all right, despite the soft voice.
He’s not looking at me, but at the picture, so I can stare at him for a few seconds longer than what’s socially acceptable. Hair the color of wet sand spikes forward over his forehead and feathers against his cheeks in front of his ears. It’s short and wispy in the back, exposing the nape of his neck. He’s got a scruffy face, not just like a guy who’s forgone shaving for a few days, but one who keeps an uneasy truce with his razor at best. He wears a dark suit, white shirt, narrow dark tie. Retro. Black Converse on his feet.”
The spark is undeniable.
He laughs. “Will Roberts.”
I take the hand he holds out. His fingers are calloused and rough, and for a moment I imagine how they’d sound against something silk, like a scarf. His touch would rasp on something soft. It would whisper.
His fingers curl around mine. For one bizarre second, I’m sure he’s going to kiss the back of my hand. I tense, waiting for the brush of his mouth against my skin, the wet slide of his tongue on my flesh, and that’s ridiculous because of course he wouldn’t do such a thing. People don’t do that to strangers. Even lovers would hardly do such a thing.
My imagination is wild, I know it, yet when he lets my hand drop I’m still a little disappointed. His touch lingers, the way his fingers scraped at mine. I’m not soft as silk, no matter how many expensive creams I rub into my skin. And yet, I’d been right. His touch whispered.”
Soon, they can’t get enough of each other, and soon after that, things change. There’s more to this than passion.
“We talk every day. Silly things. Jokes and comments on the weather. We talk about our kids — it’s been such a long time since my girls were small that his stories of crayon-colored drawings for the fridge make me feel both nostalgic and relieved I’m no longer in that place. We share our favorite colors and flavors of ice cream and television shows and music, but we never talk about what this is.”
Elisabeth experiences synesthesia, a condition in which sight and smell or sound link together.
“The word love has always tasted like the scent of fresh ink and soft paper to me. Like a newly written poem.”
Love is a newly written poem, and it’s real. Even when it doesn’t last. That’s what Elisabeth knows about love.
Tear You Apart is about the journey of two people who were destined to meet and change each other forever. It is not a romance, but it is a love story.
Their passion will consume everything and everyone in its path.
I’m on a train.
I don’t know which stop I got on at; I only know the train is going fast and the world outside becomes a blur. I should get off, but I don’t. The universe is playing a cosmic joke on me. Here I had my life—a good life with everything a woman could want—and suddenly, there is something more I didn’t know I could have. A chance for me to be satisfied and content and maybe even on occasion deliriously, amazingly, exuberantly fulfilled.
So this is where I am, on a train that’s out of control, and I am not just a passenger. I’m the one shoveling the furnace full of coal to keep it going fast and faster.
If I could make myself believe it all happened by chance and I couldn’t help it, that I’ve been swept away, that it’s not my fault, that it’s fate…would that be easier? The truth is, I didn’t know I was looking for this until I found Will, but I must’ve been, all this time. And now it is not random, it is not fate, it is not being swept away.
This is my choice. And I don’t know how to stop.
Or even if I want to.
About the Author:
Megan Hart has written in almost every genre of romantic fiction, including historical, contemporary, romantic suspense, romantic comedy, futuristic, fantasy and perhaps most notably, erotic. She also writes non-erotic fantasy and science fiction, as well as continuing to occasionally dabble in horror.