Blurb:
Kristen Jensen, a Navy veteran, tips the
scale at a crippling three hundred pounds. In desperation she asks her VA
therapist if she can go into addictions treatment with the guys where she meets
Sean. With black hair, blue eyes, and a perfect body she figures the reason
he’s speaking to her is that she’s the only other person in the room.
The Haystack told their lead singer, Sean Wesley, to get
clean or get out. But none of the big-name clinics worked. Sean’s a Desert
Storm vet, so they send him to a VA in the middle of nowhere. When he meets Kristen
the first day, he thinks it’s tragic such a pretty girl’s trapped in a huge
body. And her honesty, intelligence, and bravery are even more impressing.
Sean’s drawn to Kristen, but she’s had decades to build layers of defense.
Excerpt :
Sean Wesley went into the snack room
to help himself to coffee and a roll. He’d probably gain weight while he was
here without his personal trainer and weight room. He’d been a fat kid—always
the last to be chosen for games, and stuck in right field when he did play.
He’d been saved from a life of obesity by a growth spurt in his late teens, a
judge who gave him a choice between jail and the Marines, and switching
addictions from food to booze and then cocaine.
By rights, Sean shouldn’t be at a VA
facility. Celebrities like him usually got sober at places like the Betty Ford
clinic or Hazelden. Actually, he’d come from Betty Ford, but he’d still felt
shaky so his manager, Don Nelson, had done his homework. Danville, Illinois,
was in the middle of nowhere. The program was different, based on Rational
Emotive Therapy, and Sean was a veteran. While he made too much money to be
treated at the VA, there’s money and then there’s money. Sean had money—the
kind that opens doors and breaks down barriers. The kind that makes even the
Federal Government say, “We’ll see what we can do,” and then do it.
So here he was in the middle of a
cornfield in bum-fuck Illinois at a shabby old VA hospital. An enormously obese
woman came into the snack room interrupting his reverie, and Sean thought, That could’ve been me. What a shame—she’s so
pretty.”
* * * *
Kristen noticed the table of goodies
and the drop-dead-gorgeous man perusing them in the break room when she went in
there to put her lunch in the refrigerator.
“Want one? I heard they send ’em over
every morning. I guess they’re yesterday’s leftovers.”
That’s
right. Offer sweets to the fat lady. She managed a tight grimace. “Thanks, but
I’m here because I’m a food addict.” She held up her orange.
“I’m Sean.” He prob’ly wouldn’t give a fat chick like me a second look anywhere
else. Still, what is it about men with black hair and blue eyes that makes me
go all mushy?
“Hi.”
“I’ve heard of food addicts, but what
makes ya call yourself that?”
“When my kids were little, I left them
without a babysitter while I went to the store and wrote a rubber check for ice
cream and M&Ms. I’d say I’ve been about as desperate for my fix as any
addict or alcoholic.”
“Wow! Yeah, I guess so.” He held the
door for her as they exited and then followed her into the Day Room.
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Amazon Author Page: http://amazon.com/author/rochelleweberThanks for sharing,
Tina
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