The Fine Art of Loving
Suave graphic designer Rashad Brown has always held out for what he wants. He likes his women polished and accommodating because he values his freedom above all else. Then he meets a woman far from his idea of perfect—she has an ex, she has a kid, she defies his expectations. And he can’t get enough of her.
From the moment she meets Rashad in art class, advertising student Michelle Johns knows she is in trouble. She came to Washington only seeking peace for herself and her young son, Andre. Oh-so-sexy Rashad threatens her newfound serenity. His skillful hands ignite dormant passions; his discerning eyes see her as her ex never did. And his kind attention dares her to do the most dangerous thing of all: hope. But there’s a fine line between optimism and regret. Will her amorous artist truly be able to accept her past so that they can build a dazzling tomorrow…together?
Rashad took her hand as they maneuvered through the groups touring the street.
She was leading, and he didn’t want to lose her, but it felt good to have her hand for other reasons, too. She looked back at him and smiled, plunging them along through the crowd.
“Does this place ever quiet down?” he asked once they made it to the restaurant.
“I’ve been at Regina’s shop until midnight, and there were still people in the streets,” Michelle said.
“That’s right. Did we pass it?”
“Yes, but I can point it out on the way back, when we have more time.”
The restaurant was still open, and they were seated right away.
Rashad took Michelle’s hands in his while they waited for their late-night meal. He saw her get still and quiet, but she didn’t take her hand away. Instead, she smiled at him.
“I like the feel of your hands,” she said. “They’re strong.”
“Yours are soft. I like that, too.”
YASMIN SULLIVAN
grew up in upstate New York and St. Thomas, Virgin Islands, from which her family hails. She moved to Washington, D.C., to attend college and has earned degrees from Howard University and Yale University. As an academic writer, she has published on works by Frederick Douglass, Harriet Jacobs, James Baldwin, Maya Angelou and Ed Bullins, as well as the writing of the Negritude Movement and historical fiction treating emancipation in the Danish West Indies/United States Virgin Islands. She currently lives in Washington, D.C., where she teaches with a focus on African-American and Caribbean literatures. When she is not teaching, she also does creative writing and works on mosaics.
In His Arms
Yasmin Sullivan
Dear Reader,
In Zora Neale Hurston’s Their Eyes Were Watching God, Tea Cake, Janie’s third husband, reminds her to be young and enjoy life. Tea Cake’s sentiments should inspire us to embrace laughter in our lives and to capture life before it is gone.
This novel is the story of Michelle Johns and Rashad Brown, who can find laughter and life only if they both let go of the past—either its heartaches or expectations.
I am so glad that you have decided to share their love story with me. I am already at work on my next romance project, but for now, I would love to hear your thoughts on this book. Please write me at [email protected].
Warm wishes,
Yasmin
For my mother, father, brother and grandmother,
who have given me the richness of the human heart;
for Jennie and Tanya,
who have been my sister-friends;
for Madeline, Freddie and William,
who have shaped my vision of love;
and for Vionette and Lois,
who have inspired the romantic in me.
Contents
Chapter 1
Michelle Johns sat at her dining table with her schoolwork in front of her and her son in the chair next to her. Her little one had been quiet for a while. Michelle tipped her head, glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and smiled.
For the past hour, he had been turning pages in his storybook as she turned pages in her communications law book. Andre was just beginning to learn how to read simple words, and the book he had was one that she read to him at bedtime—one with lots of words to go with the pictures.
Nevertheless, he was intent on their task and peered at the pages before him.
Andre was just beginning to grow out of his baby fat and acquire the spindly limbs of childhood, but he still had full brown eyes with thick lashes and big round cheeks that puffed up when he smiled. His features still held the amazement of a child and the vulnerability of youth. Right now, his eyebrows were furrowed in inquiry, and the serious expression on his face ended in a little pucker on his lips that pulled at Michelle’s heart.
Michelle turned to her son, wrapped her arms around him and proceeded to tickle him until they were both laughing. When they were done, she ruffled his hair and pulled him up from his chair and into her arms for a tight squeeze.
“Reading is hard work, huh?”
Andre nodded his head. “Is it time for a snack yet?”
Michelle