Whole Lotta Frogs by Samatha Harris Blitz
WHOLE LOTTA FROGS
AUTHOR: SAMATHA HARRIS
RELEASE DATE: JUNE 19, 2018
COVER DESIGNER: T.E. BLACK DESIGNS
My name is Lennox Brooks and I’ll admit, I’ve made a lot of mistakes. I don’t take the big risks, I cover my insecurities with snark, I’ve shown my crazy a few more times then I would’ve liked, and I’ve been trying, and failing at love pretty much since I first grew tits.
Weirdos, Mama’s boys, the over-coiffed, and underwhelming, I’ve been out with them all, just read my blog. I’ve got horror stories that would curl your toes and singe your nose hairs, but none of them compare to the toad who started it all, Ellis Walker.
He was the boy next door, the charming, infuriatingly gorgeous one who broke my heart and disappeared without a trace. Now he’s back and determined to throw my life into chaos, dredging up painful memories just when things were getting good.
But the thing is there are always two sides to every story.
I’ve spent the better part of my life hating him for everything he put me through, but without that resentment clouding my judgment how will I ever resist him?
Love is complicated, appearances are deceiving, and sometimes you have to kiss a whole lotta frogs before finding your prince.
Amazon US- https://tinyurl.com/yd87v6gz
Amazon CA- https://tinyurl.com/ycpn3s8w
Barnes & Nobel- https://tinyurl.com/ycovqf2lI stepped into an enormous bowl made of trampolines. Bright neon-green padding ran in a grid-like pattern across the entire arena, separating each trampoline into its own little rectangle. The springy black fabric covered every available surface, including the walls.
I stepped down into the closest square, giving it a test bounce, and smiled. It doesn’t matter how old you get. It’s impossible not to smile when bouncing on a trampoline.
We had the entire bowl to ourselves. I could still hear the music and the screaming, but it sounded distant and not nearly as deafening.
Ellis bounced back and forth from square to square, the squeaking of the springs mixed with my own tentative steps.
“Is this part of your plan?” I asked.
Ellis stopped jumping and rested his hands on his hips to catch his breath. “I could’ve gone with the cliché dinner and movie, but I figured you could use a little bit of fun.”
I laughed. “You’re right. I could use some fun. I’ve been a little stressed since this guy from my past came back into my life and won’t leave me alone.”
Ellis shrugged. “Maybe he likes you.”
I laughed and jumped to another square. “He thinks he does.”
“Trust me, Len. He knows.”
“Okay, so what’s next? Or was your grand plan to make me work out against my will.”
Ellis held up one finger and disappeared through the curtain of netting, only to reappear with a bag of bright red balls.
“What is that?”
“I was thinking about what you said about me torturing you when we were younger. I was a punk kid trying to get the attention of the girl he liked, but I get how it may not have felt that way to you.” He dropped the bag at my feet and turned it upside down, emptying six rubber balls at my feet. “This is your chance to get me back.”
Ellis made his way to the other side of the bowl and opened his arms. “Let me have it, Len. All I ask is that you don’t aim for the face.”
“You want me to hit you?”
“If you’re ever going to give us a chance, you need to let go of the past, and if this is what it takes to get you to forgive me then so be it. I’m willing to take the hit.”
I picked up a ball, testing the weight in my hands and eyeing him as he stood, arms wide open, feet spread apart, muscles tense and prepared for impact.
I wanted to hit him. I really did. But I am an adult, and adults don’t solve problems by hurling rubber projectiles.
“I can’t,” I said. “This is childish.”
“You scared?” he asked that trademark smirk of his spread wide across his face.
“I’m not scared. This is stupid.”
“I agree, but continuing to punish me for the mistakes I made as a kid is also pretty stupid.”
Anger welled inside of me and I drew back, hurling the ball as hard as I could toward his chest. The ball hit its target with a loud thud and bounced away.
Victory swelled inside my chest.
“See?” Ellis said. “Feeling a little vindicated, aren’t you?”
“Shut up,” I said, hurling the next ball toward him.
Samatha “Sam” Harris lives near Baltimore, Maryland with her husband David and daughter Ava. Born in Florida, she migrated north which most people agree was a little backwards. She has been an artist all of her life, a Tattoo Artist for more than ten years, and a storyteller since she was a kid.
Sam has a slightly unhealthy love for Frank Sinatra, classic movies, and Jazz and Blues music, but her first love will always be reading. From Romance, to Thrillers, to Historical Fiction and everything in between, she loves to become a part of the story. As a writer she tells the stories that she would want to read.