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One Percent of You by Michelle Gross Blitz

Title: One Percent of You
Author: Michelle Gross
Genre: Slow Burn Romance
Release Date: May 5, 2019 Cover Design: Mayhem Cover Creations!
Make no mistakes about it. I know what I look like to others. Young, government-aided, pregnant mom. They see Lucy on my hip, and they see a mistake. I mean, why else would someone have a child so young, right? They couldnā€™t be more wrong. Iā€™m too busy most days between parenting, work, and finishing up my last year of nursing school to let their judging gaze tear me down until he moves in the vacant house next to the apartments I live in. His cold, blunt observation of us doesnā€™t differ from any other stranger. He doesnā€™t know me, but heā€™s already painting a picture of who he thinks I am in his mind. He judges my very round belly, Lucyā€™s inability to leave him alone, the bags under my eyes, and the fact that I can care less what I look like anymore.

Heā€™s a rude guy. Stays that way for months too. Then something happens, Iā€™m not even sure what. Judgmental Guy decides Lucy and meā€”as well as baby Eli, are worth his friendship.
Turns out, Judgmental Guy isnā€™t too meanā€”okay, he kind of still is. But he graduates to Elijah. I build an unlikely friendship with him which deems it necessary for him to start smiling around me and my kids.
Iā€™m wrong again. Elijah isnā€™t rude. Heā€™s terrifying. His strange acts of kindness are unraveling me. Elijah is only my friend.
Right?
Oh, fudge. I think Iā€™m wrong. Again.

There was only one bag left, and it was partially hidden by all the Layā€™s chips next to it. I nodded and smiled as if to say, ā€œItā€™s all goodā€ when two little hands shot up and snatched the bag before I could.
ā€œWhoa,ā€ I said, staring down at the blonde pigtails.
She slowly turned, peered up, and arched her brow at me curiously. ā€œAre you talking to me?ā€ The kid couldnā€™t be more than three and there she was completely alone and stealing my damn Funyuns!
ā€œHow about you give me those Funyuns?ā€ I asked nicely.
She stared down at the chips in her tiny gripā€”those were mineā€”then looked back up. ā€œNo. Get your own.ā€ She turned to walk off.
ā€œWhereā€™re your parents? Little shits shouldnā€™t be all alone even if theyā€™re becoming lilā€™ thieves at such a young age.ā€
She scowled, her tiny nose wrinkling up. ā€œSheā€™s right where I left her.ā€ She pointed to a blonde head leaned over one of the freezer sections. The little girl was inspecting me when I glanced back down at her. I saw the way her eyes rolled over my arms before she frowned. ā€œMy papaw always tells my mom that tattoos are ugly on women.ā€
ā€œOh?ā€ I tilted my head. ā€œYour papaw sounds ugly.ā€
Her mouth fell open. ā€œYou have demons on your arms ā€™cause youā€™re one.ā€
I jumped and hissed. She startled, dropped the Funyuns, and ran screaming to her mom. I bent down, picked up my chips, and chuckled as I walked over to the next aisle and grabbed a pizzaā€”something I could at least heat up easilyā€”then went to the checkout where ugly grandpaā€™s evil thief helped her mom unload their shopping cart items.
Lilā€™ Thief gazed up, eyes widening then hardening as tough as one could look at her age. She saw the bag of chips in my hand and tapped her Momā€™s side ā€œMom, mom,ā€ she started.
ā€œWhat is it, Lucy?ā€ Her mother asked as she grabbed her purse and wheeled the cart forward as the cashier rung up her items. I took in the greasy blonde hair tucked into a messy bun. It probably had been a day or two since she shampooed it. From her chipped nails to her pale, tired face without makeup it was obvious she didnā€™t give two shits about her appearance. The longer I watched her, the more she irked me. I exhaled loudly as I imagined her living off the government. In a matter of minutes, sheā€™d slide an EBT card through the slot to pay for her items.
Guilt washed over me. My ma had been in this shape while raising me, and most of the food on our table before she met Hank came from food stamps, yet I saw more people abuse the system, so my disdain was real every time I saw people like this one in a store.
No one was like Ma. She was her own breed, and sheā€™d hang me for my petty thoughts, but I couldnā€™t stop myself.
ā€œThat demon worshipper stole my chips.ā€
Fucking hell. I went from the dude with demons on my arm to demon worshipper real quick. Iā€™d hate to see what this child would have to say about my shopsā€”creepy, demon portraits everywhere. The horror!
The motherā€™s head snapped up from her purse at her childā€™s voice. She peered around to where her daughter pointedā€”at meā€”before turning a pitiful shade of red. Her eyes were the brightest shade of blue Iā€™d ever seen, or maybe it was because she was so pale and sickly looking. She blushed so hard it made her extremely noticeable.
ā€œLucy, thatā€™s not nice! Why would you say that?ā€ She wiped her face and tried hard not to stare at me as she spoke to her daughter.
ā€œHe stole my Funyuns!ā€ Her daughterā€™s face was red too. Quite the match, the two of them.
The mom raised up, face squinted in pain as she placed her palm on her back, and that was when I noticedā€”holy, why hadnā€™t I noticed before? The woman was very pregnant. Just what society neededā€”another little terror running wild. She gestured toward the small chip bags beside me. ā€œGrab a bag so I can pay. And apologize for saying that.ā€
The little girl scooted around the shopping cart and snatched a small bag of Funyuns before turning around to me. ā€œSorry.ā€ She stuck out her tongue as she glared up at me from a perfect angle where her mom couldnā€™t see it. Sneaky.
ā€œYou should really get a hold on that,ā€ I couldnā€™t point at the kid with my hands so full, but I jerked my head toward it so that she would understand I was talking about her kid.
ā€œThat?ā€ The momā€™s eyebrows went up a notch. She forgot the part where she was trying not to make eye contact with me as she frowned.
ā€œYour kid,ā€ I muttered.
ā€œRight, kid,ā€ she told me. ā€œNot that.ā€ She glanced down at her daughter. ā€œCome on, Lucy. Step away from the bad man.ā€
I scoffed. ā€œI guess thatā€™s better than demon worshipper.ā€
She straightened up and glared at me. ā€œWould you prefer it if we called you the devil?ā€
ā€œSuits me.ā€ Kids had no hope of not being little shits when their parents raised them to be just as uptight. I bet sheā€™d love to hear the name of my shops as well.
She scowled and turned around to pay. It surprised me when I saw a debit card slide through the machine. So she had a man she lived off? Popping out babies just to keep him? Youā€™d think sheā€™d at least take better care of herself. ā€œWhat?ā€ she muttered when I was still staring at her.
I shrugged, unbothered. She closed up her purse, hollered for her kid again before waddling out the damn door.
Good riddance!
I dropped my stuff, slowly covering my eyes with my hands. What just happened finally sunk into my thick skull. I stole a kidā€™s chips. There was no end to my assholery.
It was a five-minute drive from the grocery store to my new house. The one thing I hated about the place I bought was that it was right next to the projects. I would likely hear all kinds of shit I didnā€™t want to, but I got a great deal and the house was amazing. Or at least Ma thought so, she was the one that decided for me. I would live in it and pay for it but it didnā€™t matter what I thought. Apparently, anyway.
I really needed to stop letting her boss me around. 
I could almost hear her saying that sheā€™d stop after I found someone else to do it as I pulled into the driveway. Grabbing my grocery bags, I exited the truck. Before I could lock up, I heard a noise from the apartment lot next door.
ā€œLucy, Iā€™m gonna need your help with these.ā€
Who knew why I walked around my truck to see when Iā€™d recognized the familiar voice. The woman from the store was helping Lilā€™ Thief out of a car seat. The moment the kidā€™s feet hit the concrete, it was like her demon detector turned on. Her eyes darted around before landing on me.
One scrawny arm raised and pointed. ā€œDemon worshipper!ā€
Ah, fuck.
Michelle is from a small town in Eastern Kentucky where opossums try to blend in with the cats on the porch and bears are likely to chase your petsā€”this is very true, it happened with her sisterā€™s dog. Despite the extra needed protection for your pets, she loves the mountains she calls home. She has a man and twin girls who are the light of her life and the reason sheā€™s slightly crazy.
As a kid, she was that cousin, that friend, that sister and daughter, the talker who could spin a tale and make-believe into any little thing so it was no surprise when she found love in reading, and figured all these characters inside her head needed an outlet. They wanted to be heard, so she wrote.
The voices keep growing faster than she gets the time to write. 
The stories are never going to end. Thatā€™s perfectly okay, though. We never want to stop an adventure. 
She writes and loves many different genres so sign up to her mailing list to keep updated on her releases!
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