Real People with Real Problems. Now there’s a decidedly unsexy descriptor for a romance novel, but it’s one I’ll proudly take for my latest novel, BOUNCE the story of not-quite-real-housewife and working mother, Sabrina Jacobs who on the surface seems to have it all with her sexy hunk of a husband. But behind the curtain of perfection, her world is falling apart.
Sabrina’s drama is amped up quite a few notches for dramatic effect, but who amongst us has not felt at times that our lives were spinning a bit out of our control? And who hasn’t wanted to call a temporary halt and stop the spinning to take things on a different course. Perhaps see what life is like on the other side of the fence? In BOUNCE Sabrina does that and takes a walk on the greener side which as it turns out is nowhere near as green as she imagined.
Growing up as a young girl, Sabrina Jacobs could only dream her life would be this good. She has a successful career, a famous sexy husband, two children, a house in an affluent Westchester suburb and a shoe collection worthy of a magazine spread. Too bad it’s all a façade.
It has been almost a year since her husband admitted he had an affair with a younger and bouncier coworker. Follow Sabrina as she tries to rein in her out-of-control life by kicking her husband out on his rear, chucking her career and even firing her too-cute-for-the-job nanny. But how will she survive as a stay-at-home mom in the land of designer clothes, designer kids’ parties and designer babies? Hmm… maybe the hunky young French teacher, who has been flirting shamelessly with Sabrina, is just what she needs to take her mind off her problems. Well, not if her husband has something to say about it. Will Sabrina be able to forgive and still be true to herself?
A glimpse into Sabrina’s world (Bounce excerpt):
My husband had an affair. A terrible laugh escapes my lips. Me, Sabrina Jacobs, a woman who up until this point has had it all together is being taken down by a scrawny, twenty-something with big hair, skinny thighs and silicone-enhanced boobs.
I breathe hard against the rage, but all I see now is a 90’s Angela Basset in my mind—and she scarily similar to today’s unchanged Angela—but she’s lighting a match. The smell of sulfur is pungent and satisfying and the flames are yellow and orange and oh so beautiful. The fire is hot. Almost as hot as the pain in my belly and it feels good to watch it burn so high and strong. Almost as good as the screams I let go of as my babies were ripping their way into the world. Coming to us. Into their father’s waiting arms. I fight for breath. Fight to douse the flames. I can’t light that match. I know I can’t. If I do the fire may never go out and then where will I be? Where will Mack and Zack be without the two of us?
I look around half expecting to be in some alternate universe. To be in someone else’s bedroom or someone else’s body. But no, it’s mine.
The bile rises in my throat and I run to the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet in time. My knees hit the cold tile floor, and I heave and retch until there is nothing left.
I stand slowly as I grab for a towel to wipe my mouth. A perfect white Egyptian cotton monogrammed towel. SSJ. Sean and Sabrina Jacobs. I quickly wipe my face and throw the towel down in the hamper. I glance at myself in the mirror. My eyes are hollow and red-rimmed. My normally smooth, tan skin is puffy and blotchy. A desperate feeling overtakes me and my heart is beating so fast it feels like it’s about to jump out of my chest. I force slow breaths through my nose.
No way, this is not you, Sabrina. Get it together girl. I rinse my mouth and face, splashing the cold water over and over until my skin stings. When I look at the mirror again, I blink a few times until I can recognize a hint of myself. I pick up a brush and start to smooth my hair. I make a mental note to make an appointment for a touch-up on my relaxer. Just because your marriage is a wreck, it’s no excuse to let yourself go. Sabrina Jacobs does not do sad and tired.
No. Not me. This will not happen to me. My marriage will not fall apart. My kids will not grow up without a father. Not like I did.
With that thought I know that I will take him back. There is no way I’m letting him go, letting this go.
I will not fail at this. I vow this to myself before I shut off the bathroom light and head back to my beautiful, beige, empty bedroom. I get into bed, and reach for the phone on the nightstand. I clutch it tightly to my chest for a few moments as I gather my strength and still my racing heart. Calmed, I let out a long breath and dial Sean’s cell. Again.
A native New Yorker, K.M. Jackson spent ten years designing for various fashion houses before pursuing her dream of being a writer. She currently lives in a suburb of New York with her husband, twins, and a precocious terrier named Jack that keeps her on her toes.
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