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All In My Head
He's sexy as hell, but he's just a voice... Avery Waldorf wakes up from a concussion to find a voice inside her head—an adventurous male voice belonging to Marcus, who doesn’t know where he came from, but has an opinion on everything about her life. She just wants to work on her screenplay, go to her writing classes and flirt with the guy of her dreams, Nash, who is finally noticing her.
Marcus wants to get up at dawn, run, snowboard, and basically take over her life, and even her body at times. He thinks she’s freaking hot and does not like Nash touching her. Marcus may be smart, talented at snowboarding, drawing and playing the guitar, but he’s not real! When she needs help, she has to call Nash.
She can’t tell anyone about Marcus without sounding like she’s crazy. Meanwhile Marcus doesn’t know where he’ll go if he leaves her mind. Does he need her help? Could he have a body out there waiting for him? More oddly, could she fall for a voice? Maybe she is losing it…
Teaser:
Then, mid-class, I realized that instead of paying attention, I was looking down at my notepad, sketching instead of taking notes or even trying to listen. It took a few slow seconds for me to see that I was drawing myself. And I don’t draw.
I stared in horror like it was a dead rat. Holeeee hell. Really, I can’t draw at all, and this was pretty good. Really good. I mean, it looked like me, even with expression.
Marcus, is that you drawing?
Oh … sorry. Bored out of my mind.
You’re good.
Wow, is that a … what do you call that? Oh, a compliment.
I scanned the few people around me who could see my desk. No one was looking my way.
How do you know what I look like when you’re on the inside, looking out?
I’ve seen you in the mirror.
He got all this from a few glances in the mirror? Marcus had a fine memory.
You have very striking looks. Now can I please get back to my artwork?
Worried and yet fascinated, I watched my own hand move the pencil in confident strokes, filling in my lips. When had Marcus been able to study me that much? The only time he saw my face was when I looked in the mirror. Speaking of my face, it got hot—for several reasons. First, I was drawing myself. I’d die if anyone noticed. Second, it blew up some of my theories about Marcus, or what was causing all this. If I can’t draw, I can’t make up a person who can, right? And third, he was drawing me in a certain mood. I looked … suggestive.
Excuse me, Marcus, but when have you seen that look on my face?
I have an imagination. A very vivid one at times.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR Kristen James is the author of Stranger in my Bed, The Cowboy Kiss, In A Field of Oranges, Costa Rica, Point Hope, More Than Memories and many other stories. She lives in the Pacific Northwest.