Virgo Rising

Tina Borders

Description

Kirsten Swenson is moving from her hometown of Seattle to her birthplace of Minneapolis for a new job and jump in her career. She carries a sense of responsibility toward her American foremothers who fought long and hard for women’s rights, but feels she’s letting them down a bit. She has some nagging questions: How does one manage to have a thriving career and a family? And why is she still a virgin? Her virginity, in particular, is causing increasing anxiety as she approaches her late twenties. 

Kirsten is all modern woman in her navigation of department store couture but seems stuck somewhere back before the sexual revolution. She is attracted to men but doesn’t encourage nor look for romantic relationships. 

Minneapolis makes her confront many of her demons, including interacting with her estranged father and the aftermath of a family tragedy. 

She meets two very different men. She has no attraction to these men until a singular moment catching her off guard. The reason for the attractions, however, are not the same, and each one weaves a web around her pushing her further to the truth.

Sujets

• Sexualité
• sexualité
• Sexualité
• Fiction
• Seattle
• Minneapolis
• Love
• Romance
• Urban
• The Women
• Feminism
• Woman
• Virginity
• Scandinavian
• Women's fiction
• Workplace
• Women

Informations

• Publié par: Me Myself and I Inc.
• Date de parution: 07 février 2019
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9780578402406
• Langue: English

Extrait

virgo rising
Tina Borders
Me Myself and I, Inc.
Portland Oregon


Copyright © 2019 Tina Borders
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.
Tina Borders (tinaborders.com)/Me Myself and I, Inc.
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Book Layout © 2014 BookDesignTemplates.com
Virgo Rising/Tina Borders. -- 1st ed.
ISBN 978-0-578-40241-3


ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I want to thank Brenda for asking me if I write. Amy, for being such a good friend, you liked it even when it was a mess. Noramah, for your endless reading and editing, and Debra Hartmann at Pro Book Editor (theprobookeditor.com) for your patience and objective editing skills, without which I could never have given this book its professional polish. Thank you!


For Brett


Table of Contents
August
Dayfield’s
Michael
Lake Minnetonka
Midsummer Gala
New York
Lake of the Isles
After
The Ball
Love
Epilogue
A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR


August

The sound of Kirsten’s father singing the doxology made her want to disappear. As he sang, his lower lip protruded from the force of the sound that emanated from deep within. He was unaware of the part he should be playing. This was not a performance by The Mormon Tabernacle Choir. Most people wanted their voices to blend in, if not be barely audib le, but not August.
He was a proud man, who had the self-confidence of a shirtless, steed-riding Vladimir Putin. However, unlike Putin he could rest on his good looks instead of the power that came with being president of a formidable country.
His deeply rugged brow seemed perpetually tan and magnified the blue of his eyes. The slight silver that was beginning to show in his otherwise blond beard and hair only added to his appeal. He was of an acceptable height, but when asked, he would stretch and say he was exactly six feet.
She was mad at herself for agreeing to come in the first place. It was one of the trade-offs of moving to Minneapolis—she’d have to see him.
Trapped as she was, her thoughts wandered back to her journey here. Less than a month ago she was happy living the single career-girl life she’d carefully planned for herself. The blur of the last week swirled with images, voices, and conversations that never would’ve happened if she hadn’t received that one phone call. It only takes a moment to monumentally change a life.
She needed to be alone. She desperately wanted to sit and process. It was all too much; even the seemingly straightforward drive here was determined to be eventful.
She closed her eyes, pretending to be lost in the moment, and found herself back in her old Volvo chugging up the mountain pass. Like now, she’d felt boxed in by the steep mountain of shale on her right and the guardrail marking the edge of a deep canyon on the opposite side. A yellow yield sign warned of possible falling rocks. As a child she’d been a little scared about the possibility of falling and wondered what the chances would be of it happening. This time fate answered. As she came around the next bend she saw a large boulder had crushed the bed of a pickup truck. The already beat-up-looking truck had been on her tail not more than five minutes ago and angrily passed her. Sheer fear gripped her as she held her breath. The damage to the truck was extensive, and debris and rock covered the road, cascading down the canyon. Metal fencing usually saved for corralling horses or cattle lay strewn about and one even dangled precariously on a piece of craggy rock above her head.
How is that even possible? she wondered. Kirsten sat clutching the steering wheel, not sure what to do. She’d taken first aid in high school but never did very well at the sight of blood. She could make out a car stopped on the other side of the road.
Was it hit too?
No, she could see someone getting out of the driver’s seat as she heard the rumbling of a semi stopping behind her with its loud squeak and whistle of compression brakes. Before she could find the handle on her door, the trucker jumped out and ran toward the victim in the crumpled king cab truck. Kirsten was forever grateful to Mister Trucker for showing up and taking charge. She got out but hung back a bit as he opened the door and tried to talk to the driver. The truck was bent in the middle where the boulder lay. The glass in most of the windows was shattered. The trucker was trying to wake up the driver, who was slumped over the wheel unconscious. It looked like he had been wearing his seatbelt, at least, since the truck was probably too old to have air bags. The driver started to move, and the trucker told him to take it easy and sit back. It was then she and passengers from a car on the opposite side approached the trucker to see if there was anything they could do.
Kirsten observed a foursome—two girls and two guys—about her age—who appeared to lead a very different lifestyle than hers. They had dreadlocks hanging from under their matted-down wool knit hats and wore a combination of leggings with shorts or cargo pants and jeans. Their clothes were dark muted hues with softer underclothing of t-shirts and socks in bright solids and patterns of greens, reds, and blues. They had an old Subaru plastered with stickers, many of which were peeling off, proclaiming their eco-religion. The lead eco-guy held his cell phone up, saying he didn’t have a signal. Kirsten immediately ran to her car, grabbed her cell, and turned back waving her phone, “Yeah, I don’t have one either.” Mister Trucker said he’d call on his radio and asked the eco-guy to take over, which he did without hesitation. Again, Kirsten was grateful.
More vehicles slowly approached on both sides and people were getting out to see what had happened. It was a strange and eerie feeling to be up in the mountains with total strangers from different walks of life, the mere thread of a highway bringing them together. The briskness of the mountain air caused her to pull her coat and hat out of her car and put them on as she rejoined the passengers from the eco-car. They had been first on the scene, and despite their outward differences, their circumstances created a sort of solidarity.
Kirsten felt like such a girl while she just stood there watching eco-guy and Mister Trucker take care of the driver. He seemed groggy but was now able to talk. He did have a big gash on his forehead and the bleeding was being stopped by a t-shirt the trucker had brought with him. The girls from the other car had grabbed some blankets to help keep him warm. The trucker was successful in contacting state troopers who were on their way and about a half hour out. As bystanders started to close in wondering if anyone had been called or wanting to know how the driver was, Kirsten was finally able to be helpful by informing everyone about what was going on. One motherly type in her fifties came forward and said she was a medical assistant, then started to take over the care of the driver.
Once she realized the driver was probably going to be okay and it was a matter of waiting, Kirsten’s thoughts turned to more practical issues, like how long she was going to be stuck up here. She couldn’t call her mother, and if she missed her expected call time, it would create needless panic. She thought she’d get a signal a little farther down the road, another thirty to forty miles ahead. Then she could pull over if necessary and call her. It wouldn’t be quite to Billings yet, but about the same time her mother would expect the call, assuming of course, she would be another couple hours max before she’d be cleared to go. Who knows how long this will take , Kirsten thought. It’s not like she had the ability to assess this kind of situation. The second eco-guy who’d been hanging with them and sort of disengaged the whole time got back into the Subaru. One of the girls he was traveling with said he was sick.
Sick or stoned , Kirsten mused.
Eco-guy number one realized he wasn’t needed anymore, so hung back with Kirsten and his other traveling companions.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hi,” Kirsten returned. She felt a jolt go through her upon noticing how cute he was. Somehow she’d missed that detail before. He seemed to pick up on her attraction, which Kirsten found maddening because it wasn’t intentional. He gave her a wide-open grin with a mischievous twinkle from a fleck of amber in his otherwise brown eyes. Damn, he was good! Normally she preferred blue eyes, but his were kind and set deep beneath thick black brows. She couldn’t help but be drawn in. His hair was an unruly mess of matching black and the stubble on his face gave him a very sexy, rugged look. Kirsten turned toward the girls so she wouldn’t confirm he was right about what he saw.
“So, he’s going to be okay?” girl with dreadlocks inquired.
“Yeah, it looks that way,” he replied. Eco-guy looked at Kirsten and asked, “Where are you headed?” pointing out her Washington state plates with a nod of his head.
“Minneapolis,” Kirsten replied.
“R