Author K. K. Harris Bio
Kanika K. Harris was born and raised in Little Rock, AR. She attended and graduated from the historical Little Rock Central High School in 1999. Kanika is married to her wonderful husband of nine years and mother to three children. She spends her days working diligently alongside her partner and husband running their home based business. Wanting to be an urban fiction novelist has always been a dream of hers and finally in 2013 she self-published ‘Love Drug’.
The first released novel only increased the hunger to see what other plateaus she could reach. Her twelfth novel ‘The First Lady’s Choice was released January 2016 and there is so much more to come from this author. Although the writing process can be trying at times, she is looking forward to many more stories to come.
My passion is writing and creating stories from all genres. Whatever comes to my mind when it’s time to create is my favorite. I love romance (any kind), I read just about everything. I don’t really have a preference as long as it holds my attention past the first three chapters. Although I know in this game, grammar and correct verbiage is the number one pet peeve of some readers, I can’t say that I can relate. Just my opinion, don’t shoot the messenger. Honestly, I suppose I just enjoy the heart of a story versus perfection.
The First Lady’s Choice ~ Excerpt
Prologue…
When life seems to throw the biggest curve ball, where do you go? How do you dodge it? Where is your safe haven? When the chips seem to fall in all the wrong places, who are you supposed to run to?
Here I am a thirty year-old married woman with nowhere to go. Just as I thought this day couldn’t possibly get any worse, it did. Waking up this morning, I never could have imagined the outcome of a confrontation; a confrontation over someone else’s indiscretions to add insult to injury. All the proof that has made itself present to me was about to drive me mad; I had to bring it to his attention.
Although I knew, he would be angry from being accused of such a God-awful act, however this angry I didn’t anticipate. I couldn’t have anticipated him to overreact the way he did. The sadistic smile he brandished after he lashed out was the nail in the coffin. Angry I can see, denial, sure why not but abusive—HELL NO. I never would have pegged William to be so heavy-handed.
I bitterly laughed to myself at the term heavy-handed for it was a true understatement. To be a man of the cloth, he certainly could have fooled the hell out of me. The sad part is no one would ever believe me if the events of late were spoken aloud. Pastor William P. Foster was an upstanding pillar in the community and an outstanding preacher of the word. No one would ever believe that he was a proven cheat and now wife-beater could be added to the list.
Maybe not “beater” because I managed to fight him back enough to get away. The fact that he put his hands on me period was enough really to see I was married to a complete stranger. All because he was called out on his indiscretions, he lashed out. In all honesty, I was doing my best not to exaggerate without hearing his side of the story first. When I had every right to show up and show out over the new discoveries, I tried to be a Christian about it. Now it seems my calm demeanor was pointless.
Fleeing the supposed safety of the place I called home, I found myself wondering aimlessly around town. Dallas Texas had never seemed so large until tonight. It never bothered me, the endless exits to nowhere that were steadily appearing on the expressway. Tonight, it was a constant reminder that I was stuck with absolutely nowhere to turn. The closest family member to Dallas lived in Galveston; there was no way I would make it without crashing.
After all, I had worked a full shift and not to mention waiting around forever for William to return home from a weeklong business trip. Only the imagination would make me guess where he really was or what he was really doing while away. No telling whom he was away with, for that matter. Nothing else could surprise me about him at this point. He has proven to be a true narcissistic prick with a temper.
“Who is it?” A deep voice asked through the door. The sound of the voice always brought a sense of calmness to my fragile nerves but today it seemed impatient.
“…” As bad as I wanted to shout my name, the frog in my throat didn’t allow it. It was a given that he would look in the peephole anyway so I could never understand why he would always ask. Finally, the locks began to turn and the door was opened.
“What are you doing out so late?”
“Sorry to interrupt… I…” I couldn’t form a complete sentence to save my life. Here I was standing on a friend that I had practically written offs doorstep late on a Friday night. My life was in utter turmoil and sadly, my mind was tempting to slip into the gutter. ‘What the hell is wrong with me?’
“Megan, what’s going on?” Tremaine asked. He sounded generally concerned.
“Tre, is everything okay?” A female voice said on the other side of the door. I never imagined someone else would be here so late.
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