Welcome to our stop on the blog tour for Only the Good Die Young by K.K. Hendin. We have an extract to share with you and there is a tour wide giveaway where you can win an Only the Good Die Young care package (2 up for grabs!) or e-book (2 up for grabs as well!).
Title: Only the Good Die Young
Author: K.K. Hendin
Release Date: 11 March, 2014
Event Organised by: InkSlinger PR
Breast cancer really has a way of messing with a girl’s social calendar.
When Milcah’s temporarily discharged from the hospital, she’s determined to get a tattoo for every medical procedure she’s had. Her quest leads her to Skin Stories, a new tattoo parlor a block from her apartment. And to it’s infuriatingly sexy artist, Callum Scott.
Callum is everything Milcah wants, and everything she shouldn’t have now. A new relationship when the official prognosis is one to five years is a terrible idea. But Callum doesn’t know about the breast cancer, and Milcah’s not running to tell him.
But when the doctor says things are actually looking positive, her entire life turns upside down. How is she supposed to start living again when she’s finally learned to accept her death?
A knock on the door jolts me out of the river of consciousness I’m trying my best to stay afloat in. I’m too tired to raise my head, and I just wait to see if anyone walks in.
“Hi, Ms. Daniels?” It’s someone who I don’t know.
Someone who isn’t wearing scrubs.
I don’t say anything. I don’t have the strength. I don’t care.
“Ms. Daniels, my name is Roberta, and I’m here from the local breast cancer support group, and I came to see how you’re doing.”
“Well, you saw.” I gesture to the tubes that are still hooked up to my body. “And now you can leave.”
But Roberta, wearing the damn pink ribbon, apparently doesn’t have a firm grasp of the English language, because she doesn’t leave. She comes to the edge of my bed.
“I’m here to see how you’re doing,” she repeats, as if the chemo killed all my brain cells instead of the tumor.
“I heard you. And you saw. Now you can leave.” I don’t have patience for this shit.
I can’t deal with any false sympathy right now.
She leans over and places her hand on my shoulder and smiles down at me.
Oh, hell no.
“I know it’s hard for you,” she says.
“Listen, ma’am. I don’t know who the hell you are, I don’t know what you’re doing here, and I don’t know why the hell you’re touching me. Leave. Now.”
Her eyes widen, but she stays there, her hand still on my shoulder.
“Some people are a little irritable after chemotherapy,” she says to me.
“Not like any procedure I have or haven’t been having here is any of your goddamned business, but I don’t give a shitting monkey about people being irritable,” I snap. “I didn’t ask you to come, I told you I didn’t want you in here, and I’m asking you to leave now.”
I hit the bell next to my bed and hope that Holly comes and removes this moron from my room. Damn cancer, making me so weak I can’t even shrug her hand off my shoulder.
“Everything okay in here?” It’s not Holly, it’s a different nurse.
God, at this point, I don’t even care anymore.
“Get her out of my room,” I say, knowing my voice is weaker than it normally is, and it makes me flinch.
Roberta smiles at the nurse. “I’m here from the local breast cancer support group,” she says.
“Ma’am, the patient would like you to leave now.”
God bless her.
Roberta throws me a pitying look, and leaves.
“Thanks,” I say to the nurse, my voice fading.
She smiles and leaves, closing the door part of the way as she walks out. I close my eyes and sink into an endless pit of self-doubt.
She spends way too much time on Twitter, where she can be found at @kkhendin, and rambles on occasion over at www.kkhendinwrites.blogspot.com.
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