But then the woman with the headset brushed something off his shoulder, fiddled with his microphone, and whacked him lightly on the back with her clipboard. “Go!” She said.
Well, shit.
His heart pounding, Isaac took the final steps towards that glowing doorway. And then, with a deep breath, he went right through it.
Out of the darkness, into the light.
“...Isaac Montgomery!” An exuberant, feminine voice cried. “The best selling author of Catching Time is here to discuss his brand-new release, Mountains!”
Applause rang out, and Isaac stood still for a moment as his eyes adjusted to the light. Don’t squint, he remembered Jane saying. We need to capitalise on your face, just in case you fuck up.
Because, apparently, he was handsome. Or something like that.
His vision clearing, Isaac gave himself half a second to gaze out at the studio audience, who were clapping enthusiastically for… him. They were clapping for him.
Then his sense returned: he was supposed to be walking. Walking towards that infamous sofa, the big red one parked squarely in the centre of the stage on which he stood.
Pete and Charli Morning stood in front of it, clearly waiting for him to sit down. Peter’s affable grin was firmly in place, and Charli looked cheerful as ever with her plump cheeks and long, blonde hair. The married co-hosts of Wake Up with the Mornings were so very bloody pleasant. Isaac had once thought they were faking it.
But as he’d learned while preparing for this TV appearance, they absolutely weren’t. They were simply that sweet.
Isaac went over to join them, remembering at the last minute that he was supposed to smile too. He shook Pete’s hand and kissed Charli on the cheek—which felt kind of personal, but was apparently what normal people did. Then, at their friendly insistence, he took a seat on that famous red sofa.
“So,” Charli said, leaning forward. She was somehow utterly average and completely compelling all at once. It was an effective combination. “Isaac Montgomery. The nation’s bad boy. Our dark angel. Do you ever get tired of the nicknames?
What had Jane said? Be yourself. Out loud.
Okay.
“Yes,” he said simply.
There was a pause, and then Pete looked out at the audience and said, “He’s a talker, this one!” He laughed, and the audience laughed with him.
Isaac waited for his skin to crawl… but the moment never came. There was nothing mean-spirited in this particular joke, he realised. No sneering sting in its tail. Or maybe he wasn’t as sensitive as he’d once been. With that thought, he did what he’d been desperate to do since stepping out on stage.
He looked for Lizzie.
And there she was, sitting in the front row, a wry smile on her face. Their eyes locked, and the last of Isaac’s anxiety drained away.
He could do this. He could.
Crossing an ankle over his knee, Isaac allowed himself to settle back into the sofa. He relaxed, really and truly, feeling his throat loosen up and his leaden tongue become something close to silver. As close as he’d ever get, anyway.
“The truth is, none of those things are really me. Tabloids like a bit of drama.” He shrugged. “I’m not a dramatic guy.”
Charli reached forward, picking up a copy of his new book from the nearby coffee table. They’d been arranged in an artful pile, and apparently the camera would get them into shot as much as possible. Isaac hoped so. Because he was really fucking proud of this book. And he wanted it to sell.
For the sake of the people he now called family, the dark rumours surrounding him needed to stop. Or at least slow down.
“You say you’re not dramatic,” Charli said, waving the shiny hardback, “but the story within these pages has a lot of ups and downs. I will confess, I cried through Chapter Four. You know, when—”
Pete gave her a playful tap on the thigh. “Spoilers, love!” He scolded with his trademark cheeky smile. Then, his tone slightly more serious, he turned to Isaac. “Your books are always non-fiction, but this new release is more autobiographical than anything you’ve done. Tell us about that.”
Isaac nodded. “Well, my other books were about the system, life in prison, the reality of being a convicted criminal. Used case studies. Didn’t always talk about myself.”
“You seemed to avoid talking about yourself,” Charli said. “You became a very mysterious character.”
Isaac smiled, catching Lizzie’s eye. She smiled back. Mysterious sounded far better than shy, at least.
“Yeah,” he agreed. “I wasn’t ready to talk about myself. Still coming to terms with some stuff. But I’m okay now, and I want people to know who I really am. So… here it is.” He nodded towards Mountains.
“The account of your childhood, the thought process and lack of options that led you into a life of crime; that was fascinating,” Pete said. Teasing. Giving the audience just a taste. “But those concepts aren’t exactly new. It’s later in the story that things really take a turn. The situation surrounding your conviction for manslaughter; that was especially harrowing.”
Isaac forced himself to nod. “I guess so. More for the victim’s family than for me.”
“Of course,” Charli said quickly. “And—I have to ask—can you tell us anything about the rumour that surfaced recently?” She looked out into the audience, as though checking to see if they followed. They fucking followed. It had been all over the papers. But Isaac let the woman speak. “Supposedly, you’ve been giving a percentage of your royalties to the family of Ben Davis, the man who unfortunately passed away after an altercation with you back in 2005. Is that correct?”
Isaac forced himself to shrug. “Not my story to tell.”
She raised her eyebrows, looking back towards the audience. As if to say, There you have it, folks.
He hated assumptions. Assumptions had caused a lot of problems in his life. But as Jane had told him once: Playing the game isn’t a matter of principle. It’s a matter of common bloody sense.
So this was common sense, in his new world. He’d get used to it.
With a smile, Charli continued. “Now, the fascinating thing about Mountains—beneath your brilliant style, that raw and gritty tone you have—is your attitude towards the hand that life has dealt you. You mention ‘peace’ a lot in this book. It’s clear that things have changed since your earlier releases. Is there anything in particular that’s triggered that transformation in you?”
This was his favourite question. It was one he’d been prepared for, one he was actually eager to answer. Isaac grinned, his eyes going to Lizzie once again. Her hair was still short, and she was fiddling with a tiny curl by her right ear. She was self-conscious. Because she knew what he was about to say.
“Yes.” His voice was bold, full of pride, clearer than it had ever been. “I met someone. It’s briefly mentioned towards the end of Mountains. We fell in love in the French Alps.” He held up his left hand, displaying the plain, gold band that glinted alongside his mother’s signet ring. “And we got married a few months ago.”
Charli clapped her hands while the audience gave a little Awwww.
“There were rumours!” Pete cried. “And we’re very happy to confirm those rumours today! We wish you every happiness.”
“Thanks,” Isaac smiled.
“Now, we don’t want to talk too much about your lovely wife, but I think we all remember certain photographs appearing about a year ago…” Pete trailed off with a good-natured grin, and the audience burst into laughter.
Lizzie had a hand over her mouth, hiding a smile—but her eyes were dancing. Then, as a camera swung towards her to capture her reaction, she giggled outright.
“Yes,” Isaac admitted. “We were a little careless.”
“It’s all very romantic,” Charli said sweetly, patting his thigh as though they were old friends. “So tell us about her!”
“She’s… a dancer. She runs a school out in the country, near our home. She’s very smart. Ki
nda terrifying. Knows what she wants.”
The audience laughed again, and Isaac felt like chuckling along with them. He hadn’t expected this whole experience to be so… well. Fun.
“Would you say love has changed you?” Charli asked.
Instinctively, Isaac shook his head. “Didn’t change me. Just showed me who I was always meant to be. Once you see the path, it’s easier to follow.”
“Oooh!” Charli cooed. The audience echoed her dutifully. “Now, that brings me to another rumour we’ve been hearing… That you’re moving away from non-fiction and into poetry!”
Isaac smiled, rubbing his jaw reflexively. “Don’t think I’m allowed to confirm or deny that just yet.”
She leaned forward, giving him a conspiratorial look. “You can’t give us a little hint?”
“‘’Fraid not. My publisher’s a scary guy.” That got a laugh out of both Charli and Pete—because of course, as everyone knew, Isaac owned his publishing company.
“Well!” Charli threw up her hands. “Can’t blame a girl for trying.”
“A lot of people describe you as scary,” Pete added. “And some of the scenes in Mountains support that, but there are plenty of vulnerable moments too. So, one last question for you today: who is the real Isaac Montgomery?”
“It’s funny you should bring that up,” Isaac said, his expression suddenly serious. “Because I’ve been thinking about that a lot, recently. Especially in light of…” He trailed off, considering his words. “Well, I’m a married man now. I want to start a family.” He couldn’t look at Lizzie right now, or he’d completely lose his head. His mind would travel back to last night. And he’d get caught up in the fact that they were starting a family. He’d get caught up in those four perfect words:
We’re having a baby.
“My children will never experience the things I did,” Isaac said. “That’s a relief. They’ll always have choices. They’ll always have options and support. But I don’t want to just… give them money and act like it’s enough. That can’t be my only legacy. I want to be the kind of man my kids look up to. And I want to be the kind of man who shares his blessings. I want to give people the tools they need to walk away from the life’s darker paths. So I think the real Isaac Montgomery is… human. And trying. And hopeful.” He shrugged. “I don’t know. That’s really all I’ve got.”
“Oh, that’s plenty,” Charli said solemnly, her blue eyes wide. “What an inspiring answer from an inspiring man.” Then, just as quick, her cheerful smile returned, and she faced one of the four cameras hovering around the edge of the stage. “Mountains by Isaac Montgomery will be available tomorrow morning from all major retailers. It’s an absolutely amazing read.”
“Thanks so much for joining us this morning, Isaac,” said Pete.
“Thanks for having me,” Isaac smiled.
“Ladies and gentlemen, give it up for Isaac Montgomery!”
To Isaac’s surprise, the studio erupted. The audience stood, clapping and whooping and cheering.
And there, at the very front, was Lizzie. His wife. The woman carrying his child.
The love of his fucking life.
He’d found peace, alright. And he would never let it go.
The End
Thank you for reading Undone by the Ex-Con. If you enjoyed it, please consider telling your friends or posting a short review. Word of mouth is an author’s best friend and much appreciated.
Thank you,
Talia x
Author’s Note
The world we live in has its issues. I’m lucky to write in a genre that lets me acknowledge those issues—between all the jokes and magical penises, I mean.
This book features some things that have affected me personally. For example: the threat of being outed; coming to terms with a lifelong health condition; classism and the criminal justice system.
I didn’t intend to put these issues into a story. They just kind of… happened. You know how it is!
But something I’d like to mention in more depth is Lizzie’s body positivity journey.
Lizzie is fine with her size and appearance throughout the book, so you might wonder what I mean by ‘body positivity’. It’s a popular phrase these days, but it’s often used in an incomplete way. Many ‘body posi’ messages tell us that we should love our bodies for what they can do instead of how they look.
“Your body lets you laugh, sing, dance, listen to music, watch the sunset, walk a mile! It deserves your love!”
Okay, great. And what about the deaf bodies? The paralysed bodies? The bodies that cause their owners pain with every breath? The inconvenient bodies that require expensive medication and constant doctor’s appointments? What about those bodies? Do they deserve love?
At the start of this book, Lizzie isn’t sure. She sees her unwell body as her enemy, as something dragging her down.
But her perspective changes over time. She has a happy ending with Isaac, but she also has a happy ending with herself.
My body positivity means treating yourself kindly, for no other reason than because you deserve it. There are no conditions or caveats. You are a human being, and you deserve happiness.
Aaaaand… now I’ll stop being all mushy! Ahem.
Undone by the Ex-Con is book 2 in my Just for Him series (book 1 was, of course, Bad for the Boss). Book 3, starring the infamous Aria, is coming soon. And I’m happy to tell you all that I’ll be writing Olu’s love story, too. Call that an unofficial book 3.5, since this is meant to be a trilogy!
Thank you so much for reading this book, guys. I really, really hope that you enjoyed it.
Love and biscuits,
Talia xx
Bad for the Boss
If you enjoyed Lizzie and Isaac’s romance, you’ll love book 1 in the Just for Him series: Bad for the Boss.
What a way to fall from grace…
Theodore Chamberlain is notorious for his razor-sharp focus, his terrifying temper, and his anti-social tendencies. What most people don't know is that the powerful businessman is just as demanding in the bedroom as he is at the office.
So when model employee Jennifer Johnson stumbles into his life, Theo turns his infamous intensity towards a masterful seduction. The plus-sized knockout may be the office's angel, but only Theo sees the flames simmering beneath.
Jen knows better than to risk the job she desperately needs for a relationship that can't last. But when a threat from her dark past surfaces, Theo overturns her protests to protect her from the danger.
Can he save Jennifer from the evil that stalks her, or is time running out for this happily ever after?
Will Jen remain a good girl with a rebel's heart... Or will she give in to her desire and be bad for the boss?
Read on for a sneak peek!
Sneak Peek
Chapter One
I need this job. I need this job. I need this job.
Jen tapped her pen against her desk. Tap. Tap. Tap. Maybe the movement, combined with her internal chant, would subdue her urge to physically attack a colleague.
She looked up at the colleague in question: Oliver Hatton, AKA Ollie, AKA a pain in her damned backside. He gave her pen a significant look, then arched one blonde brow.
“You know what they say about that sort of thing,” he drawled.
She stared back dully, her mouth clamped stubbornly shut. Unfortunately, he didn’t require any encouragement.
“It’s a sign of frustration,” he continued, bending over her desk.
Yep.
“Of a… Certain kind.” He murmured. She had the distinct impression that he thought he was being seductive. “You know what I mean?”
“Certainly not,” Jen said. His face fell—but only for a moment. As usual, he recovered quickly. Ollie possessed a level of self-confidence that would be admirable in anyone other than the office sleaze. As he mounted his next line of attack, Jen gave up on the notes she’d been writing and turned to her computer.
“What a
re you up to after work?” Ollie asked.
“Not a lot.”
“I’m going out for a drink with the lads.” He winked. She had no idea why. “Of course, there’s always room for a female or two…”
“Mmmm.” She pinned a vague smile on her face as she pulled up her emails and hit ‘Compose’.
Re: UGH!
Pri,
Copy is going well but I’m being slimed all over by wannabe Johnny Bravo. Again. Currently plotting ways to make my feelings clearer. I may come in tomorrow with NOT INTERESTED written on my forehead. Or possibly FUCK YOU.
I’m thinking red sharpie, to make an impact. Do you think that’s too much?
Let me know,
Jen
“You should come,” Ollie was saying.
“Oh, no thanks.” She’d forgotten to add a recipient. Of course. Only half-listening to Ollie’s wheedling, she began scrolling through the company list.
“You never join us for drinks. Come on, Jenny, live a little.“
“Don’t call me that,” she said automatically. C for Chaudry. There we go. She hit Send.
“Why not?” Ollie leaned closer and—oh, sweet baby Jesus in a manger. The slimy pink curl of his tongue flicked out from between his paper-cut lips, like a worm after a spring shower. Jen watched in horror as he slid his gaze from her face to her cleavage, then back again. “You know, Jen—“
But, happily, he never managed to finish that sentence. Priyanka appeared in the doorway of her office and bellowed “Oliver!”
Priyanka did not have an inside voice.
“Priyanka!” Ollie straightened, putting a blessed few feet of distance between his mouth and Jen’s face. Thank God. His breath was almost as offensive as his personality.
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