Infinite Love: TATTOO SERIES, #1

By Kami Thebus

Blurb        Infinite Love - Book ONE of The Tattoo Series

Sarah builds a life in Italy as a renowned artist whose art is sought after by the rich and famous. She met Gabriel on a blind date in a smokey bar in Italy and they immediately fall in love. His black curls, brilliant smile and deep blue eyes is what made her lose her heart to him. Sarah thought her life is perfect and that she finally has the family who loves her, when tragedy strikes. Six months after the stillborn death of her daughter, she had to bury the love of her life. Broken and alone she battles anxiety. A visual encounter of a stranger at the airport  - who turns out to be her sister's finace - has Sarah thinking it is Gabriel, the love she lost,She tries to shrug off this instant attraction and reminds herself that she cannot break her sister's heart yet again. The familiarity of home was heart-warming. The beautiful sightings warm her heart, and, in that moment, she was happy to be back. Her mom's loving welcoming was short lived. Sarah feels the familiar tug of always causing a rift between her parents. This is still so prevalent even after being away from home for ten years. 

 

 

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kami Thebus
• Release date: Jan 31, 2022
• ISBN: 9781991221254

Kami Thebus

Kami Thebus has a Finance degree at the University of South Africa, an avid reader and started writing her life story via her blog - [e-mail]. As a qualified accountant, Kami has spent most of her life reading, and at the tender age of nine read The Memior by Elle Wiesel  - the horror story of the Nazi German concentration camps. And this has set her on a quest to fight for all injustices against women and children.  Kami enjoys  Romance fiction, Suspense and Fantasy novels thus giving her characters palpable spark! Her debut novel , Infinite Love is part of a three books series called The Tattoo Series. It depicts the challenges met by professional women and their dalily lives and having to deal with anxiety, sexism and relationships amidst striving to instill family values. She believes in love and that the perception of feminism must be seen as a strength. Kami has grown up in the dark crevices of the ghettos in Cape town and has risen above diversity. 

Book preview

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

It’ll be great injustice if I don’t thank my two best buddies for pushing me through the fog. If it wasn’t for the two of you, I’d never had finished my first ever manuscript.

Aliyah Abrahamse, thank you for mulling the scenes over with me – making sense of the flow and characters. Thank you for appreciating my writing style and forcing my imagination to go wild.  You were as part of the story than Sarah, Gabriel and Adam. You shared the goosebumps moments with me and running around finding ARC readers, stapling hundreds of pages and taking half of the pressure off from me. Thank you for being my pillar, an earpiece for hours and being that amazing bookworm friend. I Love You.

Faiqah Armien, my first line editor, extraordinaire and eloquent friend for making sure my first draft was readable. For creating my blurb when my brain was near to shut down. For sitting for hours fixing errors, doing video calls and making sure I made the deadline. Thank You. I Love You.

And last but not least, thank you to three complete strangers Jodi Martin, Carole Ferreira and Mandy Ferreira for being my amazing ARC readers. I have to tell you that I appreciated every effort, advice and suggestion you have put forward. Thank You

And finally, thank you to my kids – Nurr, Naeem and Yumnah for supporting and hooting for me to make this one dream possible. It has been a lifelong ambition to write fiction and you have never lost faith in me. I Love You.

To be at the bottom is good,

because the only way is Up!!

- Kami

Prologue

Then

I’m so sorry—we did everything we could.

This was the second time I’d heard the words. They had the same effect on me as they did the first time—a feeling of emptiness. The only difference was that I didn’t go into hysterics. I didn’t feel my heart breaking into a million pieces, I didn’t feel like I couldn’t breathe, the world didn’t spin, I didn’t feel inadequate, but rather I had the feelings of loneliness and despair tugging at my heart. Those emotions enveloped me like a sleeping bag, cozy, warm, but suffocating, too.

I blinked with dry eyes to have a look at the young Asian doctor. I guessed him to be in his late twenties and fresh out of his residency. He appeared to be more distraught than me: some of his hairs were sticking to his neck, a drop of sweat was rolling into his collar, and the rims of his eyes were red and swollen. I analyzed the movement of his lips, trying desperately to hear what he was saying despite the painful silence.

I wanted to tell him it was okay, but I stopped myself, shaking my head—hoping that was enough to show him that I understood he’d done everything he could.

If only I could have gotten the words out.

Where is Gabe? I heard myself asking, the doctor’s expression shifting from one of confusion to concern.

Are you okay, ma’am? His sad eyes matched his mouth, the corners weighed down by sorrow.

My gaze followed his hand to my shoulder; I blinked again. I didn’t think he understood what I was asking. He was most likely thinking that any minute now, I would start going into hysterics, shouting at the top of my lungs, blaming him for killing my husband.

May I see him? I asked with a desert-dry mouth and eyes sore from holding back from crying. I blinked again to lubricate them. I couldn’t feel any pain—not here, not now.

Yes, of course—here, let me take you to him, and let me know if you need me to give you... He stuttered and gave me a soft squeeze on my shoulder.

I wondered if this was his first death. And as I looked at the faint beginning of dark circles under his eyes and his skin’s white pallor, I started feeling sorrier for him than for myself.

The hospital’s long, cold corridor appeared longer than usual; the walls seeming to smother me, the aroma of lukewarm coffee and hand sanitizer settling in my nose.

Between the smell, my sudden claustrophobia, and the doctor’s fleeting glances, I wanted to vomit. My arms flayed to the side; I felt unsteady and tried to grip the hallway’s molding to steady myself. And, as if the young doctor knew, he ran to the nearest waste basket and made it in time for me to lose the contents of my stomach. When I regained my composure, my body trembled. Sweat beaded my forehead, and I blinked back the drop of sweat in my eyes.

I needed to call Ellen.

I couldn’t go down this road again—it was too painful.

She would know what to say, and she would tell me what to do.

How to deal with this pain.

I put my hand in my bag, trying to find my phone.

I should call my therapist, I said but swayed lightly... My stomach lifted again.

Steady now, the doctor soothed, take deep breaths and have a seat while I get you a cup of water, okay? My body began to tremble while I envisioned one of many behavioral therapy exercises Ellen had assigned to me.

"Close your eyes and take deep breaths.

You are sitting cross-legged and floating around space.

Feel how your body takes space, in space.

See how everything is floating around you.

The beautiful stars are within your reach, and the white light is moving up through the ground, through your feet, and up toward your torso, and it warms your face.

Specks of gold dust are surrounding you, and you reach your hand out to catch some.

You feel the warmth and beauty, and that makes you smile."

I felt somebody touching my shoulder, and I opened my eyes and blinked once more. I felt better and lifted my hand to show that I was okay. I still couldn’t form any words.

Here, drink this, the doctor said with a sad smile. I looked at him, grateful, realizing my throat was bone dry.

Thank you. I got up and felt ready to meet with Gabriel—the love of my life; the man of my dreams; the one I was fortunate enough to spend three glorious years with; the one I shared dreams with; the one I planned a perfect family with. I faltered again, my heart racing. I combated the feeling with more deep breaths and moved forward.

***

Chapter One

Five Years Earlier...

I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. I squinted through the smokey bar, and I gasped. His hair was all over his face, one hand pushing through the curls, his jaw shadowed, his long, generous fingers curled around a beer can.

As if by sheer will, he looked across the room at me. Our gazes collided, and my heart skipped a beat. He walked toward me with the fluid, silent grace of a panther.

I blinked as he stopped right in front of me. And I stared at his ocean-strong, deep blue eyes, swimming with warm, sunlit currents.

You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.

His eyes held mine. I smelled his woodsy, leather aftershave—pure and male. Little sparks of warmth settled between my legs.

Thank you. You must be Gabriel? Heat surged to my cheeks. I was told you would be wearing a black leather jacket—and uhm—the tattoo. I shook my head and pointed to his ear. I am Sarah.

His stare intensified, and I panicked.

Uhm—I am your blind date. I mean—you are my blind date. Oh, what I mean is—a friend of my friend, who is your friend, organized for us to meet, I quickly explained.

Oh shit. What if he wasn’t the guy? I looked around and saw a few men with black leather jackets. Oh darn. He still hadn’t said a word.

I am being silly. I am sorry. I must have the wrong person. I moved back.

No, you don’t. You are even more beautiful than your photograph.

My photograph?

"Yes. You were featured in Il Libro. And what a fascinating article it was. A born-and-bred South African artist making history in Italy.

Gioia mia." He bent down to kiss the tops of my fingers.

I felt the sheer strength of our physical connection. My core tightened, and the heat between my legs intensified.

Thank you, was all I could muster.

Let’s dance. This is my favorite song. I heard the crooning of Mariah Carey’s Never too Far, and my heart sang as I realized it was my absolute favorite, as well. He took my hand and pulled me to the dance floor. We had an audience of stares.

The bar was packed and by the looks of it, with regulars. Every now and then, someone would shout over at the tall, skinny brunette behind the counter: Miche, add it to my tab. And she would silently oblige with a deep scowl and the lifting of her middle finger.

The interior of the smokey bar made me feel at home. One side of the dance floor had red-leather bar tables with benches against the wall. Couples were in every stage of communication. One looked like they are having a fight, while the other had their tongues deep down each other’s throat. While some were having a good laugh over a beer.

On the far side were three large pool tables, and it seemed to be the popular area of the bar. Groups of people were standing around watching bets being played between the contenders. There were loud cheers as the cue ball knocked a ball into a socket. My stomach gave an excited flutter. Pool was my favorite sport, and I suddenly missed home.

I’m the envy of every man here tonight. He smiled at me, and my stomach somersaulted. He put his hand on the small of my back and with his other hand, took my hand into his. His masculine, woodsy scent made me lightheaded, and I lost my footing.

"Are you okay?

Uhm, I have two left feet. Not much of a dancer.

Stick with me, and I will have you dancing like a ballerina. His two-day stubble lightly grazed my cheek, and a jolt shot down between my legs.

I was disappointed when the song ended. He twirled me around and pulled me back against his hard chest. Deep blue eyes danced with mischief as he bowed toward me.

Thank you for the dance. I smiled up at him, and that was the very moment I lost my heart to his white smile and blue eyes that looked deep into my soul.

If you continue to look at me with those beautiful brown eyes, then I will have to take you home to meet my mother. He rubbed his thumb up and down my cheek, his gentleness making me gasp. He leaned in, and I closed my eyes. Embarrassment heated my face when he kissed the tip of my nose.

You don’t wear any makeup, and your freckles are adorable. You’re the most enchanting woman I’ve ever met in my life. This time he planted a soft kiss on my glossy lips. The light kiss sent sparks of pleasure through my body.

I swayed lightly, and before I could compose myself, I heard someone calling from the pool tables.

Sarah Simmons, is that you? Oh, my word, what are you doing in Italy?

I turned around and looked into the face of my high school crush, Tim Stanton.

He came in for a hug before I could respond. Wow, you’re even more beautiful than before.

Hi, Tim. What are you doing in Italy? I felt Gabriel stiffening next to me.

Just stopping over for a quick holiday. And you? He grabbed my hand, and I pulled back.

I moved to Italy seven years ago. I decided not to give Tim any more information about my life. We hadn’t parted on good terms, and he’d been a complete twit on a good day—arrogant and obnoxious and a rich, spoilt brat.

Are you married, single? He leaned in with a sneer, a strong whiskey smell accompanying the breathy question.

Gabriel stepped forward and put his arms around me.

We are together. I am Gabriel, her fiancé. And if you will please excuse us, we were on our way to play a game of pool. I looked up at Gabriel and said a silent thank you. I stopped a laugh from bubbling up when I saw Tim’s face go as white as a sheet.

Can you pretend to know the game? Gabriel whispered in my ear as we walked toward an empty table.

I don’t have to. I know my way around the game.

He lifted an eyebrow. A woman of many talents. He kissed me on my lips again as Tim walked past. He winked at me and handed me a cue from the rack on the wall and chalked the tip.

If you lose, I take you home. If I lose, we go on a date, and I take you home afterward. He gave me that brilliant smile and pushed back his curly hair. It bounced back stubbornly, and my heart thudded again.

You’re on. I leaned over the table and racked the balls. But I have to warn you, a date is going to cost you.

We took turns sinking balls. I was stripes and Gabriel was solids. Fifteen minutes into the game, the score was even, and the intensity pulled a crowd. Gabriel and I took turns to stalk around the table. As Gabriel leaned sideways to access the best way to approach an awkward shot, I stared at his simple, white T-shirt, accentuating bulging, tanned biceps. Heat pooled in my groin, and I took a deep breath. His jeans perfectly cupped his rear. White boxer shorts peeped out.

He caught me looking and chuckled softly. I thought my face was on fire. He winked at me again and perfectly landed the ball in the pocket.

Shit. Shit. I was stumped. My face flushed, and I shook my head to clear the cobwebs. How could I behave like a silly teenager? He probably did it on purpose—shoving his sexy rear in my direction. Damn it.

He cursed softly as the next ball bounced back out of the pocket.

I said a silent yes.

My throat felt dry as I tried to decide on my next move. There were three stripes and two solids left; Gabriel was in the lead. I looked up at him, and his eyes followed my every move. There was a deadly silence around the table.

I felt my underarms sweating buckets. I swallowed and leaned over. I drew my cue back, paused, and then hit one ball in the pocket. There was a loud cheer, followed by immediate silence. I felt Gabriel’s intense stare. I decided not to look at the powerful force across from me. I needed all my wits about me. I took a swig of my beer to soothe my dry throat. Gabriel’s cologne wafted over toward me, and I closed my eyes for a split second.

He sauntered over to me. My heart galloped. "If you lose, I’m taking you home, gioia mia." He kissed my temple, and for a brief minute, I wanted to lose. But sanity prevailed, and I decided to fight until the end. Something inside of me screamed that my destiny was with this beautiful hunk, win or lose.

I repositioned myself at the table and leaned over to stare down my cue. If I got this shot, it would be a two-in-one. Not many could call such a shot. I rolled the cue between my fingers. I started to shake lightly. The silence around the table was deafening. I took a deep breath to calm my nerves and pulled back the cue and hit the two-in one right into the sweet spot.

The cheers came a second later. I gave a satisfied smile of victory in Gabriel’s direction. He walked over to me and lifted me up and swung me around.

That was a spectacular shot. Well, done! He released me slowly, and our mouths collided, and I hung onto him as if my life depended on it.

Can I pick you up at eight tomorrow morning?

I wouldn’t miss it for the world. His