Publisher's Synopsis
Amara placed the weights down, stretching. After losing her second pregnancy and her husband within a year Amara felt depressed and all she did was work and sleep but her sixty five year old mom, drug her out of bed after a few months of that and took her to the gym and changed her life. Lifting gave her focus and she loved hearing how young she looked past forty."You look good." A deep, accented voice said behind Amara. Squaring her shoulders she turned, preparing for war. She had grown tired of men, pushing up on her in the gym. The man who uttered the words was staring at her from deep-set, penetrating eyes and a face with high cheekbones, full lips and skin, the color of polished teakwood. He was also tall and muscular but not overtly large like many who were always in the gym and he was dressed in baggy shorts and a black t-shirt."Excuse me!" Amara snapped. She was not in the mood for being picked up. That was the one thing about gyms she didn't care for."You look good, your form is on point, you have the right kind of weights for strength and fitness and you stretch it out to avoid injury." He said, his eyes never wavering from hers. Color suffused her brown face because she had misjudged his intent. Her mom often told her she was known for that.
