Shoe's on the Otha Foot

Shoe's on the Otha Foot

by Hunter Hayes

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Love in the city is a different kind of crazy

Unattached and independent, a free spirit flying high uptown, Leslie is black, beautiful, twenty-one. . .and still a virgin. Not that there's any lack of interested males in this level-headed young sista's world. But she's got too much self -respect—and too much going on—to take a wrong step that just might trip her up but good. So why is her one weakness a hardworking chocolate dream named Benjamin—who's much older than she is (thirty-four!). . .and just happens to be living with another woman and their teenage son?

Of course, Leslie could have her cousin Rachelle's problems, A divorced mother of three, Rachelle could easily bask in the steady, loving—if penniless—devotion of Anthony, who is fine. . .and twelve years her junior. But of course, it's Eustace—married Eustace—who makes her knees buckle.

It's a city full of hard choices—some good, some bad. . .some crazy—and each one has its consequences. So what else can a girlfriend do except try to keep her head while she follows her heart. . .all in the name of love?

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9780061014666
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Publication date: 09/28/2000
Pages: 320
Product dimensions: 4.18(w) x (h) x 0.80(d)

About the Author

Hunter Hayes is the author of the novel Shoe's on the Otha' Foot. She lives in New York City with her niece, Brandi.

Read an Excerpt

"i reminisce"

It's precisely four forty-seven p.m., and the It. damn beat-beat of my heart is racing to catch up with the tick-tock of my wall clock. Right. It's the beat-beat to the tick-tock. That's got me going. My mind persists in telling me that he's gonna show. Hmph. To be perfectly frank, sometimes I just don't want to be bothered. But then I suppose, it's normal to feel that way. I mean, it's normal for Me to feel that way. One thing's for certain; I'm definitely feeling the onset of a razor-sharp attitude coming on. Reluctantly, I glance up at the wall clock, whose thin-edged hands read 4:48 p.m. Over an hour late. just where was he anyway? Walking to the full-length living room mirror, I took a peek. I still looked up to par, but the feel of my palms was abnormally sweaty. I yanked a Kleenex from a nearby marbled tissue box and dried my hands. Surely, I thought, the dampness couldn't be a physical sign of "a good thing."

I stared long and hard at my reflection. Well, my hair was intact. Not a one of its single jet blueblack strands stood out of place. It lay parted straight down the middle and hung loosely blunt on both sides. I made a mental note to add a little something above and beyond Fifi's usual $31 fee on my next visit to the salon. She had done a hell of a job. Mouthing an "m," I gently pressed my two lips together, refreshing the layer of terracotta bronzed lipstick that I'd applied only twenty minutes before. I turned, strutting my stuff to get a full-body view from the sides and back. If clothes make the woman, then my twopiece mocha-colored cotton pants suit with the top that criss-crossed over my open back was working justfine for me. just fine. I'm simply mad about natural colors and the way they look against my mapled skintone.

Confirmed. The best thing was that I hadn't looked a bit like the way I felt. For the sake of all outward appearances, I needn't have worried. I was straight. But other things were crooked. About as crooked as the smirk I'm wearing on my face. What was it with men anyway? Is it all that hard to figure out? Two people, working towards building a strong life-long foundation based on a trust, a love, and a mutual respect makes it just that simple. And there's absolutely nothing wrong with wanting that-not a damn thing! I guess you already know that some mystery man has me stressed to the point of no return. Oh, I'm so sorry. Allow me to introduce myself ... I'm so rude, just rambling on and on. You don't even know who the hell I am. My name is Leslie. I'm in my early twenties. Yeah yeah, I know I'm young. Young looking on the outside, but my soul, my soul it's old. As old as the Mayan Civilizations in a way that keeps me independent and strong minded ... A strong mind that tells me that from where I'm standing, I'm about to be stood up. Funny thing is, you'd think I'd have been better prepared with the way I go on.

I live alone and manage the building I five in as part of a city program that allows dumps like this one to become renovated and go co-op. My apartment's not a dump though; I put a lot of time and energy into making it resemble what I want it to be. I painted, laid down new carpeting, and furnished the place all by myself "a la Art Deco." Martha Stewart who? She's got nothing on me.

A college student I am, majoring in communications and working towards my Associates degree. Eventually, I'd like to be a television Producer/Writer. I've got a head full of ideas and an even stronger determination. I know I'll make it to the top. Oh, and I'm also a virgin. Well, I was. (I get so mixed up sometimes.) Actually, I'm not all that mixed up. It's just that my mind is always working on something. My mother swears 'in circles that I think too much. School, Video Production, something someone says or does ... See, there I go doing it again. What I'm trying to tell you is that I was a virgin, up until last year, around the latter part of August. Yes, I figured I was saving myself for that special man. I stand a statuesque, 5 feet 8 inches, and on a scale of 1 to 10, I'd probably rate myself about ... a 9. As far as self-esteem goes, I've got plenty of it, and even some to share if you're lacking. I think my best feature is ... my eyes. They're deep set and dark. I've been told that I've got bedroom eyes; I now know why, though I've never known before. There seems to be a strong element of surprise hiding behind that theory, though. Well, Surprise. I haven't had a lot of experience being in the bedroom, or anyplace else sexually for that matter.

I do feel that I'm attractive and I've never had a problem with meeting guys. I've even had a few boyfriends. They were all good looking, come to think of it, but I got out of the relationships before they could ever get serious. Anyway, I was raised by a single parent for most of my life. Namely, my mother, another strong black woman. But she always had to have a man for that financial. need. Used them, abused them, and somewhere in the mix I got caught up in it all.

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Shoe's on the Otha' Foot 3.4 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 5 reviews.
Araya05 on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
It was an okay read. I read her other one first. It was much better.
Guest More than 1 year ago
this is the worst book i ever read. when you pass it in a stroe, dont even pick it up. i forced myself to read it. it didnt have a point and it was so normal. i fell asleep reading this book. DONT PICK IT UP!!
Guest More than 1 year ago
I was very impressed with the book. It made me laugh, and there were many parts of it that I think anyone can relate to. It wasn't like most other books. This one teaches a lesson in the end. I highly recommend it.
Guest More than 1 year ago
A co-worker of mine got the book, and couldn't stop raving about it. So I decided to pick it up, and I wasn't disappointed! The characrters were real, and her writing had me wondering what would happen next. It's a real page turner. I can't wait for the next one!
Guest More than 1 year ago
I thought this book was going to be a better read. The Leslie character was boring.