Can two women be too different to fall in love?
Nera Booker and Squeak McFadden are beautiful African American women in their early thirties, but that’s where the similarities end. Nera, college educated with an upbringing in a comfortable suburb, makes a good living in health care IT systems. Squeak, with several small businesses on the go, grew up in a rough city neighborhood and has hustled for every dime she’s ever made. They’re madly attracted to each other from the start. Nera admires Squeak’s entrepreneurial spirit, although she thinks Squeak could do even better. Squeak envies Nera’s suburban childhood, but wonders if maybe this accomplished woman is out of her reach. Together they learn that it’s not enough to accept differences. They must embrace them if their love is to flourish.
Someone Like Her is the ninth book in the Lesbian Light Reads series, but each book can stand alone. This lesbian contemporary love story includes graphic sex and is intended for adults only.
Excerpt:
“Is your mom a good cook?” I was still hungry, but food could wait a few minutes.
“The best.” She leaned in closer to me. The warm skin of her arm brushed mine as we continued our stroll through masses of shiny happy people. “I’m glad to see you.”
“I’m glad to see you, too. Last time I saw, you were wearing this really pretty knit cap. Today’s a little warm for something like that, though.”
Not the smoothest thing to say, but I couldn’t come up with anything else.
Squeak looked thoughtful for a moment. Winter was, on the one hand, months ago, but it also felt like it was only yesterday that I had bought a cookie from Squeak and saved it for my Monday lunch. Then she smiled. “ That cap. Yeah. My Auntie Darinda made it for me. She’s married to my Uncle Del.”
I filed the information away for whenever there came a time when I might meet this Auntie Darinda.
We talked about this year’s Pride and how it compared to last year. We talked about the lovely summer we had been having and how it was so wonderful to have so many opportunities to be outside. And I asked the burning question to which I needed an answer.
“Ever since we met at the salon I’ve been wondering if Squeak is your real name,” I said.
She walked in silence next to me with an enigmatic smile on her face. The park became more crowded as the parade wound down, and more people made their way here.
“It feels like my real name.”
And then I realized it really didn’t matter if Squeak was the name on her birth certificate or not. It didn’t matter because being around her was effortless. I didn’t feel like I had to say the wittiest thing or make sharp observations. We were just two women strolling, and we were clearly attracted to each other. I had no explanation as to why.
Maybe it was the way her hair cascaded over her forehead, barely brushing her eyebrows. Maybe it was the rich darkness of her skin. Maybe it was because she said yes to me so easily even though I hadn’t asked for anything. She just knew that the right thing at this moment was for us to be walking together.
I felt a level of comfort with her that I had never felt with Zoe or any other woman I’d dated, even though I didn’t really know Squeak. I just knew I wanted to hold her hand.
