Tag Archives: Chosen Path

CHOSEN PATH – BOOK TOUR

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Erotic Romance
Date Published: 4/28/2017

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Yumiko Itsumoto wants it all. An accomplished artist and feared attorney, she gets what she wants, all else be damned. Now she wants love, even if it means charting a new course for her life, but changing course can be dangerous.  In mere moments, she tumbles from the dizzying pinnacle of success into a bottomless abyss of murder and treachery.  Yumiko will not live happily ever after—not this time—but can she at least find a way to stay alive?
Editor’s review 
Author J. Whitney Williams follows CARRIED AWAY—his surprisingly intelligent and deftly written debut—with a story that is even sexier, more thrilling and more enthralling than the first.
Again taking the reader on a trip across the world, meeting strange people in strange places via a prodigious narrator, CHOSEN PATH follows Yumi, a powerful and apparently dispassionate supporting character introduced in book one. But appearances deceive. Here, the reader is immersed in Yumi—into the very depths of her complex mind, her conflicted yet determined soul, her insatiable sex drive.
When Yumi encounters the woman who she presumes to be the fiancée of the love of her life—perhaps her only true love—she has every reason to seize the opportunity that presents itself to erase the woman from both of their lives forever. It’s no wonder Yumi is the prime suspect for the unfortunate woman’s swift and seemingly heartless murder. Unable to recall herself, Yumi assumes the worst, too. It wouldn’t be the first tragic fate to befall someone who stood in her way—or the last—and cameras don’t lie.
In CHOSEN PATH, Williams explores the very essence of what makes us human. The protagonist, a uniquely flawed yet extraordinarily likable woman of many talents and trades, demonstrates the jealousy and manipulation we see in ourselves and despise in others. At the same time, we’re drawn to Yumi. Geisha. Samurai. Assassin. Pseudo-royalty. Nothing happens to her; she creates. If we all shaped our own circumstances, our destinies, as adroitly as she, what paths would we choose and where would they lead us?
About the Author 

A mathematician by training and computer programmer by trade, J. Whitney Williams lives and works under the X in Texas, thinking too much and speaking too little.
Contact  Links
Purchase Links
Reading Addiction Blog Tours
Contemporary Romance  Date Published: November 14 2016   One of America’s most reclusive rockers, Ryder
Erotic Romance Date Published: 4/28/2017 Yumiko Itsumoto wants it all. An accomplished artist and feared
★☆★COVER REVEAL★☆★ From salvage mission to cluster-fuck before they even got out of the hatch.
Series: Unhallowed Love Book 2 Genre: Paranormal, Erotic Romance, Contemporary Romance Publisher: Melange Books Publication

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CHOSEN PATH – BLITZ

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chosen path cover

Erotic Romance
Date Published: 4/28/2017

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Yumiko Itsumoto wants it all. An accomplished artist and feared attorney, she gets what she wants, all else be damned. Now she wants love, even if it means charting a new course for her life, but changing course can be dangerous.  In mere moments, she tumbles from the dizzying pinnacle of success into a bottomless abyss of murder and treachery.  Yumiko will not live happily ever after—not this time—but can she at least find a way to stay alive?
Editor’s review 
Author J. Whitney Williams follows CARRIED AWAY—his surprisingly intelligent and deftly written debut—with a story that is even sexier, more thrilling and more enthralling than the first.
Again taking the reader on a trip across the world, meeting strange people in strange places via a prodigious narrator, CHOSEN PATH follows Yumi, a powerful and apparently dispassionate supporting character introduced in book one. But appearances deceive. Here, the reader is immersed in Yumi—into the very depths of her complex mind, her conflicted yet determined soul, her insatiable sex drive.
When Yumi encounters the woman who she presumes to be the fiancée of the love of her life—perhaps her only true love—she has every reason to seize the opportunity that presents itself to erase the woman from both of their lives forever. It’s no wonder Yumi is the prime suspect for the unfortunate woman’s swift and seemingly heartless murder. Unable to recall herself, Yumi assumes the worst, too. It wouldn’t be the first tragic fate to befall someone who stood in her way—or the last—and cameras don’t lie.
In CHOSEN PATH, Williams explores the very essence of what makes us human. The protagonist, a uniquely flawed yet extraordinarily likable woman of many talents and trades, demonstrates the jealousy and manipulation we see in ourselves and despise in others. At the same time, we’re drawn to Yumi. Geisha. Samurai. Assassin. Pseudo-royalty. Nothing happens to her; she creates. If we all shaped our own circumstances, our destinies, as adroitly as she, what paths would we choose and where would they lead us?
EXCERPT
Either I was mistaken to leave him, or I am mistaken to go back. I can no longer consider myself a woman who does not make mistakes. Neither am I self-conscious, nor do I dress for the benefit of others, and yet I feel silly walking up out of the subway wearing a kimono. That contradiction scares me in a way I do not understand. At least I am still a woman who faces her fears.
It must be Sunday. There are too many people on the street for a weekday. And I would be at work. My situational awareness is poor. I must take care not to walk past Kosei’s building. I know this insomnia impairs my judgment, so perhaps I am wrong about doing this. I don’t think I am. I think I love him, and I have learned that love matters. I was wrong—about a lot of things. I know that now. I’m not just desperate.
Which implies that I am, in fact, desperate. I am. I’m desperate to be able to sleep again. I know that, and I still believe I am making the right decision. Being aware of our biases helps us to mitigate their effects. But I remember missing him on quiet nights and in the rare mornings when I woke well rested. I wanted him with me at times when I wanted nothing else.
I’m not just desperate. I do love him, and I was wrong. Willow-sensei was right that I had been unwilling to make a decision between career and family. Lots of women juggle both, even with children, but fundamentally one or the other has to come first. My choice has always been career, without question, any day of the week and twice on Sunday. I think today is Sunday.
Between practicing law and entertaining, career easily devoured almost all of me. I suppose I had two careers. I suppose they did devour all of me.
This is his building. The door code is still the same.
My decision is not which will come first. I have to give up one of those careers. No, like many of my thoughts today, that’s not true. He wouldn’t mind me booking engagements as a geisha. Only the sex concerned him. But if you’re going to play by the rules, why bother? It wouldn’t be the same. My thrill has always been the con—to see how far I can push a man’s judgment beyond what he knows to be unreasonable. Approaching as a geisha is simply one of my opening gambits. Only sex can truly destroy a man.
I am ready to give that up for him, all those years of careful study and practice. I am ready to let go. I am ready to compromise. I am ready to love harder than I work.
I am not ready to knock on his door.
How long have I been standing here? It bothers me that I don’t know. Too often lately I realize where I am and cannot remember how I got there. Those must be the moments in which I sleep.
It was a heavy thud against the inside of his door that woke me. I’m preening like a schoolgirl. Put your hand down, Yumi. The door remains closed. Maybe there was no thud. Maybe I dreamt it.
No, it was real. Lightly pressing my ear to the door, I can hear a woman’s heartbeat. It’s racing, and either she is very tall or her feet aren’t touching the ground. A slight moan escapes her throat, and her body lurches against the door again. I recognize the pattern. It’s him.
It’s the same intermittent cadence, the same thrusts and pauses. He never held me up like that. I should be the one on the other side of that door. A reflexive twitch of lustful anticipation turns to resentment and anger and other feelings for which I cannot remember the names. I need to leave.
A subway station? That must be my train pulling away. How long have I been standing here? There will be another in 15 minutes. When you miss a train, another comes—not so with people. I feel in my gut the hard truth that there is more between me and Kosei now than a door.
I should have anticipated that he would be seeing someone. He is a handsome man. He is also lighthearted, relaxed, casual. I need that. I need him back. His bed was the only place I ever felt I could rest, the only place I could still get to anyway.
I will be able to take him back from her, whoever she is, but it will require preparation. I must first discover my adversary. Nothing can be left to chance. She could be anyone.
I want him back so badly that I can smell his scent as if he were nearby. I’ve started seeing things lately too, little defects in the corners of my vision. It must be my lack of sleep. My situation is untenable.
“Oh, your kimono is so lovely!” I should thank the woman next to me for her compliment, but I already don’t like her. It’s only because I envy her. She seems so free and natural, so casual and peaceful, with the demeanor of a woman who just left a trusted lover’s bed. There is more than that though, maybe the engagement ring. It’s a beautiful ring.
“Thank you so much,” she says. “My boyfriend—my fiancé—just gave it to me today!” I wonder how much I said out loud. “It’s a dream come true,” she continues. “I’ve never met anyone like him. Is that our train?” Another is coming, but it won’t stop here. The local just left.
“No,” I answer. “The express.” The slightest moan escapes her in her disappointment. It echoes in my mind with the sound of Kosei’s lover, matching perfectly. I must be delusional, thinking this girl could possibly be the one. She is far too young, too frivolous, too modern. Her tank top and cutoffs are generic enough, but she wears glittered nail polish and has a little tattoo of a turtle behind her ear. Kosei wouldn’t be attracted to a girl like that.
She is an idiot. She wears her purse far too casually for how expensive it is. It must have been a gift from another idiot, but she doesn’t hold it as if it came from her idiot boyfriend.
The purse doesn’t bother me. I’ve seen plenty of old money wasted on oblivious girls. I have always taken care not to be one of them, not to be oblivious. The turtle offends me. That particular design is a ka-mon, a family emblem, Yoshimitsu to be precise. I can only infer that she likes turtles, because this girl is no Yoshimitsu. Kids today have no respect.
She jumps a little when her phone chirps and the purse inevitably falls. Once she digs her phone out of it, she doesn’t even stand before checking the message. It must be from her idiot boyfriend. His phone number is the same as Kosei’s.
She screams as she tumbles forward, right in front of the express train. I’ve never seen it happen before, but suicide by train is not uncommon. I wish people wouldn’t do that. It always throws off the scheduled service. It must make quite a mess for the maintenance people, too. Deafening shrieks of emergency brakes crowd out the echoes of her scream. At least there is one less idiot in the world.
It doesn’t make sense, though. She was so happy to be engaged. Why would she kill herself? She didn’t plan to. Even delirious as I am, I would have noticed suicidal intent in her mannerisms.
I feel sorry for her fiancé, for Kosei. He deserves better; I would never hurt him like she has. The thought of it makes me angry at her, but anger never solves anything. I wish I could go to him, to console him, but first I have to get rid of his lover somehow.
Wait. What just happened?
I need to leave.
About the Author 

A mathematician by training and computer programmer by trade, J. Whitney Williams lives and works under the X in Texas, thinking too much and speaking too little.
Contact  Links
Purchase Links
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  Erotic Romance Date Published: 4/28/2017 Yumiko Itsumoto wants it all. An accomplished artist and
Erotic Romance Date Published: 4/28/2017 Yumiko Itsumoto wants it all. An accomplished artist and feared
★☆★COVER REVEAL★☆★ From salvage mission to cluster-fuck before they even got out of the hatch.
Series: Unhallowed Love Book 2 Genre: Paranormal, Erotic Romance, Contemporary Romance Publisher: Melange Books Publication

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Chosen Path Teaser Tuesday

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Erotic Romance
Date Published: 4/28/2017
Yumiko Itsumoto wants it all. An accomplished artist and feared attorney, she gets what she wants, all else be damned. Now she wants love, even if it means charting a new course for her life, but changing course can be dangerous.  In mere moments, she tumbles from the dizzying pinnacle of success into a bottomless abyss of murder and treachery.  Yumiko will not live happily ever after—not this time—but can she at least find a way to stay alive?
chosen path teaser 1
EXCERPT

Jun gave me a towel, with which I wrapped up my hair, and a yukata, one of his. Its sleeves hung well past my hands, but its hem did not drag the ground. I decided to go ahead and indulge. I’d had a difficult night. A little smear of grease on my back would do the trick. I worked as quickly as I could to remove the rest, but it still took me perhaps twenty or thirty minutes.
I emerged from the bathroom with a much-improved mood.
Jun lived in a modest flat, sparsely decorated in Japanese style: tatami flooring and rice-paper screens to separate (or not) a small bedroom from the tearoom. I liked it. He had put on a yukata as well and sat formally in the tearoom. I duly went to the first guest position and knelt.
“Do you have any citric acid?”
He blinked and asked, “Citric acid?” I had woken poor Jun from a sound sleep and it seemed he was still trying to gather his wits.
In my gentlest voice, I said, “Yes. I was unable to remove all of the grease from my skin. If I might further impose upon your hospitality, I would be grateful for your help with it. Citric acid, lemon juice if you have it, might break down the grease more readily than soap.”
He stood and walked toward his small kitchen. I turned my back to him and widened my stance to sit directly on the ground with my feet beside me, and I opened my yukata to drop it from my shoulders and expose my deliberate grease smear. Holding the yukata up with the crooks of my elbows, I crossed my arms over my chest and turned my head down. His steps halted when he saw me. His voice, when he spoke, bore more confidence than his approaching footfalls.
“I would be honored to provide you with whatever counsel I can, Itsumoto-san.”
“Thank you, Jun-san,” I said, “and please call me Yumi.”
“Will you tell me of the matter?”
I inhaled to fill the hollow in my chest and kept silent, tasting enjoyment in dabs of cold lemon juice against my back, softer than raindrops. I’d have all day to tell my tale before he finished, and part of me wanted to drag it out. The better part of me wanted to rip the band-aid off and be done with it.
“I was in the subway yesterday. There was a woman next to me. She was killed by a passing train. I believe I will be charged with her murder.”
“Why would you be charged?”
Another deep breath did nothing to fill my chest. It was hard enough admitting my mistake, a mistake made in the making of another mistake. I had to tell him the unconfessed secret of my heart. In a way, sitting half-naked in front of him made it easier to let go of my pride.
“I believe she was engaged to marry a man I previously dated—a past lover. I had gone to his home yesterday hoping I could reconcile myself to him. When I got there, someone, I believe it was this woman, was there with him. I left without announcing myself. It seems she left not long after I did and intended to catch the same train as me.
“After the incident, I ran. That was foolish. I was scared, shocked, and not thinking clearly. I have not been sleeping well. I had not slept for perhaps a week. This insomnia has affected my mental state. I did not intend to kill her, but I stood to benefit from her death. There were witnesses. I paid my PASMO with a credit card. The police will be able to determine who I am.”
Jun’s hands on my back remained timid, but his voice reassured. “Your situation may not be so dire as you believe it, Yumiko-san, but I can understand how it troubles you.”
The room filled with silence until I deemed it thick enough to call attention to my next statement.
“Jun,” I said, “when a woman takes off her clothes and kneels before you, it’s safe to assume you can drop the honorific.”
“I never assume facts not in evidence.”
I sighed and gave instructions. “I want you to call me Yumi. I want you to press hard against the stain on my back and scrub until I am clean.”
He did as I told him, taking my shoulder in one hand to steady me and grinding into the grease with his other. Sooner than I might have liked, a smear of cold water slid up my back, and the collar of my yukata patted me dry. I gave him further instructions.
“I also want you to fuck my brains out.”
His hands snapped back.
I waited him out, wandering my gaze along the weave of his tatami floor. Eventually he spoke.
“Will you not be needing them?”
I liked the innocence of his question, so I answered earnestly. “They have functioned poorly in recent times.” I waited again to hear his next quandary.
“I would think it a difficult thing to do to a woman of your considerable intellect.”
“Take your time.”
I waited while he tried to think through what was happening, seemingly as disturbed by his own unanticipated circumstances as I had been by mine the night before. Clammy fingertips, followed by their palm, touched down high on my back and slid haltingly up my shoulder and alongside my neck. I tilted my head up, yielding to the almost imperceptible push of his index finger under my jaw. He followed, and I continued until I craned my neck back as far as it would go.
When his fingertips drew gently against my throat, I went with them instead of letting them drag against my skin. I kept leaning, transferring my weight onto my toes, which pointed back along the floor by my sides.
Flipping over my toes to set my weight on my spine and straighten my knees from that position is always an awkward move. Jun was unprepared for how suddenly I fell backward when my weight transferred, but he caught me with a hand behind my neck before my head hit the floor. That was just as well because his abrupt catch knocked the towel free from my hair and just in time because I held my back still fully arched and would have driven my head hard into the mat.
I’d left my hands in my lap, straightening my elbows as he bent me backward, leaving my torso bare in front of him. My yukata, folded inward over my thighs, provided only a pretense of modesty. His eyes struggled not to wander while I stared up at him, so I closed mine to let his have their way. I’d told him to take his time, so I parted my lips and waited.
“Did you do it?”
My eyelids rocked open. “You ask your clients if they’re guilty?”
“I’m asking you.”
I closed my eyes again and rolled my spine downward, relaxing my back to the floor. “Nice dodge.”
“Likewise,” he volleyed. “Shall we play again?”
“I’d rather not.”
“Then answer my question.”
His hand behind my neck firmed and steadied and was soon joined by his other hand to cradle my head. Jun had no idea how to handle a woman, but he knew exactly what to do with a hostile witness.
I had to tell him, and he knew it. I was the one asking him for help. He could simply decline and be rid of me. Something inside him clamped down and turned to stone. He was awake now, and our little back-and-forth spanned the full width of his patience. It takes a hard man to set murderers free every day and still look at himself in the mirror.
I drew a slow breath to show him I would answer. I needed a hard man. I was a murderer.

 

chosen path teaser 2
About the Author 


A mathematician by training and computer programmer by trade, J. Whitney Williams lives and works under the X in Texas, thinking too much and speaking too little.
Contact Links
Purchase Links
 

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