Book online «Every Single Thing About You: A “Tuck Yes” Love Story - Book 3 Hopkins, Faleena (good books to read for adults .txt) 📖». Author Hopkins, Faleena
Every Single Thing About You
A “Tuck Yes” Love Story - Book 3
Tuck Yes Series Book 3
About The Photographs
1. Tempest Tuck
2. Josh Arosio
Tuck Yes Series
Werewolves of New York
Werewolves of Chicago
About the Author
Every Single Thing About You -
An Enemies to Lovers, Single Dad romance.
Ever since the night when Josh met Tempest he’s been rude, downright ignoring her at every turn. His best friends have fallen hard for her sister and cousin, so he’s stuck with having to see Tempest whenever the group gets together. She hates him now, and returns his treatment with equal fervor. But is something underneath that torment?
For Book One - “Single You Out” - Go Here on Amazon.
Tuck Yes was inspired while I lived in New York City, and I took photos for the series. They’re added to the chapters, purely for the Tucking fun of it.
x, Faleena Hopkins
I light the eleventh candle, blowing out a match. “Today we’re going to open those hips.”
Over the sound of yoga mats unrolling behind me, students exhale. My class is about to begin, with New Yorkers trickling in for Yin Stretch yoga to release stress from their bodies and their minds. But most importantly, their spirits — the battery of life itself.
Those who have been to my class before borrow blankets and yoga blocks from stacks on the south wall, bringing them to a space they’ll call their own for the next delicious hour. Those who haven’t, watch and follow their example, but their hesitation betrays an unspoken status of newbie.
I notice all of them, but don’t point it out.
If I shine a spotlight by directing them to our blocks and blankets myself, they travel inward and hide, energetically. Nobody likes to be singled out when they’ve joined a quiet group like this for the first time.
My mission is to help my students shed self-consciousness, to connect them with themselves, their inner knowing, from which all self-confidence blossoms.
Walking barefoot with toenails pale lavender, I cross to a stage-riser eleven inches higher than the rest of the room, voice as calming as the spa playlist I chose for today’s practice, “As you settle in, feel the rough skin of our outside world being shed from your body.”
I pretend not to notice the delicate woman in her thirties tiptoeing to an open space, insecurity darting her eyes from this person to that for approval or judgment.
“In this room your troubles don’t exist.”
I pretend I don’t see the early-twenties computer-programmer-type dropping his blocks and scrambling to pick them back up, face flushing with embarrassment.
“This is a safe place.”
Beside my violet mat are three lit candles held by spherical iron, two of the five elements represented in the yoga studio. Wood grounds our energy and is found in the hardwood floors. Water is represented in a fountain on the east wall and in the water bottles we drink from. Air will be our focused breath.
I glance to the clock one minute before seven, and sit with crossed legs, heels up on both thighs. “Let’s take a moment to check in with ourselves, sitting in Lotus position. Listen to what your body needs. If pain is telling you that is too much to stretch like this, rest your feet under your thighs.” Sunlight streams in as a cloud moves out of its way, making me smile. It feels like a blessing — a good class ahead. “Close your eyes and take a relaxed, deep breath in through your nose. Hold it. Now release it through your mouth. As you breathe in, imagine white light entering you, filling you up with light. As you breathe out…” In my periphery I see movement, and glance to the door to see Josh staring at me, a yoga mat rolled under his muscular arm, “…picture dark clouds leaving. I mean, picture dark energy, the stress you carry, leaving your lungs.”
One of my regulars chuckles, “Dark clouds… that works, Tempest.”
With a forced smile, I hurry to release myself from Lotus, rising to stop Josh from walking out. “Continue your breath work. In through your nose, out through your mouth. I’ve gotta go catch that student.”
Wincing at the words I can’t take back, I speed-walk to the small hallway where shoes are tucked into cubbies, sign in sheet riddled with signatures of varying flow and weight. I nearly run into Josh, who has his back to me in stylish black joggers and form-fitting matching T, dark brown hair soft and touchable, body rigid and not.
Thick tan fingers grip the doorknob, frozen.
Keeping my volume quiet, I smile, “Come back inside, Josh.”
He whispers, “If I had known this was your class I wouldn’t have come.”
“I have no doubt of that,” I sigh. “You’re here now, and that must be for a reason. So come inside.”
Over his shoulder, dark-chocolate eyes glint with anger at me. “What reason would that be?!”
“You must have needed a class if you showed up to one, right?”
He blinks, shoulders stiff as he turns to face me. “Oh.”
Rolling my eyes wasn’t part of teacher-training, but I can’t help it. This guy is unbelievable! I’ve never met anyone more rude in my entire life.
I point at the class, whisper, “Now get in there,” spin around and walk to my stage, voice smoothed to address the students, “Concentrate on your breath until what you breathe out is as bright as what you breathed in.” Josh finds a spot and rolls out his mat. “You may feel tingly. That’s your energy shifting, and that’s good.” What did he think I meant by reason? “You are opening yourself up to your truth.” That I thought he and I, specifically, were supposed to be brought together? “Releasing what is false.” He