ImPerfectly Happy by Sharina Harris

(Im)perfectly Happy 

by Sharina Harris 

Genre: Women's Fiction 

When four college friends formed the Brown Sugarettes Mastermind Group, they had very different goals—but matched each other in ambition. Yet ten years later they can’t help wondering what happened to the hopeful, confident, driven women they used to be—and how to get

them back . . .

Radio personality Raina, known as “the black Delilah,” hates the wholesome persona that’s made her a success. Doling out syrupy versions of her grandma’s wisdom feels worlds away from the sarcastic,

tell-it-like-it-is woman Raina really is.

Kara Jones was sure she’d be a master sommelier by thirty. Life and loss interfered with that plan. Now she has one more chance—but it’s taking a toll on her self-esteem and her marriage.

Nikki Grayson hardly recognizes the stay-at-home mom she’s become. When her band signed a record deal, she swapped the limelight for a minivan and a sensible ’do. Now she’s wishing she had followed her heart. Instead, she’s drowning her regret in alcohol.

Public defender Sienna Njeri willingly put her city council aspirations aside to support her fiancé’s bid for office—and now she’s wondering if her loyalty is misplaced.

Longing for the support, advice, and tough love they once shared, all four resolve to start meeting up again. After all, their dreams may still be within reach. But are they worth the price they’ll pay to achieve them?

Add to Goodreads

Amazon * B&N * Google * Kobo

Book Excerpts – Imperfectly Happy

Excerpt #1 - Raina

What in the hell have I gotten myself into? My palms were a soupy mess, I wiped them on my shorts, while my heart pounded against my chest. The screechy squawks of packing tape being ripped off cardboard and the sound of occasional grunts coming from Cameron, who was unpacking boxes and shifting furniture, forced tendrils of guilt down my spine.

He was grinding away getting things done while I sat motionless, alternating between Disney Princess happy and trembling like a frightened kitten. My phone buzzed, and I grabbed it from the pocket of my cutoffs. Nikki’s name flashed across the screen. I pressed the answer button, but before I could greet her, she said, “How’s your scary ass doing?”

“I’m good. Just getting things organized.” I lied easily to my best friend from college. And like all best friends, she knew I was full of shit. “You’re a damn lie.”

“What’s up, Nik?” My annoyance was clear in my tone. “You know I’m busy.” “The girls and I were talking . . . and anyway, I volunteered as tribute.” The girls she was referring to were my two other best friends from college, Sienna and Kara. We were always up in each other’s business, so I wasn’t surprised they’d gotten together to discuss God knows what. “Volunteered for what?”

“Volunteered to talk some sense into you. We know you have cold feet about moving in with Cam.”

What did they think I would do—run away from home? I squelched down the flare of irritation that prickled my skin. My friends meant well, but I wasn’t in the mood for the all men aren’t like your daddy lecture. I knew that already. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be doing a bunch of domestic shit like buying mulch and analyzing a dozen gray paint samples with stupid names like Mole’s Breath. A roll of sweat trickled from my neck onto my chest. I used my hand as a fan. I was pretty sure the sweat was from the heat, not anxiety.

 “Hellooooo, Raina? You still there?” “Yes.” I modulated my tone to my late-night radio personality I used for my job. “I’m perfectly fine.” “

Sure you aren’t. And don’t take on that bougie-ass radio therapist tone with me. You’re talking to a friend, not a caller from your show.” She smacked her lips. “Anyway, can you talk?”

I looked at my guy, who was whistling as he drilled studs above the fireplace to mount our big screen TV. “Not right now,” I whispered. “Good. You can just listen. Cam is a great guy, and this is a good step. You’ve been together for six years, and he’s been more than patient with your crazy ass. Who else would propose three times, get rejected, and then buy a house with you?”

“First of all—” I stopped myself when I caught Cameron’s attention. His eyebrows crinkled, and his eyes scanned me. I knew he was checking to see if everything was good. I gave him a smile and thumbs-up. “It’s Nikki. She’s just wishing us good luck.” “No, I’m not. I’m convincing your crazy-ass girlfriend to calm down,” Nikki yelled over the phone line.

Excerpt #2 Kara

Raina rooted through her large purse and produced a tattered blue notebook. She raised the book in the air, still silent and with serious eyes. A rush of adrenaline blazed a path from my toes to my head. I recognized that notebook. We’d written our goals and what we accomplished. It had been my idea to create a points system and award the winner every semester. Back then, I had no doubt I’d be a master sommelier by thirty. I swallowed around the knot that had formed in my throat. Was the universe trying to tell me something or torture me?

 “Well, this is a blast from the past.” Sienna’s voice was low and careful.

“Girl no . . . just . . . just no.” Nikki’s voice shook with emotion. “We aren’t doing this. I refuse.” “Just hear me out.” Raina slapped the notebook on the ottoman. “We all know what this is. We created our group years ago and we fell off, which sucks, but I think we should reinstate it.”

 Nikki groaned. “That was years ago. Things change. Why are you bringing this up now?” Quite honestly, I wanted to ask the same question.

Sienna piped up. “We promised to hold each other accountable.”

“Yeah, when we were barely twenty. We didn’t know what we wanted out of life.” Nikki’s voice was high and pinched and stressed. Nikki was usually a straight shooter, but I could taste the acrid lie. She wanted to be a professional musician. Nothing had changed and nothing could take away her talent. Not her husband or her kids or her lack of confidence.

Raina shook her head. “Nikki, you are so talented. You could still go for it. But you’re gonna have to put on your big girl panties, and most of all, don’t lie to yourself. You know you aren’t happy with washing clothes and keeping house.”

“Being a stay-at-home mom is—”

“Sucking away your life force.” “Damn, girl,” Nikki muttered under her breath as she folded her arms across her chest. Classic Raina, the queen of duality. She was a like a Sour Patch Kid. First she’s sour, then she’s sweet. I think she used most of the sweet at her job that she ironically hated and for Cam, whom she actually loved but was too afraid to admit it.

“And Sienna,” Raina tapped Sienna’s shaking legs, “you wanted to go to law school, pass the bar, and become an attorney. You’ve done all of that. You have just one more goal: running for office.” Sienna tugged at her skirt with an uncertain smile. “Yeah, and now Keith is on city council.” She shrugged and cleared her throat. “I’m helping his campaign. It’s the n-next best thing.”

Raina shook her head. “But is it?” Her voice was full-on Raina, the radio therapist. “I’m just saying that you deserve to have your own thing. Your own piece of happiness.”

“I can’t run against him, Raina.” Sienna’s normally soft voice grew hard.

“No. But maybe do something else. Run for a school board position. Just something to consider, okay?” Sienna nodded without her usual enthusiasm. Raina tilted her head and moved on to her next victim: me. “Kara.” Raina cleared her throat. “It’s great that you are working in your field, but don’t you want to pass that wine test?”

My cheeks heated from her direct question. “Of course I do, but it’s not that simple. I’ve tried three times.”

“Then try again. Didn’t you tell us a few months ago that you were practicing with Roddy?”

“Yeah, well, Roddy is pissed with me. He thinks I’m not living up to my potential.”

 Raina bobbed her head. “I’m not picking on you, but girl, you used to run around like a My Little Pony on crack. If you weren’t working, you were zip-lining, BASE jumping, or climbing a pile of rocks. I know that things changed since—”

 I squared up my shoulders, squinted my eyes, and scrunched up my face in a don’t-screw-with-me look. Raina raised her hands in the air, a sign of surrender. “Sorry,” she whispered. “We’re here for you, girl, and you’ve been keeping things in.” Her voice was genuine and a touch worried. It was the tone she used for her raindrop callers who had legitimate issues.

 I relaxed and sighed; I knew it was over-the-top. “You aren’t wrong. And it seems like this week is tell Kara how it is.” I recounted my conversations with Roddy and Darren. Nikki leaned and gave me a side hug. She knew how it felt to lose a parent. Her dad had died when she was younger, and from the reverent way she talked about him, I knew they were extremely close.

“Look,” Raina leaned back into the sofa, “I know I’m coming off as aggressive, and you can go around and take turns on how I haven’t done anything with my life. But I realized something the other day: We’re living scared. We used to be fearless and confident.”

I found myself nodding. I’d been thinking the same thing, and I was tired of this new version of me. I wasn’t weak. I didn’t lose, and if I did, I came back swinging.

Excerpt #3 – Nikki

The show was nearly over and the lights flipped on. The music was now subdued, and Trent gave the crowd a sexy grin. My heart slammed a series of tri-pl-et beats against my chest. I knew the plan. They still had the same old shtick: Invite a hot girl on stage, make her panties melt as they sang a rocking ballad to her, and then later, for Trent and maybe Ethan if Trent was feeling charitable, screw her brains out. “I’m looking for . . . someone. A special someone to come onstage.” The crowd went wild. Well, the women. Scratch that, some of the men, too. Trent’s eyes scanned the crowd, and I wondered what he was thinking. Would he see me in the second row? A busty redhead sat a few feet to my left, and I knew for sure that she would catch his eye. She was attractive, wearing a tattered Tortured Souls tee slashed in all the right places and a miniskirt showing off legs for days. Yep, just his type. I was never his type. I was tall, curvy, with big lips and a bigger butt. I remembered how he would always say there was something about me. Something that made a man want to be my man and I would always stand out to him, like a beacon of light. I snorted now, just as I’d done then. He’d always been a shit poet. His eyes lit up when he spotted the redhead. Called it. His lips curved into a smile and he lifted his hand from the guitar string, ready to pick his latest victim. I rolled my eyes and folded my arms across my tee. His eyes moved on from the redhead and his blues clashed with my browns.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he whispered. But it wasn’t a whisper because he was mic’d. “Nikki fucking Hardt.” He said a little louder. But I was Nikki Grayson now. The slow and steady rhythm from the drums and cymbals slipped a beat. Guess I’d surprised Davey as well.

“I’ll be damned,” he said again. This time he waved. “Get your ass up here.” I shook my head and looked away, as if averting my eyes would make him go away. What in the hell was I thinking— strutting my ass to the second row of seats, center stage of all places? I‘d tempted fate, testing his old promise to always notice me in a crowded room.

“Aww, my girl’s acting shy. Let’s give her a round of applause to encourage her.” I rolled my eyes and shook my head again. “I’ll stand here all night and beg if I have to.” He lowered his voice and moved the mic closer to his lips. “You know that I will.” His tone held a promise, just like the one he’d used in the bedroom. Just listening to him made me feel like I was cheating on James. I spotted the security guy at the end of the row and nodded. A few women, including the redhead, gave me curious, envious looks as I made my way toward the stage. They didn’t realize I was saving them from a world of pain. Trent was a god in the bedroom, made you feel like the most important woman in the world, and just as you were soaring off his declarations of love, he’d drop you. It was like he fed off the bitterness. The pain wasn’t as sweet if the tears weren’t real. Pain and pleasure always came in a package with Trent. I leaned into the ugly memories, covering myself with them like a barbed-wire armor, and marched onstage. The crowd was quiet now. The rock god has gotten his way, and they were waiting for what happened next. Trent handed his guitar to me and nodded at the roadie behind the stage. Something happened and the mood had changed. There was a shift in power. He had gifted me with temporary rock god status and I decided to pretend, just for one night.

Feeling bold, I began the chords to the song I’d written for them. I knew they were saving the best for last; it was their hit song I’d written to sing the panties off some woman. But not tonight. Tonight, I would make the hairs on the back of the crowd’s neck stand up. I would give them goose bumps. And I didn’t need to sell my sex appeal, I just wanted to make them feel. Trent had corned the market on rock-and-roll, but without me, they didn’t have any soul.

The band played the song, and my voice floated to the mic as Trent harmonized effortlessly beside me. Walking closer to the mic, I poured my entire being into the crowd. I felt it again—that warm feeling spilled from me and into the crowd, and like glue, it stuck us together until we were one. Like a succubus, I fed on the crowd’s energy. I tossed back my head and hit a high note I hadn’t tried in a while. I was a little rusty, but my voice sounded like a vintage record. The second time I hit the note, it was pure and clear. The cobwebs of lost dreams were cleared away. My thoughts drifted to my travelin’ man daddy, who let cocaine get the best of him. He loved his family—loved my mom and loved me harder. But the music, and the ups and downs, and the disappointments were all too much for him. Mama said it was like he had a gun to his head and each day, his finger slowly inched against the trigger until it popped. And it did. I was sixteen when Daddy died.

 And the following years weren’t so sweet. Mama had stopped the piano and guitar lessons, but by then it’d been too late. The drug that was music had slipped into the next generation and coursed through my veins. I guess some of Daddy’s vices lived on, too. With my heart and soul, I sang the lyrics and prayed that Daddy had found his peace.

Excerpt #4 – Sienna

“All right, party people, it’s time to dance!” the DJ announced. The diva that is Diana Ross’s sultry voice floated over the speakers, singing, “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough.” I could see Diana’s smile, see her shimmy with all the confidence in the world, telling me to “Go get him, girl!” I didn’t shimmy but instead squared my shoulders and stood.

“Where are you going, sweet cheeks?”

“To go get him.” I stormed away before Keith had the chance to dissuade me or tell me not to embarrass him. The place was huge. Three hundred people jam-packed, and Chris had effortlessly dodged me. “Dammit. Where is he?” I stretched my neck, even stood on my tiptoes. After ten minutes of fruitlessly circling the room, I wanted to give up. Plus, Diana was no longer cheering me on.

Discouraged, I made my way back to my seat when I got a whiff of smoke. Smoke! Chris loves to smoke! Terrible habit, but the man was a chain smoker. He was most likely puffing his poor lungs away outside. Turning on my heels, I rushed to the entrance of the renovated warehouse and turned a sharp right.

My heart revved again when I found him leaning against the brick wall near a silver cigarette bin. Gotcha!

“Christopher,” I said on a sigh. I tried to calm my heavy breathing, still out of breath from speed walking. Grabbing my arms, I attempted to rub away the cold. My strapless black dress was not appropriate for winter weather, even in Georgia.

“Sienna.” He dragged in a long puff of smoke and then exhaled. A thick white cloud billowed between us. Waving my hands, I stepped back and coughed. Probably just as he wanted, to create a divide between us. I still didn’t understand what his damn problem was with me. My recently manicured nails dug into my palms.

 “Why have you been avoiding me, Christopher?” My voice was sharp and imperious, like a teacher berating a student.

 “I don’t want to talk to you.”

I stepped closer, so close if he breathed deeply his chest would touch mine. It wasn’t appropriate to get in a man’s personal space, but I had to know. “Why don’t you like me?

He snapped his head back, narrowed his blue-gold eyes. The flash of blue in his eyes showed his surprise. Perhaps he was surprised by my audacity. But if he really knew me, he’d know I could be bold when needed.

The blues in his eyes gave way to gold, reflecting twin pools of anger. “I don’t dislike you. I feel sorry for you.” He took a step back and smoked away from me.

Sorry for me? Embarrassment and pain seeped down to the hard concrete lot. Why feel sorry for me? I had a damn good life, thank you very much. A fulfilling career, a wonderful family, a great guy, and the best friends in the entire effing world. A flame ignited in my stomach. Each puff he carelessly smoked stoked the fire in my belly. “Why?” I bit off, crossing my arms so tightly it pushed up my breasts.

His eyes dipped to my chest. He swallowed. “You’re the living and breathing example of Little Miss Sunshine. You’re so determined to block out the bad, you don’t see what’s going on around you.” He stubbed his cigarette and tossed it in the bin. “You think everything is perfect and wonderful and lovely.” He mimicked my voice, making me sound like a silly cartoon character.

“I don’t think everything is perfect and wonderful and . . . and whatever the hell else you said.” I waved at him.

“Lovely,” he sarcastically supplied.

“I don’t. I’m a second-generation immigrant. My parents both came from humble beginnings, yet they were able to provide for me and my seven siblings. We were rich in love but not much else. If I wanted something that wasn’t a necessity, I worked my ass off,” I growled. “Sienna—”

“No. Be quiet and listen.” I jammed my finger just above his rib cage, and my finger nearly broke against his granite chest. “Now, where was I?”

 “You worked your ass off.” This time the sarcasm was gone, and his already deep voice had gone deeper. The disdain had left his eyes, replaced by something else I was too worked up to analyze. Whatever it was had siphoned away the red-hot anger.

“Yes, I did. I graduated number one in my law school class. And you know what I d-do now?” My teeth were chattering. I needed to wrap this up pronto before I became a Popsicle.

He shrugged out of his black tuxedo jacket and flapped it around my shoulders like a cape. “You’re a public defender for the city of Atlanta.” He stepped closer to me, or had I stepped closer? “D-damn right. Which means I don’t get to ch-choose my clients. Some are guilty, some are innocent, but all deserve a fair trial. Someone to look them in the eyes and let them know that they aren’t the sum of their mistakes. That they are worth something. Sometimes I’m their last hope, and yes, I’m their Little Miss Sunshine. I do it for them.” I jerked my thumb back, pointing to no one in particular, and then pointed to my chest. “I also do it for me. Because if I let the dark bleed through, I won’t be any good to my clients or to the community. I’ll be just another shitty lawyer shuffling through cases, treating my clients like a number. Just another shitty person who doesn’t care about the welfare of my fellow man.”

This time, he stepped closer. I was pretty sure it wasn’t me. “You want world peace, Miss America. It’s admirable, but I’m not the man for the job.” Despite his asshole response, I laughed. “I don’t need you to teach me world peace, Chris. I want you to teach me how to win. I want to help Keith when—”

 “I’m not convinced Keith is the right man for you.” His voice was gruff and as bitter as the cold weather. He took a deep breath. “I mean . . . I don’t think Keith is going to be the man to make major changes for the community. He did okay in his first term, but he hasn’t kept most of the promises he made.”

Sharina Harris earned her Bachelor of Arts degree from Georgia State University. After college, she pursued a career in digital marketing and public relations. Although her profession required writing, she decided to pursue a career in writing in 2012.

Sharina's contemporary romance series under the pen name, Rina Gray, was named Book Riot's 100 Must-Read Romantic Comedies. When Sharina's not writing, she can be found with her head stuck in a book, rooting for her favorite NBA teams, and spending time with friends and family. 

Website * Facebook * Twitter * Instagram * Bookbub * Amazon * Goodreads

$15 Amazon 

Follow the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!

#NewRelease #Giveaway
*Excerpt*
#womens #friendship #fiction #sharinaharris