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Beta reader comments:
“Grace is a wild, gut-punching ride that sinks its claws into you and doesn’t let go. Roxanne crafts a heroine who’s broken but fierce, clawing her way through trauma to own her power—my kind of girl. The steamy, twisted vibes with Dr. Nance had me hooked, and that banter? Pure fire. I craved a bit more heat to balance the heartbreak, but damn, this book delivers raw, unfiltered emotion. Grace Nguyen is a badass you won’t forget.”
“Grace is a fearless, gut-wrenching novel that doesn’t flinch from the raw edges of trauma and identity. Roxanne crafts a vivid, unforgettable protagonist in Grace Nguyen, whose resilience and voice cut through the novel’s harrowing moments like a melody through silence. The banter sparkles, and the cultural critique hits hard, though I craved a touch more light to balance the darkness. It’s a bold story that lingers, demanding readers sit with its truths.”
And here’s a bonus excerpt:
The hostess looked up and assumed they were high-priced groupies flown in for the hockey playoffs. “How many?”
“Three,” said Hannah, nodding with approval as she looked over the wooded restaurant.
“And give us a quiet spot,” Bree added as she did the same with wide eyes. “Because we’re going to be loud as fuck.”
“Just a moment,” said the hostess, checking her screen. After the manager leaned in to say something to her, she picked up three menus. “Right this way.”
Bree led the charge, hips swinging as she strutted past the bar. She tossed a wink at a guy who then choked on his drink, his fist covering his mouth. Tossing back her head, she let out a sharp laugh, glancing over her shoulder at her friends. “Nice pick, Grace. This place is so posh.”
Hannah followed, heels clicking firmly with each step. She nodded at a waiter who fumbled to get out of her way, nearly dropping a tray.
Grace trailed, her hands grazing the sides of her dress as she found the table where she’d met Dr. Lester. A couple sat there now, laughing over their plates.
“Anything to drink?” asked the hostess as the ladies settled into the booth.
“Vodka martini with an olive,” Bree said, scrolling through her phone to read the latest comments about her.
“Same,” said Hannah, hips nudging Bree to make more room for Grace.
“Scotch, straight,” said Grace, sounding like a seasoned gambler about to place a high stakes bet.
“Really?” said Bree, putting her phone down. “You went from juice boxes to whiskey neat in, like, twenty-four hours?”
“Yeah, I thought you’d go for your usual Orangina or something,” said Hannah, flipping through the menu.
“Told you I wanted to drink tonight,” Grace said, putting down the menu. “We’re going get sexy and silly tonight, right?”
The girls broke into laughter, Hannah nudging Grace with her shoulder. “Don’t worry, Gracie. We’ll take good care of you.”
“So, what are we getting?” Bree asked, burying her face in the menu. “Everything sounds amazing.”
“I really want to try their beef tartare,” Grace said.
“What’s that?” Bree asked, wrinkling her nose.
“Raw beef,” Hannah replied, deadpan.
“Iw, no way,” Bree said, scrunching up her face like she’d just smelled something terrible.
“You’ll like it, Bree,” Hannah said, shaking Bree’s leg under the table. “It tastes like a really good blow job.”
Bree blinked, then burst out laughing. “Okay, sold. I’m in.”
Grace shook her head, tittering. “And oysters on the half shell?”
“Oh!” Bree said, her eyes lighting up. “I hear they’re an aphrodisiac. Let’s definitely get those.”
“Let’s finish off with a Caesar salad,” Hannah said, closing her menu. “Pretty sure they make the real deal here—with raw eggs, not that bottled stuff.”
“What are we, vampires tonight?” Bree said, snapping her menu shut.
The waiter arrived just then, setting down their drinks. “Good evening, ladies. Ready to order?”
Bree looked up at him. “We’ll take a Caesar salad, a dozen oysters on the half shell, and a beef blowjob.”
Hannah snorted so hard she nearly spat out her drink. Grace clamped a hand over her mouth, trying not to laugh. The waiter’s expression oscillated between horrified and amused, ending in confusion and embarrassment.
Bree turned to Hannah, mouthing, “What did I say?”
“She meant beef tartare,” Grace said quickly, flashing the waiter an apologetic smile while her shoulders shook with suppressed laughter. “We’ll be sharing everything.”
“Of course. Anything else?”
“No, that’s all for now,” Grace said, gathering the menus to hand over to the waiter.
The girls erupted into uncontrollable laughter as the waiter left their table.
“Did you see his face?” Bree said, wiping a tear from her eye. “I think I broke him.”
“Forget him,” Hannah said, shaking her head. “You broke me. Beef blowjob? Really?”
“It just slipped out!” Bree said, shimmying her shoulders as she tracked two men walking into the restaurant. “But hey, now we know who’s got the dirtiest mind at this table.”
Grace raised her glass. “I think that’s a contest you win by default.”
“Damn right,” Bree said, clinking glasses with her friends.
Bree’s gaze narrowed like a cat sizing up its prey as she took a long sip, watching the two men settling in at the bar. Hannah noticed, giving her arm a squeeze. “Bree, behave.”
“What?” Bree replied, knocking her knee against Hannah’s. “I’m just observing.”
“Who are they?” Grace asked, trying to get a better look.
“The two guys Bree was chatting up in the hotel lobby today, right?” Hannah said.
Bree nodded. “A couple of predators in town for the playoffs.”
“What?!” Hannah exclaimed, nearly spilling her drink.
“Sorry, I meant they play for the Nashville Predators. Hockey players. Not, you know, actual predators.”
“Oh my God, Bree,” Hannah groaned, shaking her head. “You’re going to break me into pieces by the end of the night.”
Bree pressed a kiss onto Hannah’s cheek without taking her eyes off the men. “Love you too, Han.”
Grace furrowed her brow. “Who came up with that name, though? The ‘Predators’? Really?”
“Obviously there wasn’t a woman on their naming committee,” Hannah said, taking a sip of her drink.
“I mean, they could’ve gone with something like the Nashville Butterflies,” Bree said, quirking her lips. “But no, they had to go full caveman.”
“I wonder what their mascot looks like,” said Grace. “Does it look as psychotic as the name?”
“Let me check,” Bree said, picking up her phone. She spoke into it, then held up the screen. “Here it is.”
The other girls leaned over to look. On the screen was a bright yellow saber-toothed tiger with oversized fangs and a cartoonishly fierce expression.
“Awww, it’s kinda cute,” Grace said, tipping her head.
“Yeah, it’s just a teddy bear with big teeth,” Bree said, squinting at the image. “Not exactly what I’d call intimidating.”
“Why bother with an outfit?” Hannah remarked, bringing her martini to her lips. “Just trot out any man and call him the mascot. Perfect fit.”
The girls broke into peals of merriment, turning a few heads around the room.
“Honestly, that’d be more accurate,” Bree said, hand over her heart. “Throw a hockey jersey on a guy and voilà, instant predator.”
The waiter returned just then, curious about the commotion as he set their meal on the table. “And here we are, ladies,” he said with an anxious smile. “Anything else I can get for you?”
Bree glanced over at the bar, where the two hockey players were laughing with the bartender, then back at the waiter. “Not yet,” she said with a wink, “but stay tuned.”
“Oh no you don’t, Miss Lipari,” said Hannah, squeezing a lemon wedge over the dozen oysters. “I promised your mom that I’d keep you out of jail this weekend.”
“Let’s make a deal, Hannah,” Bree said as she picked up an oyster, holding it delicately. “If they buy us drinks, they get to sit with us.” She slid her tongue out, slurping the oyster out with a toss of her head.
“No, Bree…” Hannah said, shaking her head and setting an empty shell back on the icy plate.
Grace turned to Hannah, squeezing her arm. “It’s fine, don’t worry about me.”
Hannah gave her a skeptical look. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah,” Grace said, shrugging. “It’ll be fun to watch Bree work her magic. I might learn something.”
Bree’s grin grew triumphant, chewing on crisp lettuce. She held up one finger to indicate she was about to speak, while her other hand pushed a piece stuck to her lip into her mouth. “Game on, ladies.”
“But,” Hannah said, stabbing at her salad, “drinks aren’t enough. They have to pick up our entire tab.”
Bree flashed an okay sign, her mouth busy crunching croutons.
“And no cheating,” Hannah added. “You can’t approach them. They have to come to us.”
“Deal,” Bree mumbled, nodding as she munched. “This is like… the best Caesar salad I’ve ever had.”
“I know,” Grace said, taking another bite. “The raw egg and fresh ingredients make such a difference. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to eat store-bought dressing again.”
Bree pointed at the mound of freshly diced raw tenderloin in the center of the table. “So, how does one eat this, er, beef blowjob?” she asked with a straight face.
“Bree, you’re going to get us kicked out,” Hannah said, scooping up an oyster that had fallen out of its shell.
“Here you go,” Grace said, handing Bree a thin slice of toasted baguette topped with diced beef with golden yolk spilled over it.
Bree studied it for a moment, her tongue flicking out to give it a quick taste. She smacked her lips, then bit down with a crunch. Chewing, she tilted her head, considering, before nodding. “Yup. Tastes just like a three-star blowjob, Michelin-rated.”
The hostess appeared at their table, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she waited for their laughter to die down. “Ladies,” she said, directing their attention toward the bar, “those two gentlemen have decided to pick up the tab for your meal. They’re asking if they can join you.”
Hannah froze mid-bite, glancing at Grace with a tight, are-we-really-doing-this expression. Grace raised her eyebrows but said nothing, deferring to Bree, who was already grinning like a cat that got the cream.
Bree finished her martini, fluttering her eyelashes as she set the glass down. “Why not, invite them over,” she said, glancing at her friends. “And” she added, sliding her empty glass toward the hostess, “another round of drinks for us. Top shelf, of course.”
“Of course. I’ll let them know right away,” said the hostess, picking up empty glasses.
Hannah let out a sigh, tearing apart a piece of buttered baguette. “Bree, what’s the end game?”
“Relax, Hannah,” Bree said, adjusting her hair like she was prepping for the red carpet. “We’re just going to have some friendly banter to liven up our evening.”
“I don’t think that’s all they’re going to be looking for,” Hannah muttered, pushing her plate away.
“Well, I guess we’ll be testing Grace’s theory,” said Bree, watching as Grace hid her expression behind dabs of her napkin over her mouth.