News and Deleted Scene from Beside Your Heart by Mary Whitney

News and Deleted Scene from Beside Your Heart by Mary Whitney

Today is the day we announce some pretty awesome news about Mary Whitney’s Beside Your Heart novel. You are hearing it hear first!!! You already know that Beside Your Heart will have a sequel, right?
Well Mary is announcing  that there will  be two Beside Your Heart sequels! Books 2 and 3 will be due out late Fall 2013 and Spring 2014.  Here’s a quick graphic of what’s to come…

Received from http://literatiliteraturelovers.com/2013/06/18/deleted-scene-from-beside-your-heart-by-mary-whitney/

For now, enjoy this deleted scene from Beside Your Heart.

London
July 1998

I was late, uncharacteristically so. That was sign enough that I wasn’t ready for what lie ahead. As soon as I stepped onto the street from the tube, I started to run to the pub. I’d catch hell from David for being late, so every second counted. When I arrived at the Barnfield Arms, though, I wondered why I’d hurried.
Far at back, David seemed to be enjoying himself. He leaned back on bench, occasionally taking a swig from his pint of beer as he checked out the girls. He was my cousin and best friend, and I knew exactly what he thought as he gawked at a blonde with huge knockers.
“David, put your eyes back in your head,” I said as I took a seat. “They’re on stalks.”
“Piss off. You were looking too.”
“It’s difficult not to notice that one.” I chuckled, taking another glance at her.
“You’re late. I thought we said half past six. It’s almost seven.”
“I … er … got caught up at the studio.”
“Right.” He rolled his eyes. “You’re late on purpose because you’re nervous as fuck.”
“Maybe … a little bit.”
“You’re only seeing her friends again—not her.”
“I know it’s just weird—know what I mean?”
“I suppose, but you’ve got a serious girlfriend now, bucko. Shouldn’t you be —”
“Let’s not talk about Muff.” I rubbed my forehead in frustration. I was tense, and I shouldn’t have been snipping at David. “I’m sorry. I’m being an arse. It’s just that they’re different.”
“Yeah, they’re different. Muff’s not Nicki. That’s your problem, Cuz.”
“We’ve been through this a million times. What do you want me to do about it?”
“Can’t say. I’m not you.” David shrugged. “No one gives a flying fuck about what I do or where I live. I don’t have a family bloodline to keep up.” He sipped his beer as if he was toasting to the fact. “Thank the fuck.”
“I’ll drink to that,” I said, raising my glass.
“So does Muff even know about Nicki?”
“No, and she never will.”
“You’re a bloody nutter. What does it say if you don’t even tell your girlfriend about her?”
I flashed him a look, and I felt badly as soon as I did. Why was I mad at him when I was really mad at myself?