The Mind Readers

The man sitting across from me at the cafe was thinking about murdering his wife. He imagined stabbing her and pretending like it was a robbery. Or perhaps, he thought, he'd take her hiking, push her off a cliff and say it was an accident; that she'd slipped. I wanted to tell him it wouldn't work, that in those CSI shows on T.V. they always suspected the husband first.

But the guy sitting at the table next to me who'd been imagining killing his wife and was now imagining seducing me wasn't the problem. No, it was the guy sitting across from me, the man with the bright orange hunting cap pulled low over his eyes, the guy waiting for the right moment to rob the cafe...he was the one who worried me.

It was amazing and frightening what humans were capable of.

You’d think a person who could read minds would be able to get a boyfriend.

Some girls complained because their boyfriends didn’t pay them enough attention, or buy them gifts. But let’s face it, Lewis could pretty much hands down win Worst Boyfriend Of The Year.

It’s not about sides,” I insisted. “It’s about right and wrong.

if there was one thing I’d learned early on in life it was that normalcy, as we thought of it, didn’t exist.

Romance for adults, as well as Young Adult books for teens and adults. She sold her first book, Wild Heart, to a New York Publisher and has since started self-publishing.

But if there was one thing I’d learned early on in life it was that normalcy, as we thought of it, didn’t exist.

I looked at Maddox, so large, yet at the moment so vulnerable. Would he recover? Even though he was my enemy, I prayed he would.

Slowly, I slid him a glance out of the corner of my eye. With his thinning brown hair combed neatly into place, and his blue button-up shirt free of wrinkles, he looked like a normal suburban dad. But if there was one thing I’d learned early on in life it was that normalcy, as we thought of it, didn’t exist. It was amazing and frightening what

I don’t believe that. People can’t be that horrible.” “You’ve read their minds.” He shrugged. “You know how dark their thoughts can be.” He was right; I’d heard things that would make people question the whole of society. Was it true, would people always think about themselves over others?

At times I felt like I was acting; no one knew the real me. My smile wavered and I swallowed over the sudden lump in my throat. They only knew the person they wanted me to be. It was exhausting.

Lori has a degree in Anthropology and worked as a museum curator. Deciding the people in her imagination were slightly more exciting than the dead things in a museum basement, she set out to become an author. Lori writes Romance

His pale blue eyes met mine. My heart slammed frantically against my ribcage. I dropped my gaze, my long, dark

But the guy sitting at the table next to me who’d been imagining killing his wife and was now imagining seducing me wasn’t

me pause. An invisible line that practically pulled me toward those stairs leading

Shame was the worst of it, knowing I could help if I’d just open my mouth. But as Grandma had taught me early on, there were worse things than feeling guilty, like feeling dead. I hadn’t realized a person could

sitting across from me at the café was thinking about murdering his wife. He imagined stabbing her and pretending like it was a robbery. Or perhaps, he thought, he’d take her hiking, push

keep her thoughts to herself. An ability she refused to share with me and I knew why…then she wouldn’t be able to spy on me. Her power would be gone. And at times like this, I resented the hell out of her. “Did you know?” she asked, her own voice casual. Did I know the man was going to rob the café? Did I know he had a gun? Did I know someone might die and I could stop it? I swiped my hands on my jeans, wiping away the condensation. Slowly, I nodded. “You didn’t say anything?” Annoyed, I released a puff of air

imagined stabbing her and pretending like it was a robbery. Or perhaps, he thought, he’d take her hiking, push her off a cliff and say it was an accident; that she’d slipped. I wanted to tell him it wouldn’t work, that in those CSI shows on T.V. they always suspected the husband first. Instead, I huddled deep within my down jacket, the diner booth pressing uncomfortably hard against my back. I didn’t dare move for fear of drawing attention to myself. I didn’t want to know his thoughts. I wished

black truck zoomed by, sending fall colored leaves of orange, red and yellow into the air. For one brief moment, as the leaves settled

Instead, I huddled deep within my down jacket, the diner booth pressing uncomfortably

across from me at the café was thinking about murdering his wife. He imagined stabbing her and pretending like it was a robbery. Or perhaps, he thought, he’d take her hiking, push her off a cliff and say it was an accident; that she’d slipped. I wanted to tell him it wouldn’t work, that in those CSI shows on T.V. they always suspected the husband first. Instead, I huddled deep within my down jacket, the diner booth pressing uncomfortably hard against my back. I didn’t dare move for fear of drawing attention to myself. I didn’t want to know his thoughts. I wished he’d keep them to himself. But I suppose he

the better of me. Outside the air was crisp, cool. So normal. It was early fall and the bees were swarming an overflowing trashcan. Dumping my cup, careful to avoid