Promotion Writing
Nadirah Foxx  

Frisky Friday Flash Fiction

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Happy Friday! We’re into a new month, but why does it not feel any different?

This weekend, my alter ego and I will be a part of a virtual book signing on Facebook!


It’s your chance to increase your TBR and meet some new authors writing in a variety of genres! I’m on the final day, February 7th from 5:30-6:00 p.m. There will be an order form and a scavenger hunt for gift cards! Check out the fun at:

Also, if you’re a fan of suspenseful vampire romance, you might want to check out my alter ego’s latest book, The Crimson Cure. It’s available to preorder for only 99 cents!

Don’t Forget

Reasons Why (Goodbye Doesn’t Mean Forever Anthology) Is Now Available! Just click on the image to purchase.

And now, it’s time for the final installment of…

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The Secrets We Keep

Part 30


In everyone’s life, decisions must be made. It was inevitable. Right or wrong? Left or right? Up or down? Stay or go? Of course, some decisions were easier than others.

Staying with Paul meant accepting certain truths—his love for me was at the top of the list. The second item was his lying.

Telling tall tales was Paul’s forte. He lied all the time about his marriage. I’d suspected that a man like him couldn’t be single. He convinced he was.

Then I found the wedding ring tucked in a drawer at the cottage. Of course, he had an excuse.

“We’re getting a divorce, Casinda. Ours is a loveless marriage.”

I believed him.

A year later, Paul was still with his wife, Rhonda. It took me another six months to get weary of the constant lying.

Staying with Paul meant being okay with the possibility of more untruths. For all I knew, he was still…

Wait, a minute.

Was he playing me for a fool again? I thought about the conversation we had about the district attorney.

“I contacted the D.A. She’s a friend.”


“There’s nothing between us. The woman is happily married and very pregnant.”

But the person I met was a man.

I needed the truth, but my lying and cheating ex-boyfriend wasn’t capable of telling me anything but lies.

His phone lay on the table in front of me. Deep down, I knew I shouldn’t invade his privacy. Another part of me said to hell with his life. I had to protect my heart and avoid making a dire mistake.

Picking up the device, I hoped Paul hadn’t changed his password—the day he graduated from law school. I inputted the numbers, and the Home Screen displayed.

Quickly, I tapped on the Photos app and then the Recents tab. He had lots of pictures of coworkers. Unable to find what I needed, I clicked on search.

Which tab next?




Or categories?

For the hell of it, I scrolled through the people and saw an image of a full-faced blonde. She could be overweight.

My hand froze, and my finger shook as I clicked on the photo.

He lied again!

Paul, with his hands on her belly, stood behind the thrilled female. The date on the picture? Seven months ago.

He wasn’t getting a divorce. Once again, I was being played for a fool.

I closed the app and put his phone down. Pulling out my own, I Googled the name of the district attorney for New York County.

A man’s name came up.

Then I looked for the Manhattan District Attorney. I tapped on the link for the D.A.’s office. Under a street photo was a picture of the same woman from Paul’s phone. To the right of her smiling face was a public relations piece about Manhattan District Attorney, Rhonda V. Gonzalez.

I sniffed and shut down one app before opening another one. The driver could be at the cottage in half an hour.

Apparently, I could make some decisions in less than a minute.

Paul entered the kitchen as I rose from my chair. He glanced at his phone and then at mine. His eyebrow quirked up. 

“What’s going on, Casinda?”

“I decided something.”

“Really? Is this about us?”

Ignoring his questions, I announced, “A driver’s coming for me.”

It felt good knowing I didn’t have any baggage leaving Paul’s house. Getting rid of two-hundred plus pounds and a ton of lies was liberating.

“You’re leaving.” Not a question.

I plastered on a smile. “You should get home to your very pregnant wife.”

He exhaled and dragged a hand down his face. “How did you figure it out?”

“You slipped, Paul. You told me the D.A. was a woman, but a man came to the house.”

“But that doesn’t—”

I waved my phone in the air. “The power of the internet. It wasn’t hard to find the right information. It didn’t hurt that you have the damning picture on your device.”

To my shock, he didn’t try to stop me. I walked past him and went to the living room. Thankfully, my jacket and purse were on the sofa. I only had to wait for the driver.


Minutes later, I slipped into the back seat of a light-gray sedan. A woman with a pleasant smile was my driver.

“Good evening, Miss. My name’s Betty. Your destination is the New Haven station?”


“Normally, that’s a three-hour trip. With the rain, it might take a little longer. You don’t have a train to catch, do you?”

“No. I’ll get a ticket when I arrive.”

“Sounds good. Just relax, and I’ll get you there safely.”

“That’s all I ask.”

I sat back. As Betty pulled out of the driveway, I glimpsed Paul on the porch. He didn’t look sad. He looked guilty.

I was guilty too. 

Guilty of being foolish and following in the wake of others.

But no more.

One day, I’d catch up with Tiago. My best friend was like a cat. He always landed on his feet.


I was headed as far away as I could get. It was time for me to put the past behind and start living for me.

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