Debra shares the beginning of a manuscript.
I'm a bit pressed for time today, so I'm going to share the elevator pitch and the first page or so of the manuscript that is in my editor's hands right now.
A young play-by-the-rules widow falls for her commitment shy ex-brother-in-law and discovers breaking those rules can be exhilarating, until getting caught threatens to cost her the only family she's ever known.
“Why didn’t you call me?”
The bold words took Erika Garrett by surprise. But no more so than the man standing on her doorstep who had uttered them. She gazed up at him. An errant lock of dark hair fell over one eyebrow, daring her to reach up and brush it back. His chiseled features bore a dark, even tan, evidence of his outside work in the summer. A hint of stubble shadowed his jaw and made him look sexy as hell. Warm brown eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled.
Chase Stewart was as gorgeous as ever.
“Hello, Erika.” Once again the deep timbre of his familiar voice washed over her, and she stared, caught up in the penetrating gaze of the man who evoked such powerful memories.
“Chase. What are you doing here?” She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him. What was he doing on her doorstep?
Instead of answering the question, he asked one of his own. “It’s hot as blazes out here today. May I come in?”
She hesitated. But then, as if to underscore his words, a blast of hot air hit her like the heat from an open oven. The scorching heat from the afternoon sun poured into the house. Nothing like a Midwest summer to make you feel like a fried egg. It had been so hot this year, the evening news had done a story on kids literally frying them on the sidewalk. And it was only June.
“Well, I guess there’s no use cooling the outside.” The air conditioning bill would be high enough anyway. She stepped back and opened the door wider.
Chase stood in the foyer of the historic row home and studied her as she closed the door. “You look terrific.”
“Thanks.” She self-consciously touched the curling locks she’d pinned to the top of her head in an effort to control the humidity’s effect on them. She adjusted the slim strap of her tank top, and then smoothed her palms over her shorts.
He looked terrific, too. But, then again, he always did. Had she always been turned on by men in jeans and work boots? Not to mention white T-shirts that drew attention to the muscles beneath. A blush heated her cheeks and she looked away. Had he noticed her staring?
So now it's a waiting game. My editor read the synopsis I sent, requested the full, and the fate of this book is in her hands. Wish me luck!
Until next time,