and you would like to be in the contest, please email me through the contact susan button!
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
September 2011
Ah. Summer's over. Sniff. Sniff. No more breakfasts on Wednesday morning. No more swimming pool. Though we can still golf!
My writing is humming right along. One book in the MONGTOMERY MOGULS duet down. One to go. And then onto the continuity before I finish up my contract with an unknown book! I'm guessing it might be a standalone.
This month we're getting back into the POWER OF QUESTIONS workshop. There's a Cat Tail and a reminder of the Prepping for Nano Workshop. But rather than post the last of the Andreas short stories, we're slipping into a Christmas theme. Why? Who knows. LOL. With fall approaching, I'm suddenly in a Christmas mood. So along with an excerpt from one of the two Christmas stories on my website, I'll be posting an excerpt from HER BABIES FIRST CHRISTMAS.
This is one of my favorite stories for Harlequin Romance. I loved the hero and heroine, but I also loved the idea of leaving your old life behind and starting a new one. The hero did that five years ago. The heroine's on a journey to do that now.
What would you do if you got a chance to start over again?
It's an interesting thing to ponder.
I'm once again giving away an autographed copy of the Maids Duet. Since I don't have any copies of Christmas books to give away! LOL
So comment below on what you'd do if you could start all over and be entered to win a copy of the duet -- MAID FOR THE SINGLE DAD and MAID FOR THE MILLIONAIRE.
Happy fall!
Now on to Lesson 7.
susan
For the Writers Among Us
Lesson 7: More on constructing a List of 20
Here’s our list of twenty for the cabin-in-the-woods/close proximity book we started in our last lesson:
1. The furnace doesn't work and they have to snuggle together. (Remember no judgment! No saying one is right or wrong or better or stupid or ridiculous or too cliché . . . Just keep writing.)
2. She has no luggage and has to wear his clothes. Could be funny. And eventually intimate.
3. They sleep in bedrooms across the hall.
4. He sleeps on the sofa and gets a backache.
5. He catches her in the bathtub.
6. Somebody else arrives.
7. Her dad is with them.
8. She has a child.
9. They hear a radio report that a killer is on the loose (Is this a suspense…Or just a really cool way to get them into the same bedroom? LOL)
10. The storm gets worse.
11. The storm ends…
This is where we ended…So today I add…
12. She gets prim and sets down rules and he decides he'll show her she has nothing to worry about from him by calling his current girlfriend.
13. She gets prim and sets down rules and he decides he'd rather sleep in the garage than deal with her.
Come to a crashing halt again…Why?
First, because we took an answer and refined it. She still gets prim and sets down rules, but this time he decides to sleep in the garage, not call his girlfriend.
Second, this refinement is a tad better because his sleeping in the garage is totally unexpected in this kind of book. Why? Because this is a close proximity book. Readers expect certain things…like waking and talking in the night. Sleeping across the hall. Wondering about each other every time they slide under the covers across the hall from each other. His decision to sleep in the garage just took an old plot and made it a tad different.
So, in your list of 20, don't be afraid to refine any answer you get, but also, don't stop yourself from writing down the ridiculous or something that seems to break with the conventional rules. Sure, he may come back in from the garage in the middle of the night because it's cold and she won't let him freeze to death…or maybe the next night because she feels guilty but in either of those situations she has to entice him back and that's what good romance is all about!
Do you see what I'm saying? An unexpected twist, even if you only twist for a second can breathe new life into an old idea.
That takes us to #4 in our list of thing to remember when doing a list of 20
4. Never underestimate the power of the ridiculous.
Remember my PRINCE BABY list?
I got stuck, left my office, read the paper and saw U-2 was touring. Walking away and reading the newspaper really shifted my thoughts. Another person might have thought it stupid to say the King was touring with U-2, but I knew the power of the ridiculous.
Once I started thinking ridiculous thoughts, I let my mind go and came up with the King sitting at Michael Jackson’s trial. Again, ridiculous, but that answer shifted my thoughts enough that I realized that the King had to have been somewhere that he couldn’t leave.
That in and of itself wasn’t quite enough so using the refining technique, I took the idea that the King was somewhere he couldn’t leave – like Parliament, where he’d be missed! I added that to the list item about the King not wanting the press to realize (yet) that his grandson (the future king) was about to be born out of wedlock until his PR people had a chance to spin it and voila, an answer was born.
There is no better way to jumpstart your brain than to let it go anywhere it wants to . . . especially if it wants to go someplace ridiculous!
But here’s a little sidebar about the list of twenty. Sometimes you’ll have lists of twenty that spin off of your list of twenty.
What do I mean? Well, when I began pandering to the ridiculous to jumpstart my brain, I ultimately came to the conclusion that the king had to be somewhere he couldn’t leave. Basically, I did another list of twenty.
I said, where would a king be that he couldn’t leave…and why couldn’t he leave? If he’s king, he should be able to set his own schedule! LOL
I started with normal answers…He’s sick. His car is broke. His driver is sick. The private plane is already in use. He has work he needs to do…Ah. Work. What kind of work does a king do? He officiates over parliament!
I thought that through and decided (since this was MY made up country and I controlled the rules) that this parliament is only in session once a year for six weeks. If he leaves, it will cause a stir.
And from there I began blending answers. What happens when you cause a stir? The media starts looking into things. And what happens if the media looks into things…they find the out-of-wedlock future king before the king’s PR people can spin it.
So…The list of 20 is a fabulous thing. It frees your mind. You give yourself permission to consider the opposites of the typical conventions. You give yourself permission to think of the ridiculous. And sometimes the ridiculous leads you to the right answer! But none of that will happen if you don't ask the right question!
The bottom line for the list of twenty is two-fold.
First, you have to have an excellent question. Usually the more specific your question, the better your answer will fit.
Second, use the four rules…Don’t judge! Consider opposites. Try the ridiculous. And blend or modify answers that are close.
Your homework for today? Look at your WIP. Could a good question and a list of twenty lift it up into something wonderful?
Can you write a great question for that problem?
susan
Coming Attractions
This will be the last post for Prepping for Nano. Next month the workshop will already be in progress when the ezine comes out.
So if you need this info, take it down.
Coming in October PREPARING FOR NANO at Pennwriters.com
COURSE DESCRIPTION:
Everybody believes NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month, which runs every November at www.nanowrimo.org) is a race against the clock, a fight with procrastination and inertia. In some ways it is. But once you’re in the thick of things, you’ll discover NaNo is really all about ideas. Writers don’t stall because they’re lazy. Writers stall because they don’t know what to write next.
The month BEFORE NaNo, get proven tips from Susan Meier—the author of almost 50 books for Harlequin and Silhouette—and let her take you through several different ways to examine the story you want to write, to capture the natural scene possibilities within your idea, to generate new ideas, and to push yourself through the most grueling, but fun, month you will spend this year! Lessons include:
* The List of 20 (How to generate ideas quickly so you have little downtime when your natural ideas run out)
* Turning a “Want” into “Need” (How does knowing why you’re writing this book provide you with both energy to write and ideas for your story?)
* The One-Paragraph Story Summary (Say it succinctly…3 kinds of one-paragraph story summaries: back cover blurb, core story question, and growth paragraph)
* Could, Might, Must and Should List (How to capture ideas that spring up naturally)
* Storyboard Versus Synopsis (Breaking your idea down into manageable bites)
* The Psychology of Pushing through the Hard Times (What to do when you get stuck)
* The Psychology of a Draft (Push, push, push!)
* What Are You Doing in December? (Editing tips)
TESTIMONIALS:
“I was bowled over by how helpful it was. Susan was ever patient and ready to offer feedback and encouragement. The course material was broken down so that it was easy to understand but it pushed me to dig deeper and really understand my story. I would not hesitate to recommend this course in the future or any course with Susan Meier.”
- SGM
Fantasy writer
“Susan Meier generously shares her knowledge and shapes it to fit your needs. She is enthusiastic and encouraging. This course helped me to fill in the gaps, taking my plot from mundane to magnificent! Thanks, Susan!”
- JBS
Cat Tails!
Cat Confusion...
This year we're doing lots of house remodeling. One of the first things we did was install central air. When you install central air, it immediately changes your life. We knew that was coming. What we didn't expect was cat confusion.
Why? Because they like to go outside...at will. Now, we don't leave open any doors. So they sit by the front door and meow when they want to go out. But sometimes, they'll wander into the kitchen and glance wistfully at the sliding glass door...like I know I should be doing something here but I can't remember what!
I can't wait until October when we replace the worn sliding glass door with French Doors. That'll be interesting!
A Mom for Missy
What Came Before at Teaberry Farms, the winter wonderland setting for Susan Meier’s A BABY BENEATH THE CHRISTMAS TREE, part of A FAIRYTALE CHRISTMAS anthology with Barbara Wallace
A Mom for Missy
The 1970’s were a confusing time for women. Pert and sassy blonde-haired, blue-eyed Sunny Peabody was no exception. She wasn’t against women’s lib. Quite the contrary. She believed the time had come for women to have a place in boardrooms across the country. But, personally, she loved to cook and wanted to spend most of her time in the kitchen. When she’d married the love of her life, a sophisticated, worldly man six years her senior, Max Peabody, she’d gotten a job working with him at Teaberry Farms.
He worked outside. A former entrepreneur, he’d sold his startup business to a Fortune 500 company and retired quite comfortably at thirty. Having spent eight years in offices, he relished the opportunity to be outdoors as the caretaker for the lush evergreens that grew along the steep West Virginia mountainside.
She worked inside, cooking and cleaning for the elderly Teaberries, two wonderfully wise people, who loved selling the Christmas trees everybody believed were magic. To Sophie and Reggie Teaberry, having Sunny and Max keep the place open for business was like getting a second wind. A second chance to provide miracles for the people of their small, rural town.
Sunny didn’t necessarily believe the trees themselves were magic, but she did believe in the magic of Christmas. She’d seen wealthy families step up and secretly provide surprises for those less fortunate. She’d seen younger people help older folks hang Christmas decorations or carry shopping bags. She’d seen money show up in mailboxes and gifts appear under trees. All from benefactors inspired by the legend of the Teaberry Trees.
So though it wasn’t conventional magic, good will and harmony sent a twinkle of something wonderful through the air. From the day after Thanksgiving when the Teaberrys opened their farm, “people magic” flowed through the trees, along the mountain, and to the wonderful small town below, Towering Pines.
That snowy Monday after Thanksgiving, Sunny glanced out the kitchen window of Teaberry Mansion just in time to see the shiny red Burkett’s Greenhouse truck driving up the lane. Six-year-old Missy Burkett jumped out of the passenger’s side as her father, Greg, a tall, lean man with thick auburn hair and dark brown eyes, slid out of the driver’s side.
Sunny quickly gathered a plate of chocolate chip cookies, slipped on her black wool coat and raced outside. “Missy! Hello!” she called, walking to the shed where freshly cut trees leaned against the weathered boards, awaiting customers.
“Hey, Mrs. Peabody,” Missy replied with a wave. A bright blue knit cap hid all but the bangs of her long yellow hair. Brisk early December air put color in her cheeks.
“I brought some cookies for you.”
“And for her dad, too?” Greg asked, laughing as he reached for one of the warm chocolate delights. Wearing a lined denim jacket over a red plaid work shirt, he took a bite of his cookie and groaned in ecstasy. “These are great.”
Missy glanced up and tried to smile. “Yeah, Mrs. P. They’re great. Thanks.”
Sunny’s heart turned over in her chest. Since the death of Missy’s mom two years before, the little girl lips had barely twitched upward. Sunny wished her father would come by the farm more often so she could bake Missy cookies, ruffle her hair, share girlie secrets the way a six-year-old should. But they only came around once a year to gather trees to sell at Greg’s nursery.
“Are you two here for trees?”
“Yes, please,” Missy said.
“They sell like hotcakes!” Greg said. “The legend of Teaberry Trees brings customers in droves.”
“Well, it’s easier for townspeople to buy from you than to drive up the mountain to our farm,” Sunny agreed.
Missy tugged on Sunny’s sleeve. “Is it true what they say about the trees?”
“That they’re magic?” Sunny laughed. “Don’t you believe?”
She glanced down at the sparkling snow beneath her shiny blue boots then back up at Sunny. “I want to believe.”
Sunny’s heart wept for her. Of course she wanted to believe. Undoubtedly, at some point Missy had wished to have her mom come back, not understanding that some things just couldn’t be fixed. And when that wish went unfulfilled, she’d begun losing faith. A sad thing to happen to a six-year-old.
Mary Alice Carter limped from behind the shed, carrying a huge evergreen wreath. Her long sable hair had been tucked beneath a bright red cap that matched her simple red jacket. Her bright green eyes sparkled.
Sunny’s former best friend from college had been in an automobile accident a few years before. Severe injuries to her lower body had not only left her with a limp, but also with an even sadder consequence.
Mary Alice couldn’t have children. When her fiancé was told, he’d broken their engagement. Now, Mary Alice poured out all her passion into floral arrangements in the summer and working for Teaberry Farms making wreaths in the winter.
Seeing the beautiful evergreen arrangement, Sunny clapped her hands together! “Oh my, who is that for?”
Mary Alice grinned. “Mrs. Thomas. She wants it for her front door. She thinks guests are more likely to touch this than her indoor tree. She wants everyone to get a wish this year.”
Sunny laughed at Mrs. Thomas’s creative interpretation of the legend, but Greg quickly hustled over and caught the huge wreath from Mary Alice’s hands.
A quick spark of something passed between them, as Greg said, “Let me.”
Mary Alice shyly glanced away as she handed the huge wreath to Greg.
Sunny looked down at Missy who studied her dad, then Mary Alice.
Her brow furrowed. She wondered if the six-year-old could tell that her dad obviously felt something for Mary Alice and that Mary Alice seemed to feel something for Greg – enough that the two of them would get together. Probably soon.
Tapping her finger on her cheek, Sunny wondered if this might not be a perfect opportunity to help one adorable child get her joy back. She didn’t really believe the trees had any power per se, but she recognized attraction when she saw it and she hated to see someone so young who didn’t believe in the power of wishes. What could it hurt?
She nudged the little girl over to the side of the shed, close to the plump pines awaiting buyers, and whispered, “Touch a branch.”
Missy frowned. “What?”
Sunny nodded at Mary Alice and Greg. “Touch the branch and wish.”
Missy’s eyes widened. She quickly grabbed a branch.
Just then Max strolled up a long thin path between two rows of trees. “What have we here?” Tall and broad-shouldered, with dark hair and bright blue eyes, and wearing jeans and a big black parka, he didn’t look like the stuck-in-the-office entrepreneur he’d been just a few months before. He swung Missy up into his arms and then over his shoulder, tickling her tummy. “You’re not here to steal magic trees, are you?”
Missy giggled. “No! We’re buying them.”
“Then your daddy and I had better get them loaded before the snow comes this afternoon. Sunny, why don’t you take this young lady into the house and get her some cocoa?”
“Or she could come back with me and I’ll show her how to make a wreath.”
Mary Alice looked surprised to have made the offer. Self-conscious since her accident, she stayed in the background more than she associated with people. But Missy’s eyes lit with joy and she didn’t give Mary Alice a chance to change her mind. She glanced back at Sunny, who smiled and winked, insinuating the magic was already taking hold.
Missy scampered over to Mary Alice who took her hand and led her into the shed where she cut branches and knit them together over wire to create luxurious evergreen wreaths for the front doors and fireplace mantles of people in three counties.
Sunny returned to the kitchen and went back to the fruit horns she wanted to bake for the annual Teaberry Christmas party – a lavish event held every year on December 20 as a way to thank everyone for supporting Teaberry Farms. While the dough raised, she made hot cocoa and took it to the shed for Mary Alice and Missy, but she was really hoping to entice Greg inside for a cup of tummy-warming cocoa before he headed back to his business with his trees.
When she stepped into the shed, she found Missy half-standing on a chair leaning against Mary Alice’s worktable as Mary Alice explained the technique for cutting evergreen branches to get the perfect stems for a wreath or floral arrangement. Missy’s bright eyes followed Mary Alice’s every move, but it was the expression on Mary Alice’s face that caught Sunny’s attention. Mary Alice had longed to be a mom. Fate seemed to have stolen that chance from her, but not if Sunny had anything to say about it.
“I have cocoa,” she called, letting them know she was approaching.
Mary Alice brushed her hands over her long apron. “Thanks. It was time for a break.”
Sunny poured cocoa for both Mary Alice and Missy. They had taken only a few sips before Max and Greg returned.
“Have some cocoa,” Sunny said, quickly pouring a cup for Greg, knowing he’d be too polite to refuse it and hoping that would give him some private time with Mary Alice.
“Thanks.” He glanced around then smiled at Missy. “Are you learning to make wreaths?”
Missy said, “Yes,” at the same time that Mary Alice said, “I’m happy to teach her.”
But once again, Mary Alice frowned. Sunny had to put her fingers to her lips to keep everyone from seeing her smile. If she didn’t know better she’d think the Teaberry trees were Johnny on the spot today, getting Mary Alice to say things without realizing it. But the truth was she’d seen that spark pass between Mary Alice and Greg. This relationship might require a nudge, but it didn’t require a miracle.
She turned to Missy. “Why don’t you come inside with me and Mr. Peabody and we’ll fix up a plate of cookies for you to take home?”
Missy jumped off the chair, the prospect of homemade cookies for breakfast in the morning clearly too much to resist.
After they’d packed the cookies and Missy scooted out the door, Sunny stared after her with a thoughtful smile.
“What’s in that head of yours?” Max asked, leaning against the kitchen counter with a cup of cocoa.
“Oh, nothing.” With a private smile she turned back to assembling her fruit horns.
Max frowned and Sunny could all but see wheels turning in his brain as he backtracked over everything that had happened that morning, then he gasped. “I hope you’re not matchmaking.”
Sunny pivoted to face him. “What if I am? I think Greg and Mary Alice are perfect for each other.”
Max shook his head. “Greg doesn’t. He feels sorry for her. Last thing Mary Alice needs is a man who feels sorry for her.”
Sunny pressed her hand to her chest. Max was right. Mary Alice might have some handicaps, but she was a proud, strong woman. If Greg pitied her, it would hurt her. Putting them together would be wrong.
Except what did she do about Missy? She hadn’t only been matchmaking; she’d set this up so Missy would believe in wishes again! Oh, she’d botched this one royally.
Poor Sunny! Go to A Mom for Missy -- Part 2 to see if she's able to fix her mistake!
copyright 2010 susan meier
To finish the story go to
http://amomformissy.blogspot.com/
BLAST FROM THE PAST!
Excerpt from Her Baby's First Christmas
Jared Johnson drove his black SUV out of the basement parking garage of Clover Valley Luxury Apartments onto the street and saw Elise McDermott standing on the corner in the pouring rain. Suitcase, diaper bag and small boxlike container on the sidewalk beside her feet, she held her baby in a carrier, which she protectively sheltered with her umbrella.
But the storm was relentless and Jared suspected it wouldn't take more than a minute or two before Elise and her baby would be soaked. Angry with her for standing in the rain with a baby, when she could be in their building lobby, he stopped his SUV and hit the button that lowered the passenger side window.
Leaning across his seat, he yelled, "What the hell are you doing out in this storm with a baby!"
"I'm waiting for a taxi to take me to the bus station."
With the window down, he could hear the heavy California rain as it pounded on his windshield, roof and hood. Obviously thinking he'd yelled to be heard over the noise and not out of anger, she stepped closer. Her pretty green eyes were dull with worry. Her thick, curly red hair danced around her in the wind.
"But I've been waiting a while. And the schedule I have has the bus leaving in a little over an hour. If I miss it, I won't get to North Carolina in time to do everything I need to do before Christmas. Do you think my taxi forgot me?"
"Yes!" Guilt stabbed him. She wasn't standing in the rain like a ninny with no place to go. It sounded as if she was on her way home for the holiday. To her real home. Not a condo she was house-sitting as she'd been for the past six months for Michael Feeney while he was in Europe. And her taxi had forgotten her. She wasn't a scatterbrain. He had to stop jumping to conclusions that everybody who did anything out of the realm of what he considered normal was somehow wrong.
Annoyed with himself, he sighed and glanced at his watch before he shoved his gearshift into Park. He was way too early for his flight anyway.
He jumped out of his SUV and rounded the hood. He knew from experience there was only one way to deal with his guilt. Penance.
"How about if I give you a ride to the bus station?"
Elise McDermott stared at dark-haired, gray-eyed, absolutely gorgeous Jared Johnson. He wore an expensive raincoat over a dark suit, white shirt and tie, and was currently getting drenched because he didn't have an umbrella. When she'd agreed to house-sit for for Michael Feeney, Michael had told her Jared was the person to call if anything happened while he was away. He laughingly said Jared was grouchy, but once he got over being disturbed, he would always come through, if only out of guilt. Jared had probably offered her a ride because he felt bad about yelling at her.
"I'd love a ride, but you're obviously on your way somewhere and I don't want to be any trouble."
He reached for her suitcase. "No trouble."
She put her hand over his on the handle. "I'm serious. You were going somewhere and I don't like to be a bother." He might want to make up for yelling at her, but he didn't have to. Being alone and pregnant, she'd learned to stand on her own two feet. She didn't need to be coddled. "I'll call another cab."
"I'm on my way to the aiprort, but I'm early. Way too early. You'll be doing me a favor if you let me make the side trip to the bus station. I won't have to sit in the airport lounge for three hours."
"But--"
Before she could argue any further, he pulled on the suitcase, easily wrestling it away from her. "Come on."
She opened her mouth to stop him, but the wind caught her umbrella and she couldn't hold it. The rush of air jerked the handle out of her grip and it took off like a kite.
He nodded at the baby seat. "You buckle her in," he said, shouting over the noise of the storm as he bgan walking to the rear of the SUV. "I'll put these in the back."
She shook her head. Lord, he was persistent -- and she was getting drenched. Since he was offering to do what she'd have to pay a cab to do, she supposed she'd be foolish to argue.
By the time he had stowed her gear, she was done with the baby. She clicked the final strap, shut the back door and settled into the passenger seat of his SUV. He slid behind the steering wheel and closed the door. Suddenly it was blessedly dry and quiet.
He hit the buttons to activate the heater and she glanced at all the bells and whistles in his obviously expensive vehicle. "Wow. It's so quiet in here."
"That's one of the car's selling points. It's quiet."
"Yeah, quiet and ... wonderful. Holy cow. This must have cost a chunk of change."
"It's nothing compared to the things my clients drive."
"It might be nothing compared to your clients' rides --" According to the building rumor mill, the guy in the penthouse -- as Jared was known to most of the residents -- was the attorney for several recording artists, one recording studio and a few movie stars, so she didn't doubt his clients drove incredibly fancy cars. "But compared to the rest of us, you're sitting pretty."
Her praise seemed to make him uncomfortable and he shifted on his seat. His jaw tightened. "I wasn't always well-off."
Because she didn't know him, had only seen him a few times in the lobby waiting for the elevator to his penthouse, she had no idea why he'd be upset to have money. But since she'd never see him again, it didn't matter. He was who he was. Rich. She was who she was -- a single mom without an extra cent to spare. Six years ago when her mom died, she'd left North Carolina with her boyfriend, Patrick, with big dreams, but she'd ended up supporting him. When she'd gotten pregnant, he'd left as if his feet were on fire. She and Jared Johnson had nothing in common and there was no sense pretending they did by making mindless small talk.
She settled into the bucket seat and closed her eyes. Besides, she had a few things to think about. She was returning to North Carolina, but not the small town she grew up in. She'd inherited her grandmother's house in the town right beside it. She was going to the hometown of her father. The guy who had left her mom. The guy she didn't even know. And she wasn't sure whether the good people of Four Corners, North Carolina would welcome her with open arms, or treat her like the plague. She only knew the grandmother she'd never met had left her a piece of property. A place she could sell, hopefully for enough money to buy a home to raise her baby.
The same grandmother who hadn't even wanted to meet her, hadn't acknowledge her as her kin, had given her her first break in life.
And she'd be a fool not to take it.
Suddenly the SUV was so quiet Jared could hear his own breathing. This was a bad idea. Elise was virtually a stranger and here they were, trapped in a car for at least twenty minutes, with nothing to talk about. He fixed his eyes on the road, occasionally glancing at the shops lining the street, then he saw the Christmas tree in front of Meg's Memory Mart, growing in a pot big enough to accommodate a four-foot fir, covered in blinking lights and tinsel. His heart cuaght. His breathing shivered.
Stop.
She's gone.
He shifted on the seat, struggling to rein in a flood of memories. He had to get a hold of himself now, before his plane landed in New York. If he didn't, his pain would be infinitely worse when he got to the city where every damned thing on every damned street would remind him of the absolutely perfect life he'd lost. He couldn't cancel his trip. After five years of his finding excuses not to come home, his parents had threatened to come to Califofnia with their friend "the shrink" if he backed out this year. They didn't think it was normal for him to stay away as long as he had. They thought he was a little bit crazy. He had to show them he was okay.
Even if he wasn't a hundred percent sure he was.
Blocking that last thought, he fixed his mind on upcoming contract negotiations for one of his clients, and the rest of the drive to the bus station passed in silence. He pulled up to the curb and Elise eagerly jumped out when he stopped the car. He climbed out of his side of the vehicle and headed for the back of the SUV.
"Here," he said, grabbing her suitcase before she could. "I'll get these. You get the baby."
"That's okay. I can handle it."
"I'm sure you can. But I've got plenty of time. Think of this as part of the way I'm wasting those three hours before my flight."
She rolled her eyes, but strode to the side of his vehicle, letting him unload her things. He added her six-pack-size cooler and diaper bag to the suitcase he already had and walked to the passenger's side of the SUV where she was getting her baby from the backseat.
She arranged the baby carrier in her right hand and motioned for him to slide the straps for the diaper bag and cooler to her shoulder. "I'll take those."
She wasn't going to let him help her into the bus station? That was ridiculous. She could barely carry all those things.
Still, rather than argue, he said, "Okay," and slid the bag and cooler in place before setting the suitcase at her feet for her to take. Then he surprised her by removing the baby carrier from her right hand. "I'll take the baby."
"We're fine."
"I'm sure you are, but I'm happy to hold her while you get your tickets."
"I'm--"
"Fine. I know. But I have time and I can use it to save you the trouble of juggling the baby while you buy your bus tickets."
"You know, you wouldn't have to pay penance for the guilt you feel when you yell at people if you'd simply stop yelling at people."
It surprised him that she'd caught on to the guilt and penance thing he had going and that unexpectedly struck him as funny. Despite himself, he smiled. "Why do you think I usually don't talk to people?"
"I thought you were a snob."
That made him out-and-out laugh. She gave him a strange look, but turned away and marched into the bus station. He followed, glancing down at the baby in the carrier. "Hey, Molly."
The cubby, curly-haired baby grinned at him, her toothless gums exposed, spit bubbles forming at the corner of her mouth. With her pale red hair, she looked adorable in her little pink one-piece outfit, bundled in blankets.
He strode to a bench seat, pleased Molly wasn't giving him any trouble. But when Elise got in line, the baby began to fuss and then to cry. Two people took places behind Elise, putting her out of reach for assistance.
Cursing, he sat and began unbuckling the straps confining the unhappy baby. Passengers on the other benches around him turned and gave him pointed looks, letting him know how little they appreciated a crying baby in their midst.
"Hush, now. I'm going as fast as I can."
The last snap popped and he pulled Molly from her seat. She immediately stopped crying and grinned toothlessly at him.
"Oh, I get it. You did that on purpose, didn't you? Made me think you were going to make a scene when you only wanted me to pick you up?"
She cooed and her grin widened.
"Stop being cute. I'm immune."
His stern voice caused her face to pucker as if she were about to cry again and, not wanting to risk the wrath of the waiting passengers, Jarad rose to walk with her.
Pacing back and forth seemed to amuse her enough that she looked around curiously. Jared relaxed. Knowing he had to keep moving, he meandered to the large screen that displayed the schedules. He scanned until he saw the one for North Carolina and his mouth fell open.
Eight days?
It would take Elise eight days to get to North Carolina? He glanced at the people milling around the bus station. Eight days on a moving vehicle with the people currently giving him beady-eyed stares, obviously not at all pleased to see they'd be traveling with a baby? Oh, Lord. Elise was in trouble.
He glanced at the screen again to be sure he'd seen correctly and he had. Eight long days to get to North Carolina. The bus had to be taking routes that would allow it to drop other passengers along the way. Driving himself, he'd traveled from New York City to Los Angeles in five days.
He frowned. He had driven it in five days. If he were to drive Elise, that would cut her trip nearly in half and get her out of the bus filled with passengers who didn't want her. On top of that, those five days of driving would delay his arrival. He wouldn't have to spend three weeks in a city that only reminded him of what he'd lost. He'd have a delay in seeing, hearing, smelling things in New York that would remind him of better days. Perfect days. The perfect life that had slipped through his fingers. And then he could cut another five days off because he'd have to drive back to L.A.
He shook his head in bemusement. As good as that sounded it was a bad idea. Not only was Elise going to North Carolina, hundreds of miles south of New York City, but how would he explain it to his parents? Out of the blue he'd decided to drive a neighbor the whole way to North Carolina for the holidays? Then for sure they'd think he was insane.
He watched Elise step out of the line, holding her ticket and for a second he envied her. Relief showed on her face, but of course, that mood wouldn't last. Once the busload of passengers got fed up with her and her baby, she'd be miserable.
But he couldn't simply offer her a ride. Even if they agreed to find a bus station for her in whatever city their paths separated, he still had to have a reason for driving instead of flying -- one that didn't sound like an obvious stall tactic to his parents.
Elise walked up to him and opened her arms for her baby. "What happened?"
"She cried."
"Ah, she bullied you into picking her up."
"That's exactly what it felt like."
"Well, your time of duty is up." She smiled at him. "I'm sorry if I was a bit brusque before. I'm nervous about this trip."
He glanced at his feet. "It's all right." He raised his gaze to meet hers. "I'm nervous about my trip too."
"So we have a little in common after all."
"Yeah. That and Michael Feeney."
"Michael's been a good friend to me."
Jared nodded. "Me, too." He smiled at her, glad to have assuaged her worry over her missing the taxi by driving her to the bus station. "Have a nice trip."
"And you have a safe flight."
Jared nodded and turned to go at the same time that the loudspeaker crackled to life. "Ladies and gentlemen, we regret to inform you that trip number --"
The loudspeaker squeaked and crackled and Jared didn't hear the numbr, but it didn't matter. He headed for the wide, double-door entrance.
"--Final destination Raleigh, North Carolina has been postposed due to mechancial difficulties and has been rescheduled for tomorrow at ten."
Elise glanced down at her ticket, then squeezed her eyes shut. For heaven's sake! Inheriting her grandmother's house was supposed to be her lucky break. Yet everything that could go wrong with this trip was going wrong. What was she supposed to do for twenty-four hours in a bus station with a baby? Maybe she could get a ticket for the next bus.
She had the idea at the same time as everybody else in the bus station. Package-laden passengers jammed the ticket window.
She stared at them in dismay, until someone grabbed her arm and turned her around.
Jared.
He let go of her arm and rammed his fingers through his thick black hair. His gray eyes circled the complex as if the last thing he wanted to do was look at her. But eventually, his gaze swung around, caught hers and held it.
"Is that your bus?"
***
So what do you think? Does Jared offer a ride the whole way to Ohio? Does she accept?
Happy September! We'll see you again in October, when my website should be updated with not 1 or 2 or even three contests...but FOUR chances to win all 3 books in the Babies in the Boardroom Series.
susan meier
My writing is humming right along. One book in the MONGTOMERY MOGULS duet down. One to go. And then onto the continuity before I finish up my contract with an unknown book! I'm guessing it might be a standalone.
This month we're getting back into the POWER OF QUESTIONS workshop. There's a Cat Tail and a reminder of the Prepping for Nano Workshop. But rather than post the last of the Andreas short stories, we're slipping into a Christmas theme. Why? Who knows. LOL. With fall approaching, I'm suddenly in a Christmas mood. So along with an excerpt from one of the two Christmas stories on my website, I'll be posting an excerpt from HER BABIES FIRST CHRISTMAS.
This is one of my favorite stories for Harlequin Romance. I loved the hero and heroine, but I also loved the idea of leaving your old life behind and starting a new one. The hero did that five years ago. The heroine's on a journey to do that now.
What would you do if you got a chance to start over again?
It's an interesting thing to ponder.
I'm once again giving away an autographed copy of the Maids Duet. Since I don't have any copies of Christmas books to give away! LOL
So comment below on what you'd do if you could start all over and be entered to win a copy of the duet -- MAID FOR THE SINGLE DAD and MAID FOR THE MILLIONAIRE.
Happy fall!
Now on to Lesson 7.
susan
For the Writers Among Us
Lesson 7: More on constructing a List of 20
Here’s our list of twenty for the cabin-in-the-woods/close proximity book we started in our last lesson:
1. The furnace doesn't work and they have to snuggle together. (Remember no judgment! No saying one is right or wrong or better or stupid or ridiculous or too cliché . . . Just keep writing.)
2. She has no luggage and has to wear his clothes. Could be funny. And eventually intimate.
3. They sleep in bedrooms across the hall.
4. He sleeps on the sofa and gets a backache.
5. He catches her in the bathtub.
6. Somebody else arrives.
7. Her dad is with them.
8. She has a child.
9. They hear a radio report that a killer is on the loose (Is this a suspense…Or just a really cool way to get them into the same bedroom? LOL)
10. The storm gets worse.
11. The storm ends…
This is where we ended…So today I add…
12. She gets prim and sets down rules and he decides he'll show her she has nothing to worry about from him by calling his current girlfriend.
13. She gets prim and sets down rules and he decides he'd rather sleep in the garage than deal with her.
Come to a crashing halt again…Why?
First, because we took an answer and refined it. She still gets prim and sets down rules, but this time he decides to sleep in the garage, not call his girlfriend.
Second, this refinement is a tad better because his sleeping in the garage is totally unexpected in this kind of book. Why? Because this is a close proximity book. Readers expect certain things…like waking and talking in the night. Sleeping across the hall. Wondering about each other every time they slide under the covers across the hall from each other. His decision to sleep in the garage just took an old plot and made it a tad different.
So, in your list of 20, don't be afraid to refine any answer you get, but also, don't stop yourself from writing down the ridiculous or something that seems to break with the conventional rules. Sure, he may come back in from the garage in the middle of the night because it's cold and she won't let him freeze to death…or maybe the next night because she feels guilty but in either of those situations she has to entice him back and that's what good romance is all about!
Do you see what I'm saying? An unexpected twist, even if you only twist for a second can breathe new life into an old idea.
That takes us to #4 in our list of thing to remember when doing a list of 20
4. Never underestimate the power of the ridiculous.
Remember my PRINCE BABY list?
I got stuck, left my office, read the paper and saw U-2 was touring. Walking away and reading the newspaper really shifted my thoughts. Another person might have thought it stupid to say the King was touring with U-2, but I knew the power of the ridiculous.
Once I started thinking ridiculous thoughts, I let my mind go and came up with the King sitting at Michael Jackson’s trial. Again, ridiculous, but that answer shifted my thoughts enough that I realized that the King had to have been somewhere that he couldn’t leave.
That in and of itself wasn’t quite enough so using the refining technique, I took the idea that the King was somewhere he couldn’t leave – like Parliament, where he’d be missed! I added that to the list item about the King not wanting the press to realize (yet) that his grandson (the future king) was about to be born out of wedlock until his PR people had a chance to spin it and voila, an answer was born.
There is no better way to jumpstart your brain than to let it go anywhere it wants to . . . especially if it wants to go someplace ridiculous!
But here’s a little sidebar about the list of twenty. Sometimes you’ll have lists of twenty that spin off of your list of twenty.
What do I mean? Well, when I began pandering to the ridiculous to jumpstart my brain, I ultimately came to the conclusion that the king had to be somewhere he couldn’t leave. Basically, I did another list of twenty.
I said, where would a king be that he couldn’t leave…and why couldn’t he leave? If he’s king, he should be able to set his own schedule! LOL
I started with normal answers…He’s sick. His car is broke. His driver is sick. The private plane is already in use. He has work he needs to do…Ah. Work. What kind of work does a king do? He officiates over parliament!
I thought that through and decided (since this was MY made up country and I controlled the rules) that this parliament is only in session once a year for six weeks. If he leaves, it will cause a stir.
And from there I began blending answers. What happens when you cause a stir? The media starts looking into things. And what happens if the media looks into things…they find the out-of-wedlock future king before the king’s PR people can spin it.
So…The list of 20 is a fabulous thing. It frees your mind. You give yourself permission to consider the opposites of the typical conventions. You give yourself permission to think of the ridiculous. And sometimes the ridiculous leads you to the right answer! But none of that will happen if you don't ask the right question!
The bottom line for the list of twenty is two-fold.
First, you have to have an excellent question. Usually the more specific your question, the better your answer will fit.
Second, use the four rules…Don’t judge! Consider opposites. Try the ridiculous. And blend or modify answers that are close.
Your homework for today? Look at your WIP. Could a good question and a list of twenty lift it up into something wonderful?
Can you write a great question for that problem?
susan
Coming Attractions
This will be the last post for Prepping for Nano. Next month the workshop will already be in progress when the ezine comes out.
So if you need this info, take it down.
Coming in October PREPARING FOR NANO at Pennwriters.com
COURSE DESCRIPTION:
Everybody believes NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month, which runs every November at www.nanowrimo.org) is a race against the clock, a fight with procrastination and inertia. In some ways it is. But once you’re in the thick of things, you’ll discover NaNo is really all about ideas. Writers don’t stall because they’re lazy. Writers stall because they don’t know what to write next.
The month BEFORE NaNo, get proven tips from Susan Meier—the author of almost 50 books for Harlequin and Silhouette—and let her take you through several different ways to examine the story you want to write, to capture the natural scene possibilities within your idea, to generate new ideas, and to push yourself through the most grueling, but fun, month you will spend this year! Lessons include:
* The List of 20 (How to generate ideas quickly so you have little downtime when your natural ideas run out)
* Turning a “Want” into “Need” (How does knowing why you’re writing this book provide you with both energy to write and ideas for your story?)
* The One-Paragraph Story Summary (Say it succinctly…3 kinds of one-paragraph story summaries: back cover blurb, core story question, and growth paragraph)
* Could, Might, Must and Should List (How to capture ideas that spring up naturally)
* Storyboard Versus Synopsis (Breaking your idea down into manageable bites)
* The Psychology of Pushing through the Hard Times (What to do when you get stuck)
* The Psychology of a Draft (Push, push, push!)
* What Are You Doing in December? (Editing tips)
TESTIMONIALS:
“I was bowled over by how helpful it was. Susan was ever patient and ready to offer feedback and encouragement. The course material was broken down so that it was easy to understand but it pushed me to dig deeper and really understand my story. I would not hesitate to recommend this course in the future or any course with Susan Meier.”
- SGM
Fantasy writer
“Susan Meier generously shares her knowledge and shapes it to fit your needs. She is enthusiastic and encouraging. This course helped me to fill in the gaps, taking my plot from mundane to magnificent! Thanks, Susan!”
- JBS
Cat Tails!
Cat Confusion...
This year we're doing lots of house remodeling. One of the first things we did was install central air. When you install central air, it immediately changes your life. We knew that was coming. What we didn't expect was cat confusion.
Why? Because they like to go outside...at will. Now, we don't leave open any doors. So they sit by the front door and meow when they want to go out. But sometimes, they'll wander into the kitchen and glance wistfully at the sliding glass door...like I know I should be doing something here but I can't remember what!
I can't wait until October when we replace the worn sliding glass door with French Doors. That'll be interesting!
A Mom for Missy
What Came Before at Teaberry Farms, the winter wonderland setting for Susan Meier’s A BABY BENEATH THE CHRISTMAS TREE, part of A FAIRYTALE CHRISTMAS anthology with Barbara Wallace
A Mom for Missy
The 1970’s were a confusing time for women. Pert and sassy blonde-haired, blue-eyed Sunny Peabody was no exception. She wasn’t against women’s lib. Quite the contrary. She believed the time had come for women to have a place in boardrooms across the country. But, personally, she loved to cook and wanted to spend most of her time in the kitchen. When she’d married the love of her life, a sophisticated, worldly man six years her senior, Max Peabody, she’d gotten a job working with him at Teaberry Farms.
He worked outside. A former entrepreneur, he’d sold his startup business to a Fortune 500 company and retired quite comfortably at thirty. Having spent eight years in offices, he relished the opportunity to be outdoors as the caretaker for the lush evergreens that grew along the steep West Virginia mountainside.
She worked inside, cooking and cleaning for the elderly Teaberries, two wonderfully wise people, who loved selling the Christmas trees everybody believed were magic. To Sophie and Reggie Teaberry, having Sunny and Max keep the place open for business was like getting a second wind. A second chance to provide miracles for the people of their small, rural town.
Sunny didn’t necessarily believe the trees themselves were magic, but she did believe in the magic of Christmas. She’d seen wealthy families step up and secretly provide surprises for those less fortunate. She’d seen younger people help older folks hang Christmas decorations or carry shopping bags. She’d seen money show up in mailboxes and gifts appear under trees. All from benefactors inspired by the legend of the Teaberry Trees.
So though it wasn’t conventional magic, good will and harmony sent a twinkle of something wonderful through the air. From the day after Thanksgiving when the Teaberrys opened their farm, “people magic” flowed through the trees, along the mountain, and to the wonderful small town below, Towering Pines.
That snowy Monday after Thanksgiving, Sunny glanced out the kitchen window of Teaberry Mansion just in time to see the shiny red Burkett’s Greenhouse truck driving up the lane. Six-year-old Missy Burkett jumped out of the passenger’s side as her father, Greg, a tall, lean man with thick auburn hair and dark brown eyes, slid out of the driver’s side.
Sunny quickly gathered a plate of chocolate chip cookies, slipped on her black wool coat and raced outside. “Missy! Hello!” she called, walking to the shed where freshly cut trees leaned against the weathered boards, awaiting customers.
“Hey, Mrs. Peabody,” Missy replied with a wave. A bright blue knit cap hid all but the bangs of her long yellow hair. Brisk early December air put color in her cheeks.
“I brought some cookies for you.”
“And for her dad, too?” Greg asked, laughing as he reached for one of the warm chocolate delights. Wearing a lined denim jacket over a red plaid work shirt, he took a bite of his cookie and groaned in ecstasy. “These are great.”
Missy glanced up and tried to smile. “Yeah, Mrs. P. They’re great. Thanks.”
Sunny’s heart turned over in her chest. Since the death of Missy’s mom two years before, the little girl lips had barely twitched upward. Sunny wished her father would come by the farm more often so she could bake Missy cookies, ruffle her hair, share girlie secrets the way a six-year-old should. But they only came around once a year to gather trees to sell at Greg’s nursery.
“Are you two here for trees?”
“Yes, please,” Missy said.
“They sell like hotcakes!” Greg said. “The legend of Teaberry Trees brings customers in droves.”
“Well, it’s easier for townspeople to buy from you than to drive up the mountain to our farm,” Sunny agreed.
Missy tugged on Sunny’s sleeve. “Is it true what they say about the trees?”
“That they’re magic?” Sunny laughed. “Don’t you believe?”
She glanced down at the sparkling snow beneath her shiny blue boots then back up at Sunny. “I want to believe.”
Sunny’s heart wept for her. Of course she wanted to believe. Undoubtedly, at some point Missy had wished to have her mom come back, not understanding that some things just couldn’t be fixed. And when that wish went unfulfilled, she’d begun losing faith. A sad thing to happen to a six-year-old.
Mary Alice Carter limped from behind the shed, carrying a huge evergreen wreath. Her long sable hair had been tucked beneath a bright red cap that matched her simple red jacket. Her bright green eyes sparkled.
Sunny’s former best friend from college had been in an automobile accident a few years before. Severe injuries to her lower body had not only left her with a limp, but also with an even sadder consequence.
Mary Alice couldn’t have children. When her fiancé was told, he’d broken their engagement. Now, Mary Alice poured out all her passion into floral arrangements in the summer and working for Teaberry Farms making wreaths in the winter.
Seeing the beautiful evergreen arrangement, Sunny clapped her hands together! “Oh my, who is that for?”
Mary Alice grinned. “Mrs. Thomas. She wants it for her front door. She thinks guests are more likely to touch this than her indoor tree. She wants everyone to get a wish this year.”
Sunny laughed at Mrs. Thomas’s creative interpretation of the legend, but Greg quickly hustled over and caught the huge wreath from Mary Alice’s hands.
A quick spark of something passed between them, as Greg said, “Let me.”
Mary Alice shyly glanced away as she handed the huge wreath to Greg.
Sunny looked down at Missy who studied her dad, then Mary Alice.
Her brow furrowed. She wondered if the six-year-old could tell that her dad obviously felt something for Mary Alice and that Mary Alice seemed to feel something for Greg – enough that the two of them would get together. Probably soon.
Tapping her finger on her cheek, Sunny wondered if this might not be a perfect opportunity to help one adorable child get her joy back. She didn’t really believe the trees had any power per se, but she recognized attraction when she saw it and she hated to see someone so young who didn’t believe in the power of wishes. What could it hurt?
She nudged the little girl over to the side of the shed, close to the plump pines awaiting buyers, and whispered, “Touch a branch.”
Missy frowned. “What?”
Sunny nodded at Mary Alice and Greg. “Touch the branch and wish.”
Missy’s eyes widened. She quickly grabbed a branch.
Just then Max strolled up a long thin path between two rows of trees. “What have we here?” Tall and broad-shouldered, with dark hair and bright blue eyes, and wearing jeans and a big black parka, he didn’t look like the stuck-in-the-office entrepreneur he’d been just a few months before. He swung Missy up into his arms and then over his shoulder, tickling her tummy. “You’re not here to steal magic trees, are you?”
Missy giggled. “No! We’re buying them.”
“Then your daddy and I had better get them loaded before the snow comes this afternoon. Sunny, why don’t you take this young lady into the house and get her some cocoa?”
“Or she could come back with me and I’ll show her how to make a wreath.”
Mary Alice looked surprised to have made the offer. Self-conscious since her accident, she stayed in the background more than she associated with people. But Missy’s eyes lit with joy and she didn’t give Mary Alice a chance to change her mind. She glanced back at Sunny, who smiled and winked, insinuating the magic was already taking hold.
Missy scampered over to Mary Alice who took her hand and led her into the shed where she cut branches and knit them together over wire to create luxurious evergreen wreaths for the front doors and fireplace mantles of people in three counties.
Sunny returned to the kitchen and went back to the fruit horns she wanted to bake for the annual Teaberry Christmas party – a lavish event held every year on December 20 as a way to thank everyone for supporting Teaberry Farms. While the dough raised, she made hot cocoa and took it to the shed for Mary Alice and Missy, but she was really hoping to entice Greg inside for a cup of tummy-warming cocoa before he headed back to his business with his trees.
When she stepped into the shed, she found Missy half-standing on a chair leaning against Mary Alice’s worktable as Mary Alice explained the technique for cutting evergreen branches to get the perfect stems for a wreath or floral arrangement. Missy’s bright eyes followed Mary Alice’s every move, but it was the expression on Mary Alice’s face that caught Sunny’s attention. Mary Alice had longed to be a mom. Fate seemed to have stolen that chance from her, but not if Sunny had anything to say about it.
“I have cocoa,” she called, letting them know she was approaching.
Mary Alice brushed her hands over her long apron. “Thanks. It was time for a break.”
Sunny poured cocoa for both Mary Alice and Missy. They had taken only a few sips before Max and Greg returned.
“Have some cocoa,” Sunny said, quickly pouring a cup for Greg, knowing he’d be too polite to refuse it and hoping that would give him some private time with Mary Alice.
“Thanks.” He glanced around then smiled at Missy. “Are you learning to make wreaths?”
Missy said, “Yes,” at the same time that Mary Alice said, “I’m happy to teach her.”
But once again, Mary Alice frowned. Sunny had to put her fingers to her lips to keep everyone from seeing her smile. If she didn’t know better she’d think the Teaberry trees were Johnny on the spot today, getting Mary Alice to say things without realizing it. But the truth was she’d seen that spark pass between Mary Alice and Greg. This relationship might require a nudge, but it didn’t require a miracle.
She turned to Missy. “Why don’t you come inside with me and Mr. Peabody and we’ll fix up a plate of cookies for you to take home?”
Missy jumped off the chair, the prospect of homemade cookies for breakfast in the morning clearly too much to resist.
After they’d packed the cookies and Missy scooted out the door, Sunny stared after her with a thoughtful smile.
“What’s in that head of yours?” Max asked, leaning against the kitchen counter with a cup of cocoa.
“Oh, nothing.” With a private smile she turned back to assembling her fruit horns.
Max frowned and Sunny could all but see wheels turning in his brain as he backtracked over everything that had happened that morning, then he gasped. “I hope you’re not matchmaking.”
Sunny pivoted to face him. “What if I am? I think Greg and Mary Alice are perfect for each other.”
Max shook his head. “Greg doesn’t. He feels sorry for her. Last thing Mary Alice needs is a man who feels sorry for her.”
Sunny pressed her hand to her chest. Max was right. Mary Alice might have some handicaps, but she was a proud, strong woman. If Greg pitied her, it would hurt her. Putting them together would be wrong.
Except what did she do about Missy? She hadn’t only been matchmaking; she’d set this up so Missy would believe in wishes again! Oh, she’d botched this one royally.
Poor Sunny! Go to A Mom for Missy -- Part 2 to see if she's able to fix her mistake!
copyright 2010 susan meier
To finish the story go to
http://amomformissy.blogspot.com/
BLAST FROM THE PAST!
Excerpt from Her Baby's First Christmas
Jared Johnson drove his black SUV out of the basement parking garage of Clover Valley Luxury Apartments onto the street and saw Elise McDermott standing on the corner in the pouring rain. Suitcase, diaper bag and small boxlike container on the sidewalk beside her feet, she held her baby in a carrier, which she protectively sheltered with her umbrella.
But the storm was relentless and Jared suspected it wouldn't take more than a minute or two before Elise and her baby would be soaked. Angry with her for standing in the rain with a baby, when she could be in their building lobby, he stopped his SUV and hit the button that lowered the passenger side window.
Leaning across his seat, he yelled, "What the hell are you doing out in this storm with a baby!"
"I'm waiting for a taxi to take me to the bus station."
With the window down, he could hear the heavy California rain as it pounded on his windshield, roof and hood. Obviously thinking he'd yelled to be heard over the noise and not out of anger, she stepped closer. Her pretty green eyes were dull with worry. Her thick, curly red hair danced around her in the wind.
"But I've been waiting a while. And the schedule I have has the bus leaving in a little over an hour. If I miss it, I won't get to North Carolina in time to do everything I need to do before Christmas. Do you think my taxi forgot me?"
"Yes!" Guilt stabbed him. She wasn't standing in the rain like a ninny with no place to go. It sounded as if she was on her way home for the holiday. To her real home. Not a condo she was house-sitting as she'd been for the past six months for Michael Feeney while he was in Europe. And her taxi had forgotten her. She wasn't a scatterbrain. He had to stop jumping to conclusions that everybody who did anything out of the realm of what he considered normal was somehow wrong.
Annoyed with himself, he sighed and glanced at his watch before he shoved his gearshift into Park. He was way too early for his flight anyway.
He jumped out of his SUV and rounded the hood. He knew from experience there was only one way to deal with his guilt. Penance.
"How about if I give you a ride to the bus station?"
Elise McDermott stared at dark-haired, gray-eyed, absolutely gorgeous Jared Johnson. He wore an expensive raincoat over a dark suit, white shirt and tie, and was currently getting drenched because he didn't have an umbrella. When she'd agreed to house-sit for for Michael Feeney, Michael had told her Jared was the person to call if anything happened while he was away. He laughingly said Jared was grouchy, but once he got over being disturbed, he would always come through, if only out of guilt. Jared had probably offered her a ride because he felt bad about yelling at her.
"I'd love a ride, but you're obviously on your way somewhere and I don't want to be any trouble."
He reached for her suitcase. "No trouble."
She put her hand over his on the handle. "I'm serious. You were going somewhere and I don't like to be a bother." He might want to make up for yelling at her, but he didn't have to. Being alone and pregnant, she'd learned to stand on her own two feet. She didn't need to be coddled. "I'll call another cab."
"I'm on my way to the aiprort, but I'm early. Way too early. You'll be doing me a favor if you let me make the side trip to the bus station. I won't have to sit in the airport lounge for three hours."
"But--"
Before she could argue any further, he pulled on the suitcase, easily wrestling it away from her. "Come on."
She opened her mouth to stop him, but the wind caught her umbrella and she couldn't hold it. The rush of air jerked the handle out of her grip and it took off like a kite.
He nodded at the baby seat. "You buckle her in," he said, shouting over the noise of the storm as he bgan walking to the rear of the SUV. "I'll put these in the back."
She shook her head. Lord, he was persistent -- and she was getting drenched. Since he was offering to do what she'd have to pay a cab to do, she supposed she'd be foolish to argue.
By the time he had stowed her gear, she was done with the baby. She clicked the final strap, shut the back door and settled into the passenger seat of his SUV. He slid behind the steering wheel and closed the door. Suddenly it was blessedly dry and quiet.
He hit the buttons to activate the heater and she glanced at all the bells and whistles in his obviously expensive vehicle. "Wow. It's so quiet in here."
"That's one of the car's selling points. It's quiet."
"Yeah, quiet and ... wonderful. Holy cow. This must have cost a chunk of change."
"It's nothing compared to the things my clients drive."
"It might be nothing compared to your clients' rides --" According to the building rumor mill, the guy in the penthouse -- as Jared was known to most of the residents -- was the attorney for several recording artists, one recording studio and a few movie stars, so she didn't doubt his clients drove incredibly fancy cars. "But compared to the rest of us, you're sitting pretty."
Her praise seemed to make him uncomfortable and he shifted on his seat. His jaw tightened. "I wasn't always well-off."
Because she didn't know him, had only seen him a few times in the lobby waiting for the elevator to his penthouse, she had no idea why he'd be upset to have money. But since she'd never see him again, it didn't matter. He was who he was. Rich. She was who she was -- a single mom without an extra cent to spare. Six years ago when her mom died, she'd left North Carolina with her boyfriend, Patrick, with big dreams, but she'd ended up supporting him. When she'd gotten pregnant, he'd left as if his feet were on fire. She and Jared Johnson had nothing in common and there was no sense pretending they did by making mindless small talk.
She settled into the bucket seat and closed her eyes. Besides, she had a few things to think about. She was returning to North Carolina, but not the small town she grew up in. She'd inherited her grandmother's house in the town right beside it. She was going to the hometown of her father. The guy who had left her mom. The guy she didn't even know. And she wasn't sure whether the good people of Four Corners, North Carolina would welcome her with open arms, or treat her like the plague. She only knew the grandmother she'd never met had left her a piece of property. A place she could sell, hopefully for enough money to buy a home to raise her baby.
The same grandmother who hadn't even wanted to meet her, hadn't acknowledge her as her kin, had given her her first break in life.
And she'd be a fool not to take it.
Suddenly the SUV was so quiet Jared could hear his own breathing. This was a bad idea. Elise was virtually a stranger and here they were, trapped in a car for at least twenty minutes, with nothing to talk about. He fixed his eyes on the road, occasionally glancing at the shops lining the street, then he saw the Christmas tree in front of Meg's Memory Mart, growing in a pot big enough to accommodate a four-foot fir, covered in blinking lights and tinsel. His heart cuaght. His breathing shivered.
Stop.
She's gone.
He shifted on the seat, struggling to rein in a flood of memories. He had to get a hold of himself now, before his plane landed in New York. If he didn't, his pain would be infinitely worse when he got to the city where every damned thing on every damned street would remind him of the absolutely perfect life he'd lost. He couldn't cancel his trip. After five years of his finding excuses not to come home, his parents had threatened to come to Califofnia with their friend "the shrink" if he backed out this year. They didn't think it was normal for him to stay away as long as he had. They thought he was a little bit crazy. He had to show them he was okay.
Even if he wasn't a hundred percent sure he was.
Blocking that last thought, he fixed his mind on upcoming contract negotiations for one of his clients, and the rest of the drive to the bus station passed in silence. He pulled up to the curb and Elise eagerly jumped out when he stopped the car. He climbed out of his side of the vehicle and headed for the back of the SUV.
"Here," he said, grabbing her suitcase before she could. "I'll get these. You get the baby."
"That's okay. I can handle it."
"I'm sure you can. But I've got plenty of time. Think of this as part of the way I'm wasting those three hours before my flight."
She rolled her eyes, but strode to the side of his vehicle, letting him unload her things. He added her six-pack-size cooler and diaper bag to the suitcase he already had and walked to the passenger's side of the SUV where she was getting her baby from the backseat.
She arranged the baby carrier in her right hand and motioned for him to slide the straps for the diaper bag and cooler to her shoulder. "I'll take those."
She wasn't going to let him help her into the bus station? That was ridiculous. She could barely carry all those things.
Still, rather than argue, he said, "Okay," and slid the bag and cooler in place before setting the suitcase at her feet for her to take. Then he surprised her by removing the baby carrier from her right hand. "I'll take the baby."
"We're fine."
"I'm sure you are, but I'm happy to hold her while you get your tickets."
"I'm--"
"Fine. I know. But I have time and I can use it to save you the trouble of juggling the baby while you buy your bus tickets."
"You know, you wouldn't have to pay penance for the guilt you feel when you yell at people if you'd simply stop yelling at people."
It surprised him that she'd caught on to the guilt and penance thing he had going and that unexpectedly struck him as funny. Despite himself, he smiled. "Why do you think I usually don't talk to people?"
"I thought you were a snob."
That made him out-and-out laugh. She gave him a strange look, but turned away and marched into the bus station. He followed, glancing down at the baby in the carrier. "Hey, Molly."
The cubby, curly-haired baby grinned at him, her toothless gums exposed, spit bubbles forming at the corner of her mouth. With her pale red hair, she looked adorable in her little pink one-piece outfit, bundled in blankets.
He strode to a bench seat, pleased Molly wasn't giving him any trouble. But when Elise got in line, the baby began to fuss and then to cry. Two people took places behind Elise, putting her out of reach for assistance.
Cursing, he sat and began unbuckling the straps confining the unhappy baby. Passengers on the other benches around him turned and gave him pointed looks, letting him know how little they appreciated a crying baby in their midst.
"Hush, now. I'm going as fast as I can."
The last snap popped and he pulled Molly from her seat. She immediately stopped crying and grinned toothlessly at him.
"Oh, I get it. You did that on purpose, didn't you? Made me think you were going to make a scene when you only wanted me to pick you up?"
She cooed and her grin widened.
"Stop being cute. I'm immune."
His stern voice caused her face to pucker as if she were about to cry again and, not wanting to risk the wrath of the waiting passengers, Jarad rose to walk with her.
Pacing back and forth seemed to amuse her enough that she looked around curiously. Jared relaxed. Knowing he had to keep moving, he meandered to the large screen that displayed the schedules. He scanned until he saw the one for North Carolina and his mouth fell open.
Eight days?
It would take Elise eight days to get to North Carolina? He glanced at the people milling around the bus station. Eight days on a moving vehicle with the people currently giving him beady-eyed stares, obviously not at all pleased to see they'd be traveling with a baby? Oh, Lord. Elise was in trouble.
He glanced at the screen again to be sure he'd seen correctly and he had. Eight long days to get to North Carolina. The bus had to be taking routes that would allow it to drop other passengers along the way. Driving himself, he'd traveled from New York City to Los Angeles in five days.
He frowned. He had driven it in five days. If he were to drive Elise, that would cut her trip nearly in half and get her out of the bus filled with passengers who didn't want her. On top of that, those five days of driving would delay his arrival. He wouldn't have to spend three weeks in a city that only reminded him of what he'd lost. He'd have a delay in seeing, hearing, smelling things in New York that would remind him of better days. Perfect days. The perfect life that had slipped through his fingers. And then he could cut another five days off because he'd have to drive back to L.A.
He shook his head in bemusement. As good as that sounded it was a bad idea. Not only was Elise going to North Carolina, hundreds of miles south of New York City, but how would he explain it to his parents? Out of the blue he'd decided to drive a neighbor the whole way to North Carolina for the holidays? Then for sure they'd think he was insane.
He watched Elise step out of the line, holding her ticket and for a second he envied her. Relief showed on her face, but of course, that mood wouldn't last. Once the busload of passengers got fed up with her and her baby, she'd be miserable.
But he couldn't simply offer her a ride. Even if they agreed to find a bus station for her in whatever city their paths separated, he still had to have a reason for driving instead of flying -- one that didn't sound like an obvious stall tactic to his parents.
Elise walked up to him and opened her arms for her baby. "What happened?"
"She cried."
"Ah, she bullied you into picking her up."
"That's exactly what it felt like."
"Well, your time of duty is up." She smiled at him. "I'm sorry if I was a bit brusque before. I'm nervous about this trip."
He glanced at his feet. "It's all right." He raised his gaze to meet hers. "I'm nervous about my trip too."
"So we have a little in common after all."
"Yeah. That and Michael Feeney."
"Michael's been a good friend to me."
Jared nodded. "Me, too." He smiled at her, glad to have assuaged her worry over her missing the taxi by driving her to the bus station. "Have a nice trip."
"And you have a safe flight."
Jared nodded and turned to go at the same time that the loudspeaker crackled to life. "Ladies and gentlemen, we regret to inform you that trip number --"
The loudspeaker squeaked and crackled and Jared didn't hear the numbr, but it didn't matter. He headed for the wide, double-door entrance.
"--Final destination Raleigh, North Carolina has been postposed due to mechancial difficulties and has been rescheduled for tomorrow at ten."
Elise glanced down at her ticket, then squeezed her eyes shut. For heaven's sake! Inheriting her grandmother's house was supposed to be her lucky break. Yet everything that could go wrong with this trip was going wrong. What was she supposed to do for twenty-four hours in a bus station with a baby? Maybe she could get a ticket for the next bus.
She had the idea at the same time as everybody else in the bus station. Package-laden passengers jammed the ticket window.
She stared at them in dismay, until someone grabbed her arm and turned her around.
Jared.
He let go of her arm and rammed his fingers through his thick black hair. His gray eyes circled the complex as if the last thing he wanted to do was look at her. But eventually, his gaze swung around, caught hers and held it.
"Is that your bus?"
***
So what do you think? Does Jared offer a ride the whole way to Ohio? Does she accept?
Happy September! We'll see you again in October, when my website should be updated with not 1 or 2 or even three contests...but FOUR chances to win all 3 books in the Babies in the Boardroom Series.
susan meier
Monday, August 1, 2011
August 2011
We're back! Ready to do Lesson 6 from THE POWER OF QUESTIONS? Ready to hear about my goofy cats? See an excerpt from one of the Boardroom Baby stories? How about an excerpt from one of the books in my Maid's Duet? Maid for the Single Dad?
Ready to comment for a chance to win a copy of both books in the Duet Maid for the Millionaire
and Maid for the Single Dad?
It's all here. Along with the information about the Pennwriters workshop PREPPING FOR NANO, which begins in October.
And speaking of workshops. I'm keeping my schedule at four again next year. No repeats. Each workshop only given once. Technically, I'm giving each group that approaches me an "exclusive" for a year! LOL
I haven't decided what RWA chapters to approach...so I thought I'd ask you. Is there anyone here who'd like me to approach their chapter?
Email me through Contact Susan at susanmeier.com. Or comment here.
So what have I been up to this summer?
As most of you know, my husband retired. He's a considerate, quiet man -- mostly because he knows I need mornings to write and we need my income! :)
But he's usually a great guy. Retirement has made him even more so. I asked him about his super-agreeability and he told me that with no bosses to worry about life is pretty fun.
So is golfing every day. :)
My family is continuing our tradition of Wednesday morning breakfasts. Because there are a few teachers and school employees in my family all of whom have summers off, we get together every Wednesday morning and eat breakfast.
These are great events. The kids come, so at least once a week I get to see my nieces and nephews, and great-nieces and nephews. They chase my cats. We all eat blueberries. And no matter whose house we go to that Wednesday, there's always a fantastic surprise. My sisters and nieces are wonderful cooks ... and this year we had a birthday cake for my brother John to go with my eggs and sausage (and blueberries).
There's nothing like a good family tradition to make memories. Our hope is that all the kids who attend these breakfasts someday look back and this and smile.
Okay...on to Lesson 6 where we delve a little deeper into the making of a good list of 20.
susan
For the Writers Among Us
Lesson 6: How to do the List of Twenty
In the last lesson, once we wrote a great question, I hinted that there are specific tricks to doing a list of twenty. I mentioned the power of the ridiculous and the power of writing down opposites. But there are actually four guidelines to a good list of twenty.
1. Write down everything you think of. Don’t judge, just write! Let your brain work!
2. When you’re stumped write down the opposite of what you have.
3. Refine answers that are close but not quite what you want.
4. Never underestimate the power of the ridiculous answer.
Let’s start with point 1: Write down everything you think of. Don’t judge, just write.
When you judge too quickly, your brain begins to shut down. Or it runs along typical, familiar, acceptable paths. That might seem great, but it isn’t. In order to shake yourself out of the familiar, to come up with a story that’s “the same” yet “different” (How many times have we heard that!) your brain needs to be able to stretch. It will not stretch if you criticize. It will stop.
You need to come up with ridiculous answers to free your mind. But we’re jumping ahead of ourselves here, so the best way to explain all this to you is through an example.
Let’s say you have a hero and heroine who are stuck in a cabin in the woods and you think…Okay, now what? Not only are there 10 other stuck-in-the-cabin-in-the-woods books this year, so I need to distinguish myself, but also I want to write something interesting. Something cool.
And by the way, that’s how people like me who write book after book after book and want to satisfy an existing audience without repeating ourselves do it. We figure out the way THIS BOOK can be different. Can distinguish itself. Can be spectacular. And don’t we all want to write something spectacular? Something that fits the market, yet somehow transcends it. No matter if you’re writing fantasy, crime, mystery, thriller or whatever…you still want your book to be spectacular. This is how you make it a cut above the rest!
So, say, we have a hero and heroine who are stuck in a cabin in the woods…and we want to make a "list of 20" so that we can come up with something “fresh” for this story.
At the top of your pages you write…My hero and heroine are trapped in a cabin in the woods…What could happen to make this really, really interesting?
That question might seem a bit vague, but sometimes vague is good. We’re just starting out with this book, feeling our way around, trying to figure out if we can come up with something that’s unique and worthy of our time…so we give ourselves a little leeway! LOL
Okay, so the question is… My hero and heroine are trapped in a cabin in the woods…What could happen to make this really, really interesting?
You list:
1. The furnace doesn't work and they have to snuggle together. (Remember no judgment! No saying one is right or wrong or better or stupid or ridiculous or too cliché . . . Just keep writing.)
2. She has no luggage and has to wear his clothes. (Could be funny. And eventually intimate.)
3. They sleep in bedrooms across the hall.
4. He sleeps on the sofa and gets a backache.
5. He catches her in the bathtub.
6. Somebody else arrives.
7. Her dad is with them.
8. She has a child.
9. They hear a radio report that a killer is on the loose (Is this a suspense…Or just a really cool way to get them into the same bedroom? LOL)
10. The storm gets worse.
11. The storm ends…
Oh…Oh…what did we just do? Something that was opposite of a good idea was actually a better idea. Or at the very least a unique direction for us to try with our "typical" story idea. In most cabin-in-the-woods books (a/k/a close proximity books) the situation gets worse. Could your situation get better? Could it appear that he's leaving? Could they have a gray moment? Could there be angst? Could they sleep together, thinking it's a fling that will be over the next morning because the storm is over and he'll be leaving, only to discover that after he drives off, he has to come back because the bridge washed out. So now they have to face each other after sex that wasn't supposed to happen.
Wow. That could be cool or funny or powerful! At the very least it would be emotional.
Opposite answers can turn everything on its proverbial ear! And notice how that one answer turned into another five or six possible answers to the "what will make our cabin in the woods story different" question!
So every once in a while writing down an "opposite" of your idea is a very good way to shake things up. Particularly since sometimes the opposite of an "expected" answer is actually the right one.
That’s it for this lesson. For your homework, I’d like you to create a question as well as a list of twenty for a spin on the marriage of convenience story. This is something we’ve all seen…so can you create a crafty question that would help you come up with 20 spins on this story, so that you can eventually find one that hasn’t been done…or one that would make your story stand out in a crowd?
I know not everyone will get to 20, but I think it will be fun for you to see how many spins you can put on a Marriage of Convenience!
(As I’ve said, this is how those of us who have been writing the same six or eight stories for the past 20 years come up with “fresh” ideas for our books!)
susan
Coming Attractions
Coming in October PREPARING FOR NANO at Pennwriters.com
COURSE DESCRIPTION:
Everybody believes NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month, which runs every November at www.nanowrimo.org) is a race against the clock, a fight with procrastination and inertia. In some ways it is. But once you’re in the thick of things, you’ll discover NaNo is really all about ideas. Writers don’t stall because they’re lazy. Writers stall because they don’t know what to write next.
The month BEFORE NaNo, get proven tips from Susan Meier—the author of almost 50 books for Harlequin and Silhouette—and let her take you through several different ways to examine the story you want to write, to capture the natural scene possibilities within your idea, to generate new ideas, and to push yourself through the most grueling, but fun, month you will spend this year! Lessons include:
* The List of 20 (How to generate ideas quickly so you have little downtime when your natural ideas run out)
* Turning a “Want” into “Need” (How does knowing why you’re writing this book provide you with both energy to write and ideas for your story?)
* The One-Paragraph Story Summary (Say it succinctly…3 kinds of one-paragraph story summaries: back cover blurb, core story question, and growth paragraph)
* Could, Might, Must and Should List (How to capture ideas that spring up naturally)
* Storyboard Versus Synopsis (Breaking your idea down into manageable bites)
* The Psychology of Pushing through the Hard Times (What to do when you get stuck)
* The Psychology of a Draft (Push, push, push!)
* What Are You Doing in December? (Editing tips)
TESTIMONIALS:
“I was bowled over by how helpful it was. Susan was ever patient and ready to offer feedback and encouragement. The course material was broken down so that it was easy to understand but it pushed me to dig deeper and really understand my story. I would not hesitate to recommend this course in the future or any course with Susan Meier.”
- SGM
Fantasy writer
“Susan Meier generously shares her knowledge and shapes it to fit your needs. She is enthusiastic and encouraging. This course helped me to fill in the gaps, taking my plot from mundane to magnificent! Thanks, Susan!”
- JBS
Cat Tails
Fluffy in a box.
There's no tail today...just a picture which is worth a thousand words.
If you think it's funny to see him squished in that box, you should see how he twists and turns to actually get himself inside!
This Month's Short
FALLING FOR THE PLAYBOY
Even exiting one of his family’s private jets, Michael Andreas didn’t look like a wealthy heir. Heeding his cousin Gino’s warning to avoid being ostentatious, he wore jeans and a T-shirt. He skipped the family limo and instead called a cab, giving the driver the address Gino had scribbled on a business card.
When they reached the old building in an even older New York City neighborhood, Michael’s eyes narrowed. “Are you sure this is the place?”
“That’s the address on the card, buddy.” The driver held out his hand. “Pay up.”
Michael handed him a credit card, added a generous tip to the bill and got out. Duffle bag over his shoulder, he walked into the building only to discover there was no elevator. He shook his head. Love had certainly done weird things to his normally sane, pragmatic cousin.
After climbing four flights of stairs, he followed the sound of music to the apartment at the end of the hall. The door was open. Guests dressed in jeans and T-shirts spilled out into the hallway. Edging his way into the apartment, he smiled. Renovated. Thank God.
He tossed his duffle bag behind a beige leather sofa and ambled up to the bar. “Scotch. Neat.”
The bartender grabbed the bottle. A pretty brunette walked up beside him. Her hair was a glossy waterfall of sable curls that fell just a bit past her shoulders. Her wide blue eyes were cautious. The T-shirt she wore showed off an hourglass figure. Something he didn’t often see in his world. Women who lived in his tiny North Carolina beach town seemed to believe that thinner was better. He didn’t like to disagree with ladies but that whole thin thing wasn’t the way to attract a man.
Taking his Scotch from the bartender, he faced the brunette. “So, come here often?” Considering that this was a housewarming to show off a newly renovated apartment that no one had seen, he thought that was a pretty good joke.
She didn’t turn to look at him. Only her eyes moved. Taking him in through her peripheral vision, she asked, “Is that a joke?”
He laughed. “Actually, yes.”
“Well, it’s a poor one.” She took her wine from the bartender. “Excuse me.”
He blinked.
Normally when women saw his chin length curly black hair, catlike green eyes and shadow of dark whiskers, they didn’t actually swoon, but he had seen some breath-stuttering.
Something wasn’t right here.
He pivoted and caught up to her at the sofa. It surprised him that it was empty, considering the number of guests, but he wasn’t complaining.
Acting as if it was a foregone conclusion that he would follow her, he plopped down beside her. “I’m Michael Andreas. Gino’s cousin.” He extended his hand to shake hers. “And you are?”
This time, she turned to him. She studied him the same way a scientist examined a bug under a microscope before she smiled sweetly and rose. “Not interested.”
With that she walked away, blending into the dense crowd. Michael felt as if somebody had slapped him. It wasn’t that he was vain. It was more that women liked him. Having grown up with two sisters and an adorable mom, he’d quickly learned the ins and outs of getting on their good side and he’d taken the experience with him into the dating world. He more than treated women with respect; he was good to them.
He was sweet, damn it!
He hoisted himself off the sofa and angled his way through the crowd. He found the brunette standing in a small cluster of people. His eyes narrowed. She wasn’t actually in the cluster. She was looking at a piece of art on the wall beside the cluster.
He frowned. People normally came to parties to meet other people. To mingle. And he’d introduced himself. It didn’t make sense that she’d ditch him to stand alone.
He downed his drink and walked back to the bar. He ordered another Scotch and a glass of white wine. Holding the two drinks above his head, he made his way through the crowd to the brunette.
“When I finished my drink, I figured you’d probably finished yours.” He offered her the wine with a smile.
She hissed out an annoyed breath and presented her still full glass to him. “No. I haven’t.”
Her blue eyes glittered with irritation, but her attitude didn’t match the soft curly hair falling around her or the soft body outlined by the blue T-shirt and jeans.
Something was definitely off here.
Frustration with her attitude quickly turned into challenge. It had been a while since a woman had flat out turned him away. So maybe he was getting soft? Maybe he needed a test to get him back on his game?
He chugged her wine, set the glass on an available table and smiled. “Problem solved.”
With a sigh of disgust, she turned away at the same time that Gino came ambling over, his arm around his fiancée, blonde-haired, blue-eyed Bethany Johnson.
“Michael!” Bethany caught his shoulders and pulled him down for a kiss on the cheek. “I see you’ve met Lucy.”
He planted his tongue in his cheek. “I’ve been trying to meet Lucy.”
Gino slapped him on the back and pointedly steered him away from the girls. “Let me buy you a Scotch.”
He glanced back to where Bethany was happily chatting with the woman he’d intended to pursue. “I’ve had two and a glass of wine.”
“Are you driving?”
“I took a cab.”
“Then you can have seven and as much wine as you want.” He ordered two Scotches and handed one to Michael. “Besides I want to show you what we’ve done to the place.”
Lucy Donovan blew her breath out on a sigh, watching Michael Andreas walk away with her cousin Gino.
“Are you okay?”
She returned her gaze to Bethany. “I’m fine.” Seeing the concerned expression on her friend’s face, her chest tightened. Not with sadness but with misery. Would she forever be the poster girl for being dumped and unhappy? “I’d actually be better if everybody would stop asking if I’m okay.”
Bethany winced. “I know. But it’s only been two weeks since Justin… well…asked for his ring back. We’re all just feeling a little protective.”
She tried to smile. “I’m fine.”
“Of course, you are. Let’s go meet some people.”
She led Lucy into the crowd and introduced her to six or seven members of the Andreas Holdings staff, people ranging from their early twenties to late fifties, but her gaze drifted over to Michael Andreas.
He was tall, gorgeous, exasperating … Still, he didn’t take himself too seriously. Otherwise, he’d have scurried away when she rebuffed him.
She studied the way his T-shirt caressed his perfect shoulders and well developed chest. There were probably six-pack abs under there too. And why not? The guy lived in paradise. He played volley ball the way Northern guys played golf. Which explained why he was also golden brown.
She’d even been to his family’s beach house a time or two when she was younger. Though she was Whitney Ross Andreas’s second or third cousin, she’d always treated Whitney like an aunt and Whitney and Darius’s children like her cousins. So they’d taken her on beach trips. She knew Michael’s mom and dad. Knew his sisters.
Which meant she also knew he wasn’t the kind of guy to settle down …
But right at this moment she’d shoot the first man who tried to get her into a serious relationship.
She paused. Now that she thought about it, she and Michael Andreas wanted the same thing. A little relief from boredom. A little fun with somebody who wouldn’t take the affair too seriously.
Maybe she’d been too hasty in brushing him off?
To finish the story ... http://susanmeier-happilyeverafter.blogspot.com/
Blast from the Past
MAID FOR THE SINGLE DAD
Chapter 1
Ellie Swanson had not signed up for this.
Yes, she’d agreed to run Happy Maids while her boss, Liz Harper Nestor – took a well deserved honeymoon after remarrying her gorgeous ex-husband Cain. And, yes, she was perfectly capable of supervising the fourteen or so employees on Happy Maids’ payroll for the four weeks Liz would be in Paris. But she wasn’t authorized to make a change in the company’s business plan, as the man across the desk wanted her to do.
“I’m a friend of Cain’s.”
Of course he was. Tall and slender with perfect blue eyes and black hair cut short and businesslike, Mac Carmichael wore his tailored navy blue suit with the casual ease of a man accustomed to handmade suits, fine wines, and people taking his orders. Just like Cain.
“And he told me his wife’s company was the best in town.”
“But we’re a weekly cleaning service. We don’t place maids in clients’ homes.”
“You should.”
A bead of sweat rolled down Ellie’s back. The air conditioning had broken the day Liz left. But Ellie could handle the heat and humidity of June in Miami. What she couldn’t abide was failure. Her first day on the job and already she was turning away a client. An important client. A client who could not only tell Cain that Happy Maids hadn’t come through for him; he could also tell all his wealthy friends – the very people Liz would be marketing to when she returned.
Ellie leaned back on the chair, tapping a pencil on the desk blotter. “Explain again what you’re looking for.”
“My maid quit unexpectedly. I need to hire a temporary replacement while I interview for another one.”
“I can send someone to your house a few times a week to clean,” she said hopefully.
He shook his head. “I have a daughter and a son. They need breakfast every morning.”
“Then I’ll be happy to send someone every day at seven.”
“Lacy gets up at five.”
“Then I’ll have someone at four.”
“I work some nights.”
Ellie gaped at him. “You want the maid to be a nanny too?”
He caught her gaze. His sinfully blue eyes held hers and she fought the urge to swallow as pinpricks of attraction sparkled along her nerve endings.
“And live in.”
She gasped. “Live in?”
“I also pay very well.”
Ah, the magic words. A victim of domestic violence herself, Liz had gotten involved with A Friend Indeed, a charity that helped women transition out of their abusive homes and into new lives. It was a natural fit that Liz should begin employing the women from A Friend Indeed until they got on their feet. Ellie had actually been the first client Liz had hired through a meet at the charity. The company needed every job – especially the good paying ones – to provide work for all the women who wanted help.
Mac rose from his seat. “Look, if your firm can’t handle it, I’ll be on my way.”
He turned to the door.
Stop him!
She bounced out of her chair. “Wait.”
He faced her again. This time she did swallow. His eyes reminded her of the ocean in the dead of summer, calm and deep, and perfect blue. His dark hair gleamed in the sunlight pouring in from the window to his right. High cheekbones angled to blissfully full lips, the kind that made most women take a second glance and wonder what it would be like to kiss him. It should have been pure pleasure to look at him. Instead, the scowl on his face caused Ellie to doubt the intuition that guided her life.
“Yes?”
“I –“ Why had her intuition told her to stop him? She didn’t have anybody who could work as a maid/nanny. Most of Liz’s employees had kids of their own and homes to get back to every night. They couldn’t live in. And that’s what he needed.
“I – um – maybe we can work something out.”
His scowl grew even darker. “I don’t work things out.”
No kidding. She didn’t need intuition to tell her that.
“I want someone today.”
Don’t let him go.
She groaned inwardly, wondering why her sixth sense was so insistent on this. But accustomed to listening to the intuition that had saved her life, she couldn’t ignore it.
“I’ll do it.”
His scowl shifted into a look of confusion. “You?”
“I know I’m behind the desk today, but I’m only filling in for Cain’s wife, Liz. She runs the business herself, but this month she’s on her honeymoon. I’m more than capable of cooking, cleaning and caring for children.”
His eyes held hers for another second or two. Then his gaze dipped from her face to her pretty red dress, and Ellie suddenly regretted her decision to wear something as exposing as the short strapless creation made more for having lunch with friends on a sunny sidewalk café than working in an office. But not having air conditioning had made the choice for her. How was she supposed to know a client would show up?
He smiled and all the air whooshed out of Ellie’s lungs. The temperature in her blood rose to an almost unbearable level. She could have melted where she stood. If this guy lived up north, snowflakes wouldn’t stand a chance against that smile.
“We have air conditioning, so you might want to change into jeans and a T-shirt.” He took a business card out of his jacket pocket, scribbled on the back and handed it to her. “That’s my home address. I’ll meet you there in an hour.” Then he turned and walked out the door.
Ellie collapsed on the office chair. Damn it! What had her intuition gotten her into? Now she not only had all of Liz’s work, she also had a full-time job. More than full-time! She had to live in!
With a sigh of frustration with herself, she lifted the receiver of the phone on the desk and quickly dialed the number for Cain’s personal assistant, Ava.
“Are you busy?”
“Hey, good morning, Magic. How’s your first day going?”
“Abysmally. Don’t call me Magic anymore. I think my intuition is on the fritz.”
Ava laughed.
“I’m serious. Some guy came in here this morning, demanding a full-time maid and nanny – someone to live in – and I volunteered to take the job.”
“Yourself?”
Angling her elbow on the desk, Ellie cradled her chin on her palm. “Yes.”
“Oh, that’s so not like you!”
“I know. But he’s a friend of Cain’s and I worried about disappointing him. My intuition got all jumbled while he was here and before I knew it I was taking the job myself.” She winced. “I was thinking maybe you could find an agency that can get him a real temporary maid, then call him back and tell him I made a mistake.”
“All right. I’ll handle it. Give me his name.”
Ellie flipped the card over. “Mac Carmichael.”
“Oh, damn.”
Oh damn?
“Oh, damn what?”
“Ellie, you’re stuck. He is a major pain in the butt, so not even finding him a real full-time maid would fix this. He’d never change a deal he’s already made. But he’s also somebody Cain’s been courting for years.”
“Courting?”
“His family owns hotels all over the world. Cain’s been trying to get in on the construction end. This might be a test for Cain.”
Ellie lowered her forehead to her palm. “Which is probably why my intuition wouldn’t let me tell him no.”
“I’m guessing,” Ava agreed. “Okay, here’s what we’ll do. It doesn’t matter where I work, so I’ll forward my calls to the Happy Maids office and handle your phone and walk-ins during the day. Then we’ll spend an hour or so together every night doing the day’s paperwork.”
“You’d do that for me?”
“Of course! This isn’t just Happy Maids on the line. It’s also Cain’s business and I’m Cain’s assistant. I have to do whatever needs to be done. Beside, I like you.”
Ellie laughed. “Okay.”
“Okay? Miss Magic, it will be more than okay. We will make it great. You’ll do such a good job for Mac that you’ll earn all kind of brownie points for Liz and Happy Maids, and you might just get Cain the “in” with Carmichael Incorporated that he’s been lobbying for for the past years.”
Elllie sat up. “Yeah. You’re right. This is a good thing.”
“This is potentially a very good thing,” Ava agreed. “And I will do anything at all you need me to do.”
“Handling the office during the day should be all the help I need.”
“I’ll be over in an hour.”
“Bring a key because I have to leave right now. Mr. Carmichael wants me at his house in--” She glanced down at the card again -- “Coral Gables in an hour and I need to pack a bag if I’m going to be living there.”
“You better get a move on.”
“Okay. And Ava?”
“Yes.”
Ellie winced. “You might want to stop on your way and buy a tank top and shorts.”
Ava laughed. “How about if I just call an HVAC repairman?”
“That’ll do it, too. I’ll see you tonight.”
Mac Carmichael raced his Bentley along the winding streets of Coral Gables and onto his driveway. He stopped at the gate, punched a code into the box on the left, opening the gate, and then roared up the stone drive to the side of his huge house. The garage door opened with another press of a button and he zipped inside. As the door closed behind him, he hopped out of his car, walked through the garage, into the butler’s pantry then into the huge gourmet kitchen.
His blond-haired six-year-old daughter Lacy sat at the long weathered-wood table by the French doors, coloring. Nine-month-old son Henry sat in a high chair beside her. His former nanny and current next door neighbor, Mrs. Pomeroy, wiped baby food off his mouth with a wet cloth.
“How did it go?”
He sighed. “Well, I found someone.”
“Great.”
“I’m not sure. She’s--” Tall and blonde and so good looking he damned near turned around and sought out another agency. “Well, she seems a little spacey.”
Eighty-year-old Elmira Pomeroy laughed. “Spacey? Is she a drinker?”
“No, she’s just--” Inappropriately dressed, too pretty for words – “Kind of odd.”
“Are you sure you want her around your kids?”
“She’s not that kind of odd. Besides, I don’t have a
choice. I need total and complete privacy. I can’t risk hiring a big impersonal firm or someone who doesn’t need me enough to keep her silence.”
“You think she’s made the connection yet that if she does well her boss’s husband could make millions?”
He tossed his suit coat over the back of a chair. “I’m hoping. If she hasn’t yet, one call to anybody in Cain’s office will get her the info. That should be the carrot on the stick that keeps her here long enough for me to find someone.” He leaned in over Lacy. “Hey, baby. What are you doing?”
She gave him a patient look. “Coloring.”
“Why don’t you put on your swimsuit and we’ll take a dip while Mrs. Pomeroy is still here for Henry.”
Her heart-shaped face wreathed in smiles. Her blue eyes danced with delight. “Okay!”
She raced from the room and Mac pulled Henry from his high chair. “And how are you today?”
Yellow-haired, blue-eyed Henry slapped a chubby fist on his father’s cheek.
“Feisty, I see.”
“You better believe he’s been feisty.” Mrs. Pomeroy took his bottle from the warmer and tested the temperature. “I’m not sure if he tired himself out enough that he’ll fall asleep immediately after he drinks this or if he’s too wound up to sleep at all.”
“If you have any problems, come and get me from the pool.”
Mrs. Pomeroy’s wrinkled face fell in sympathetic lines. “No. You take the time with Lacy. You both could use a few minutes of fun.”
“I’m fine. I don’t want to shirk my responsibility to the kids.”
“You’re a good dad.”
He pulled in a breath and turned away, trying to make light of her compliment. “I only do what any father should do.”
That was why it never would have even crossed his mind to desert his children the way their mother had. He couldn’t believe any person would be so narcissistic that she’d abandon her kids just because a second child had been inconvenient to her career. Pamela had been so angry to be pregnant again when she’d read the results of her early pregnancy test that she’d packed a bag, left him and filed for divorce within days. She returned to Hollywood, California, where she immediately resurrected her movie career.
Nine months later, she handed Henry over to Mac. She visited once a month, saying it was difficult to fly across the country anymore than that. But on her last visit she told Mac she might not be able to visit in July. The movie she had made while pregnant with Henry was being released and she would be making the rounds of talk shows promoting it. Mac tried not to panic but he couldn’t help it. If anybody asked Pamela about her divorce or her kids, he had absolutely no idea what she’d say. But he did know that if she mentioned their names, he and the kids would become fodder for the paparazzi.
He’d lived his entire life with bodyguards, alarm systems and armor-plated limos. He’d thought he knew how it felt to live under lock and key, but that was nothing compared to living in a fishbowl. As the ex-husband of a movie star with custody of that movie star’s kids, protection and visibility had risen to a whole new level. Not only were his kids targets for kidnappers and extortionists because of his money, but their mother’s career could put their faces on the front page of every tabloid in the world. He’d had to go to extreme measures to protect them, and even with those measures in place he wasn’t quite sure they were safe.
“You’re thinking about that crappy wife of yours again aren’t you?”
“No.”
Mrs. P. laughed. “Right. You always scowl before a morning of fun with your daughter in the pool.” Satisfied with the temperature of the milk in Henry’s bottle, she took Henry from Mac’s arms. “You know what you need? A good woman to replace the crappy one.”
Mac laughed. “It will be a cold frosty day in hell before I trust another woman.”
Mrs. P. harrumphed as she headed for the door. “Don’t let one bad apple spoil the whole bunch.”
Lacy skipped into the room, dressed in a bright blue one-piece swimsuit. Mac lifted her into his arms. It was very easy for Mrs. P. to spout quaint sayings, quite another for Mac to heed their advice. Pamela had broken Lacy’s heart when she left. Henry would know a mother who only popped in when the spirit moved her. Mac couldn’t risk the hearts of his children a second time.
Ellie debated sliding into one of her Happy Maids uniforms. Nothing said hired help better than a bright yellow ruffled apron and a hairnet. But Mac had suggested she wear jeans and she wasn’t taking any chances. If she had to endure being a full-time maid, then she intended for Cain to get the recommendation into Carmichael Incorporated. The best way to do that would be to follow Mac’s instructions to the letter.
She slowed her car as she wound through the streets of Coral Gables looking for the address scrawled on the back of the business card. Finally finding the property, she turned onto the driveway only to be face-to-face with an iron gate. She rolled down her car window, pressed a button marked “visitors” on a small stand just within reach of her car and watched as a camera zoomed in on her. She expected a voice to come through the little box, asking for identification. Instead, within seconds, the gate opened.
Good grief. How rich was this guy?
Slowly maneuvering up the wide stone driveway that was a beautiful yellow, not brick red or brown or even gray, but beautiful butterscotch yellow, Ellie swiveled her head from side-to-side, taking in the landscaping. Trees stood behind the black iron fence that surrounded the huge front yard, increasing the privacy. Flower gardens filled with red, yellow and orange hibiscus sprang up in no particular order, brightening the green grass with splashes of color. But it was the house that caused her mouth to fall open. Butterscotch yellow stucco, with rich cocoa brown trim and columns that rose to the flat roof overhang, and a sparkling glass front door, the house was unlike anything she’d seen.
She followed the stone driveway around to the side where she found cocoa-brown garage doors and a less auspicious entryway than the front door. She parked her car and got out.
Oppressive heat and humidity buffeted her, making her tank top and jeans feel like a snowmobile suit. The sounds of someone splashing in a pool caught her attention and she walked around back and stopped. Her mouth gaped.
Rows of wide, flat steps made of the same butterscotch-colored stone as in the driveway led from a wall of French doors in the back of the house to an in-ground pool. Shiny butterscotch-colored tiles intermingled with blue and beige tiles, rimming the pool and also creating a walkway that led to a patio of the same stone as the stairs. Behind the patio was a huge gazebo – big enough for a party, not merely a yard decoration – and beyond the grassy backyard was the canal where a bright white yacht was docked.
“Ellie?”
She glanced at the pool again. Mac Carmichael was swimming with a little girl of around six, probably his daughter.
She edged toward them. Trying to sound confident she said, “Hi.”
The little blonde wearing water wings waved shyly.
Mac wiped both hands down his face and headed for the ladder in the shallow water on the far side of the pool. “I’ll be right with you.”
She wanted to say, “Take your time,” or “Don’t get out on my account. I’ll find my way to the kitchen,” but the sight of Mac pulling himself onto the ladder stopped her cold. His dark swimming trunks clung wetly to his firm behind. Water pulled them down, causing them to slip as he climbed the ladder. By the time he got out of the pool his trunks clung precariously to his lean hips. He walked to a beige-and-white-flowered chaise and grabbed a huge towel.
“You got here quickly.”
She stared. With the blue skies of Florida as a backdrop, his eyes turned a color closer to topaz. Water ran in rivulets down the black hair on his chest. His still-dripping swimming trucks hung onto his hips for dear life.
“I…um…” She cleared her throat as attraction rumbled through her. It had been so long that she’d been overwhelmingly attracted to a man that she’d missed the symptoms. But here they were. Sweaty palms. Stuttering heart. Inability to form a coherent sentence.
Now she knew why her intuition wouldn’t let her allow Mac to leave the Happy Maids office. It wasn’t because of Cain. It was because she was attracted to Mac.
Telling herself not to panic, she could handle one little attraction, she smiled. Her intuition might have brought her here for a frivolous reason, but once Ava had told her about Cain wanting an “in” with Mac, she knew she couldn’t back out. Liz had saved her when she desperately needed someone. Now she finally had a chance to repay the favor. This was a mission. “I just had to run home to put on jeans and pack a bag.”
He motioned to the steps. “You go on up. It’s too hot for you to stand out here in this heat in those jeans. As soon as I get Lacy from the pool I’ll be in.”
This time she could say, “No hurry. I’ll be fine,” because she seriously needed a minute alone to compose herself. How did one man get so lucky as to not only be rich and live in a house that took her breath away, but also be so good looking he rivaled the pristine Florida sky?
“Just go up the stairs and turn left, into the kitchen. We’ll be there in a minute.”
She nodded and started up the steps, feeling as if she were walking the stairs to a museum or some other prestigious building rather than someone’s residence. Of course, she wasn’t exactly well versed in what a “normal” home should look like. She’d grown up in foster homes until she was seventeen when she ran away. Then she’d slept on the streets and fought tooth and nail just to find something to eat each day until she met Sam. She’d stayed with him, enduring increasing verbal and emotional abuse until the night the abuse became physical. Then she’d run. A Friend Indeed couldn’t take her in because they were a charity chartered to care for women with children, but Liz had offered her her couch and ultimately a job. After four years with Happy Maids, interacting with Liz and the friends she’d made through A Friend Indeed, she was only now coming to understand what normal relationships were.
So, she could forgive herself for being a tad awestruck by this house. She might clean for Miami’s elite but this guy was in a class by himself, and from the outside, his house absolutely looked like a museum.
Pushing open the second door of the four French doors lining the back wall of the house, she found herself standing between a huge kitchen on the left and a comfy family room on the right. Decorated with an overstuffed brown leather sofa and chairs with shiny cherry wood end tables and a huge flat-screen TV between bookcases that ran along the entire back wall, that part of the open floor plan appeared to be where the family did most of their living.
That she liked.
But only a few steps into the kitchen, she swallowed hard. The stove had eight burners. The refrigerator was actually hidden behind panels of the same cherry wood as the cabinets. Copper pots and pans hung from a rack above the stove. Pale salmon-colored granite countertops accented the rich cabinets. A sink with a tall copper faucet sat in the middle of the center island and another sat in a counter along a far wall. Crystal gleamed behind the glass doors of all the cabinets on the right wall.
She looked around in awe. She’d been in kitchens almost as elaborate as this one. She did, after all, clean for some fairly wealthy people. But men in Mac’s caliber weren’t wealthy. They were beyond wealthy. They didn’t hire weekly cleaning services. They had full-time employees and gourmet kitchens big enough to cook food for parties attended by hundreds of people. As a Happy Maid she only cleaned, didn’t cook for any of her clients.
She glanced around again, her mouth slightly open, fear tightening her chest.
She grabbed the cell phone she had stashed in her jeans pocket and hit a speed dial number.
“Ava, I think I’m gonna need a cook book.”
***
For the rest of the book...look for it on Amazon and B&N, as an ebook!
Ready to comment for a chance to win a copy of both books in the Duet Maid for the Millionaire
and Maid for the Single Dad?
It's all here. Along with the information about the Pennwriters workshop PREPPING FOR NANO, which begins in October.
And speaking of workshops. I'm keeping my schedule at four again next year. No repeats. Each workshop only given once. Technically, I'm giving each group that approaches me an "exclusive" for a year! LOL
I haven't decided what RWA chapters to approach...so I thought I'd ask you. Is there anyone here who'd like me to approach their chapter?
Email me through Contact Susan at susanmeier.com. Or comment here.
So what have I been up to this summer?
As most of you know, my husband retired. He's a considerate, quiet man -- mostly because he knows I need mornings to write and we need my income! :)
But he's usually a great guy. Retirement has made him even more so. I asked him about his super-agreeability and he told me that with no bosses to worry about life is pretty fun.
So is golfing every day. :)
My family is continuing our tradition of Wednesday morning breakfasts. Because there are a few teachers and school employees in my family all of whom have summers off, we get together every Wednesday morning and eat breakfast.
These are great events. The kids come, so at least once a week I get to see my nieces and nephews, and great-nieces and nephews. They chase my cats. We all eat blueberries. And no matter whose house we go to that Wednesday, there's always a fantastic surprise. My sisters and nieces are wonderful cooks ... and this year we had a birthday cake for my brother John to go with my eggs and sausage (and blueberries).
There's nothing like a good family tradition to make memories. Our hope is that all the kids who attend these breakfasts someday look back and this and smile.
Okay...on to Lesson 6 where we delve a little deeper into the making of a good list of 20.
susan
For the Writers Among Us
Lesson 6: How to do the List of Twenty
In the last lesson, once we wrote a great question, I hinted that there are specific tricks to doing a list of twenty. I mentioned the power of the ridiculous and the power of writing down opposites. But there are actually four guidelines to a good list of twenty.
1. Write down everything you think of. Don’t judge, just write! Let your brain work!
2. When you’re stumped write down the opposite of what you have.
3. Refine answers that are close but not quite what you want.
4. Never underestimate the power of the ridiculous answer.
Let’s start with point 1: Write down everything you think of. Don’t judge, just write.
When you judge too quickly, your brain begins to shut down. Or it runs along typical, familiar, acceptable paths. That might seem great, but it isn’t. In order to shake yourself out of the familiar, to come up with a story that’s “the same” yet “different” (How many times have we heard that!) your brain needs to be able to stretch. It will not stretch if you criticize. It will stop.
You need to come up with ridiculous answers to free your mind. But we’re jumping ahead of ourselves here, so the best way to explain all this to you is through an example.
Let’s say you have a hero and heroine who are stuck in a cabin in the woods and you think…Okay, now what? Not only are there 10 other stuck-in-the-cabin-in-the-woods books this year, so I need to distinguish myself, but also I want to write something interesting. Something cool.
And by the way, that’s how people like me who write book after book after book and want to satisfy an existing audience without repeating ourselves do it. We figure out the way THIS BOOK can be different. Can distinguish itself. Can be spectacular. And don’t we all want to write something spectacular? Something that fits the market, yet somehow transcends it. No matter if you’re writing fantasy, crime, mystery, thriller or whatever…you still want your book to be spectacular. This is how you make it a cut above the rest!
So, say, we have a hero and heroine who are stuck in a cabin in the woods…and we want to make a "list of 20" so that we can come up with something “fresh” for this story.
At the top of your pages you write…My hero and heroine are trapped in a cabin in the woods…What could happen to make this really, really interesting?
That question might seem a bit vague, but sometimes vague is good. We’re just starting out with this book, feeling our way around, trying to figure out if we can come up with something that’s unique and worthy of our time…so we give ourselves a little leeway! LOL
Okay, so the question is… My hero and heroine are trapped in a cabin in the woods…What could happen to make this really, really interesting?
You list:
1. The furnace doesn't work and they have to snuggle together. (Remember no judgment! No saying one is right or wrong or better or stupid or ridiculous or too cliché . . . Just keep writing.)
2. She has no luggage and has to wear his clothes. (Could be funny. And eventually intimate.)
3. They sleep in bedrooms across the hall.
4. He sleeps on the sofa and gets a backache.
5. He catches her in the bathtub.
6. Somebody else arrives.
7. Her dad is with them.
8. She has a child.
9. They hear a radio report that a killer is on the loose (Is this a suspense…Or just a really cool way to get them into the same bedroom? LOL)
10. The storm gets worse.
11. The storm ends…
Oh…Oh…what did we just do? Something that was opposite of a good idea was actually a better idea. Or at the very least a unique direction for us to try with our "typical" story idea. In most cabin-in-the-woods books (a/k/a close proximity books) the situation gets worse. Could your situation get better? Could it appear that he's leaving? Could they have a gray moment? Could there be angst? Could they sleep together, thinking it's a fling that will be over the next morning because the storm is over and he'll be leaving, only to discover that after he drives off, he has to come back because the bridge washed out. So now they have to face each other after sex that wasn't supposed to happen.
Wow. That could be cool or funny or powerful! At the very least it would be emotional.
Opposite answers can turn everything on its proverbial ear! And notice how that one answer turned into another five or six possible answers to the "what will make our cabin in the woods story different" question!
So every once in a while writing down an "opposite" of your idea is a very good way to shake things up. Particularly since sometimes the opposite of an "expected" answer is actually the right one.
That’s it for this lesson. For your homework, I’d like you to create a question as well as a list of twenty for a spin on the marriage of convenience story. This is something we’ve all seen…so can you create a crafty question that would help you come up with 20 spins on this story, so that you can eventually find one that hasn’t been done…or one that would make your story stand out in a crowd?
I know not everyone will get to 20, but I think it will be fun for you to see how many spins you can put on a Marriage of Convenience!
(As I’ve said, this is how those of us who have been writing the same six or eight stories for the past 20 years come up with “fresh” ideas for our books!)
susan
Coming Attractions
Coming in October PREPARING FOR NANO at Pennwriters.com
COURSE DESCRIPTION:
Everybody believes NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month, which runs every November at www.nanowrimo.org) is a race against the clock, a fight with procrastination and inertia. In some ways it is. But once you’re in the thick of things, you’ll discover NaNo is really all about ideas. Writers don’t stall because they’re lazy. Writers stall because they don’t know what to write next.
The month BEFORE NaNo, get proven tips from Susan Meier—the author of almost 50 books for Harlequin and Silhouette—and let her take you through several different ways to examine the story you want to write, to capture the natural scene possibilities within your idea, to generate new ideas, and to push yourself through the most grueling, but fun, month you will spend this year! Lessons include:
* The List of 20 (How to generate ideas quickly so you have little downtime when your natural ideas run out)
* Turning a “Want” into “Need” (How does knowing why you’re writing this book provide you with both energy to write and ideas for your story?)
* The One-Paragraph Story Summary (Say it succinctly…3 kinds of one-paragraph story summaries: back cover blurb, core story question, and growth paragraph)
* Could, Might, Must and Should List (How to capture ideas that spring up naturally)
* Storyboard Versus Synopsis (Breaking your idea down into manageable bites)
* The Psychology of Pushing through the Hard Times (What to do when you get stuck)
* The Psychology of a Draft (Push, push, push!)
* What Are You Doing in December? (Editing tips)
TESTIMONIALS:
“I was bowled over by how helpful it was. Susan was ever patient and ready to offer feedback and encouragement. The course material was broken down so that it was easy to understand but it pushed me to dig deeper and really understand my story. I would not hesitate to recommend this course in the future or any course with Susan Meier.”
- SGM
Fantasy writer
“Susan Meier generously shares her knowledge and shapes it to fit your needs. She is enthusiastic and encouraging. This course helped me to fill in the gaps, taking my plot from mundane to magnificent! Thanks, Susan!”
- JBS
Cat Tails
Fluffy in a box.
There's no tail today...just a picture which is worth a thousand words.
If you think it's funny to see him squished in that box, you should see how he twists and turns to actually get himself inside!
This Month's Short
FALLING FOR THE PLAYBOY
Even exiting one of his family’s private jets, Michael Andreas didn’t look like a wealthy heir. Heeding his cousin Gino’s warning to avoid being ostentatious, he wore jeans and a T-shirt. He skipped the family limo and instead called a cab, giving the driver the address Gino had scribbled on a business card.
When they reached the old building in an even older New York City neighborhood, Michael’s eyes narrowed. “Are you sure this is the place?”
“That’s the address on the card, buddy.” The driver held out his hand. “Pay up.”
Michael handed him a credit card, added a generous tip to the bill and got out. Duffle bag over his shoulder, he walked into the building only to discover there was no elevator. He shook his head. Love had certainly done weird things to his normally sane, pragmatic cousin.
After climbing four flights of stairs, he followed the sound of music to the apartment at the end of the hall. The door was open. Guests dressed in jeans and T-shirts spilled out into the hallway. Edging his way into the apartment, he smiled. Renovated. Thank God.
He tossed his duffle bag behind a beige leather sofa and ambled up to the bar. “Scotch. Neat.”
The bartender grabbed the bottle. A pretty brunette walked up beside him. Her hair was a glossy waterfall of sable curls that fell just a bit past her shoulders. Her wide blue eyes were cautious. The T-shirt she wore showed off an hourglass figure. Something he didn’t often see in his world. Women who lived in his tiny North Carolina beach town seemed to believe that thinner was better. He didn’t like to disagree with ladies but that whole thin thing wasn’t the way to attract a man.
Taking his Scotch from the bartender, he faced the brunette. “So, come here often?” Considering that this was a housewarming to show off a newly renovated apartment that no one had seen, he thought that was a pretty good joke.
She didn’t turn to look at him. Only her eyes moved. Taking him in through her peripheral vision, she asked, “Is that a joke?”
He laughed. “Actually, yes.”
“Well, it’s a poor one.” She took her wine from the bartender. “Excuse me.”
He blinked.
Normally when women saw his chin length curly black hair, catlike green eyes and shadow of dark whiskers, they didn’t actually swoon, but he had seen some breath-stuttering.
Something wasn’t right here.
He pivoted and caught up to her at the sofa. It surprised him that it was empty, considering the number of guests, but he wasn’t complaining.
Acting as if it was a foregone conclusion that he would follow her, he plopped down beside her. “I’m Michael Andreas. Gino’s cousin.” He extended his hand to shake hers. “And you are?”
This time, she turned to him. She studied him the same way a scientist examined a bug under a microscope before she smiled sweetly and rose. “Not interested.”
With that she walked away, blending into the dense crowd. Michael felt as if somebody had slapped him. It wasn’t that he was vain. It was more that women liked him. Having grown up with two sisters and an adorable mom, he’d quickly learned the ins and outs of getting on their good side and he’d taken the experience with him into the dating world. He more than treated women with respect; he was good to them.
He was sweet, damn it!
He hoisted himself off the sofa and angled his way through the crowd. He found the brunette standing in a small cluster of people. His eyes narrowed. She wasn’t actually in the cluster. She was looking at a piece of art on the wall beside the cluster.
He frowned. People normally came to parties to meet other people. To mingle. And he’d introduced himself. It didn’t make sense that she’d ditch him to stand alone.
He downed his drink and walked back to the bar. He ordered another Scotch and a glass of white wine. Holding the two drinks above his head, he made his way through the crowd to the brunette.
“When I finished my drink, I figured you’d probably finished yours.” He offered her the wine with a smile.
She hissed out an annoyed breath and presented her still full glass to him. “No. I haven’t.”
Her blue eyes glittered with irritation, but her attitude didn’t match the soft curly hair falling around her or the soft body outlined by the blue T-shirt and jeans.
Something was definitely off here.
Frustration with her attitude quickly turned into challenge. It had been a while since a woman had flat out turned him away. So maybe he was getting soft? Maybe he needed a test to get him back on his game?
He chugged her wine, set the glass on an available table and smiled. “Problem solved.”
With a sigh of disgust, she turned away at the same time that Gino came ambling over, his arm around his fiancée, blonde-haired, blue-eyed Bethany Johnson.
“Michael!” Bethany caught his shoulders and pulled him down for a kiss on the cheek. “I see you’ve met Lucy.”
He planted his tongue in his cheek. “I’ve been trying to meet Lucy.”
Gino slapped him on the back and pointedly steered him away from the girls. “Let me buy you a Scotch.”
He glanced back to where Bethany was happily chatting with the woman he’d intended to pursue. “I’ve had two and a glass of wine.”
“Are you driving?”
“I took a cab.”
“Then you can have seven and as much wine as you want.” He ordered two Scotches and handed one to Michael. “Besides I want to show you what we’ve done to the place.”
Lucy Donovan blew her breath out on a sigh, watching Michael Andreas walk away with her cousin Gino.
“Are you okay?”
She returned her gaze to Bethany. “I’m fine.” Seeing the concerned expression on her friend’s face, her chest tightened. Not with sadness but with misery. Would she forever be the poster girl for being dumped and unhappy? “I’d actually be better if everybody would stop asking if I’m okay.”
Bethany winced. “I know. But it’s only been two weeks since Justin… well…asked for his ring back. We’re all just feeling a little protective.”
She tried to smile. “I’m fine.”
“Of course, you are. Let’s go meet some people.”
She led Lucy into the crowd and introduced her to six or seven members of the Andreas Holdings staff, people ranging from their early twenties to late fifties, but her gaze drifted over to Michael Andreas.
He was tall, gorgeous, exasperating … Still, he didn’t take himself too seriously. Otherwise, he’d have scurried away when she rebuffed him.
She studied the way his T-shirt caressed his perfect shoulders and well developed chest. There were probably six-pack abs under there too. And why not? The guy lived in paradise. He played volley ball the way Northern guys played golf. Which explained why he was also golden brown.
She’d even been to his family’s beach house a time or two when she was younger. Though she was Whitney Ross Andreas’s second or third cousin, she’d always treated Whitney like an aunt and Whitney and Darius’s children like her cousins. So they’d taken her on beach trips. She knew Michael’s mom and dad. Knew his sisters.
Which meant she also knew he wasn’t the kind of guy to settle down …
But right at this moment she’d shoot the first man who tried to get her into a serious relationship.
She paused. Now that she thought about it, she and Michael Andreas wanted the same thing. A little relief from boredom. A little fun with somebody who wouldn’t take the affair too seriously.
Maybe she’d been too hasty in brushing him off?
To finish the story ... http://susanmeier-happilyeverafter.blogspot.com/
Blast from the Past
MAID FOR THE SINGLE DAD
Chapter 1
Ellie Swanson had not signed up for this.
Yes, she’d agreed to run Happy Maids while her boss, Liz Harper Nestor – took a well deserved honeymoon after remarrying her gorgeous ex-husband Cain. And, yes, she was perfectly capable of supervising the fourteen or so employees on Happy Maids’ payroll for the four weeks Liz would be in Paris. But she wasn’t authorized to make a change in the company’s business plan, as the man across the desk wanted her to do.
“I’m a friend of Cain’s.”
Of course he was. Tall and slender with perfect blue eyes and black hair cut short and businesslike, Mac Carmichael wore his tailored navy blue suit with the casual ease of a man accustomed to handmade suits, fine wines, and people taking his orders. Just like Cain.
“And he told me his wife’s company was the best in town.”
“But we’re a weekly cleaning service. We don’t place maids in clients’ homes.”
“You should.”
A bead of sweat rolled down Ellie’s back. The air conditioning had broken the day Liz left. But Ellie could handle the heat and humidity of June in Miami. What she couldn’t abide was failure. Her first day on the job and already she was turning away a client. An important client. A client who could not only tell Cain that Happy Maids hadn’t come through for him; he could also tell all his wealthy friends – the very people Liz would be marketing to when she returned.
Ellie leaned back on the chair, tapping a pencil on the desk blotter. “Explain again what you’re looking for.”
“My maid quit unexpectedly. I need to hire a temporary replacement while I interview for another one.”
“I can send someone to your house a few times a week to clean,” she said hopefully.
He shook his head. “I have a daughter and a son. They need breakfast every morning.”
“Then I’ll be happy to send someone every day at seven.”
“Lacy gets up at five.”
“Then I’ll have someone at four.”
“I work some nights.”
Ellie gaped at him. “You want the maid to be a nanny too?”
He caught her gaze. His sinfully blue eyes held hers and she fought the urge to swallow as pinpricks of attraction sparkled along her nerve endings.
“And live in.”
She gasped. “Live in?”
“I also pay very well.”
Ah, the magic words. A victim of domestic violence herself, Liz had gotten involved with A Friend Indeed, a charity that helped women transition out of their abusive homes and into new lives. It was a natural fit that Liz should begin employing the women from A Friend Indeed until they got on their feet. Ellie had actually been the first client Liz had hired through a meet at the charity. The company needed every job – especially the good paying ones – to provide work for all the women who wanted help.
Mac rose from his seat. “Look, if your firm can’t handle it, I’ll be on my way.”
He turned to the door.
Stop him!
She bounced out of her chair. “Wait.”
He faced her again. This time she did swallow. His eyes reminded her of the ocean in the dead of summer, calm and deep, and perfect blue. His dark hair gleamed in the sunlight pouring in from the window to his right. High cheekbones angled to blissfully full lips, the kind that made most women take a second glance and wonder what it would be like to kiss him. It should have been pure pleasure to look at him. Instead, the scowl on his face caused Ellie to doubt the intuition that guided her life.
“Yes?”
“I –“ Why had her intuition told her to stop him? She didn’t have anybody who could work as a maid/nanny. Most of Liz’s employees had kids of their own and homes to get back to every night. They couldn’t live in. And that’s what he needed.
“I – um – maybe we can work something out.”
His scowl grew even darker. “I don’t work things out.”
No kidding. She didn’t need intuition to tell her that.
“I want someone today.”
Don’t let him go.
She groaned inwardly, wondering why her sixth sense was so insistent on this. But accustomed to listening to the intuition that had saved her life, she couldn’t ignore it.
“I’ll do it.”
His scowl shifted into a look of confusion. “You?”
“I know I’m behind the desk today, but I’m only filling in for Cain’s wife, Liz. She runs the business herself, but this month she’s on her honeymoon. I’m more than capable of cooking, cleaning and caring for children.”
His eyes held hers for another second or two. Then his gaze dipped from her face to her pretty red dress, and Ellie suddenly regretted her decision to wear something as exposing as the short strapless creation made more for having lunch with friends on a sunny sidewalk café than working in an office. But not having air conditioning had made the choice for her. How was she supposed to know a client would show up?
He smiled and all the air whooshed out of Ellie’s lungs. The temperature in her blood rose to an almost unbearable level. She could have melted where she stood. If this guy lived up north, snowflakes wouldn’t stand a chance against that smile.
“We have air conditioning, so you might want to change into jeans and a T-shirt.” He took a business card out of his jacket pocket, scribbled on the back and handed it to her. “That’s my home address. I’ll meet you there in an hour.” Then he turned and walked out the door.
Ellie collapsed on the office chair. Damn it! What had her intuition gotten her into? Now she not only had all of Liz’s work, she also had a full-time job. More than full-time! She had to live in!
With a sigh of frustration with herself, she lifted the receiver of the phone on the desk and quickly dialed the number for Cain’s personal assistant, Ava.
“Are you busy?”
“Hey, good morning, Magic. How’s your first day going?”
“Abysmally. Don’t call me Magic anymore. I think my intuition is on the fritz.”
Ava laughed.
“I’m serious. Some guy came in here this morning, demanding a full-time maid and nanny – someone to live in – and I volunteered to take the job.”
“Yourself?”
Angling her elbow on the desk, Ellie cradled her chin on her palm. “Yes.”
“Oh, that’s so not like you!”
“I know. But he’s a friend of Cain’s and I worried about disappointing him. My intuition got all jumbled while he was here and before I knew it I was taking the job myself.” She winced. “I was thinking maybe you could find an agency that can get him a real temporary maid, then call him back and tell him I made a mistake.”
“All right. I’ll handle it. Give me his name.”
Ellie flipped the card over. “Mac Carmichael.”
“Oh, damn.”
Oh damn?
“Oh, damn what?”
“Ellie, you’re stuck. He is a major pain in the butt, so not even finding him a real full-time maid would fix this. He’d never change a deal he’s already made. But he’s also somebody Cain’s been courting for years.”
“Courting?”
“His family owns hotels all over the world. Cain’s been trying to get in on the construction end. This might be a test for Cain.”
Ellie lowered her forehead to her palm. “Which is probably why my intuition wouldn’t let me tell him no.”
“I’m guessing,” Ava agreed. “Okay, here’s what we’ll do. It doesn’t matter where I work, so I’ll forward my calls to the Happy Maids office and handle your phone and walk-ins during the day. Then we’ll spend an hour or so together every night doing the day’s paperwork.”
“You’d do that for me?”
“Of course! This isn’t just Happy Maids on the line. It’s also Cain’s business and I’m Cain’s assistant. I have to do whatever needs to be done. Beside, I like you.”
Ellie laughed. “Okay.”
“Okay? Miss Magic, it will be more than okay. We will make it great. You’ll do such a good job for Mac that you’ll earn all kind of brownie points for Liz and Happy Maids, and you might just get Cain the “in” with Carmichael Incorporated that he’s been lobbying for for the past years.”
Elllie sat up. “Yeah. You’re right. This is a good thing.”
“This is potentially a very good thing,” Ava agreed. “And I will do anything at all you need me to do.”
“Handling the office during the day should be all the help I need.”
“I’ll be over in an hour.”
“Bring a key because I have to leave right now. Mr. Carmichael wants me at his house in--” She glanced down at the card again -- “Coral Gables in an hour and I need to pack a bag if I’m going to be living there.”
“You better get a move on.”
“Okay. And Ava?”
“Yes.”
Ellie winced. “You might want to stop on your way and buy a tank top and shorts.”
Ava laughed. “How about if I just call an HVAC repairman?”
“That’ll do it, too. I’ll see you tonight.”
Mac Carmichael raced his Bentley along the winding streets of Coral Gables and onto his driveway. He stopped at the gate, punched a code into the box on the left, opening the gate, and then roared up the stone drive to the side of his huge house. The garage door opened with another press of a button and he zipped inside. As the door closed behind him, he hopped out of his car, walked through the garage, into the butler’s pantry then into the huge gourmet kitchen.
His blond-haired six-year-old daughter Lacy sat at the long weathered-wood table by the French doors, coloring. Nine-month-old son Henry sat in a high chair beside her. His former nanny and current next door neighbor, Mrs. Pomeroy, wiped baby food off his mouth with a wet cloth.
“How did it go?”
He sighed. “Well, I found someone.”
“Great.”
“I’m not sure. She’s--” Tall and blonde and so good looking he damned near turned around and sought out another agency. “Well, she seems a little spacey.”
Eighty-year-old Elmira Pomeroy laughed. “Spacey? Is she a drinker?”
“No, she’s just--” Inappropriately dressed, too pretty for words – “Kind of odd.”
“Are you sure you want her around your kids?”
“She’s not that kind of odd. Besides, I don’t have a
choice. I need total and complete privacy. I can’t risk hiring a big impersonal firm or someone who doesn’t need me enough to keep her silence.”
“You think she’s made the connection yet that if she does well her boss’s husband could make millions?”
He tossed his suit coat over the back of a chair. “I’m hoping. If she hasn’t yet, one call to anybody in Cain’s office will get her the info. That should be the carrot on the stick that keeps her here long enough for me to find someone.” He leaned in over Lacy. “Hey, baby. What are you doing?”
She gave him a patient look. “Coloring.”
“Why don’t you put on your swimsuit and we’ll take a dip while Mrs. Pomeroy is still here for Henry.”
Her heart-shaped face wreathed in smiles. Her blue eyes danced with delight. “Okay!”
She raced from the room and Mac pulled Henry from his high chair. “And how are you today?”
Yellow-haired, blue-eyed Henry slapped a chubby fist on his father’s cheek.
“Feisty, I see.”
“You better believe he’s been feisty.” Mrs. Pomeroy took his bottle from the warmer and tested the temperature. “I’m not sure if he tired himself out enough that he’ll fall asleep immediately after he drinks this or if he’s too wound up to sleep at all.”
“If you have any problems, come and get me from the pool.”
Mrs. Pomeroy’s wrinkled face fell in sympathetic lines. “No. You take the time with Lacy. You both could use a few minutes of fun.”
“I’m fine. I don’t want to shirk my responsibility to the kids.”
“You’re a good dad.”
He pulled in a breath and turned away, trying to make light of her compliment. “I only do what any father should do.”
That was why it never would have even crossed his mind to desert his children the way their mother had. He couldn’t believe any person would be so narcissistic that she’d abandon her kids just because a second child had been inconvenient to her career. Pamela had been so angry to be pregnant again when she’d read the results of her early pregnancy test that she’d packed a bag, left him and filed for divorce within days. She returned to Hollywood, California, where she immediately resurrected her movie career.
Nine months later, she handed Henry over to Mac. She visited once a month, saying it was difficult to fly across the country anymore than that. But on her last visit she told Mac she might not be able to visit in July. The movie she had made while pregnant with Henry was being released and she would be making the rounds of talk shows promoting it. Mac tried not to panic but he couldn’t help it. If anybody asked Pamela about her divorce or her kids, he had absolutely no idea what she’d say. But he did know that if she mentioned their names, he and the kids would become fodder for the paparazzi.
He’d lived his entire life with bodyguards, alarm systems and armor-plated limos. He’d thought he knew how it felt to live under lock and key, but that was nothing compared to living in a fishbowl. As the ex-husband of a movie star with custody of that movie star’s kids, protection and visibility had risen to a whole new level. Not only were his kids targets for kidnappers and extortionists because of his money, but their mother’s career could put their faces on the front page of every tabloid in the world. He’d had to go to extreme measures to protect them, and even with those measures in place he wasn’t quite sure they were safe.
“You’re thinking about that crappy wife of yours again aren’t you?”
“No.”
Mrs. P. laughed. “Right. You always scowl before a morning of fun with your daughter in the pool.” Satisfied with the temperature of the milk in Henry’s bottle, she took Henry from Mac’s arms. “You know what you need? A good woman to replace the crappy one.”
Mac laughed. “It will be a cold frosty day in hell before I trust another woman.”
Mrs. P. harrumphed as she headed for the door. “Don’t let one bad apple spoil the whole bunch.”
Lacy skipped into the room, dressed in a bright blue one-piece swimsuit. Mac lifted her into his arms. It was very easy for Mrs. P. to spout quaint sayings, quite another for Mac to heed their advice. Pamela had broken Lacy’s heart when she left. Henry would know a mother who only popped in when the spirit moved her. Mac couldn’t risk the hearts of his children a second time.
Ellie debated sliding into one of her Happy Maids uniforms. Nothing said hired help better than a bright yellow ruffled apron and a hairnet. But Mac had suggested she wear jeans and she wasn’t taking any chances. If she had to endure being a full-time maid, then she intended for Cain to get the recommendation into Carmichael Incorporated. The best way to do that would be to follow Mac’s instructions to the letter.
She slowed her car as she wound through the streets of Coral Gables looking for the address scrawled on the back of the business card. Finally finding the property, she turned onto the driveway only to be face-to-face with an iron gate. She rolled down her car window, pressed a button marked “visitors” on a small stand just within reach of her car and watched as a camera zoomed in on her. She expected a voice to come through the little box, asking for identification. Instead, within seconds, the gate opened.
Good grief. How rich was this guy?
Slowly maneuvering up the wide stone driveway that was a beautiful yellow, not brick red or brown or even gray, but beautiful butterscotch yellow, Ellie swiveled her head from side-to-side, taking in the landscaping. Trees stood behind the black iron fence that surrounded the huge front yard, increasing the privacy. Flower gardens filled with red, yellow and orange hibiscus sprang up in no particular order, brightening the green grass with splashes of color. But it was the house that caused her mouth to fall open. Butterscotch yellow stucco, with rich cocoa brown trim and columns that rose to the flat roof overhang, and a sparkling glass front door, the house was unlike anything she’d seen.
She followed the stone driveway around to the side where she found cocoa-brown garage doors and a less auspicious entryway than the front door. She parked her car and got out.
Oppressive heat and humidity buffeted her, making her tank top and jeans feel like a snowmobile suit. The sounds of someone splashing in a pool caught her attention and she walked around back and stopped. Her mouth gaped.
Rows of wide, flat steps made of the same butterscotch-colored stone as in the driveway led from a wall of French doors in the back of the house to an in-ground pool. Shiny butterscotch-colored tiles intermingled with blue and beige tiles, rimming the pool and also creating a walkway that led to a patio of the same stone as the stairs. Behind the patio was a huge gazebo – big enough for a party, not merely a yard decoration – and beyond the grassy backyard was the canal where a bright white yacht was docked.
“Ellie?”
She glanced at the pool again. Mac Carmichael was swimming with a little girl of around six, probably his daughter.
She edged toward them. Trying to sound confident she said, “Hi.”
The little blonde wearing water wings waved shyly.
Mac wiped both hands down his face and headed for the ladder in the shallow water on the far side of the pool. “I’ll be right with you.”
She wanted to say, “Take your time,” or “Don’t get out on my account. I’ll find my way to the kitchen,” but the sight of Mac pulling himself onto the ladder stopped her cold. His dark swimming trunks clung wetly to his firm behind. Water pulled them down, causing them to slip as he climbed the ladder. By the time he got out of the pool his trunks clung precariously to his lean hips. He walked to a beige-and-white-flowered chaise and grabbed a huge towel.
“You got here quickly.”
She stared. With the blue skies of Florida as a backdrop, his eyes turned a color closer to topaz. Water ran in rivulets down the black hair on his chest. His still-dripping swimming trucks hung onto his hips for dear life.
“I…um…” She cleared her throat as attraction rumbled through her. It had been so long that she’d been overwhelmingly attracted to a man that she’d missed the symptoms. But here they were. Sweaty palms. Stuttering heart. Inability to form a coherent sentence.
Now she knew why her intuition wouldn’t let her allow Mac to leave the Happy Maids office. It wasn’t because of Cain. It was because she was attracted to Mac.
Telling herself not to panic, she could handle one little attraction, she smiled. Her intuition might have brought her here for a frivolous reason, but once Ava had told her about Cain wanting an “in” with Mac, she knew she couldn’t back out. Liz had saved her when she desperately needed someone. Now she finally had a chance to repay the favor. This was a mission. “I just had to run home to put on jeans and pack a bag.”
He motioned to the steps. “You go on up. It’s too hot for you to stand out here in this heat in those jeans. As soon as I get Lacy from the pool I’ll be in.”
This time she could say, “No hurry. I’ll be fine,” because she seriously needed a minute alone to compose herself. How did one man get so lucky as to not only be rich and live in a house that took her breath away, but also be so good looking he rivaled the pristine Florida sky?
“Just go up the stairs and turn left, into the kitchen. We’ll be there in a minute.”
She nodded and started up the steps, feeling as if she were walking the stairs to a museum or some other prestigious building rather than someone’s residence. Of course, she wasn’t exactly well versed in what a “normal” home should look like. She’d grown up in foster homes until she was seventeen when she ran away. Then she’d slept on the streets and fought tooth and nail just to find something to eat each day until she met Sam. She’d stayed with him, enduring increasing verbal and emotional abuse until the night the abuse became physical. Then she’d run. A Friend Indeed couldn’t take her in because they were a charity chartered to care for women with children, but Liz had offered her her couch and ultimately a job. After four years with Happy Maids, interacting with Liz and the friends she’d made through A Friend Indeed, she was only now coming to understand what normal relationships were.
So, she could forgive herself for being a tad awestruck by this house. She might clean for Miami’s elite but this guy was in a class by himself, and from the outside, his house absolutely looked like a museum.
Pushing open the second door of the four French doors lining the back wall of the house, she found herself standing between a huge kitchen on the left and a comfy family room on the right. Decorated with an overstuffed brown leather sofa and chairs with shiny cherry wood end tables and a huge flat-screen TV between bookcases that ran along the entire back wall, that part of the open floor plan appeared to be where the family did most of their living.
That she liked.
But only a few steps into the kitchen, she swallowed hard. The stove had eight burners. The refrigerator was actually hidden behind panels of the same cherry wood as the cabinets. Copper pots and pans hung from a rack above the stove. Pale salmon-colored granite countertops accented the rich cabinets. A sink with a tall copper faucet sat in the middle of the center island and another sat in a counter along a far wall. Crystal gleamed behind the glass doors of all the cabinets on the right wall.
She looked around in awe. She’d been in kitchens almost as elaborate as this one. She did, after all, clean for some fairly wealthy people. But men in Mac’s caliber weren’t wealthy. They were beyond wealthy. They didn’t hire weekly cleaning services. They had full-time employees and gourmet kitchens big enough to cook food for parties attended by hundreds of people. As a Happy Maid she only cleaned, didn’t cook for any of her clients.
She glanced around again, her mouth slightly open, fear tightening her chest.
She grabbed the cell phone she had stashed in her jeans pocket and hit a speed dial number.
“Ava, I think I’m gonna need a cook book.”
***
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