First-look Friday: An excerpt from my latest work-in-progress

This is from my latest novel, which is untitled. Julia Emerson is a catering chef, and she loves her job - the food, the people, the atmosphere... You met Julia and her friends here - and today, here's an insight into the folks Julia works with:

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Scandalous...magnets?

I received a pretty fantastic gift from my sister for my birthday last month. It's cringe-worthy yet hysterical, inspiring yet horrifying.

It's....Magnetic Poetry.

Now, it's not just any Magnetic Poetry set. Sure, there are the typical words, such as his, her, the, a, is, have. But with this set, there's so, so much more. For example...

Yeah, you read that right. "His body intertwined with her uncharted continent, but he secretly longed for his mistress."

SCANDALOUS!

(I'm giggling like a schoolgirl.)

So, random romance novel, er, poetry (for lack of a better word) will be showing up here and there, at random. 

Oh, don't thank me. Thank my sister. :)

(Wand of pleasure? Really?! Fantastic...
And I haven't even begun to scratch the surface of these!)

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A new season, a new book...

This new book I've got percolating in my head (and that I've started getting down on paper) is about a Boston catering professional and the son of a New England farmer - a farm boy with a city edge...and a one-night stand that may end up as a happily-ever-after, if the two of them could just stop arguing long enough for nature to take its course!

The caterer, Julia Emerson, has these three best friends - Gina, a down-to-earth lingerie model (she's pretty awesome), Rachel, an ASPCA worker who can't help but rescue every animal she can, and Hayley, a schoolteacher at a local prep school who is calm and rational (until her friends get her liquored up). Don't they sound fun? Well, they are. They talk so fast to each other that I can barely keep up on the keyboard!

Here's one of their many conversations. This was one of their rapid-fire conversations - keeping up with them is a challenge, but I admit that it's the most fun I've had with characters in awhile. In this part-of-a-scene, they're leaving their after-dinner drink establishment and walking down Newbury St in Boston.

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"I am going to set you up," Gina announced.

"Oh God, no," the three of us chimed.

I took the lead. "No, G, really. That's a bad idea. I don't want to date a model. No offense. I've decided I want to marry Rach."

"Me?" Rachel looked inordinately pleased.

"Definitely. You clean, I cook. You take me to animal society events, and I make crème brûlée for you to eat late at night."

"Keep talking, Emerson," Rachel encouraged as we gathered up our belongings and headed out. "I'm halfway in love with you already."

"What about the sex?" Gina asked, completely ignoring the myriad amounts of drool she elicited from the various men we passed. I loved that about her.

"No sex," I said simply. "Too much drama when you add sex into it."

"My answer is yes," Rachel informed me. "Hey, we're engaged!" she yelled to a passer-by. He gave her the double thumbs-up, and we linked arms triumphantly.

"It's true that I'd totally choose you for my wife," I informed Rachel, considering, "but maybe I'd need Gina for sex on the side."

"What about me?" Hayley exclaimed. "And you just said no sex!"

"I reconsidered," I replied matter-of-factly.

"We'd be closet lovers, Hale," Rachel said, linking her other arm with Hayley. "You'd have a hard time coming out because of society's standards, but I still support you."

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You asked for it...

I am flattered (and secretly a little thrilled) that I've had so many requests for more first-look content! After much thought, I think I can share one of my favorite scenes in Mists of Fate. Enjoy :)

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     Slamming the solar door behind her, Brianagh threw her hands on her hips. "Might I remind you that you are not my keeper?" She took a step closer. "You offer me refuge, then abandon me to the walls of your castle. Then, because my teeth hurt, I search and search for you so I can fire your cook and get someone in here who knows what she's doing."

     "Teeth," he replied blankly. "Fire a cook?"

     "Don't play word games with me right now," she replied angrily. He blinked and took a step back; she closed the gap. Poking him in the chest, she continued, "You're ensuring that I live in absolute hell during this arrangement, and you think you can treat me like I'm one of your servants?" She glared at him, spitting fire and fury. "I have a newsflash, my laird. I am not your servant. You aren't making any effort to show your clan that we're anything but mortal enemies!"

     Nioclas was fascinated by the fullness of her bottom lip. Really, he shouldn't be; he was beyond furious when he'd learned Donovan had taken her from the castle walls with such inadequate protection. But her lips were there, and though she was spouting nonsense, her voice was familiar to him (even upset, as it were). Her tirade continued, each word accented by her small finger in his chest, and, without warning, Nioclas shoved his hands into her hair and covered her mouth with his. 

     It was as if he had come home. 

     Melting against him, the fight left her body as her arms lifted, settling on his shoulders as he continued his ruthless assault. He angled her head, deepening the kiss; she moaned into his mouth, and he felt a flare of triumph at her acquiescence.

     He smiled inwardly. She responded to him; it was enough to start with.

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First-look Friday 4/5/13

Today's excerpt is from Mists of Time (Aidan and Emma's story).  Comments are so appreciated - don't be shy, be verbose!

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     His smile was slow and seductive. “First, there’s never reason to be afraid when you’re with me. Second, I don’t know anyone – man or woman – who would have dealt with your situation with as much grace; your entire world has been turned around, yet here you are, the consummate professional, going into the most anticipated auction with the world’s wealthy elite, as if you've been doing it your whole life. After being sacked, then ransacked...here you are. Funny, witty, refreshingly direct...beautiful, poised, and confident.” He sat back, the lines of his tux outlining his powerful arms, sex appeal radiating from him in waves. He raised an eyebrow at her. “That’s the Emma Perkins I see.”

     Emma simply stared at him, transfixed. His face was deadly serious, and she had the distinct impression that he wasn't giving her lip service. A delicate shudder ran up her spine...and she was lost.

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Similar Posts:

Mists of Time, Book 2 in the Time Passage Series

First-look Friday 3/15/13

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First-look Friday 3/29/13

Today, I have some more great news - Avon published the first chapter of my second book to their site!!

Mists of Time, Passage Series #2

You may have already read this back on March 15, but go on over to the site and, once you (re)read the excerpt, click the Love this post! link (highlighted below), and share it on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest and/or Tumblr. And please comment in the Comments section both on the Avon site and here on the blog. 

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First-look Friday 3/22/13

Yesterday was a great day. GREAT day. My website was launched (I've linked to it at the top of the page, but you can also just click here. I also posted the first chapter to the first book in my Time Passage Series, Mists of Fate, to the Avon Community!! 

So today, here is your first glimpse of the book that started this whole fabulous journey:

Mists of Fate, Passage Series #1

Please head over there, read the excerpt, click the Love this post! link, and share it on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, or Tumblr. And please comment in the comments section both here on the blog AND on the Avon Community site. 

Thanks for reading! Today is going to be a great day, too...I can feel it!

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First-look Friday 3/15/13

This is a bit late, but...better late than never. I'm in a push to get this novel completed; I think it's my best yet, and it's a culmination of 17 years of nearly non-stop writing. All my practice, professionalism, vocabulary choices...every line in this book has been analyzed, re-analyzed, shortened. I don't want any excess in there...just the story. And the less "filler" words, the more story. I'm all about a good book.

Another excerpt - enjoy a glimpse into Aidan!

                Aidan followed Emma through the doors of The W and gave a swift nod to the doorman. He allowed himself a smug smile; she had no idea that he already knew much more about her than she could imagine. Although he would be the first to admit that, in person, Emma Perkins wasn’t at all what he was expecting. He imagined her to be older then he, and perhaps sterner, more like his nursemaid growing up, yet she looked to be in her late twenties. Her hair was a lighter shade of brown than his, and the entire ride over he was oddly bothered by the fact that he could not make out the color of her eyes. Her professional demeanor was well-practiced; if he hadn’t been watching for it, he wouldn’t have noticed her admiring glances. And he was quite impressed with her redirection of the conversation; every time he had strayed too close to what was potentially personal, she flipped it back on him and got him talking again. He allowed it because he was aware of it, but he admired it because he needed it.

                There were no pictures of her anywhere – none on the web, or her company’s website, or even social media. Her clientele list was small...but unfortunately for her, they were not the most indiscreet. She, however, kept the lowest profile he’d ever seen – aside, of course, from his own. He wondered if that was what made her so good at her job; her client’s “misdeeds,” as she called them, were fixed almost immediately. Most people didn’t even know the transgression happened at all, or it was turned on its head into something positive.

                He wondered how she would turn the latest “misdeed” into something positive. Especially as it affected her so personally.

                “I’ll wait in the lobby,” she said as they approached the elevator. She turned to him her polite smile again. “If you – ”

                “Nay,” he cut in smoothly. “I’d prefer if you came to the suite. I don’t like leaving a woman alone in the lobby of a hotel.” He noticed her eyes then – a deep, vibrant blue. As he studied them more intently, he revised his original thought: Her eyes were almost purple, like the fields of wild heather that were so plentiful back home –

                “I do not go to clients' hotel rooms,” she said in an impressively no-nonsense-yet-apologetic way, snapping his attention away from the color of her eyes and ruminations of his homeland. “If we must, we can return to my office.”

                He almost smiled, but checked himself. Well done, Ms. Perkins.

                “Ms. Perkins, we just spent an hour in the car, where if we had walked it would’ve taken but a quarter of the time. Pray, do not force me back to your office. My hotel suite is secure enough to discuss the contract, and Cian can accompany us.”

                “Your driver?” she asked. “I assume he’s signed this contract as well.” At his raised eyebrow, she added, “Mr. MacWilliam, it’s a vital part of my job to know who knows what about you. Especially hired help."

                He smirked. Oh, Cian would laugh heartily at that title. “Of course, Ms. Perkins.” He was relatively certain that sworn fealty was more binding than some scrap of paper, but he resisted the urge to mention it.

                “Alright,” she agreed, and he knew it was because her boss had told her to do what was necessary to secure his account. But that’s how he planned it.

                “After you,” he murmured as the elevator doors slid open silently. He followed her in and hit the button.  “Cian will join us in a moment.” He sighed. “I much prefer stairs to these things. Do you have an elevator in your residence?”

                “When it works, yes. But it’s broken most of the time. Do you plan to move to New York City, Mr. MacWilliam?”

                “Not permanently,” he replied, leaning casually against the handrail. “I need somewhere in the US to conduct my business. But I cannot leave Ireland for long.” When she looked up at him , a slightly encouraging and inquisitive look on her face, he gave her a small, self-deprecating smile. “It’s too busy. I can’t imagine one can see the stars very well from this place.” Her mouth dropped open slightly, and he wondered just what he said that cracked her professional façade. He enjoyed the ride over, the way she deftly moved the conversation to him and kept it there despite his efforts. She had a myriad of topics she drew on to keep the conversation flowing effortlessly...but it had not escaped his notice that those topics were meant to draw information out of him while revealing nothing of her.

                That quality alone made his decision easier; in fact, that was the exact reason he had Cian send those photographs of her fiancé to her. He needed Emma Perkins’ undivided attention and trust...and, as a man who hated leaving anything to chance, he knew what was necessary to ensure success in all his endeavors.

                “I’ll be but a moment,” he said, showing her to the seating area in front of marble fireplace. She sat on the sofa and waited as he walked down a short hallway, into the bedroom. Silently closing the door behind him, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and stared at it for a moment, weighing his decision. Taking a deep breath, Aidan let it out slowly. Seven years. It had taken seven years to figure out who she was, and then how to best convince her to come with him. It wasn’t going to be pretty, but he was bordering on desperate. He couldn’t abandon his plans now simply because he met her; hell, wasn’t that the whole point?

He punched in the phone number. “Do it.”

He hung up the phone, and, ignoring the slight twist in his gut, reminded himself that it was all for his clan.

Nothing else could matter.

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First-look Friday 3/8/13

This is the book I think I'll be pitching at the huge Writer's Digest conference I'm attending in April. I can't wait - it's going to be incredible and will provide me with some really great feedback, inspiration and information for making this a full-time, fulfilling career. Exciting? Seems too mild of a word for it, really...

This is my first time making my content publicly available. I'd say be nice, but the reality of it is, nice doesn't make one a better writer. So have at it. Use the (virtual) red pen and tell me if you want to know what comes next!

Chapter One

At some point, her wine glass had emptied itself.

Emma Perkins gave it a small frown. It had been doing that all night, but she refused to be bothered by it. She just refilled it from the bottle that was sitting obediently next to her on the small table on her tiny little terrace.

She squinted at the bottle. It was mostly empty - when did that happen? She must've swigged - er, sipped - more than she thought. She couldn't bring herself to care, though. She hadn't had a night off in forever. Who was anyone to judge her for indulging a bit? Certainly no one of her acquaintance. It wasn't like she even had any friends, much less a social life. She didn't have time for any of that; her clients had enough of those to keep her busy for years. She put every ounce of herself into being a great publicist; she could smooth over any situation her clients found themselves in. And the last one was quite the situation, seeing as her biggest (and most famous) client was photographed with someone other than her equally-famous husband.

As far as Emma Perkins (one of many publicists for Price Publicity) was concerned, it didn't matter who the man in the photographs was. But as far as Emma Perkins (engaged to the man in those same photographs) was concerned, it mattered very much indeed.

Looking out over the crowded street below, she closed her eyes briefly. She loved working in New York City, but she absolutely hated living in it. She could never escape the constant noise, people, congestion. It was a never-ending barrage of busy lives, all colliding in a few square miles. But she had to live there; she had to be available to meet her clients at all times. Little things like cheating on one's husband - or fiancée - never happened during regular business hours.

She took another swig of wine as her phone rang.

"’Lo?" she answered, peering into the wine glass.

"Emma - we have a crisis."

Emma took another swallow of her wine before answering her assistant. Her tongue felt a little fuzzy. "Alicia, I'm not working tonight."

"Are you drunk?" she asked. Emma could almost see her assistant's brow furrow, as if she couldn't possibly fathom the prim-and-proper Emma Perkins getting drunk. By herself.

On a Wednesday night.

"Nah,” Emma pffted.

"Oh my God. You are drunk."

"Why are you calling me, Alicia?"

"Because you need to be in the office tomorrow morning at seven. I was checking my email --"

"You really do work too much," Emma interrupted.

"So says the pot to the kettle," she scoffed. "Listen, a hi-pri came into your inbox almost an hour ago. We've all been waiting for your response."

Emma's fuzzy brain tried to snap to attention at the mention of a high priority email, but it just wasn't working right. "A hi-pri? From Joshua?" Her boss was a nice guy. He'd understand if she didn’t answer right away. She took another large sip.

"Um, no," Alicia replied. "It's from Mr. Price."

Emma stood up quickly, choking on her wine. Putting a hand over her eyes to stop the spinning, she managed, "Mr. Price, as in, Mr. Price, the owner?"

"That's the one." She could almost see Alicia nodding. She continued, "Em, you need to stop drinking and get yourself together. Mr. Price wants to see you and Joshua in his office at 7:30am. This new client - he demanded you and you only. He’s refusing to deal with anyone else...even Mr. Price."

"Oh God."

"Exactly."

Mr. Price hated when clients refused to deal with him directly. Especially big clients. And if they requested someone not in the top-tier of management...her life would be hell to pay if she didn't show up to that meeting. "Alicia, respond to that email. I will be there. Tell them I'm with a client right now or something."

"Just sent it," Alicia replied. "I'll meet you outside the office at 6:30."

"Okay," Emma replied with a sigh, ruefully pouring her wine into the plastic potted palm on the terrace. "I hope I'm not hungover tomorrow."

"Here's what you're going to do. Tonight, take two aspirin and drink an entire glass of water before you go to bed. Trust me on this," Alicia said knowingly. "In the morning, you're going to drink a small glass of orange juice. No coffee."

"What?!"

"Trust me, Emma. This is my Monday morning routine."

"I'm glad I don't live your life," Emma grumbled.

Alicia laughed. "No you aren't. But do what I say, I promise it works. Keep it simple, right?"

Emma smiled a little. That was her mantra for her clients - keep everything simple. Simple press releases, simple statements.

If only real life worked like that.

"Good night, Alicia. I'll see you in the morning."

"G'night. Say hi to Ben for me."

And just like that, Emma's smile disappeared. She hung up the phone and slumped back down in her chair. She couldn't take even one night off from her crazy career. It always came first; everyone always needed something from her. She shrugged her shoulders. She didn't need anything from anyone. She was a strong, independent career woman on her way to the top. It felt good to be on top of her game. When she threw Ben out of their tiny apartment on the Upper West Side a couple of weeks ago, it felt freeing. His stuff - which was actually not as much as she would've thought - followed him into the hall. He was screaming at her, telling her that her lack of attention forced him to look elsewhere, that her career came before he did. That she'd be sorry she kicked him out.

She blinked back her tears. It didn't matter that she didn't have any friends or family anymore. She had an important meeting to get to in the morning about some hot-shot client. She gathered up her wine bottle, glass and phone purposefully, but paused for a moment. She looked up at the sky, wishing she could see the stars; but in the city, all she ever saw was the kind of star who demanded more and more of her.

Her phone buzzed with a text from Alicia, reminding her to take the aspirin. Emma put silly thoughts about the night sky out of her mind and, heading inside the empty apartment, tried to ignore the loneliness that threatened to overwhelm her.

                As Mr. Price left the office, Emma spun around and threw her hands on her hips. “So you’re telling me that a multi-millionaire – who no one’s ever even heard of  - has simply ‘decided’ that he wants me as his personal PR rep?” she asked skeptically, her head tilted slightly and her eyebrow raised. “I know there’s quiet money all over the place. But someone who claims to be this wealthy – from a tiny little island known for its sheep and green hills? To not be known at all?” She shook her head. “It doesn’t add up.”

                Her boss shrugged. “There are plenty of eccentric folks out there,” he replied. “And he specifically requested that you be the one to assist him.”

                Emma rolled her eyes. “You mean demanded. But I still don’t get why. I’m not the top publicist here.” At Joshua’s shrug, she sighed. It was well-known that their wealthiest clients wanted what they wanted, and that was that. “So you want me to meet with him tonight, take him to dinner, see what this is all about?”

                Joshua shrugged again, signing something on his desk and barely looking up. “Well, yes. The only other information I have is that he plans to check out the auction.”

                Emma didn’t see how that was important; Christie’s was having a special auction that many of the firm’s clients were attending.  A large collection of pristine, very rare, and very expensive medieval artifacts had been placed for auction by an anonymous source. Her firm – whose clientele ranged from celebrity to American pseudo-royalty – was managing a significant number of clients who wanted to fly in without notice from overseas to view the pieces in person. She was dying to see those artifacts; she loved anything and everything that was medieval. And Irish...she felt a shiver go down her spine at the thought of the accent. She loved the Irish accent –

To distract herself, she asked, “What do we know about him? What does he do?”

                It was Joshua’s turn to laugh. “I have no idea. Probably investments; he was fuzzy on the details. But as Mr. Price just told us, he was crystal clear on the fact that he wanted you as his rep, and instruction once he gets here.”

                Emma didn’t understand why he had focused in on her, but she welcomed the distraction. “Well, I don’t have any Irish clients,” Emma finally capitulated with a small smile, picking up the very slim manila envelope labeled Aidan MacWilliam.

                “You do now.”

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