Susan Meier's Blog - Posts Tagged "small-town"
Excerpt for Head over Heels for the Boss
He started to say, “I have a lot of work—” just as Izzy walked in the front door, and his mouth fell open. Her hair had been swept up on one side, pinned back by a pink flower. Nothing too big. Just the right size to look kind of sexy. His gaze skimmed down over a pink sparkly dress that stopped mid-thigh—and she had the legs for it. Now, not only was he dealing with the fact that she wasn’t a kid anymore, he was seeing her as a gorgeous, sexy woman. It was as if someone had waved a magic wand and she’d changed overnight.
Mary Louise stiffened. “Oh, look, it’s Izzy.”
Devon said, “Belle.”
“Excuse me?”
“She likes to be called Belle.”
Mary Louise shot him a look of confusion.
Ellie said, “She works for us now.”
Piper said, “Yeah, and that extra seat is for her.”
Mary Louise glanced at Devon. He raised his hands helplessly, though he was abundantly glad he wouldn’t have to sit by her.
Always polite, Mary Louise said, “Well, it was nice to see
you.” She took a slow breath and renewed her smile as she
glanced at his brothers and their wives, his mom and Bob. “It
was nice to see all of you.”
As she walked away, he glanced at the front of the hall and saw Isabelle again. She greeted the bride and groom, signed the guest book and walked over to their table. Her shiny pink dress shimmered as she walked. Her legs were works of art.
“Hi, everybody.”
Cade, Finn and Bob rose. It took a second for Devon to get his bearings, then he scrambled to his feet. He couldn’t believe he was so shell-shocked that he forgot his manners.
“Hey, Izzy.”
She met his gaze with a soft smile. “It’s Belle, remember?”
He swallowed. Hadn’t he just corrected Mary Louise?
Why was his mind suddenly a big, empty hole? “Right. Belle.”
“We have an extra seat,” Ellie said, pointing to the empty chair beside him. “Why don’t you join us?”
His mom said, “Yes, Izzy. Join us.”
He noticed that she didn’t correct his mom about the name, but somehow that only made her request that he call her Belle hotter. Like a pet name. Or a term of endearment you’d have for a lover.
No! What the hell was happening to his brain? Yes, he took lovers. He had affairs. But Isabelle Cooper—cute little green-thumbed tomboy Izzy—was not the kind of girl to be somebody’s lover.
She smiled that pretty smile again and all the blood in Devon’s body whooshed through him. Resisting the urge to drop his head to his hands, he reminded himself that it might take a bit of work, but he would control himself.
Isabelle said, “Thanks. I think I will join you.” She walked around the table to the empty chair beside him.
Remembering his manners, he pulled the chair out for her. Even the way she sat was pretty. Delicate. Sensual. He’d have never in a million years expected this from the girl who usually dressed like a farmer. But she was no farmer tonight.
She wasn’t even an office worker. She was just a beautiful woman.
He tugged his collar away from his throat, took a breath and sat beside her.
Mary Louise stiffened. “Oh, look, it’s Izzy.”
Devon said, “Belle.”
“Excuse me?”
“She likes to be called Belle.”
Mary Louise shot him a look of confusion.
Ellie said, “She works for us now.”
Piper said, “Yeah, and that extra seat is for her.”
Mary Louise glanced at Devon. He raised his hands helplessly, though he was abundantly glad he wouldn’t have to sit by her.
Always polite, Mary Louise said, “Well, it was nice to see
you.” She took a slow breath and renewed her smile as she
glanced at his brothers and their wives, his mom and Bob. “It
was nice to see all of you.”
As she walked away, he glanced at the front of the hall and saw Isabelle again. She greeted the bride and groom, signed the guest book and walked over to their table. Her shiny pink dress shimmered as she walked. Her legs were works of art.
“Hi, everybody.”
Cade, Finn and Bob rose. It took a second for Devon to get his bearings, then he scrambled to his feet. He couldn’t believe he was so shell-shocked that he forgot his manners.
“Hey, Izzy.”
She met his gaze with a soft smile. “It’s Belle, remember?”
He swallowed. Hadn’t he just corrected Mary Louise?
Why was his mind suddenly a big, empty hole? “Right. Belle.”
“We have an extra seat,” Ellie said, pointing to the empty chair beside him. “Why don’t you join us?”
His mom said, “Yes, Izzy. Join us.”
He noticed that she didn’t correct his mom about the name, but somehow that only made her request that he call her Belle hotter. Like a pet name. Or a term of endearment you’d have for a lover.
No! What the hell was happening to his brain? Yes, he took lovers. He had affairs. But Isabelle Cooper—cute little green-thumbed tomboy Izzy—was not the kind of girl to be somebody’s lover.
She smiled that pretty smile again and all the blood in Devon’s body whooshed through him. Resisting the urge to drop his head to his hands, he reminded himself that it might take a bit of work, but he would control himself.
Isabelle said, “Thanks. I think I will join you.” She walked around the table to the empty chair beside him.
Remembering his manners, he pulled the chair out for her. Even the way she sat was pretty. Delicate. Sensual. He’d have never in a million years expected this from the girl who usually dressed like a farmer. But she was no farmer tonight.
She wasn’t even an office worker. She was just a beautiful woman.
He tugged his collar away from his throat, took a breath and sat beside her.
Small Town Love and my real life
Today, Small Town Love, my book from Tule releases. I'm proud of this book for many reasons, not the least of which is I wrote it immediately after Michael died. We had a tight deadline, and I was part of a four-book mini-series...to bail on this project would have meant letting a lot of people down...Including Mikie. He was a stickler for keeping commitments.
So how did I write a romance when my heart was breaking? I made it funny. I took myself away from the emotions of the moment and turned in the exact opposite direction. I wanted to cry. I forced myself to laugh.
At a certain point in the writing process, I realized this book had gone from a responsibility to a respite from grief. If you've ever experienced a loss of the magnitude of losing a child, you probably realize that finding a place of mental rest is an absolute necessity.
This silly, wonderful story became that place for me.
When I was proofing it, I realized that that's what our books are supposed to do. I'd never specifically written one to become MY sanctuary before. But I'd always written my stories with an eye toward transporting my readers to another world.
We think what we do doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things. I now know it does because I lived it firsthand. For the weeks it took me to write this story, I had a lovely place to go, friends -- albeit that they were fictional -- a twelve-year-old who needed me and a romance.
No one advocates living in fictional worlds all the time. But it was oh so lovely to have this respite when I desperately needed one.
So if you write romances, don't downplay what you do and its value. If you're a reader, enjoy. Your heart, your brain and your nervous system all need the few hours of being swept away.
I'd love it if you would buy and read SMALL TOWN LOVE.
So how did I write a romance when my heart was breaking? I made it funny. I took myself away from the emotions of the moment and turned in the exact opposite direction. I wanted to cry. I forced myself to laugh.
At a certain point in the writing process, I realized this book had gone from a responsibility to a respite from grief. If you've ever experienced a loss of the magnitude of losing a child, you probably realize that finding a place of mental rest is an absolute necessity.
This silly, wonderful story became that place for me.
When I was proofing it, I realized that that's what our books are supposed to do. I'd never specifically written one to become MY sanctuary before. But I'd always written my stories with an eye toward transporting my readers to another world.
We think what we do doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things. I now know it does because I lived it firsthand. For the weeks it took me to write this story, I had a lovely place to go, friends -- albeit that they were fictional -- a twelve-year-old who needed me and a romance.
No one advocates living in fictional worlds all the time. But it was oh so lovely to have this respite when I desperately needed one.
So if you write romances, don't downplay what you do and its value. If you're a reader, enjoy. Your heart, your brain and your nervous system all need the few hours of being swept away.
I'd love it if you would buy and read SMALL TOWN LOVE.
