Emily Duvall's Blog

Beginning August 9, get ready for a chance to win a free ebook of my latest book, All of Me, on Goodreads Giveaway! Good luck and happy reading.

Hi Good Morning, if anyone is ever interested in being a beta reader, please DM me with a current email address (for communication purposes only, I don't have a newsletter so I won't bombard you with stuff). I keep a list of interested readers/followers from various social websites and as I need book lovers to give comments and feedback, I go to that list first.

-Emily

My book giveaway for Winter's Heist is done, but if you're like me, I've never won a thing in my life (except a coupon, which I don't think counts), so I'm gifting 10 readers with an ebook (kindle version) copy of Winter's Heist. You need an Amazon account for me to gift it to you. First ten people to send me your email address to my Goodreads inbox will get it, just tell me you want Winter's Heist and I'll get your copy to you. Reviews & ratings on Amazon and Goodreads are kindly appreciated but not a criteria. Let's kick off the new year with some new reads.

Emily

Be the first to read my new winter read, a romantic suspense story set in an affluent suburb of Washington D.C. Enter the Goodreads Giveaway for your chance to win my new ebook!

Beautiful. Haunting. Rare. The Fabergé Eggs are on display at the Carter Museum of History and Science. Jason Hood, the museum’s pretentious owner, knows their value is bound to attract attention, but the coordinated attack on the exhibit is not something he saw coming.

A field trip to the museum for Amara Massey and her students takes a deadly turn. She finds herself at the center of a police investigation with few leads. Convinced Amara is withholding information, Jason pursues her to get the answers he cannot get on his own. The outcome neither of them expect is their surprising need for each other. What must they sacrifice to get everything they want? (less)

Christmas Eve rolled in with a thin layer of fog. He poured himself a glass of fifty-year-old whiskey and stood in front of the window, arms crossed over his chest. White lights twinkled on the trees lining the sidewalk down below. His family had called, asking him to reconsider his decision to be alone. He could have been anywhere else--charity events, fundraisers, drinks and dinners with friends...normally he’d look forward to busyness of the season. But this year was different. He was different. After his drink, he'd open his laptop and get lost in his work. That was his life now. And maybe he'd distract himself enough not to think about how over eager he must have sounded to ask Leah to spend this sacred evening with him.

The knock at the door caught him off-guard. His family, he thought, irritated. Of course they'd come anyway. With too much food and exuberance. He flung open the door. "You didn't have to come," he clipped.

“I didn’t mean to bother you, but you asked if I wanted to come over,” Leah said, looking up at him from her wheelchair, gorgeous and miserable all at once. “My Aunt is down stairs, if you've changed your mind?"

“I haven’t changed my mind," he said. "I thought you were my family. They--never mind. You're beautiful by the way."

She smiled weakly. "Everyone says I should hate you, but I don't. I've got a tough recovery in front of me. I can't promise I won't be resentful...and I can't promise you anything right now. But I'm here and I don't know if that's right or wrong or bad timing or what.”

Phillip grinned for the first time in months. He had a feeling about her and he wouldn't give up so easy. He stretched out his hand to take hers. "We can figure all of that out later. For now, come inside, let me take care of you. It is, after all, just one winter night."

***THE END***
Thank you for following along! This was so much fun. Ever since writing Back to You, I've always wanted to check back in on Phillip. And who knows if this is only one night for Phillip & Leah or...just the beginning. Time will tell. I'll repost the story to my website http://www.emilyduvall.com.

They talked for over an easy hour at the coffee shop. They said good-bye without exchanging numbers or promises to call. Phillip left wanting more. Wanting to know he'd see her again. Wanting to see that face again and those lips and eyes and just...more. But he was afraid that she might want him too and if she did, would it ever work? Would she always be resentful?

He certainly wasn’t expecting to see her the next day on a sidewalk on Wisconsin Avenue near the National Cathedral. The same older woman from that day in his office pushed Leah in her wheelchair. He asked the cab driver to pull over and let him out. The drinks he was supposed to have with his friends Alex and Olivia could wait.

“Leah!” he said, running up to her. “Hi,” he told the wheelchair-pusher. “Mind if I do this?”

“I’ll walk ahead of you,” the lady said to Leah and got out of his way with a scowl.

“Your mother?” he said, grinning.
“My aunt.”

“Is she always so pleasant?”

“She’s pushing me around in thirty-degree weather hoping we make it to my house before the snow starts. What do you want?”

“I’m sorry you can’t dance anymore. I know what it’s like to have your life ripped away from you. I didn't tell you that last night, but I wanted to." This time the apology was sincere. He meant it.

She sighed, then, “It’s okay, Phillip.”

“I want to make this okay for you. Please, let me take some financial responsibility.”

“I haven’t decided whether to sue you.”

He didn’t see the start of a smile on her lips. “I’d understand if you did.”

“The moment you hit me," she said, serious again. “Were you on your phone?”

“No. I’d just put it down.”

“You were distracted though.”

He stopped the wheelchair and met her around at the front to face her. “I’m paying attention now.”

Her aunt, who’d kept a good distance, turned and put her hand on her hip. “I need go," she said.

“I know this is going to sound sudden, but…” He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his business card. He opened the flap on her coat and tucked it inside.“If you’re not doing anything Christmas Eve…”

“I have plans,” she said, looking offended. “Don’t you?”

"I should get going too," he said. He did not have plans. Because he wasn’t celebrating this year. He wasn’t celebrating ever again.

One more post!

December inched closer to Christmas and Phillip couldn’t stop thinking about Leah and what he’d done. If she didn’t want his money or his apology, so be it. He’d just as soon forget about her, but the knot in his stomach, thick with guilt, ate away at him. He couldn’t stand that he’d been the catalyst for someone else’s unraveling.

He walked home from his office. The stretch of restaurants and businesses of the downtown looked busy and warm on the inside. The sight of his condo building came into view, a gray high rise set against a starry night sky.

A coffee shop on the corner, one of his favorites, came into view and he decided to grab a cup. Upon entering, he stopped and cursed under his breath. Leah in her wheelchair poised in front of a table. She looked up from her menu. Their eyes met. Damn. She did something to him. It wasn’t like it had been with Allison. Everything between them had been…neat and shallow, but looking at Leah with anger in her eyes and her lips pouted in annoyance, she seemed genuine. And he needed genuine. He also needed to a chance to make things right.

“No way,” she said adamantly.

Phillip removed his coat, slung it over the back of the chair, and sat down. “How does one get to be a ballerina?” he said.

A fiery retort hung in her eyes, but her cheeks and lips softened. “I can tell you how one stops being one.” She pressed her lips together, relented, and added, “Years of practice. My whole life.”

“I read up on you after I found out who you are,” he said. “You are quite accomplished in the art of ballet.”

“I might know a little bit about you too." Her eyes met his. “Your ex-wife is a friend of a friend.”

His stomach tightened. Allison couldn’t taint whatever this was, and he made sure Leah knew the subject was off-limits. “I never talk about her.”

“Then let’s talk about something else.”

Only 2 more posts!

Three weeks went by and Phillip still got a sick feeling in his stomach over the mystery woman. The EMTs had swooped in and had taken her away while the police got his statement. Nobody would tell him her name, and everything happened so fast that he found himself back at home without a scratch on him. But he the pain in her eyes he couldn't forget. That haunted look of loss he recognized in his own reflection in the mirror this time of year.

Phillip flashed his eyes up at the computer screen. A contract from an important client awaited his attention. Money and numbers he could understand. So black-and-white, nothing left to interpretation with figures, gains, and losses.

Commotion sounded from the hallway and he looked to his open door.

An older woman with gray hair pushed a younger woman in a wheelchair, paused in front of his door. “Excuse me,” the younger one said.

Phillip froze. The woman in the wheelchair. Discolored bruises on her face. An arm in a sling. One foot stretched out in a cast. She looked broken in half. “It’s you,” he said, standing.

“By ‘you,’ you mean Leah Carson,” she answered and jutted up her chin. “You’re Phillip?”

“Yes,” he said. “How did you find me?”

“Does it matter?”

“I guess not.”

He gestured at her. “How bad is it?”

“Let’s start with the small stuff. A broken arm. A busted kneecap. Fractures in three spots in my ankle. Oh, and the four toes I had amputated along with a shattered foot."

“I am so sorry,” he said, knowing how insufficient those words sounded. “I want to make this right. I’ll pay for all of your medical bills, no questions asked.”

She raised the sling. “I don’t want your money. You’ve ruined my life, my career, my…everything. Caroline,” she said to the stone-faced woman standing behind her. “Wheel me over to Mr. Beckett.”

He met her halfway. He narrowed his eyes at the phone in her hand.

She shoved the screen in his face. “Read,” she demanded.

Phillip’s eyes scanned the text: NIGHT BEFORE OPENING PERFORMANCE AT KENNEDY CENTER, PRINCIPAL BALLERINA SUFFERS DEVASTATING INJURIES...

His gaze jumped to hers. “Christ. I broke you.”

“I’ve worked my entire life for this role,” she continued, pulling her phone back. Tears shined in her eyes. “Thanks to you, I have nothing. I can’t dance with one toe. This role,” she said with quivering lips, “was once-in-a-lifetime. Everything is messed-up…All of it. Thanks to you. Keep your money.”
Until the next post...

"What the..." Phillip shouted as he thrust open the door and ran to the side of his car, catching sight of the lump laying on the street. "No," he said, throwing himself low and crouching over the body--a woman--crumpled in a heap between the curb and the car. He couldn't see well on the poorly lit street. "Are you okay?" he repeated frantically, fear running fresh through his mind. He didn't know if she was alive or dead. She wasn't moving. She looked limp. "Are you alive? PLEASE be alive."

"My foot," she groaned, then her voice caught hysteria. "The car! My foot! Help! Get it off me!" She kept screaming and thrashing.

A sickening bolt of realization hit Phillip. He ran back to the car and dove into the driver's seat, flinging the gear into reverse. Vomit stuck in his throat. The lump the tire rolled over was her foot or her leg or both. He moved the car back enough to clear several feet around her. He grabbed his phone and dialed for help.

He returned to her, yelling to the dispatch on the other end of his phone or anyone within ear shot, except nobody was around on this empty side street. "An ambulance is on the way," he said, hovering over her.

"Don't touch me!" she shouted, rolling onto her back. She shook. Her whole body convulsed and her teeth chattered. Wide dark eyes stared back. "What have you done? she said between barely-there breaths as she tried to sit up. "You--"

"Don't move!" he commanded as her head rolled back against the asphalt. "Hold on. Please. Hold on." Phillip got on the ground with her and found her hand to hold. He wouldn't let go. He kept telling her she'd be okay even if he didn't know it himself. Soft tufts of snow came down around then and a sire cried out in the distance...Check back tomorrow to see what happens next.

It's here! One Winter Night. Follow along as I post the short story of Phillip from Back to You. Over the next five days check out what happens next for this side character exclusively on Instagram, Facebook, & Goodreads. If you haven't read the book, there will be spoilers. Let's begin-

Phillip Beckett knew he'd end the night with a drink. The one-year anniversary of his best friend's murder couldn't be ignored. Every year this day happened whether he wanted it to or not. Erik Whitten was dead. The marriage to Allison was over. Contempt filled up his soul at their betrayal all in the span of a breath.

He changed would he could: a posh condo in downtown Bethesda, a new job as director for a high-end investment firm, and of course, the occasional distraction with a beautiful woman. On the outside the pieces of his life appeared to be coming together, except tonight--tonight he'd lose himself in a bottle of whiskey and forget that up until last year, his life had been a perfect lie.

He walked away from the high rise building and set out into the frigid December night...

Phillip found his car, got inside, and started the engine. The screen on his cell phone capture Phillip's attention. Head bowed, fingers busy typing away, he sent his message and tossed the phone on the passenger seat. Distracted by the business deal taking place over email, he pressed his foot hard on the pedal without giving much thought to driving. The car swerved from the ice and he braked, then applied more gas, and took the corner too fast without stopping to look. WHACK. Two things happened at once. Something slammed into the right side of his car and a shrill cry filled the air as he hit the brake...