WARNING: This will be long, but there's a sort-of freebie in this post so it might be worth your while.
Ok. Not that dark. By now you know the Girls took up some real estate in my brain and refused to budge until I wrote their stories. But, why a bakery? Why a fairy tale theme? Or, better yet, questioning the One?
See...what happened was I started this other book. Fantastic idea. Entered into a contest that required weekly installments. I got up to 20k on that sucker and then the words petered out. The core of that book was about deception. The hero was lying to the heroine and that always felt WRONG, but I kept pushing through because the book had so much potential. I re-wrote it tons of times and it never worked because there was that deception that I had to write. I hated it so I stopped writing that sucker. The book wasn't a waste though. And it had such good elements. Like, the heroine nicknamed her desserts. The hero was pretending to be a mystery writer who is having some serious writer's block. His name was Warren. The bakery is the hub of all that happens in the book. There's an ex that's been wronged. Bar stools for peeps to sit in. A sex siren sister. Seriously, this one failed book turned into three.
So, it wasn't a complete bust. I totally stole from it without apology when I needed to. (See how many things you can catch.) One day I'll find a way to make the hook work for another book. There's still plenty of the story that totally has the right amount of crunch. (The hook being the heroine has had a tell-all book written about her titled "Getting Over the Wrong ONE") Anyway, here's a sneak peek at the ugly step-sister that I totally rewrote and came up with A Modern Fairy Tale:
Melissa Blue Copyright 2013 Falling For the Heartbreaker (UNEDITED)
Attraction: The Tell-Tale Heart
Savannah Frank’s hands clenched on the
book her ex-boyfriend handed to her only a few moments ago. “You
wrote a tell-all book about me?” Disbelief rang in her voice.
The smooth caramel skin wrinkled above
Larry's brows.“It’s not exactly about you.” He shifted in his
penny loafers and spread his hands.
Savannah flipped to the introduction.
“'I once asked a woman to marry me and she turned me down cold. It
wasn't until I was recovering from the heartbreak that I saw her
pattern. She's Mrs. Wrong. The type of woman who is more in love with
the idea of love.'” She held the offending book higher. “But this
book isn’t about me? And I am not that type of woman.”
She cracked the book open not waiting
for the answer. Her eyes scanned down the chapter list and stopped.
“Chapter Ten, “Did I hear her right?!! She said, “No”.”
She sucked in a breath, trying to quill
the temper. She needed to keep calm. Killing her ex would probably
make the book a bestseller and that was the last thing she needed.
Savannah tried again, this time speaking
much softer, “Larry, I know you’re not happy with how things
turned out.”
He started to back up to the office door
looking like a cat right before sprinting away. She jumped out of her
seat. He flinched as if she was
going to strike him. Did I turn him into this wuss, or was
he always like this? She breathed out of her nose. No matter what
he’d been or turned into, there wasn’t any excuse for this book,
much less him trying to blame her solely for their failed
relationship.
The simple truth was they didn’t have
the it factor. The intangible pull where if she were to look
across a room and saw him her heart would do funny things, her
stomach would fill with butterflies, and all he’d have to say was,
“hi” and she'd melt.
He was the ONE for someone, just not
her. It’d taken her eleven months, two days, and a botched wedding
proposal to see that.
The book almost slid from her sweaty
hand. She did not have time for this. By now the Hello Dollies mix
was probably goopey. He’d interrupted her morning ritual to get the
bakery ready, telling her they needed to talk. He’d kept his voice
low so Tara, her sister, couldn’t hear him, stressing he needed to
tell her something before someone else did. She’d expected him to
tell her he was getting married. She was going to wish him the best.
The guilt crept in a little closer, because when he said those words
she felt relief the first time in a year. No wonder he didn’t want
to tell her in the kitchen, way too many knives available.
“A tell all book?” She waved it in
his face.
“The past few months have been hard
for me.”
There was the guilt again until the
front of the book passed her vision again. He'd named it Getting
Over The Wrong One. She didn’t have much of an
ego, but this morning, the little one she had, was taking a hit.
“A. Tell. All. Book.” She flipped
back to the chapter list. The gasped caught in her throat. How could
she have missed that chapter? “The First Sign: She fakes
it.” The words meted out through gritted teeth.
He opened the door and made a run for
it. Savannah chased him out, no where near done with him yet. He
stopped short of the front door. “I signed it for you; I hope you
do read it. Maybe you won’t do it again to some other poor sap.”
Her grip on the book tightened. “Just
tell me when you got the book deal. Books don’t come out
overnight.”
He winced. “A year ago, and that’s
an ARC you’re holding.”
He must have known what she’d do,
because the book hit the bell over the door as it banged shut behind
him. The blood in her veins seemed to boil. She pressed her face
against the glass counter top. The cold surface felt cool against her
heated skin.
“Dare I ask what that was about?”
Tara spoke from behind her.
“Larry, wrote a tell book about me. He
says it isn’t, but the title makes me a little suspicious.”
Tara covered her laugh with a cough.
“Where is it?”
Savannah lifted her head to see her
sister. Tara’s teeth were planted firmly in her bottom lip. “Go
ahead, you can laugh.”
That’s all it took for her sister.
“Oh, God, let me get it.” Her sister
breezed past her to the door. Tara sat down on the bar stool near the
counter after reading the title. “I tried to tell you he was a
prick. Oh, no, baby sister never wants to listen.” She opened the
book. “The First Sign: She fakes It. Oh, boy. I’m reading
this.”
Savannah straightened. “I’m going to
start getting ready. Someone has to make sure the customers get the
product they come here for.”
The chastisement went over her sister’s
head. Savannah tightened the strings on her apron. The first tray
displayed the Hello Dollies she planned to lose herself in. Damn,
Tara for being efficient. She couldn’t be like any other sibling,
listening at the door for juicy tidbits and leaving all the work to
be done. Savannah picked up the tray and slid it into the oven.
Her sister's footfalls suddenly filled
the quiet kitchen. “I’m going to guess you haven’t read the
dedication.”
Savannah grabbed the thawed dough for
croissants off the counter. The action seemed to encourage Tara. She
read out loud what Savannah wanted to forget existed.
“'To my Mrs. Wrong. Here’s hoping
Mr. Right breaks your heart.'” Tara finally let go of the book and
placed it on the counter. “Told you he was a prick.”
Her hands gripped the rolling pin like a
vise. “Are you going to help me get ready or do I need to do this
by myself?”
Tara moved into her line of vision.
“Sweetie, I was trying to lighten you up.”
Savannah grabbed the knife, and started
to cut the dough diagonally. Flour covered her trembling hands, and
she sighed. “A tell all book?”
“He’s a prick, but I don’t think
he was dumb enough to mention your name.”
“Like I have the money to sue him if
he did.” Savannah kept her eyes averted. She should have known
better. Tara’s delicate hand covered hers. “Can you just get rid
of it? Then get started on lunch.”
“Look at me.” Tara spoke softly.
Savannah lowered her shoulders in defeat
and met her sister’s gaze. “He wasn’t worth it. It’s probably
all crap.”
“I did fake it.” The admission left
her lips before she could reel it back in.
“We’ll his name is Larry. Imagine
screaming that at the top of your lungs. Kills a girl's mojo.”
Savannah chuckled. “Thanks.”
Tara shrugged. “How many women can say
they’ve had a whole book written about them?”
“I still don’t see how that’s a
compliment. It’s not so much the book.” Tara raised a brow.
“Okay, a good ninety percent of it is that he wrote a whole book,
but…”
She was being put under a microscope.
All her tells would be laid out for any man to read. She’d have to
read the book from front to back to see if he did mention her name,
but still she’d know.
Tara shrugged again. “It’ll blow
over. It’s not like Larry will ever write a bestseller.”
“True.” Savannah turned back to the
dough feeling her balance come back. “I’m sure it will blow
over.”
*****
The next morning Savannah’s steps
faltered as she passed CeCe’s Books. Why did she expect the truth
from Larry? A handbook on proper ex etiquette didn’t exist. It had
never crossed her mind to ask when the book was coming out. From the
four-rack front display in the local bookstore, today, apparently,
was the release date.
“I’m going to be sick.”
Savannah noted the store's hours printed
on the door. When it opened she’d have take a break and buy all the
copies, because she'd read it. After her shift ended and Mom and Dad
had taken over for the rest of the day, she’d gone home and read it
faster than her favorite romantic suspense novels.
Oh, he hadn’t mentioned her name, the
sly bastard, but he’d mentioned the heart tattoo on her shoulder
blade, the fact she worked with her parents in a bakery shop, that
she graduated from Stafford--sum cum laude, was the baby out of three
siblings, and profiled her as a serial monogamist.
By the last page she started to wonder
if he dated her just to write the book. He missed nothing. Chef
turned pop-psychologist had detailed their relationship and
repeatedly mentioned she was in love with the idea of love. Larry
falling off the nearest cliff wouldn’t be good enough.
Savannah moved her hand from the glass
and fished out the keys to open Mom and Pop’s. Silence and the
smell of yeast welcomed her, and for some odd reason it made her
stomach knot. How could she stand there behind the glass, smiling for
customers, knowing that book was out there?
A note on the cash register caught her
attention.
Late night. Won’t be in. Just heat
up the soup. Ready made sandwiches.
Love,
Big Sis
She grabbed the apron from the hook by
the stove. Great. Tara was bailing out on her as usual and Savannah
had to get the shop ready, and that’s how she could through this
morning. Her family’s burden of responsibility was far from the
norm. Instead of being the rebel she was the dependable sibling, the
one who took charge during family meetings, and it never failed, a
big decision was left up to her. Not because her family respected her
opinion more than anyone else’s, but because she’d be the one
stuck with the grunt work.
Savannah took in a slow breath before
pulling out the batter for truffles. It was going to be fine. Not the
first time and it wouldn’t be the last she’d have to open the
store. Her morning would be fine. Mid-way through mixing, the phone
rang.
“Mom and Pops Bakery.”
“Am I speaking with Savannah Frank?”
the smoky female voice asked.
She frowned having expected Tara. It was
barely 6 o’clock in the morning. Only bill collectors called this
early. “Who is this?”
“I’m Vanessa Heaton from the Colby
Journal.”
Why was the local newspaper calling her?
The spit dried in her mouth as her hand tightened around the phone.
Oh, no, Larry and his damn book. Any reporter worth their snuff could
have found out they’d been an item. If you sneezed too hard in
Colby you’d make the front page, above the fold. And Larry, chef
extraordinaire, had written a book.
Savannah backtracked to the front with
the cordless glued to her ear. She picked up the paper left on the
doorstep. Larry’s wide forehead took up the front page. The
headline, “Local Author with Bestseller Buzz” made her stomach
knot harder. She placed the paper up to her face and finally answered
her worst nightmare, “She’s not here right now, but I can take a
message?”
“Mom and Pops is family owned, so I’m
sure you know her. What does she think of her ex-boyfriend penning a
tell all book about their failed relationship?”
“I wouldn’t know.” Savannah
finally glanced up from the paper in her hand. A woman with a cell
phone up to her ear, leaning against her car was looking at her.
“Are you sure she’s not there?”
Vanessa asked.
Savannah saw the smirk from across the
street. “Sorry go to go.”
She went back inside and locked the
door pulling down the venetian blinds. Why had she expected
everything to go right in her world? Nothing ever did, and now this.
She splayed the paper on the counter next to the cash register.
Chef of famous hometown restaurant,
Colby Corner, spills his heart in self-help novel. Larry Benedict’s
debut novel speaks to every person who’s gotten their heartbroken
by the wrong One.
“You think the person loves you,
they show all the signs of being in love, but when it comes down to
it they aren’t willing to really love you,” Benedict confesses.
He’s keeping mum on who the
inspiration of the book is, “It’s not her fault. I don’t think
she knows the difference between being in love and loving love.”
Savannah crumbled the newspaper and
dialed Larry’s with the other. It rung five times before the
answering machine turned on. “Sorry, but I won’t be in for a
while. I’ve headed out for my thirty city book tour. I’ll check
my messages daily.”
The beep seemed to stab the headache
pounding on her temples. “How—” She started then stopped. Much
like being arrested, anything she said could be used against her. She
punched the off button on the phone. Someone knocked on the door.
Sooner or later she was going to face what was on the other side that
glass, but first she had to make some damn truffles.
*****
Warren Marks jolted awake when something
plopped into his lap. His boss, Taylor, stood over him. He glanced
down at the book that had been dropped on him.
“I want you to cover this story.”
Taylor motioned to the book. “It’s got bestseller written all
over it.”
He turned to the back cover and the face
tickled his memory. “Wasn’t he on the Today show this morning?”
“Yup, but I don’t want you to cover
him. I want you to get the story out of Mrs. Wrong.”
His editor had to be kidding. Taylor
wanted him to travel fifty miles to interview a woman with a string
of broken hearts in her trail when the real story was why a man would
put his business out there for the world to read. “I thought I was
going to cover the literacy banquet?”
“You’re bored with this job. You
think I don’t notice. I just had to wake you up when you should
have been writing.”
He tossed the book on the desk, because
he couldn’t argue with Taylor. He was bored. He figured about six
months ago his brain leaked out of his ears, but this is the life he
wanted. If he had to pick the stories he once covered to the society
page stories he did now, the latter would always win.
“From what I’ve heard she’s not
talking,” Warren pointed out.
“Actually she’s playing the 'I have
no idea what you are talking about' card.”
The old itch crept up his back. “No.”
“Then you can write your resignation
paper now.”
Warren leaned back in his chair and
really looked at his old college friend. Taylor wasn’t bluffing.
“If she’s not giving the goods, how am I supposed to get the
story out of her?”
The corner of Taylor’s mouth quirked
up before he said, “Be creative.”
He glanced down at the book and held
back his laugh at the title. Those suckers were going to sell like
hotcakes. The man who wrote it wasn’t going to need the extra
publicity. The story was going to be covered from every angle
possible. Warren wouldn’t be bringing anything new to the audience.
“Why me?” he asked his friend, his
editor.
“You’re the only one I know who can
expose her for what she is?”
Warren's head snapped back. “And what
do you think she is?”
“The type of woman who gets what she
wants and loses interest. The type of woman who says she wants to get
married, but you practically have to put a gun to their head to do
it. The type of woman who can chew men up and spit them out,”
Taylor started to nod, “we’ve all dated them. Larry was either
dumb or brave enough to write about one.”
The itch crept up higher and Warren
shifted in his seat. “No.”
“'Ren.”
“No.”
“At least read the book and if you
don’t get any ideas on how to get the story I’ll let you rot at
banquet on Friday, and any other high society get together in the
tri-state area.”
The offer sat on a silver platter before
him. The itch turned into a burn on the back of his skull. Just like
the old days. “I’m not making any promises.”
“You’ve got the look. I’ll
book the ticket.” Taylor muttered, but Warren barely heard him
already engrossed in chapter one.
****
There's a release to get ready for. So, when that dies down, and if you guys want, I can post the second chapter. That's when things get really similar. lol
