SYNOPSIS:
I
thought it was too late. I thought our story had already
been written.
College
sophomore Brooke Anderson thought she
had it all − a loving family, her sexy high school
sweetheart, a supportive,
quick-witted best friend and dreams of being the next
hotshot reporter for the
Washington Post.
Fate had something
else in mind when Brooke
collided with the devastatingly handsome upperclassman, Rich
Davis. Rich was
cocky, conceited and arrogant. He was everything that Brooke
didn’t want, but
Rich never gave her the option. He had already made the
choice to be, at the
very least, her friend. Would Brooke accept this egotistical
man’s friendship?
Would she choose to want more? Would it be too late if she
did?
Fast
forward nearly ten years. Brooke’s life
hadn’t played out quite as she had envisioned it. She was
suffering from the
heartbreaking loss of her mother, her high school sweetheart
was long gone, and
her dreams of the Washington Post had turned into a career
at a small town
paper. Brooke decided it was time to follow her dreams. If
she couldn’t be
happy in love, at least she could be happy in life.
Brooke’s
dreams brought her to the lobby of the
Washington Post where fate intervened once again as she
collided with none
other than the devastatingly handsome Rich Davis. As her
potential employer,
Rich now seemed off-limits. Brooke wanted her successful
career more than a
chance at love. But, was it really her choice to make, or
was it beyond her
control?
Maybe our
story is, in fact, Unwritten
…
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EXCERPT:
“Your
view … your entire office … it’s exquisite,” I said after
soaking it all in.
“We
haven’t spoken in over nine years, and you want to talk
about my view? But now that you mention it … my view is
quite exquisite and I’m not referring to the skyline, or
this office” he said,
while licking his bottom lip. “You’re just as beautiful as
ever, Brooke.”
“…
… … Rich, why am I
here?”
Rich
walked over to his side of the desk and placed his palms
flat on its surface as
if bracing himself before speaking, his intense, teal-blue
eyes looking
directly into my soul. “You’re here because when your
application came across
my desk, I knew it was a sign that I had to see you again …
had to hear you
laugh again … had to smell that sweet scent again. I’ve
missed you, Brooke.”
He
took a deep breath before continuing, “Every time an
application came across my
desk I hoped that one day it would be yours. You always said
this was it for
you – your end game and your dream job. I’d be lying to
myself and to you, if I
didn’t tell you that I came here and accepted this position,
hoping that one
day we’d find each other
again.”
“So,
you only scheduled an interview because you wanted to finish
what we never
started ten years ago?” I asked in my
most accusatory tone.
“Pshh,
you would get that from what I just said, wouldn’t you? No,
of course not,
Brooke. I wanted you to come for an interview, because I was
impressed by what
I read on your resume. You’ve had an impressive career and I
think you would
make an excellent addition to my editorial staff. Trust me,
I’m not the only
one who thinks that. Your resume made it through three
layers of a selection
process before it ended up on my
desk.”
“Oh
… OK. Well, thanks.”
He
looked at me with the most devilish grin before adding … “It
just doesn’t hurt
that I want to get to know you
again.”
I
could feel the heat rising in my cheeks and expected that
they had turned a
bright shade of
pink.
“Rich,
I can’t do this. I really do want this job, but if I accept
the position,
assuming that you are offering me one, I … we can’t do this.
You’d be my boss.
I can’t and I won’t be my boss’s pet. No one would ever take
me seriously. I
wouldn’t take me seriously. I’ve worked too hard for my
career.”
“I’m sorry, Brooke, I
should have kept that to
myself. I don’t want to scare you away. How about this … I
don’t offer you the
position – today? We talk – you know, catch up – conduct a
real interview. Then
I’ll send you on your way to your hotel. You will then eat
at the restaurant
where my secretary has already made dinner reservations for
you. I’ll just
happen to show up and we’ll meet once again. I’ll just be
Rich and you’ll just
be Brooke. We won’t be interviewer and interviewee. What do
you say, Miss
Anderson? Sound like a
plan?”
I
had to give him credit; he sure did make it sound so
easy.
“Sounds
more like a date than a plan, Mr. Davis. You’ve really given
this some thought.
That truly is some proposition,” I responded with a wink.
“I’ll
take your feisty response as a yes then. And, yes, I’ve been
thinking about
this since I left you on your doorstep, wearing that
ravishing, purple gown
over nine years ago. Now, the quicker we begin your
interview, the faster we
can get to dinner, the earlier I can get you to my place so
we can make up for
lost time. What do you say, let’s begin your interview,
shall we?”
“Ye-,
Ye-s, sure … fire away.”
AUTHOR BIO:
M.C. Decker is the author of the
debut novel, Unwritten. She
lives in a suburb of Flint, Michigan
with her husband and spoiled-rotten Siamese cat, Simon. For
the last decade,
she has worked as a journalist for several community
newspapers in Michigan’s
Thumb region. She enjoys all things ‘80s and ‘90s pop
culture: movies, boy
bands, music and especially the color, hot pink. She also
strictly lives by the
motto, “Life is better in flip flops,” and is a diehard
Detroit Tigers
fan.
AUTHOR MEDIA
LINKS:
Facebook - www.facebook.com/authormcdecker
Twitter - MC
Decker@AuthorMCDecker
Goodreads:
E-mail - author.mcdecker@yahoo.com
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