"A wonderful read and an excellent take on the wounded hero trope – it’s rare to find a story where the hero’s new condition and reality are so thoughtfully woven into the plot (the difficulties, the new body, the grief, the adaptations… and the awakening to the new possibilities of a different life (“That didn’t mean he couldn’t use his new body and test his limits. For work, for fun, and for pleasure”, quote from ARC)." - Maria, Goodreads
Release Date: June 20th, 2017
An Admirer With A Secret . . .
Mary Higgs could be the poster girl for the buttoned-up librarian. She follows the rules. Stays ʼtil closing. Her kindness and dedication to her patrons is legendary. But those patrons have no idea what she’s typing to the mysterious shut-in who emailed the library needing a library card three months ago . . .
When the elusive Miles O’Connor shows up, he’s no invalid. A year ago, he was the gleaming, ab-sational star of the small screen. Then came the accident. Now he’s a wounded recluse with a pizza habit and fears so unshakable that only the thought of losing Mary to an online date could lure him out of his cabin.
Soon their email rapport has turned into weekends on the couch, watching tearjerkers and driving each other insane with red-hot makeout sessions. But as the desire grows and their horizons expand, the life that brought them together might not be enough for either of them..
EXCERPT
“Angie, if you’re doing what I think
you’re doing, please stop.”
“Oh, hi, Mary.” Once again, Angie
minimized her browser window in one smooth movement. “I have no idea what you
mean.”
“You want to find me a boyfriend, so
you’re attempting to figure out what sort of man I’d prefer. His race. His
height. His…um, other qualifications. Since you know I’d object, you’re going
about it in a really roundabout and confusing way. And since you’re you, many
of your questions have involved”—Mary lowered her voice from a whisper to a
mere thread of sound—“personal endowments.”
“Personal
endowments?” Angie kept her voice low, too. “That’s the most genteel euphemism
for penises I’ve ever heard.”
With an effort, Mary resisted sharing
the other terms she’d used for that area in the past. Such as, well, “that
area.” Or “privates.” Or “man parts.”
“I’m not looking for anyone. And if I
change my mind, I can conduct the search myself.” Pleased with both her
restraint and her uncharacteristic assertiveness, she smiled at her boss. “But
thank you for thinking of me.”
Angie’s eyes widened in appeal. “Come
on, Mary. As far as I know, you haven’t been on a second date in months. Maybe
a year.”
“Umm…” She shifted from foot to foot.
“Two years.”
“And I know you. You’re not a
one-night-stand sort of woman, so that means you’re experiencing an epic dry
spell. Under the circumstances, what could a little online dating hurt?”
An involuntary flinch drew Mary up
against the doorway. “Online dating? No. No online dating. I’ve heard so many
horror stories, Angie, I can’t even tell you.”
“You’re a sensible woman. And I’d be
happy to vet any contenders before you met them. So would all of our friends.”
Angie clicked to maximize a window, and a colorful, half-completed form
suddenly appeared. “Besides, it would be so easy. You already have a profile.”
Mary covered her face again and spoke
through her fingers. “Angie. Please tell me you didn’t.”
“I thought you needed a little
nudge.” A gentle hand patted her arm. “And I was delighted to be the bearer of
good nudges. Especially since you’re the sweetest woman I know. You deserve an
amazing man in your bed. Or an amazing woman, I suppose.”
“Man,” she mumbled.
“Oh, good.” Angie sounded pleased.
“That’s what I chose for the profile.”
“Again, I appreciate your thinking of
me.” She dropped her hands and did her best to appear stern. “But I’m not
looking for someone in my bed.”
“How about someone across a dinner
table? Or beside you at a movie theater?”
With a sigh, Mary admitted, “That
sounds nice.”
“I know you’re a strong, independent
woman who doesn’t mind being single. If you want me to delete your profile, I
will.” Angie met her gaze directly. “But I’d love to see you give this a shot.
I promise you, I wouldn’t encourage you to do anything unsafe. You’re my
coworker and friend, and I’d never put you in harm’s way.”
“I know.” And she did know. Angie had
a huge heart and endless reserves of loyalty for the people she loved. Also a
strong streak of recklessness, but Mary had grown to love that too. As far as
Mary was concerned, her boss should serve as a model for timid women
everywhere.
“And have you considered the Singles
Skydiving event we saw in the paper yesterday?”
Well, maybe not a model, exactly. More like inspiration, tempered by common sense.
Heavily tempered, until death-defying feats were no longer involved.
“I might be willing to try online
dating. But if you try to sling a backpack on me and shove me off a plane, I’ll
haunt you from beyond the grave.” Mary raised her brows at Angie. “And you know
I’m a woman of my word.”
Angie snorted. “So dramatic. You’ve
been hanging out with Sarah too much.”
“Most likely.” A smile spread across her
face at the thought of her best friend. “Her mannerisms were bound to rub off
sooner or later.”
“So you’ll keep this profile?”
Angie’s head tilted toward the computer screen.
“I’ll keep a profile,” Mary corrected. “Not necessarily yours.
Heaven only knows what you said in it.”
“Not much. Just that you’re lovely, intelligent, hardworking, and sweeter than any of them deserve. Also that you appreciate men in a rainbow of delicious colors.”
“Not much. Just that you’re lovely, intelligent, hardworking, and sweeter than any of them deserve. Also that you appreciate men in a rainbow of delicious colors.”
She came closer to the monitor,
curious what else her boss had entered into the form. “For pity’s sake, Angie.
I have never, not once in my life, described myself as ‘Beyoncé’s more
beautiful and talented twin.’ I don’t look anything like her!” If only. That
sort of effortless glamour and polish had eluded Mary her entire life.
Angie shrugged. “Just trying to
approximate your babeliness in a way most people would understand.”
“What about the ‘more talented’ bit?”
Mary gaped at her. “Don’t you remember that program last year? The one where I
sang Christmas carols?”
A small wince creased Angie’s
forehead. “Talent doesn’t have to mean singing. Which is a good thing, in your
case. I think we attracted feral cats from miles around that night.”
Leaning over Angie, Mary wrestled the
mouse from her boss’s grip and exited the form without saving. “I’ll fill one
of these profiles out on my break. By myself.”
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About the author:
Olivia Dade grew up an undeniable—and proud—nerd, prone to ignoring the world around her as she read any book she could find. Her favorite stories, though, were always romances. As an adult, she earned an M.A. in American history and worked in a variety of jobs that required her to hide her bawdy interior under a demure exterior: Colonial Williamsburg interpreter, high school teacher, academic tutor, and (of course) librarian. Finally, though, she realized the call of the hussy could no longer be denied. So now she writes contemporary romantic comedy with plenty of sex, banter, and nerdery. When not writing, she cooks alongside her husband, dabbles in photography, and tries to hide her collection of throbbing-intensive romances from her curious daughter. Visit her on the web at oliviadade.com.
Olivia Dade grew up an undeniable—and proud—nerd, prone to ignoring the world around her as she read any book she could find. Her favorite stories, though, were always romances. As an adult, she earned an M.A. in American history and worked in a variety of jobs that required her to hide her bawdy interior under a demure exterior: Colonial Williamsburg interpreter, high school teacher, academic tutor, and (of course) librarian. Finally, though, she realized the call of the hussy could no longer be denied. So now she writes contemporary romantic comedy with plenty of sex, banter, and nerdery. When not writing, she cooks alongside her husband, dabbles in photography, and tries to hide her collection of throbbing-intensive romances from her curious daughter. Visit her on the web at oliviadade.com.
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1 comment:
Well, he'll always have pizza.
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