Back Cover Blurb:
Money
talks, and the way she spends hers tells him all he needs to know…
Richard needs to find a woman he can trust,
and he needs to find her fast. He
doesn’t have time to waste on getting to know people, which means dating and
interviewing are out of the question. So
how can he get past that initial mask of good behavior to learn what people are
really like? Easy! Give them ten million dollars and watch to see
what they do with it.
Genevieve is a free-lance journalist who
talks to herself, constantly forgets to put appointments on her calendar and
can’t go anywhere without being asked to take a survey. Why on earth is Richard interested in her? She doesn’t know it yet, but he has ten
million reasons…
After
the pizza had been demolished, they all walked across the street to enjoy some
ice cream. “Double Chocolate Fudge Brownie Monster Chunk for me!” declared Max.
“Peanut
Butter Marshmallow Chocolate Madness please!” Genevieve added. Then she and Max
went to sit down while Richard ordered the ice cream.
“So,
Aunt Gen, you honestly didn’t know who he was?” When Genevieve shook her head,
he said, “You’ve got to look him up online. His family grew up around here. Old
money. Maybe back to Jamestown. Lots and lots of old money.” She raised her
left eyebrow, and Max shook his head and laughed at her. “I know. Money doesn’t
make the man. Blah, blah, blah.” After a second he asked, “So, was this
supposed to be a date or a business meeting today? You never said.”
Right
as Genevieve opened her mouth to tell her nephew it most decidedly was not a
date, Richard’s voice came from behind her, “A date, of course. How many
business meetings have you been to that include pizza and ice cream? Business
meetings have boring foods like salad and steak and desserts you can set on
fire because people are busy trying to impress each other.”
Is he out of his mind? Of course he
is. Genevieve
watched Max and said, “Not a word, you hear me?”
“Not
a word about what?” Richard asked.
“Oh,
come on, Aunt Gen. If I go to school tomorrow and tell people my aunt is dating
the Richard Blakely, do you know how
much my stock will go up?”
“Not
a word. I mean it.” Max rolled his eyes, let out a loud, over-exaggerated sigh,
and threw himself into the kind of relaxed slump that no one but a teenager
could master. “Max…”
“Alright,
alright, but if you make it to a third date, all bets are off.”
Genevieve
shook her head in mock despair, her red curls gamboling with the movement. Then
she looked over at Richard and did a double-take, “Since when do men eat girlie
ice cream?”
Richard
spied his colorful cone and asked, “Girlie ice cream?”
Max
tried to warn him, “Don’t argue with her. Trust me. Let her lecture you and get
it out of her system. Eat the ice cream as fast as you can. If she can’t see it
anymore, she’ll get over it quicker.”
Richard
inspected her, slowly took a bite of his cone, and said, “Did you just insult
my ice cream?” Then, putting on a hideous fake western accent, he added,
“Them’s fightin’ words, don’cha know?”
Max
tried to hide his laughter as Genevieve, face dead-pan and voice
matter-of-fact, said, “Only girls eat fruity ice cream.”
Richard
eyed her ice cream cone and said, “You’re a girl, and I don’t see any fruit in
your cone.”
“No
man! You never say that,” Max said in
sympathy.
“I,
Mr. Blakely, Esquire,” Genevieve wound up, “am not a girl. I, Mr. Blakely,” she said his name with
added emphasis, “am a woman of sophisticated tastes. You, on the other hand,”
she waved her hand dismissively, “are eating girlie ice cream.”
Richard
tried to defend his choice of ice cream but was told again and again, “Only
girls eat fruity ice cream.”
Finally,
Max asked, “So exactly what flavor is that, anyway?”
Shamefaced,
Richard answered, “Pineapple Pom Pom Sparkleberry Cheer.” Max and Genevieve
laughed uproariously, and Richard joined in. When their laughter settled down,
he told Max, “And you are most definitely not allowed to tell your friends at
school about that, my boy.”
“Are
you kidding me? I’d be shunned for life, a perpetual outcast of the high school
social strata. I’m taking that secret all the way to the grave.”
Author Bio:
Aside from her long-standing love affair with coffee,
Heather’s greatest joys in life are her relationship with her Savior, her
family, and writing. Years ago, she
decided it would be better to laugh than yell.
Heather carries that theme over into her writing where she strives to
create characters that experience both the highs and lows of life and, through
it all, find a way to love God, embrace each day, and laugh out loud right
along with her.
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Where to Find Me:
Thank you for having me over today Iris! :)
ReplyDeleteMy pleasure, Heather :-)
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