Erin Lee Daniels is an editor and romance author. After receiving a degree in Political Science and International Relations Erin Lee worked in the private sector before pursuing her lifelong dream of authorship. She lives in NYC and enjoys travel, cooking, collecting fine china, keeping a handle on her American Girl addiction and spending time with family and good friends.
Truth be told, however, Marc was anxious himself to head back to his suite and unwind. It had been a long day, and he wanted to turn the situation about Marlee over in his mind. So, was it a situation now?
This is not a situation, he thought. You simply met a charming young woman who happens to be working for you on a project. And who happens to be absolutely stunning. Okay, and she also happens to think you’re probably some dentist on a ski vacation from Boulder. Damnit.
Marc had undressed and crawled into bed, waiting for sleep to overtake him. But thoughts of a certain design assistant in ballet flats crowded his thoughts and made his night a fitful one. No matter how he tried, he found it impossible to fall asleep until well past midnight.
She was intriguing. It hardly mattered that their conversation had mostly revolved around a pair of doors. An image of her smiling came unbidden to him, and he ran a hand over his face, exhaling deeply. He sat up in bed and reached for the bedside phone to order his breakfast.
Breakfast. His hand froze midway to the phone. Would Marlee consider having breakfast with him?Idiot. He let his hand drop. She didn’t even know his name. He slid down until he was lying flat against the pillows and tugged the duvet until it covered his head.
Idiot.Thoughts of her pulled him under. There was something about the way she looked at him, with a certain expectancy. It was unnerving and endearing at the same time. Or maybe it was just his conscience. Maybe she looked trusting and sweet-natured because he was aware of his own deceit. That’s it. Marc rubbed his hand over his stomach. I’m projecting.
I am the Co-Author for this series. I was a reader for my Co-Authors other books and decided that he needed to spice up his writing and suggested that he let me write some of a book with him. After the first chapter was written the series was born and has been the most fun to write. “I am a southern belle born and raised on the Gulf Coast of Alabama. I am married and have three grown children, I have been a paralegal for 30 years working with Patent law, Domestic, Bankruptcy, probate, criminal law, wrongful death and litigation. I decided briefs, complaints and motions were not enough to keep me busy so decided to try my hand at writing. It has been the most fun I have ever had. Writing is not as easy as I thought it would be but very rewarding.
Patti rolled down the window and let the salt air come into the car. It was good to get out of the city. A gentle flapping sound came from the papers beside her and she pulled her jacket over the file to keep it shut.
As her long brown hair blew into her face and out again, she watched the land flatten out and the number of streams increase and she smiled despite the difficulty she envisioned. The leased convertible fit her compact, voluptuous frame with its plush leather seats and smooth styling. The contract on one of those seats next to her was designed to extinguish the conflict that arose between an international construction conglomerate called Whirled and the financier group represented by Patti’s law firm.
The two warring factions couldn’t sit in a room together so it was in the hands of the attorneys to attempt to keep the multi-faceted project going. The construction project on the east coast was tied by the loosest of strands to a project on the west coast and other projects around the world, of which the closest was located in the Bahamas. Each project had to be built with its own problems and each was tied to the central vision which tied the development to a large regional bank which connected every project to one another.
The consortium of lenders, represented by Patti’s firm had stepped in both to try to stem the conflict and find out why the project was off budget despite being ahead of schedule.
Even the lenders were a diverse group. One group of lenders was from Asia and the project extended over at least 4 languages and the language barriers between the parties only complicated matters more.
Patti pulled into the large parking area which was paved from a prior project. While clearly some effort had been made to clear the sand off, there were piles of sand around the edges and pockets of sand making mini beaches on the interior. The old hotel, a low rise affair with a stylishly old fashioned yellowing facade had been turned into the office according to the senior partner, Victor Biggs who had given her the task of delivering the draft contracts which they hoped would prevent the parties from reaching a deadlock. Patti had done most of the work on them and at the last minute it was determined that someone had to make the delivery in person and as the junior attorney on the team it was up to her.
Lynzie Allen is a California native, currently residing in Arizona with her husband and three children. She is passionate about writing, reading and photography…and long walks on the beach. Video games are something she can’t live without. Though her brother would call her a casual gamer, which is hurtful. She also has a soft spot for YA books and hopes to write a few in the near future. Like Crazy was her first novel with From Ashes following right behind it.
Excerpt from Like Crazy(The Dell Sisters Trilogy, Book 1)
Finn invited me to his room one night for a change of scenery. I was nervous as I knocked lightly on his door. He opened it and stood aside for me. It looked exactly like my room and absolutely unlike my room at the same time. There’s something about seeing someone’s room for the first time. Even in a hotel, once you’ve been staying in it for a while, it becomes like an extension of you. Where my room was messy and unorganized, Finn’s was in almost perfect order. There was not clutter on the desk or other surfaces. There was a suit coat hanging from the door on the wardrobe and a guitar propped in an open case on the bench at the foot of the bed.
“You play guitar?”
“Yes, since I was young. It relaxes me. Do you?”
“Play guitar? No, I have a lot of friends who do. I tried to teach myself once but my fingers weren’t strong enough and I never practiced enough to strengthen them.”
He sat on the bed and pulled it out, “Do you sing?”
A Jersey girl herself, Kristina was born and raised in New Jersey, USA, for thirty years. She later moved to Germany and has lived there for over twelve years with her German husband and three children. She lives in the farthest southwest tip of Germany, surrounded by beautiful vineyards and a perfect view of the Black Forest. She is an avid reader of different genres, but romance always takes precedence. Her hobbies include writing, reading, fitness, wine tasting, and forever trying to improve her German-language skills.
“What are you waiting for? Go inside.” Alexa pushes me forward.
“I’m going. Impatient much?”
She pushes me to the side and goes through the entrance first. I follow. I hate to walk into a place where I don’t know anyone. Alexa runs off, leaving me alone. I try to act casual and walk around the bar.
I freeze and do a double take. There she is, standing by a table in the corner. There’s a lamp over the table reflecting specks of light on her skin. She shines like a diamond. The last two times I was with her, I thought she was pretty. Her black dress hugs her at all the right places. Her hair is up with little curls coming down, which exposes her neck and back. Her shoes show off her slender legs. The first word that comes to my mind is stunning. My body goes on immediate high alert.
She laughs at something with one of her friends. Her heart-shaped face lights up the room when she smiles. Her friend looks in my direction. She whispers something in Lisa’s ear, and Lisa glances my way. Our eyes lock, as if by some magnetic pull. A lump forms in my throat when I see her glistening blue eyes and giant smile. The man who ends up stealing her heart and waking up to her smile every morning will be a very lucky man. Her ex-boyfriend Bryant was a jackass. Maybe he didn’t make her smile.
Liz is a Canadian author who grew up in the Middle East. She has a degree in Bioarchaeology from Western University, and when she isn’t writing about her own snarky characters, she is ghostwriting romance novellas, loitering on social media, or taking care of her many animals.
As a freelance ghostwriter, she has written over a dozen books ranging from romance to horror, full-length to novella-sized. A handful are currently on the market, and she stalks their “authors” with fiendish delight. She loves writing realistic characters in fantastical settings.
Music drifted languidly from speakers around the dance hall, and couples whirling around the floor barely missed a beat, moving this way and that, too wrapped up in themselves to notice when the songs changed. It was a more appealing sight than the one she was used to seeing on a dance floor: Kain and his boys grinding up on drunk girls, their sense of rhythm all but absent. Most here were intoxicated, but the costumes gave a degree of modesty, and no one, as far as she could see, was mashing pelvises.
She’d had a few conversations since leaving the bathroom, but the women flying solo were more interested in finding someone to spend the evening with, while most of the men fed her the same dull lines over and over again: Why was she alone? Where was her drink? Did she know her eyes sparkled like emeralds?
Delia had just barely escaped the last guy—his breath rank with alcohol—who kept guffawing in her face whenever he cracked a joke. So there she stood, hovering on the outskirts of the dance floor, unsure of her place.
Arms wrapped around herself, she watched a nearby couple as they danced. They were both young and slim, effortlessly gliding around like they’d done it a hundred times before. Maybe they had.
She blinked quickly, bringing herself out of her daze, and tightened her grip on her clutch as the jingling of bells grew louder. The Fool had found her again.