Sneak Peak for New Book Available February 2018!

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Excerpt:

“I can’t help but feel that you’re about to ask for something Sinclair.” Hastings nodded at the overburdened coffee table as he took a seat on my pirate sofa.

I fought the urge to deny it. “Actually, I would like to make a proposal.” I took a seat across from him.

“An indecent one by the look of things.” He eyed the plates of scones, sandwiches and assorted pastries that I had arranged on the table. “You must have been baking all night.”

I leaned forward and hefted the tea pot. “Tea?” I had ordered everything online from a local tea shop but I wasn’t about to tell him that.

“Sure.” He remained where he was forcing me to pour the tea into his cup where it rested on the table. That monumental exercise in balancing a full tea pot over, I filled my own cup. Once I had doctored my tea with milk, I nabbed a scone and several sandwiches for myself and then proffered the tongs.

Hastings eyed me from his position leaning back against the sofa. “What do you want Sinclair?”

“Is that the expression you use on writers who have the nerve to ask for an extension?” I set the tongs down.

“Are you asking for an extension?”

“Nope.” I took up a tiny cucumber sandwich took a bite. I eyed him as I chewed. I must be nuts to think this could work. “I am asking for a collaboration.”

He looked incredulous. “For gods sake Sinclair, you have fourteen days to finish this project. Exactly who do you think I can get on such short notice? I’m an editor not a wizard.”

I popped the remainder of the sandwich into my mouth and smiled. “You.”

He blinked. “Me?”

“Yes.” Enjoying his reaction, I took a moment to contemplate the choices on my plate. Is it scone time or do I continue with the sandwiches? Eventually I selected a salmon sandwich. “Problem?”

“Why?” There was a hard edge to the question that I didn’t understand and a tension in his posture that hadn’t been there earlier.

“Because you were right.”

“Does it hurt?” He quirked an eyebrow at me.

“Hurt?” I echoed, confused.

“Admitting I’m right.” He clarified finally leaning forward to snag his cup of tea.

“Smug bastard.”

“So I’ve been told.” He regarded me over the brim of his cup. “What brought this on?”

“Last night, after you left I did some research.” I felt my stomach begin to squirm uncomfortably as I prepared to venture into potentially hazardous territory. “About what you said.”

He took a sip of tea. “I leave and you immediately start to research?”

“Well—no.” I scowled at him. “First I cleaned the bathroom.”

“First you cleaned the bathroom and then you hit the computer?” He tilted his head back.

“I was pissed.” I muttered into my tea.

“At me?” Was that amusement? I glanced up at him. It was.

“Yes at you.” I nabbed my scone and began to break it into small pieces. The destruction satisfying both my residual irritation and my building squeamishness.

“Are you shredding that scone in my place Sinclair?”

“Yes.” I admitted.

“You’re still pissed at me.”

“Yes.” I answered his non-question.

“Why?” His question hung between us for a long moment as I tried to find the words to answer.

“Because it would have been simpler.” I dropped the remaining piece of scone on my plate with a sigh. “And I only have fourteen days. And—” I waved at hand in the general direction of the powers-that-be. “But,” I amended my conjunction. “You were—are right about the existing material being crap.” I let that settle between us as I took a deep breath. “And I need help.” I hated the way that sounded so I opened my mouth to add to that, to modify it somehow.

“Why me?” He cut me off with a quiet aggression that had me trying to read his expression.

“As you said, there’s no time to get anyone else,” I stammered still trying to read him while my stomach churned. “And as you demonstrated last night you already have opinions about—and you’re available…”

“And?”

“And?”

He glanced down at his tea briefly before leveling his gaze back at me. “And I have a disability—Cerebral Palsy. Like the hero in the book.” His tone was as level as his gaze. “If we are going to collaborate Sinclair you’re going to have to overcome your discomfort with that and learn to look directly at it. Fourteen days does not allow for a lot of time for dancing around your feelings.”

I felt as though someone had swept the proverbial rug out form under me. My feelings? “Okay.” I said slowly, feeling my way along. “So is that a yes? You’ll collaborate?”

He studied me for a long moment. “That’s a conditional yes.” He affirmed. “So long as you don’t get squeamish on me, I will collaborate.”

Despite the fact that it was clearly a warning, I felt a surge of relief one that evaporated as quickly as it had come at his next words.

“Have you ever fucked a man with a disability Sinclair?”

Available February 14th on Amazon

 

Sneak Peak Image Attribution:

“Novak 3”, by Milos Milosevic is licensed under CC BY 2.0 (Changes made to image—image cropped, desaturated and text added.)