On the 10th day…
Congrats to yesterday’s winner…Rita Luken! Don’t forget to leave a comment today for your chance to win!
And for today…it’s Meg.
As in “Mad about…” What can I say about dear Meg? She’s been EVERYWHERE! Seriously. I wrote Mad about Meg about the same time I wrote Erotic Research. I always say Erotic Research was the first “dirty” book I ever wrote, but the truth is I’m not sure which story I finished first–Meg’s or Julia’s. Here’s what I do know. I subbed them both to Samhain and Ellora’s Cave…around the same time. Ellora’s Cave said no to Erotic Research. Samhain said yes…if I rewrote the hell out it. LOL. They both said no to Mad about Meg. I subbed Meg for one of Samhain’s themed anthologies. At the time, Samhain would put out calls for books with a certain theme. I’m trying to remember which call it was, but sadly…I’m missing a lot of those earlier emails, so I don’t really remember–maybe a holiday one…or a summer vacation one? No idea. Either way, they said no and EC refused as well.
My point is…at the beginning of my career…there were lots of “no’s”. I say this because in the past few years I’ve befriended many aspiring writers. It’s very easy to become discouraged and put off by the negative. But the truth is that’s part of this field. Take your hits, but don’t let them knock you down for good. Get up, dust yourself off and keep learning. When I look at the first round of edits on Erotic Research, I’m MORTIFIED. If you’ve worked in track changes, you’ll understand this. I was working in a sea of RED. Every page…hell, every line, had changes to be made.
So…I understand why Mad about Meg was rejected. And, like the June Girls books, I took the lessons I learned about writing and applied them to Meg. However, once a book has been rejected from a publisher, they won’t look at it again. So while I fixed (aka rewrote the whole freaking thing) neither Samhain or Ellora’s Cave would consider it for publication. At the time, they were my dream pubs. So–I put Mad about Meg up on my website as a free read. The cover you see is one Valerie Tibbs made for me when it was a free read. I just love it!
Then All Romance ebooks put out a call for books they would publish for their Days of Heart campaign. All proceeds went to the American Heart Association. I lost both my granddaddies to heart attacks the year I turned 11. Finally, it seemed like I’d found a place for Meg, somewhere the story could do something good. I submitted her to the fundraiser and ARe accepted her. The campaign ended earlier this year and the rights were returned to me. BTW–the Days of Heart fundraiser was a great success and raised lots of money for the AHA–hooray! The cover on the right is the one ARe used.
But…Meg was a free agent again. And since I’d already attempted self-publishing with the June Girls series, I thought “why not Meg?” I re-released the story in February and at last…my beloved Meg found a permanent home. Sales on the story have been incredible and I’m thrilled that so many people have found this novella. Moral of the story? Never give up on your stories or characters.
How about chapter one of Mad about Meg?
“What do you mean you don’t have my rental car anymore? I called weeks ago to reserve it.” Meg Williams’ flight to Eden Isle had taken three times longer than it was supposed to, due to an oncoming storm and an unexpected layover in Houston because of some faulty gauge on her first connecting flight.
“Yes, ma’am, I’m sure you did,” the clerk answered, “but as I said before, when you didn’t arrive by five o’clock we rented it to someone else. This policy was stated in the rental agreement you signed.”
The airport was packed even though it was midnight on Thursday. Every Valentine’s Day weekend, the small tropical island hosted its own romance fest called Cupid’s Carnival. Meg had watched a program about it on the Travel Channel over Thanksgiving break. At the time, she’d thought the romantic escape was the salve she and her fiancé needed to spice up their waning relationship. She’d immediately begun saving her money and booked the nonrefundable escape to Eden Isle as a surprise. The nonrefundable part didn’t bother her until she’d caught her two-timing boyfriend unwrapping another woman under the tree on Christmas Eve. Unwilling to lose a tremendous amount of money, she’d decided to forge ahead with her long, romantic weekend, sans the romantic part. If nothing else, the trip to the island was a welcome break from work and winter weather, and she could use the long weekend to figure out where in the hell she had gone so wrong with her life.
Unfortunately, her real-life experience wasn’t turning out to be the sun, fun, and fiesta the program promised. She’d already missed her first whole day of vacation, spending it on overcrowded planes and waiting in interminable airport lines, rather than lounging by the pool at her resort hotel. To add insult to injury, she’d spent the last two hours waiting for her luggage, which apparently was, at this very moment, on a slow boat to China. An extremely annoying airline agent was now in possession of her name and hotel information with plans to send her luggage on “just as soon as we find it.”
Yeah right.
“Do you have any cars left?” Meg had specifically rented a convertible sports car, looking forward to four days of cruising around the island with the top down.
“I have one vehicle left.” The clerk was clearly relieved Meg wasn’t going to kick up more of a fuss. Quite frankly, she was too tired to complain. “It’s a very roomy mini-van.”
“Terrific, just what I need, seating for seven when there’s only little old me and no luggage.”
Signing all the appropriate forms, Meg waited inside the door of the airport while an employee of the rental agency fetched her mini-van. She killed the time trying to recall exactly what she’d put in her carry-on bag as she waited. No more clothes, she thought, glancing down at the comfortable travel outfit she’d worn. Having spent the last twenty-two hours in it, she quite frankly would have preferred to burn it rather than have to wear it again tomorrow. She had all her money—thank goodness—her camera, passport and hotel information, aspirin—hallelujah—and her now useless cell phone. She’d dropped and broken it while waiting for her connecting flight in Florida.
Yep. I’m now officially in Hell.
Finally, the employee pulled up with what the rental agent had referred to as a fine car. Clearly, Meg’s definition of fine varied somewhat from the agent’s. If she had any strength left in her body, she would go back and beat the guy over the head with her busted cell phone. Looking at the directions to her hotel, she silently said a prayer that the heap of junk in front of her would make it the ten miles she needed to drive.
“Here you go, miss.” The young valet offered her a smile she felt the incredible urge to run her fist through. “Welcome to Eden Isle.”
As if on cue, the sky opened up and rain came down in a deluge that had her soaked in less than ten seconds. Dripping wet and cold, she climbed into the monstrous van, prayed the windshield wipers worked, and made her way out of the airport parking lot with her head pounding and her teeth chattering.
After thirty minutes of poor visibility and two missed turns, she finally found the right road. According to her directions, she was only a mile from her destination. A quick glance at the clock told her it was nearly one a.m. Thunder and lightning now accompanied the pounding rain, the deafening sound of it only adding to the pressure building behind her eyes. She should have taken a couple of those aspirin back at the airport.
Bright lights in her rear view mirror blinded her for a moment as a car came up from behind, too quickly for her comfort. She knew she was driving slowly, but the visibility was practically zero and she had no idea where she was going.
“You’ll just have to hold your horses, hot shot,” she murmured to the car now riding her rear bumper. “Back off, asshole.” The car continued to drive too close. She tapped on her brake lights twice hoping the driver would get the message, but the car continued to crowd her.
Tired of tailgating, the car crossed the double yellow line and began to pass her. She was even more annoyed when she realized it was an enormous limousine.
“Oh perfect,” she mumbled. “Rich boy too important to wait.”
Suddenly a pair of headlights approached from the opposite lane. Meg’s heart stopped as she watched the limo speed up to pass her before careening head-on with the other car. All she could see before slamming on the brakes was the limo’s license plate—MAD 1—taunting her. She swerved off the road and into a ditch as the limo began coming back into her lane before fully completing his pass. The van came to a relatively easy stop despite the fact Meg was screaming her head off and not really focusing on her driving. Looking up, she saw the limo continue down the road, the taillights of the other vehicle disappearing behind her.
“What kind of place is this?” She’d literally been run off the road in the middle of the night and left alone. If she ever got her hands on that limo driver, she’d kill him.
Taking a deep breath and trying to still her shaking hands, she hit the gas in an attempt to pull back onto the road. Spinning tires greeted her and no amount of gear-switching would budge the vehicle.
“Shit!” Grabbing her carry-on bag and throwing it over her shoulder, she climbed out, kicking the tire as she passed to stalk down the road toward her hotel. If she’d been thinking clearly, she never would have left the safety of the van, but adrenalin and anger had kicked in. She was more furious than she’d ever been in her life.
After ten minutes of trudging through the mud and the rain, the gods smiled on her as she saw the sign for her hotel. Picking up her pace, she sprinted across the dark parking lot. As she approached the front door of the hotel, she spotted MAD-1 sitting under the covered entryway. The stress of the day broke free as she watched the young chauffeur get out of the driver’s seat to open the back door. Meg saw red as she headed for the man who made her wreck her lousy rental car. Out of the corner of her eye she watched a man and woman emerge from the car, but her entire focus concentrated on the cocky blond driver. Walking up to him, she put a finger to his chest and let loose.
“You stupid, ignorant, son of a bitch,” she screamed at the startled man. “You could have killed me. You aren’t fit to drive a bicycle, let alone a limo. As if that’s not bad enough, you left me stuck in a damn ditch by the side of the road in a storm in the middle of the night. I should call the police and have you arrested for reckless driving. I should call—”
“Excuse me, miss,” a calm voice said behind her. Turning, Meg looked up into the face of the most handsome men she’d ever seen in her life. Standing behind him with her mouth agape was his perfect female counterpart, an equally beautiful—actually stunning—brunette. Unfortunately, the man’s pleasing looks only deepened her fury as she took in the dry, immaculate, not-a-hair-out-of-place appearances of him and his lovely companion.
“And you!” Meg could hear the hateful words spew from her mouth, yet she was unable to stop them. “You sit in that goddamned car like some kind of king and don’t even tell him to stop. Clearly you must have more money than brains considering you would hire him to drive your fancy car like Jeff Gordon, taking out anyone else who gets in the way.”
“I’m afraid I’m not sure what you are talking about,” the man answered smoothly despite her insults.
Further angered by his calm demeanor, she continued berating him. “Sure you don’t. That man runs me off the road not ten minutes ago and you don’t have a clue what I’m talking about.”
The man glanced sharply at his driver. “George, is this true?”
Looking at his feet, the young chauffer appeared chagrined by his actions. “I didn’t know she ran off the road.”
“You didn’t know? Did you pull over to check?”
“We were on a tight schedule,” George mumbled. “Already late.”
“Rob.” The attractive woman from the limousine was clearly uncomfortable with the coming confrontation. “I’m going to go in if you don’t need me anymore tonight.”
“Of course, Lana,” Rob replied. “It’s late. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Good night,” Lana purred softly before making her elegant departure. Meg had to restrain herself from rolling her eyes at the woman’s red carpet worthy performance and the two men gawking at her pert little behind as she strolled away.
“And the Oscar goes to…” Meg mumbled.
“I beg your pardon?” Mr. Gorgeous asked.
“Christ,” she muttered as all the fight left her. “Forget it. I’m wet, cold, hungry, tired, and quite frankly, I don’t give a shit about any of this anymore.” She was well aware that her departure, unlike Lana’s, was less than stellar with water streaming off her now see-through pink blouse and linen pants, mud squishing between the toes of the sandals, and her mass of curly blond hair dripping and hanging in her face.
“Miss,” the man called out to her, but Meg kept walking. The end of her hellish day was in sight and nothing was going to stop her from soaking in a nice, hot bath, crawling between the soft cotton sheets of her king-sized bed, and sleeping until noon.
The night clerk at the front desk took in her dirty, wet appearance with disdain. “May I help you, ma’am?”
“Yes.” Meg rummaged through her damp bag. “I have a reservation. My name is Meg Williams. I have the confirmation number here somewhere. Oh yes, here it is.” She pulled out the crumpled computer printout page with her reservation information.
Glancing at his computer, then at her paper and then back at the computer, the man’s earlier haughtiness disappeared before he tugged at his collar and sighed heavily. Meg closed her eyes and waited for the words she’d heard so many times today.
“I’m very sorry, Ms. Williams. There seems to be a problem with your reservation.”
“Of course there is,” she answered. “Let me guess, my name isn’t in your computer and you don’t have any more rooms.”
The man flushed. “Well, actually, yes, that’s true. You have to understand Cupid’s Carnival is our busiest weekend.”
“Save it.” Meg cut him off with her hand. “Are there any other hotels nearby?”
“There are,” the man began, stumbling before adding, “however—”
“They’re all booked too.”
“There isn’t a single vacancy on the island.”
Looking around, Meg spotted the hotel bar.
“How late is the bar open?”
“Until three.” The clerk was clearly surprised by the fact she wasn’t arguing more.
Numb and exhausted beyond belief, Meg merely nodded before walking away. All the fight had been beaten out of her. Eden Island had officially kicked her ass.
Dragging her shoulder bag on the ground behind her, she trudged toward the bar, unable to think beyond the drink she was going to order.
Today’s question is related to Meg’s vacation. If you could travel to any dream location, where would it be? Comment today for a chance to win a copy of Mad about Meg. And…check out the rafflecopter for a shot at the grand prize.
