My debut novel, "Finding You Again," will be officially released on January 11, 2012, but I thought I'd give a brief preview of it before that special day. So I'd like to post the book's blurb and short prologue. I know many people hate prologues and just want to get right into the main action of the story, but it really is a short prologue, just 239 words, and I thought that even though the subject isn't amusing, the way it was done still had a sort of light and breezy tone to it.
On release day, I plan to post a longer excerpt, part of a scene I particularly like. But for now, in case anyone has the time to do some random reading during these last, ultra-busy days before Christmas and the New Year, here they are: the blurb and prologue of "Finding You Again."
Maggie Demarco thought she’d have the perfect wedding…until the groom backed out without even saying goodbye. So she packs a bag and flees to the town where she grew up to heal and prepare for the rest of her life.
Eric Holt is surprised when he learns that Maggie’s back in town. He’s never forgotten the hours he spent in high school introducing her to the joys of sex. Of course, he’s also never forgotten the pain of her rejection. But he’s still willing to help her recapture the sexual mojo she lost waiting for her AWOL groom, and he proposes a no-strings-attached affair to prove how desirable she still is.
Neither expect the unintended consequences, when old hurts resurface, new problems arise, and simple sex threatens to turn into the craziest complication of all: love.
At one-thirty on a beautiful afternoon in early June, Maggie Demarco stood in the small anteroom at the rear of St. Athanasius Church, wearing a magnificent white gown and waiting for the moment when her father would walk her down the aisle and deliver her for all time into the tender arms of her groom, the love of her life.
At one forty-four, Maggie was still waiting.
At one fifty-nine, the entire assembled wedding party finally realized Maggie was still waiting. And so were they.
At two-twelve... That’s right. Still waiting.
At two-sixteen, calls, e-mails and instant messages began going out to the groom to alert him that he was, umm, just a wee bit late to his own wedding.
At two-twenty-seven, Maggie’s father, the wee-bit-late-groom’s father, the best man, and the ten groomsmen all set out in search of the love of Maggie Demarco’s life.
At two-forty-eight, it finally became evident that the groom hadn’t been in a horrible auto accident on his way to church. Nor had he suffered a near-fatal heart attack, been snatched by kidnappers, or developed a sudden case of amnesia. He had simply turned tail and left town for parts unknown without bothering to inform his bride that he’d experienced a last-minute change of heart about their happily-ever-after.
At three-o-five, belatedly admitting to herself that her perfect wedding was toast, and so was she, Maggie Demarco ripped the tiara veil off her head and ran from the church. Caught between cathartic tears and even more cathartic anger, she vowed, so help her God, that she would never marry anyone—no way, no how—and if she ever found her former beloved fiancé, she would whack the lily-livered louse senseless with what was left of her five-hundred-dollar bouquet.
And, of course, a Happy, Happy Holiday to all!