My dream to see Danielle's Touch in print is almost here...

Coming  August, 2010 to Passion in Print

Cover Art by:Winterheart Design

 

A view of the back cover and blurb...

 

 

 

  Unedited Excerpt

~****~

 

“This can’t be right.”

Ethan stared at the dilapidated sign that hung above the shop, and then at the peeling and cracked paint on its gaudy, red doors. Disappointment settled heavy in his gut. By the looks of things, Danielle’s Touch had seen better days.

Damnation. With his hands full at the farm, and his time limited, he had no inclination to drive twenty-five miles into Augusta. This was the only decorator in town, and his only option.

He grunted, wiped sweat from his brow then pushed through the doors of the run-down shop. Florescent lights flickered. The walls needed fresh paint. Bookshelves, their contents sparse, lined one wall. He’d heard nothing but glowing recommendations from the townsfolk about the decorator, but the building’s appearance did not put him at ease.

I must be out of my mind to even be here.

Ethan rapped his knuckles on the counter, cleared his throat and turned to leave. Movement in the back of the semi-dark room caught his eye.

Whoa! His steps faltered mid-stride. A woman, curvaceous and sexy as hell, stood just inside a rear doorway. She paused next to a window and smiled. Dim rays of sunlight caressed her auburn hair. Ethan’s blood hummed. A heart he’d long since considered dead, thudded rapidly.

"May I help you, sir?"

Her sultry voice stirred a hunger inside him and heated his blood. He stared into her amber eyes, and uncomfortable, brushed invisible dust from his sleeve. “Hope I’m in the right place. Is this really a decorating business?”

Her eyes brightened. “Yes, it is. Do you have a need for a decorator?”

She crossed her arms over her chest, and Ethan noted how nervous she seemed. “I recently purchased an old Victorian. It needs a bit of sprucing up. Paint and paper, I think. But I don’t know much about that sort of thing. That’s why I’m here. Thought maybe a professional could help me sort out what needed to be done.”

He plucked the Stetson from his head and scanned the room. Thrown by the shop’s shabby appearance, and that the owner was female, he sorely doubted she’d be capable of handling the major repairs his house required. Not a little mite like her. The phonebook’s advertisement had clearly stated renovations and decorating. Uncertain, Ethan edged toward the door. “If he’s not in, I’ll come back later.” 

“Wait!” She held up a hand and smiled. “You’re looking at him. Tell me what you need. I’m sure I can help.” Her rigid stance relaxed, and her arm dropped. “Welcome to Danielle’s Touch.”

Ethan winced inwardly, his body on full alert. Her voice pulled him with the force of a magnet. He slapped the Stetson against his thigh, and then raked a hand through his hair.  “I’d need an estimate first. Could you possibly come by and do that?"

A cool smile formed on her lips. "Are you sure? As you can see, I’m not who you expected."

He scanned her from head to toe. “That’s obvious, and yes, ma’am, I am. Sorry. I just assumed a man ran the place.” He coughed and looked away.

“Hold on, and I’ll be right with you.”

Drawn to the sway of her hips as she walked away, Ethan averted his attention to the toe of his boot. No way could a woman like her do any of the heavier stuff involved in renovations. She must hire it out.

The decorator returned with an appointment book and flipped it open on the worn countertop. Ethan moved closer, the light scent of jasmine invading his nostrils. His body responded. God, this can’t be a good idea.

She stared up at him and covered the client roster with her hands. “As a matter of fact, err…if it’s convenient, I can swing by tomorrow and take a look."

“Thanks, I'd appreciate it, Ms...?" He held out his hand and gave her his best smile. "I didn’t catch your name."

Hesitant, she placed her hand in his and her eyes darkened. "Danielle Courtland." She stared at his lips, moistened her own with the tip of her tongue and tugged her hand free. "Where’s this house located?”

Ethan shoved his hands deep into his pockets and fought the urge to move closer. “Out past Silver Bluff.”

She jotted the directions he gave in her appointment book then scribbled on the back of a business card and handed it to him. His pulse surged. The hypnotic amber of her eyes...he gave himself a mental shake. Why on earth would her phone number in his pocket excite him? He had no intention of calling her.

"If that’s it and all is agreeable, I'll see you around seven a.m.—unless that’s too early."

Ethan itched to touch her cheek, certain the texture would feel silky beneath his fingertips. He flexed his hand, replaced his Stetson and moved toward the door. "That's about it, I believe, and seven is fine. By the way, I’m McCord. Ethan McCord." He tugged the door open, craned his head upward when the bell jingled, and then stepped outside.

~ * ~

Danielle edged to the window and pressed her hand against the cool glass. He was even more handsome than her ex-husband, Alex. Please, God, let that be where the similarities end.

The cowboy slid into his truck, and smiled. The hard planes of his face softened, and he tipped the brim of his Stetson with a fingertip.

Heat rushed through Danielle’s body and her heart rate kicked up a notch.  Hands fisted at her sides, she watched him drive away. She hated her ex-husband, and this man set off warning bells. His rugged good looks and those deep hazel eyes screamed caution.

Weak-kneed, Danielle stumbled to her office and slumped into the desk chair. She pressed a hand to her cheek, remembering how he’d scrutinized the room with a look of uncertainty. Why had he asked for an estimate?

Yeah…she struggled, but she was good at her job. All she wanted was an honest day’s pay for an honest day’s work.

What had he been thinking?

The doorbell jingled again. Lord above, what did he forget? On trembling legs, she rose from the chair and moved toward the front of the building.

She peered through the doorway. Nicole Lawson, her best friend, stood at the counter. “Oh…it’s you.” The breath rushed out of her.

Nicole smiled. “Some greeting. Who’d you think it would be?”

Danielle peered out the window. “You didn’t happen to see a truck pull away, did you?”

“No, there was no one out front when I parked. Why?”

“I had a visitor.” Danielle dried her sweaty palms on the front of her jeans. “I may have a job,” she squealed.

“Good for you, sweetie. Couldn’t come at a better time.” Nicole grasped her hand and squeezed. “Come on, sit down and tell me about it.” She tugged Danielle toward the office.

Danielle settled in behind the desk and blew her bangs out of her eyes.

She opened the account book and studied the entries. “It’s an old Victorian. I won’t know until I see it—how big the job is, I mean. All he said was the house needed paper and paint. Lord knows I need the money, but something about him makes me nervous.”

She crinkled her nose. Staring at the bottom line of her ledger wouldn't change the meager profits, or get her out of this mess. She needed this job and more of the same to stabilize her business.

 Her mind drifted back to the cowboy. Heat raced up her neck. She snapped the ledger shut. He’d probably never experienced hard times.

Nicole sat down and crossed her arms. “I’m so glad he came in. Maybe you’ll get the job.” Amusement flickered in her eyes. “He got to you, didn’t he? That’s why you’re so agitated.”

Danielle huffed. “No, he didn’t get to me. I already told you that the man makes me nervous, but it’s either take the job or shut the doors. You should have seen how he scrutinized the shop, assumed a man ran the place. He may be more than impossible to deal with. A chauvinist or worse.”

Nicole’s expression sobered. “Danielle, he’s not Alex. You need to remember that. Don’t judge every man you meet by your ex. Move on, honey. After three years, it’s time.”

Glancing around the office, Danielle nodded. Nicole was right. Time to stop dwelling on the past. Right now, reality came down to either a roof over her head or being out in the street. She’d take the job if he offered it.

Nicole tucked a sun-kissed blonde curl behind her ear. Devilment sparkled in her green eyes. She leaned forward, forearms resting on her knees. “Is he a hunk or what?”

Danielle gave her a hard look but laughed despite her efforts not to. “Leave it to you to wonder about a man’s appearance. And not that I noticed, but I guess you might say he is.” Mr. McCord’s smile flashed to mind. Electric tingles coursed through her body.

Flustered, Danielle busied herself straightening the office. She filed the paperwork on her desk, while Nicole set the coffeepot for the next day. Moving to the front room, she tidied the bookshelf that held her meager inventory of material sashes and furniture books. Her hands stilled as she noted the dull, walnut paneling. She tried to view the room through a stranger’s eyes. His eyes.

What she saw brought her up short. Why would the man want to hire her? For someone who advertised decorator skills, her business lacked flair and freshness. Although she was good at what she did, it didn’t show here.

With her fingertips, she traced a golden frame hanging on the wall. The business license inside and a dream were all she’d started with, and they were still all she had. She’d sank what little money her father had left her into the business, and through hard work, built a name in Arrington. Whatever it took, she was determined to succeed.

Sure, it would be nice to spruce up the place, paint the walls and refinish the worn floors. But why kid herself? Money was tight. She needed the scant amounts that trickled in to pay bills and stay on her feet. Nicole’s voice, fuzzy and far away, echoed in her ear. She stemmed her musings and looked at her friend. “What did you say?”

“Honey, I asked if you needed anything else. I’m leaving now. Just thought I’d stop by on my way home.”

“No. I’m good, and I’ll be leaving myself in a few minutes.”

“Are you sure? You seem distracted.” Nicole touched her arm.

“I’m sure. Go on home.” In an attempt to reassure her, Danielle smiled.

“I think I will. My feet are killing me. Call if you need anything.” Nicole closed the door then pushed it back open. “I’m curious. What was this guy’s name?”

“Ethan McCord.”

Nicole grinned. “Ooh…I’ve seen him around. No wonder you’re distracted. He is a hunk.” She clicked her tongue and left.

Danielle shook her head. Men were forever on Nicole’s mind, and it seemed she thought every woman should be the same way. It’d be nice to be so carefree. But that was impossible after everything Alex had put her through.

Thirty minutes later she locked the doors. Taking a few steps back on the sidewalk, she squinted up at the sign. Danielle's Touch was her dream, her livelihood. She couldn’t and wouldn’t let it go down the tubes without a fight. The possibility that it might sent a shiver of fear down her spine as she slid into her SUV.

On the drive home she chewed her lower lip—a nervous habit Alex had chastised her for many times—and prayed the job would come through. She’d do almost anything to keep the doors to her business open.

~ * ~