As usual, it seems like I am swamped again. Story of my life, for sure. For fun, I thought I’d give you a sneak peek at my unedited WIP. Here is the first meeting:
She wound her car down the road, the front-end unerringly finding its way to her mother’s home, a mammoth bed and breakfast where all four Northwood children were raised. Only Tessa had left Port Hill while her sister and two brothers remained in the area and helped support their widowed mother.
Now she returned home to lick her wounds. Pseudo-fame did that to you, especially after being humiliated on national TV. She’d thought her life would be in Los Angeles, spending the rest of her days as a Chef at La Mercado. Instead, her job became a victim of elimination under the guise of a “new direction” in the hotel restaurant’s cuisine.
The truth of the matter is that management no longer wanted to be associated with anyone by the name of Tessa Northwood.
She pulled up behind a black SUV and stopped. One o her mother’s guests must have parked out front rather than in the parking lot to the side. The weekends were usually the busiest during the cool spring months, but a few weekday guests provided income, which was badly needed when the bed and breakfast wasn’t full.
Reaching for her purse, she ignored the falling rain, anxious to see her mother after five years. Yes, she was a bad daughter in not returning home more often, but with her schedule, she’d barely had time to breathe herself, with holidays especially busy. And her mother couldn’t take a vacation since the bed and breakfast was a fulltime job. Not that Tessa hadn’t asked a couple of times.
The cement walkway’s crack seemed unchanged, as did the steps leading up to the front entrance. If she remembered correctly, the third step had a loose board.
One... two...three...
Creak.
The sound brought forth a sense of home and a feeling of comfort. How she missed the sounds and smell of living in Port Hill. The horns as the boats headed out to sea to lay their nets for fish and crab. The salty fresh air mixed with the faint odor of dead fish.
She wrinkled her nose. No, the smell of fish she could live without, though right now it didn’t appear bad. It took her a couple of years in LA before she dared to incorporate a fish dish into her repertoire. It reminded her too much of home.
Taking a deep breath, she hesitated at the door. Should she walk in, or knock? It seemed silly to announce herself at her mother’s home, but much had changed in the past few years, mainly that the place she called home growing up had turned into a popular Bed and Breakfast. As a child, they’d occasionally had a guest, but now her mother advertised worldwide, mentioning a few times of guests from Europe and Australia. Her mother enjoyed the experience of meeting new people.
As she mulled over her options, the decision was taken out of her hands, as the door swung open. Expecting that her mother saw her car and figured she was here, she pasted a smile on her face. “Hi Mom. I know I’m a little early, but I made excellent time on the road and—”
She stopped mid sentence when the person in front of her didn’t turn out to be Olivia Northwood, but someone she didn’t know.
Tall, dark haired, with a commanding build, the utterly out of this world handsome man filled the doorway, his gaze roving over her body. She could already feel the first tingles of excitement in certain parts of her body. Something which had been missing in the months since her downfall and humiliation.
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