MUSE MONDAY
When I don't have a guest on Muse
Monday, I'll share excerpts with photos that inspired scenes from my
books. The scenes are most likely never before shared excerpts.
Over the next few weeks, the story grew. I had so much fun telling the tale of a fifty-year-old woman who’d not found Mr. Right or a career. I added a few fictional escapades, but the men who appear in the book are real enough. And by the way, I couldn’t fit in all of them. Sleeping with the Lights On ended up becoming the first full-length novel I published.
Ripped from the pages... of Sleeping with the Lights On
A secret admirer, a redheaded stalker, and an eccentric millionaire have thrown Sandra Holiday on a dangerous path.
Excerpt:
“Carson, have
you ever considered dating?” I couldn’t get over the six marriages.
“Dating? You
mean instead of marrying.” He shrugged. “I’ve been rethinking it…since Melanie,
who next to you was the best marriage I’ve had, and even then she didn’t
compare with you. You’ll always be the best. Special.”
He melted me
with his choice of words. I couldn’t speak. Carson told me I had been one of
those really good things about his life. The adage came to mind—you don’t know
what you have until it’s gone.
“Man, tonight is good chili weather.” He stretched his arms in appreciation of a nice spring
 |
| A Minneapolis lake |
Minnesota evening. The phrase rang pure Texan. I guess you can’t take Texas out of the Texan no matter how long it’s been. “Let’s do this again tomorrow night, Sandra.”
“I can’t. I
have plans,” I said relieved. Sort of. This evening, supposedly a one-time
meeting should be a brief hello. I had a life.
“The person
who called you earlier?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
He actually
said good. Why did he find every aspect of my life so pleasing?
“Then lunch?”
He took my hand. “We haven’t had nearly enough time to talk. Unless, we extend
this night some more.”
“I don’t
think that would be such a good idea.” Actually, it would be a great idea for
all the wrong reasons. “I have to get up early for work.” I needed to call
Wesley and put Carson out of my mind. Carson Holiday needed to slip back into
my past.
“Then I’ll
take you to lunch.” He nudged me with his shoulder affectionately.
“When do you
go back to Vegas?”
He hesitated.
“In a day or two.”
“You sound
rather vague.” And still allusive. What could be the big secret about this
charity gig he couldn’t divulge?
“I have a few
more things to find out. I’ll be out of here as soon as I get all my questions
answered. It’s complicated.”
“Carson,
honestly, how complicated can a gig—”
He pulled on
my hand, bringing me around to face him. We’d reached the edge of my apartment
complex. My head said turn and run, but my legs wouldn’t respond, mushy from
wine or too much Carson and moonlight. I couldn’t be sure which.
“Have lunch
with me tomorrow, darlin’.” He peered into my eyes, not smiling. His hand let
go of mine, and his fingers gingerly brushed along my forearm while I couldn’t
break the connection of his gaze. “Another hour of your time with a long-lost
friend?”
 |
| Minneapolis winter |
“Yes.” My voice went all husky and come-hither. I wanted to kick myself for being so easy.
“Good. What’s
the address of your office?” He took my hand again, leading me toward the door
of the building. I struggled to shake off the moon shadows and to remember
where I worked. Once inside the building, I took a scrap of paper from my purse
and wrote the address.
“And now I’ll
walk you to your door and say goodnight,” he said tucking the scrap of paper in
his pocket. “Unless you want to have me in for a goodnight drink.”
I didn’t
answer. If he’d known my uncertainty about my renewed attraction to him, a
little persistence might have made me cave.
“Okay, then—”
His mouth gaped.
I followed
his bewildered look to my apartment door the scrawl of lipstick.
TRAMP
We both
stared at an ordinary piece of white typing paper, taped to my door, with no marks other than the one word. He gave me one of those arched-eyebrow-quizzical
looks, but I couldn’t find my voice. We glanced back at the paper like maybe we
missed something. The black, block letters couldn’t be mistaken for anything
other than what they said. And I knew whose artful hand had branded me.
“What have you been up to since we last saw each other, darlin’?”
BARNES AND NOBLE PRINT OR EBOOK
AUDIO
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