Amalie Berlin on Work Ethic

Please welcome author Amalie Berlin as she shares a bit...


Amalie's latest release is UNCOVERING HER SECRETS and she has an autographed paper copy for one commenter! She's also running a raffle until 4-28-14 at www.amalieberlin.com

 

 

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Sunny Skies Obliterate My Work Ethic!

I was thinking about the things I could talk about in regard to my current book, and there are a number of things I could point at and blahblahblah about, but my heart is not in it today. As I write this, I’m just in from outside, where it’s just gorgeous. PERFECT actually.

This winter has been monstrous, but today it is sunny, blue skies, and 77F! I ran errands and drove around with the windows down! I didn’t wear a jacket! I WORE SANDALS! Which might not seem like a big deal, but I am one of those female oddities who does not like shoes. I hate them. I hate wearing shoes and I would go barefooted everywhere if I could. I suspect I’m part Hobbit… only minus the hair on the feet. Sandals and flip-flops are my shoe of choice. This is another beef I have with winter…  Besides the one that’s in the back of my mind right now. They’re forecasting more freaking snow tomorrow I think? Seems impossible, which means it’s totally going to happen :/

So in the spirit of getting back outside before the snows return, I’m just going to share some quotes that remind me of my current release, Uncovering Her Secrets, because I love quotes! And an excerpt!

This one is for the book:

“Mistakes are always forgivable, if one has the courage to admit them.” Bruce Lee

This one is for me J

“All you need is love. But a little chocolate now and then doesn’t hurt.” Charles M. Schulz

If any writers are reading this, do you have quotes for your current WIP? And readers, do you have quotes that remind you of books you’ve loved?

Excerpt

Dasha waited in the hospital cafeteria while Preston met with the doctor. Snacks. Endless supply of coffee. And it was early enough that the lunch crowd hadn’t arrived. She had room to claim a table, spread her stuff out and work.

Less than half an hour into her cafeteria lounging, her phone buzzed. Text.

His fingernails are dirty.

She should be happy he’d at least met this one, but alarm bells sounded. Complaining to let off steam was all right, but preparing his escape hatch was unacceptable. She texted back.

That will scrub away.

Doubt it.

Definitely looking for an escape hatch. How had she become the freaking escape hatch?

Talk to him. Not me.

A few seconds later:

His shoelaces are a mess too.

Panic set in. Not a second scrubbed trip out of town—he was not doing this to her again. A third doctor flushed without a fair hearing.

You’d better stay and talk to him.

Meet @ car.

“Sonofa…” Dasha muttered, and flung a final NO! at him. When there was no response after a couple minutes she knew he’d left the office.

Grumbling under her breath, Dasha stashed her phone, gathered up her belongings, and hurried to where she’d parked, picturing the ways she could hurt him.

She found him leaning against the trunk, arms crossed.

“You are an idiot,” Dasha bit out.

“A man who can’t tie his shoes properly can’t be trusted to operate on my eyes.”

She beeped the door locks and got in. He followed, looking as grouchy as she felt. Almost. He hadn’t had to stay awake for the trip there.

“You see? And he went to a good school, didn’t he? And he still fails at a basic level for you. You’re not someone who can be pleased. Ever.” She slammed the key into the ignition and started the car.

He leaned his head back, leaving her to guess what he was thinking, “I could do without the lecture, Hardin.”

Another thing he’d been doing for the past week: calling her by her last name.

“You should have let me talk to him with you.”

“You’re just the chauffeur.” Preston looked at her then.

“I’m just the help now? Good to know. I know you people can’t talk to or befriend the help.” She pulled out of the lot. “You can find another chauffeur next time. I’ve had it, and since we’re not friends…”

“I told you at the outset that we weren’t going to be friends when this is over.” He didn’t comment about the ride, probably expecting she’d give in when he asked next time.

“But since then I’ve been a friend to you. Helping you hide your condition all the time. Driving you all over creation. And you took me to play basketball and offered to escort me to the ball. That sounds like friendship to me.” His words had stung. Maybe she didn’t deserve his friendship, but he could not lead her on about that. Decide he didn’t like her and stick with it rather than this back and forth business.

“That’s me paying a debt. Notice I didn’t even ask what that second dress you got was for.” He turned on the radio.

Dasha gave up talking then. This was because of her shower invitation. Because he wanted her too, or he wouldn’t be acting like this. The realization brought little comfort. Things hadn’t been this bad after he’d kissed her. And he’d also kissed her head the other night. No matter what he said about duty, he still cleanly sidestepped her references to his friend-like actions to help her deal with feelings when she’d found out about Marjorie’s metastases.

If he regretted being kind to her, that was another reason to let him go on thinking she had nothing invested in his probation working out well. Her job was on the line too, but she’d be damned before she told him that.

“You’re off the hook as ball escort,” Dasha informed him, after chewing on it for several miles.

“No. It’s a debt, and I will pay it.” Preston tried to shrug her off, turning up the music.

Arguing while driving made it impossible to hit him or bite him. It also made it impossible for him to get away from her. She flipped the radio off.

“Actually, it’s not. It’s only a debt if it’s doing me a favor, and you can be sure that I don’t want you there. So it’s not a favor. Unless it’s your way of punishing me with your presence, you’re not going. I’d rather hire a male prostitute and go topless to the stupid ball than take you with me.”

“Don’t be so freaking dramatic.” He didn’t turn the music back on, but she could tell he was thinking about it.

“I’m not. I’m being practical. I’d rather go alone.” She was successful, independent, and she didn’t need an escort.

“Do not ask Jason.” He enunciated every word.

Jason? He got a first name now, and she didn’t? “Wouldn’t dream of it. He’s injured. And with someone.”

“It’s settled, then. Consider it a work function. I’ll take you,” Preston announced, like Tyrant of the Winter Ball. The king of the ball would have had some manners.

“I have the ticket so I get some say in who I take with me.”

“I’m going to sleep. Let me know when you come to your senses. Or when we get home. I imagine the latter will happen first.”

Jerk.

He laid his head back and closed his eyes, once again cutting her off to make the drive alone.

Only now she was actually glad.

She turned the radio back on. And turned it up.