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Tuesday, August 8, 2017



Meet the men of the New York Nighthawks baseball team. Shadow them as they pitch, hit, field and fall in love. Baseball romance with steam, heart, emotion and real baseball scenes. Start off with our star pitcher, Dan Alexander:

Fed up with cheating women, Dan Alexander, star pitcher for the New York Nighthawks, grew restless. Searching for something more than a bar babe, he zeroed in on a girl in the stands. He never expected to see a beautiful chick pushing frankfurters. But the hot dog girl looked as smokin’ as the food she was selling.
Holly Merrill found a place to hide in plain sight, as a vendor at Nighthawks’ stadium. Keeping her secret safe and simply happy to stay alive, she never considered finding love an option. After all, a bad girl doesn’t deserve a decent guy, does she?
Coming off his best season ever, Dan went into the playoffs, hell bent on winning the pennant and playing in the World Series. But could he maintain his focus on the field, where everything was going right, when off the field everything was falling apart?  


FIND DAN'S STORY IN EBOOK, PAPERBACK, AUDIO, ITALIAN, AND SPANISH HERE:



KOBO 








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Thursday, June 22, 2017

NEW RELEASE COMING SOON, BOBBY HERNANDEZ, SECOND BASEMAN - BOTTOM OF THE NINTH



Coming soon, Bobby Hernandez, Second Base. 
Bottom of the Ninth, book 5
This book can stand alone. 

A bit about the book:

Star Nighthawk second baseman, Bobby Hernandez shunned groupies looking to share his bed and his bank account. Seeking a woman who would recapture the Dominican culture he’d lost was like finding a four-leaf clover…until he met smart, sassy, in-your-face Elena Delgado, newbie reporter.
A confrontation, and a hostile interview couldn’t cool the sparks igniting between them. Secrets smoldered. Lies revealed. Could Bobby stop protecting his heart and take a leap of faith? Would Elena risk everything for him, or sell him down the river to get ahead? 
Caution: locker room language.

A taste of the book. Please note that this excerpt has not been professionally edited yet. 

*************************************************

“Is that you?”
Anita Mendoza tossed an open copy of the magazine, Celebs ‘R Us, on her desk. 
 “Who?”
“Don’t play with me, Elena. Are you that woman, in the picture? The one who dumped a drink on Bobby Hernandez?
Elena Delgado, sat across from her boss, editor-in-chief of Hoy!, a New York City Spanish language newspaper. The young reporter crossed and re-crossed her legs. She shifted in her seat.
“Are you?” Anita sat forward, her eyes blazing, her brows drawn down.
“Okay. Yes. That’s me.”
“What the Hell?”
“He was being obnoxious. Coming on to Tina.”
“Tina? That flirt? And I suppose she had nothing to do with it? He just wandered over from the bar and hit on Tina?”
Elena looked down at her hands. “Well, no. Not exactly.”
“I didn’t think so. Why did you take her there? You know how she is. Every time she sees an attractive man, she has to add him to her list.”
“She’s only eighteen. She wanted to meet him.”
“And how did you know where he was?”
“I looked him up on the Internet. The Hide-Out was listed under ‘favorite places’.”
Anita shook her head slowly. “You have a temper, Elena. You’re going to have to curb it.”
“I was only protecting Tina.”
“You want to protect Tina? Take her to a movie.”
“I’m sorry. I’m not sure what the big deal is. The picture only shows my back.”
Anita sat back, an inscrutable smile on her face.
“I know that look. Whatever you’re thinking, forget it.” She waved her hand.
“Yesterday I received a reply to my request.”
“What request?” Elena asked, sweat breaking out on her forehead.
“To interview Mr. Hernandez.”
“What?” Elena rose halfway out of her seat.
“That’s right. He’s an important member of the Hispanic community. He’s risen to the top, worked hard, used his talent, and has succeeded. He’s a role model. And we’re going to interview him.” Anita smiled.
Elena plucked a tissue from her purse and mopped her face. “Some role model, hitting on young girls.”
“Tina is eighteen. She could have walked away.”
“Fine. You’re giving the story to Luis, right? He loves baseball.”
“Nope. I’m giving it to you.”
“What? Oh no, you’re not. I’m not interviewing that jerk.” Elena shook her head.
“Oh yes you are. I don’t need some suck-up to interview this man. I want a real reporter. One who will ask the hard questions. And that’s you.”
“No, it isn’t me.”
“Oh yes, it is. And this story here,” Anita poked the magazine, “just confirms what I’ve thought all along–you have guts and are not afraid to speak up. You’ll get an in-depth interview. One that goes beyond the surface and the adoration. Yours will be worth reading. That’s why you’re doing the interview.”
“I’m not interviewing that man.”
“Then you’d better call unemployment,” Anita said, her voice low.
“You’re kidding, right? You’d fire me over this?”
“Damn right I would. I’m the boss, Elena. And if you can’t respect that and take the assignments you’re given, then you can damn well work someplace else.” Anita’s lips compressed into a thin line.
Elena recognized that look. There was no arguing.
“What a great opportunity to apologize for humiliating the man in public! He’s very attractive, you could do worse than to spend a couple of hours in his company,” Anita said, sitting back, twirling her pen.
“Yeah, yeah. If you say I have to do it, I will,” Elena said, tamping down her anger.
“Here,” the boss lady leaned forward, holding out a piece of paper. “The front office gave me his cell. Get going. Make it a long interview. We’ll do it as a two-parter. Get more bang from the buck.” She laughed. “Bang! Eh, Elena? I doubt that will apply to you though, right? Unless it’s a bang in the head with a baseball bat.”
“Okay. Don’t rub it in. No, I don’t like him. But I’m a professional. I’ll do the interview.”
“Good. Have the rough draft on my desk in ten days,” Anita said, picking up her phone.
That was Elena’s signal to leave. She pushed up from her chair and headed back to her cubicle. Her heart sank. Last thing she wanted was to see that asshole, Bobby Hernandez, again. Fortunately, the story in Celebs ‘R Us gave Anita a plausible excuse for Elena to object. Then she’d never have to admit the real reason to her boss.

************************************************

The book should be published within two weeks. If you'd be interested in reviewing an ARC, please email me at:
sunnydaysbook@gmail.com 
Put BOBBY ARC in the subject line. 

Tuesday, May 2, 2017

FREE eBook! GRIFF MONTGOMERY, QUARTERBACK - Cheap-o Audio book #free #romance #sportsromance #football


FREE, for the first time! 
And the audio book is also available -- dirt cheap!

A bit about the book:

He wants to find a wife. She doesn’t want to marry again –ever. Not exactly a match made in heaven. Or are they? Ten years ago, Griff Montgomery, star quarterback of the Kings and womanizer, became a stand-in father for his widowed sister’s kids. His happy family life collapsed when she and her new husband moved to California.  Griff wants his own family. But where does a “player” go to find his ideal mate?

Having sworn off marriage forever, Lauren Farraday barely kept her life together after her divorce. With her career shaky and depression closing in, the last thing she needed was a courtroom battle with a sexy athlete.


Forced, by a judge, into an uneasy truce, the pair denied their growing chemistry. Wary of Griff’s reputation with women, and hiding a secret, Lauren keeps him at arm’s length. Determined, Griff  marches toward his goal. Can the quarterback handle the truth or will he walk away, like he always has in the past?      











A TASTE OF THE BOOK:

“Even better.” Carla licked her lips. “I’ll bet she has no idea you’re having sexual fantasies about her.”
“I’m not. It was an accident,” he hissed.
“Sure, sure. Keep telling yourself that. Wonder what she’d think if she knew?”
“Don’t, Carla. Please don’t. I’m begging you.” Griff reached for her arm, but she shook him off.
Buddy faced the quarterback. “What the hell did you do?”
“You don’t wanna know.”
“Oh no. You didn’t?” His eyebrows rose.
Griff nodded. “Guilty.”
“Whoa, stand back, Tony. There’s gonna be some fireworks in a minute.” Buddy pushed Hastings to the wall.
“You wouldn’t be lying, now, would ya?” Carla asked, directing her stare at Buddy.
“See for yourself.” He gestured to the brunette at the corner table.
“Lauren!” Carla cupped her hands and yelled.
Lauren stood up, turning to face them.
“You Lauren?”
“Please, please, Carla. I’m sorry, so sorry,” Griff whispered. “Don’t do this.”





Monday, April 24, 2017

What people are saying about NAT OWEN, FIRST BASE...
"This series just gets better and better. This time we have a male protagonist, Nat, who has to deal with more than the usual tough decisions brought on by his past and current circumstances. Throw in a heady mix of temptation, a feeling that he needs to grab the bull by the horns because, if nothing else, fame is fleeting and he's got one shot to really hit the spotlight, and you have a very real conundrum for a man who wants to do right by everyone. In other words, he's blinded by success and making some poor choices he'll live to regret. Naturally one of those regrets has to be Nicki who tries hard but comes up short enough she's forced into making mistakes that mirror Nat's.

Their journeys and the consequences each must deal with makes for a very realistic scenario, and I will admit, my pompoms beat wildly for Nicki and maybe not so much for Nat, but in the end, he managed to win me over... big time.

The writing, as always, is crisp and on point, and it draws you completely into this very competitive and demanding world of professional sports. But Nat Owen, First Base goes that extra mile and takes you into the uncomfortable world of reality checks when ambition and fame seriously conflict with what makes their star players and everyone close to them tick. The ending is satisfying and I'm eagerly looking forward to more books in this excellent sports romance series."
Beach Bum Books

Find it in ebook and paperback here:











                   



















































#jacieburton
#norahroberts
#lorifoster

Friday, April 7, 2017

SNIPPET FROM NAT OWEN, FIRST BASE





A sneak peek at Nat Owen, First Base.
A gritty, realistic, baseball romance. It marries real life with fiction. No sugar coating, no cookie cutter characters in this story. Here's a small piece, anything larger would give away too much. Plenty of twists to keep you on the edge of your seat.
Out of my comfort zone, but a story I love...

The club had a neon sign on the front. The drum from the live music inside reverberated like the beat of a huge heart. Nicki tapped her foot while she waited for her escorts...
Two burly men stood by the entrance, their arms crossed over their impressive chests. Nicki chuckled to herself. If she had come alone, she probably wouldn’t stand a chance of getting in. But with Skip and Bobby, easy peasy.
“Private party tonight, lady,” one of the men said to Nicki.
The bouncers recognized the Nighthawks and greeted them with smiles and handshakes.
“It’s a private party tonight, gentlemen,” the dark-haired bouncer said.
“Nat Owen’s inside. First base? He invited us,” Skip lied.
The big man nodded. “Yeah. I saw him.” He stood aside for the men but closed his meaty fingers around Nicki’s arm. “Just a minute, sister.”
“She’s with us,” Bobby said, putting his arm around Nicki’s shoulders.
“Any friend of yours is welcome, Mr. Hernandez,” the man said, releasing her arm and stepping back.
“Bobby, please.”
The man smiled, and the three were admitted. Inside the club was dark. Purple and magenta lights strobed across the room, highlighting people on the dance floor and at the bar in lurid shades, adding a surreal effect. It took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust. She snaked her arm around Bobby’s waist and clung to him.
Totally at home on the softball diamond, Nicki was out of her element in this tony, upscale nightclub. Bobby squeezed her shoulder, glanced down at her and grinned. She shifted her gaze to the dance floor. The brightness of a too-blonde head bouncing to the beat attracted her eye. Lucy and Nat were grinding together to the music. Nicki’s heart sank. She turned to leave.
“Come on, Nick. We just got here,” Bobby said, taking her elbow and escorting her to the bar. “Whatcha drinkin’?”
Instantly, she got why Dusty had tried to discourage her from coming. Did she really want to see Nat and Lucy practically doing it on the dance floor?

Up for pre-order (releasing next week):

AMAZON

AMAZON U.K.

AMAZON CA

AMAZON AU

KOBO


ITUNES


BARNES & NOBLE

Friday, March 31, 2017

Sneak Peek - Nat Owen, First Base - Book 4 in the Bottom of the Ninth series




How many times have you read about an athlete making it to the top and then crashing and  burning? It seems to happen all the time. I couldn't write about sports without addressing how hard it is for some top athletes to handle success. And thus, Nat Owen, First Base, was born. 




A bit about the book:


What would you do if Lucy Albright, the hottest new female country music singer, asked you to come up to her place?
Nat Owen, formerly nobody from nowhere, now World Series MVP, followed his instincts. The star first baseman fell under the spell of the singer the minute she batted her eyelashes at him.
What about Nicki? Were they only friends, or about to become more? The female pro softball catcher and the first baseman had chemistry. Just as Nat made his move on Nicki, Lucy strutted into his life, offering stardom, glitter, and a lifestyle he could only dream about.  

What’s a man to do? With his head in one place and his heart in another, Nat bounced from one to the other, trying to make up his mind. When an offer he couldn’t refuse was dangled in front of him, he went for it. Little did he know, he had a lot more to lose than his heart. 

Here's the Sneak Peek:


Caution - this excerpt has not been through final proofing or editing yet. 
Chapter One

Nat Owen, World Series Nighthawks MVP, stumbled into a taxi in front of a hotel in midtown Manhattan. Hung over from celebrating, he’d spent the night with Lucy Albright, CMA’s top female country vocalist.
Memories of last night floated through a haze of alcohol. He remembered that someone had offered him pills, and there was white powder on a mirror going up someone’s nose. He’d turned away from the drugs. He’d never taken drugs of any kind. Alcohol was a different story.
Since his intake was restricted during the season, his capacity for liquor had dropped to practically zero. It had saved him a shitload of money since he could get a buzz from only two beers. The celebrations had been champagne all the way. Lucy’s entourage had refilled his glass time and again, so he had no idea how much he’d drunk. It must have been plenty because he had a thirst that wouldn’t quit and a pounding in his head like nobody’s business.
Once inside his apartment, he downed two bottles of water. Then he opened the egg sandwich he’d picked up at the deli and took a bite. Next, he filled the coffee pot and grabbed a bottle of ibuprofen from the medicine cabinet. After wolfing down his sandwich, he popped three pain pills and washed them down with coffee.
He took a large mug of java into the living room where he sprawled on the sofa. Kicking off his shoes, he rested his feet on the coffee table. Eyes shut, he tried to recreate last evening in his mind. Had he slept with Lucy? He couldn’t remember. Retrieving his wallet, he flipped it open and, sure enough, a condom was missing.
Country music played in his brain. That’s right, Lucy and two members of her band had harmonized. He remembered a platter of sandwiches. More champagne. Someone took his hand and led him to the bedroom.
A vision of Lucy taking off her clothes popped up. Wow! Yeah. Lucy naked came back to him, clear as a bell. He’d been on the bed, and she had been riding him like a cowgirl. Her large breasts had bounced in his face. Oh, yes, it was all coming back.
Nat padded into the kitchen for a java refill but stopped to down two glasses of water first. Hell, he’d never been this thirsty in his life. As the pain receded, he grinned. Skinny, little Nat Owen from Willow Falls had banged Lucy Albright, country music star. Raised to be a gentleman, Nat wouldn’t brag to the guys about his conquest, but they’d probably guess anyway and tease the hell out of him.
Wouldn’t the folks back home be surprised? He’d been the smallest kid in his third-grade class. The fourth child of seven, he’d never been anything special. His siblings went out of their way to remind him of that every day. Whenever he acted up, his mother would turn a stone-cold eye on him and yell, “Who do you think you are?”
Hell, Nat Owen didn’t think he was anybody at all until baseball came along. What would they think of their little brother now? World Series MVP and Lucy Albright’s lover—all in one week—was more than a regular guy could believe.
After hydrating himself and popping a couple more painkillers, Nat flopped into bed and zonked out for the rest of the day. As the sun set, he awoke to the sound of text messages popping up on his phone. He read Bobby’s first.

                 Where the hell are you? Party at Matt’s starts NOW

Then Skip’s:

                 Free food and booze at Matt’s. Where are you?

Then Jake’s:

                 Missing a great party, asshole. Get to Matt’s now!

Bleary-eyed, half-asleep, and with a mouth as dry as month-old bread, Nat wracked his brain trying to remember what his friends were talking about. Then it hit him! Dusty, Matt’s fiancĂ©e, and Nicki Overton, her teammate, were making a huge pot of chili, salad, and cakes. Matt was buying a keg and a victory party had been scheduled.
The thought of chili and beer made Nat retch. He ran to the bathroom. The warm bed with soft sheets called to him. But he’d promised the guys he’d go. He was the guest of honor, so he had to show up. Then there was Nicki.
Nat had noticed Nicki when she first showed up with Dusty at Freddie’s Bar & Grill—the New York Nighthawks’ hangout. Dusty’s sidekick was the prettiest catcher he had ever seen. She had chin-length soft brown hair, huge, translucent, light turquoise eyes, and a wiry, athletic build. She played on the same women’s softball team as Dusty.
  Nicki was the first professional softball player he’d met, besides Matt’s girl. They played on the New York Queens. Along with his teammates, he’d watched Nicki handle the job with cool-headed intelligence and grace. Matt and Dusty’s connection intrigued Nat. He’d never dated a female athlete before and wondered if a man and a woman playing the same sport agreed about it or fought about it. Couldn’t help but wonder if the sex was better.
He had quizzed his teammate about Dusty, never about the sex part, though he had been curious. Matt would probably laugh in his face, anyway, or punch him out. He wasn’t the kind to kiss and tell. Just twenty-nine with his career in full swing, Nat had it all—except a steady girlfriend. From time to time, he’d hook up with a girl on the road. The sex wasn’t great, but it was good enough—hell, better than no sex.
He’d wondered about that. All the guys on the team living with women appeared happier, calmer. Nat figured relationship sex must be head-and-shoulders above the get-it-while-you-can kind. He’d never had a steady girl, even in high school. At sixteen, he’d had to go to baseball practice every day after school and on Saturdays. With seven kids in his house, on Sundays, he worked at the ice cream parlor in town to help support the family. There was no time or money for dating.
Once he got into pro ball, women crawled all over him. He had flitted from flower to flower, seeing no reason to deny himself or every attractive woman who wanted a piece of him. He didn’t get puffed up about his success. Not Nat, he’d been humbled by his hardscrabble early life. Grateful to baseball for lifting him up from a going-nowhere existence, he’d focused most of his energy on staying sharp. He had worked out, practiced like a maniac, and had made it to the top.
Tomcatting on the road had lost its luster. As his teammates settled into solid relationships and prepared for marriage, there were fewer and fewer guys hitting the bars. He wanted a woman who he could talk to, about the game, life, whatever. Banging a steady diet of different women left him needing something more.
He wanted what his teammates had—a girl he could count on. The time had come for Nat Owen to admit that being on his own didn’t cut it. He needed to grow up, find a good woman, and make a commitment. Easier said than done.


**************************** 

Not your "cookie cutter" sports romance, Nat Owen, First Base will make you mad, make you cry, make you laugh and keep you turning the pages until you're done! 

It's up for pre-order now. Release date is scheduled for April 18. Find it here:









Coming soon to paperback and audio. 

Check out the other books in the Bottom of the Ninth series:



Saturday, March 25, 2017






Writing isn't a stagnant calling. As a writer, you work constantly to improve your craft. Perfecting a story again and again. Sometimes you revisit an older story you love and re-polish it, using what you have learned since you wrote it. That's what this is. 

Mac Caldwell and Callie Richards have been favorite characters of mine since I wrote their first book. They appear in all the books in the Now and Forever series --probably because I loved hearing from them. When I finished the final book in the series, I cried, because that was the last I'd hear from them. 

I became inspired to use what I've learned to improve their stories. I'm in the process of re-editing Now and Forever 1, a Love Story. Then I will do The Book of Danny. 
There are five books in the series and two prequels. Can you tell how much I loved the people at Kensington University in Willow Falls?

As I fix the language, I'm heartened by the fact that they still live as well -rounded characters in a compelling story. The re-editied book will come out in a week or two. In the meantime, I'd like to share the beginning if their story, polished up to shine anew. I hope you enjoy it.

*****************************************'

Callie put the check for $15,000, half of all the money she had in the world, on the counter of the bursar’s office. Kyle, her fiancĂ© who had been killed in Iraq, had left her the money. Her palms sweated, her eyebrows knitted in a frown. She hoped to do well enough to remain in the Masters of Education program at Kensington State University through the first year and earn a scholarship to pay for the second. She needed to win this gamble to get her life back on track.
The pretty brunette ambled out the door of the square, brick administration building. Nestled in the heart of the sleepy little town of Willow Falls in upstate New York, Kensington State prided itself on first-rate education amidst a friendly atmosphere. Callie turned the corner and plopped down on the thick grass. Sitting cross-legged, she leaned back against a tree and thought about her last day with Kyle.
Thanksgiving. He and Callie had been invited to celebrate with his friend, John Weston, and his family. While the turkey cooked, some of the men played touch football. Callie had slipped away to the guest room for a nap. Kyle had joined her. It had been their last day together before he’d been deployed for the last time.
Callie had undressed quietly and gotten under the covers while had he stripped down to his boxers and T-shirt. Kyle pulled the covers down slowly.
“Kitten, don’t be shy. I want to remember every inch of you,” he said, first placing his hand gently her cheek then leaning over and kissing her softly.
The air around Kyle had crackled with his energy. He had moved his hands slowly over her body, caressing every hill and valley with his fingertips. She had moaned when he kissed her breasts. He touched her inner thigh and moved his hand up, to stroke her core, as her growing need took over.
“Kyle…” she breathed while his lips and hands had ramped her up to a fever pitch. Finally, he had pushed up on his knees, entered her and brought them to completion. Afterward, they had snuggled in each other’s arms. Callie had rested her head on his shoulder, drinking in his masculine scent and the smooth feel of his skin. She had slipped her arm across his chest, tightening it, as if a firm grip could keep him there with her forever.
With great hope and expectation, she gazed at the modest engagement ring still resting on her finger. She smiled at the memory of the night he proposed. A man of action, Kyle had been tongue-tied at the time, awkward and shy with words of love. Stumbling around, unable to express his feelings, he had simply grabbed her hand and jammed the ring on her finger.
His fingers had tangled in her long hair as he pulled her closer.
“Remember, you promised to come back,” she said.
“I’ll love you forever, Callie. I’ll be back to make you my wife and then we can do this every night,” he said, kissing her.
After this last dangerous tour of duty, they had planned to marry, settle safely on a base somewhere and begin her dream –living with him as husband and wife. Though he had promised her he would come back, it was a promise he couldn’t keep.
Callie recalled the Weston’s guest room, the last place she and Kyle had made love and spent the night together. The memory of the small lily flower pattern of the wallpaper and the scent of pot pourri in a dish on the old-fashioned oak dresser tumbled through her brain, mixing with the feel of Kyle’s skin, his cheek needing a shave, his soft lips tempting her, coaxing her to give herself to him passionately again.
During their last night, Callie had awakened at four. Kyle had been scheduled to leave at eight. She had put her shyness aside and turned to him, waking him with a passionate kiss. He had rubbed sleep out of his eyes, turned to her and raised his eyebrows.
“Now?”
She had nodded, running her hand down his strong chest, gazing at his body.
The look of surprise when she had touched him followed by his wicked grin had indicated his delight at her uncharacteristic boldness. He had stared at her with a look of true love shining through his eyes, before he had turned toward her and ignited her fire.
After her release, Callie had buried her face in his neck and cried softly. Kyle stroked her hair, and teared up, too. Though they had never spoken about the possibility that he wouldn’t return, it hung in the air between them like a gray mist, a shadow. 
“Kitten, no matter what happens, I’ll love you to eternity.”
“Don’t say that! Don’t say that. Say you’ll be home. Be with me. I need you so much.”
“You know I will. We’ll be together forever.”
At the end of his tour, he had been killed. His death had devastated Callie. Days had blended together going on endlessly with no meaning. Getting out of bed had challenged her strength  every day. She had mourned him for two years, never forgetting their nirvana both in and out of the bedroom. At twenty-six, Kyle no longer existed and despite the ache in her heart, she had tried to move on, alone, but determined.
Pushing to her feet, Callie strolled through the campus, ending up on a bench under a Linden tree. She watched small groups of students buzz about, rushing around to get their schedules, settle into dorms and make new friends.
She hoped to find peace in the beauty of Willow Falls a whistle stop town of 5,000, and the campus with its stately trees, well-kept buildings, and manicured lawns. She counted on jumpstarting her life with the new surroundings and a new goal. She slipped the ring off her finger and tucked it safely in her purse. Time to move on.

* * * *

From his office window, Mac Caldwell looked down on the main quad and the growing activity. He brushed his dark hair out of his eyes. He was tall and lean, built more for sports than academia.
Mac evaluated his life. With another school year beginning, what was he beginning? The students Mac saw from his window looked hopeful, anxious and single-minded. But what about him? Mac had made some poor choices in the past. He had married the pretty but vacant woman he accidentally impregnated and was now divorced. He had fathered a beautiful toddler, Jason, he adored but only saw on weekends. Loneliness ate away at Mac. He wanted a family, not this disjointed arrangement. After his divorce, Mac had buried his pain and focused on getting ahead. It had paid off when he was made an undergraduate dean.
Two years later, success wasn’t enough. At thirty-four years old, he wanted a woman in his life, but the right woman, someone he not only wanted to sleep with, but wanted to wake up with, too. He had stayed away from co-eds. Tempting as they could be, they were big trouble for an administrator. He paced in front of the window, then perched one hip on the sill and stared out at the new crop of students milling about.
He spied Callie sitting by herself on a bench in the quad. He admired her shoulder length chestnut hair blowing in the breeze and her blue sundress revealing an alluring figure. Mac got closer to the glass. He couldn’t see her perfectly, but enough to know she wasn’t familiar. The other students rushing around were in groups, or at least pairs. This young woman sat alone. He watched as she walked toward the administration building, his gaze drawn to the graceful motion of her body, the gentle sway of her hips.
He checked his watch. Another two hours before the end of the workday. He sighed and returned to his desk. A pile of papers on the right, indicating problems that needed his attention, called to him. So did the memory of that brown-haired girl. He picked up a memo from the president, forcing his mind to get back to work.
Unable to concentrate, his mind wandered. Even if he’d made up his mind to find someone, where would he go? The strip club was out. Did he expect her to pop out of a vase, like a genie? A smile tugged at his lips. If that was going to happen, could he make a request? That got him thinking. If he could put in an order for a woman, like he did for a burger – medium well, no onions, cheddar cheese – what would he ask for?
Of course, intelligence would be number one, but what would this dream girl look like? He leaned back in his chair and propped his feet up on the wastepaper basket. He pushed to his feet and ambled over to the window again, but the pretty girl on the bench was gone.
“Her,” he said aloud to no one. The sound of his voice startled him. Yes, she might look like the girl on the bench. Hell, he could do worse, a lot worse. His mind shifted gears from his imaginary perfect woman to the mystery girl from the bench. Questions arose. Who was she? His intercom interrupted his reverie.
“Mac, I’ve got some schedule changes for next month,” Jonesy, his secretary said.
“Fine. Put them on the calendar and send me an email.”
“Don’t you want to know?”
“Not now. I’m, uh, working on a problem and I need to concentrate.”
“Oh, of course. Sorry to bother you. I’ll get them off first thing tomorrow.”
“Fine. Thanks, Jonesy.”
He chuckled at his innocent lie. No, he didn’t want to think about schedule changes, he wanted to think about her, let his mind wander in a fantasy land for a few minutes. His phone rang, it was Eliza, the other undergrad dean and a long-time friend of his.
“Can I schedule an interview with you tomorrow for a student?”
“Sure. What’s the deal?”
“I’ve got to run. Can we talk tomorrow? I’ll ask Jonesy to squeeze him in.”
“Of course,” he said, glancing at his watch. “Good night.”
“You, too,” she said before hanging up.
It was five thirty. He put on his suit jacket, straightened his tie and opened the door. Another night of nowhere to go, nothing in the house to eat. He shrugged. Eating out wasted money, but he hated eating alone.

“Doc’s Diner it is,” he said to aloud to himself as he descended the stairs to the street. The diner had become his home. A comfortable place just clean enough to pass inspection, but not fancy enough to need a necktie for, the joint appealed to the restless dean. He turned to the left and headed into town. 

Coming soon...