My heroine, Greta Brewster, is in a quandary. Her marriage has just ended in divorce, and she’s afraid to tell her mother about it since her mother had warned her not to jump into marrying someone she’d only known for a couple of months. Greta puts off having The Talk with her mother after she returns home for her brother’s wedding. Then said wedding goes south, spectacularly (check Kelly Jamieson’s Jilted, Promise Harbor Wedding Book 1, for all the gory details). Greta decides to go for a drive rather than saddling her mother with another piece of bad news and, well, things happen. She ends up staying for a week at a hotel in a town a few miles away, serving as their chef and falling into a relationship with a hunky archaeologist whom she rescues from a hole in his own dig.
And therein lies my own quandary. Greta has given herself a week to stay at the hotel before she returns home to Promise Harbor and faces both her mother and her future. During that week she discovers that said archaeologist, Hank Mitchell, is actually a hell of a guy. Is a week long enough for a hero and heroine to fall in love? If they do, will readers believe it, or will they assume I’m blinded by my own romantic soul?
Frankly, I wasn’t sure myself. I usually favor slightly longer relationships. My heroines and heroes get to know each other before they have sex, and it usually takes them even longer to commit. In this case, I had the added problem of Greta’s earlier break-up after an impulsive wedding. What were the chances that this time she’d be willing to commit herself to a relative stranger?
In the end, I came up with a sort of tentative answer that I hope will satisfy most readers. I’m enough of a romantic that I want my H/H to be happy. And I’m enough of a romance writer to believe absolutely in HEA. But I have to admit I’m still a little doubtful myself. Are you still willing to believe in Love At First Sight? Can people fall in love in a week, or do you find yourself shaking your head at the whole idea?
Here’s the blurb for Bolted:
Sometimes you have to get lost before you can find yourself.
The Promise Harbor Wedding, Book 2
Greta Brewster McBain in a bind. Two, if she’s really counting. First there’s the can-barely-breathe, bridesmaid’s dress from hell. Second, the stranger who just carried her “perfect” brother’s fiancée out the church door has made it impossible to tell her own mother about her own divorce.
Rather than confirm her reputation as the family screw-up, Greta takes a drive to clear her head.
Trapped in a hole and unable to reach his cell phone, Hank Mitchell is resigned to becoming a permanent part of his own archeological dig when help arrives—in the form of a woman who looks like a Gone With The Wind refugee. Behind the ruffles and lace, though, is something he appreciates: a woman who isn’t afraid of a little dirt.
Their instant connection draws Greta into the eccentric world of the Hotel Grand, where she impulsively trades her hoopskirts for an apron. Soon things are getting hot, not only in the hotel kitchen, but in Hank’s arms...
Warning: Contains hot moonlit sex, a melancholy turtle, two wisecracking seniors, and the world’s ugliest bridesmaid dress.
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