Picnics and Promises -
Blurb
The last thing geeky Samantha Rose planned was her homemaking blog going viral.
Only her sister was ever supposed to see it. After
a disastrous picnic, Daniel Novak, the cynical political reporter dispatched to interview her, insists he must reveal the truth. That could ruin everything. Including their budding
love.
Extract:
Daniel Novak stared at his boss. She’d called him to her office for this? “I think I
misheard you. You want me to do what?”
Meg shook her head, her stiff salt-and-pepper hair barely
moving. “You didn’t mishear, Novak. I’m sending you to Idaho to interview
Samantha Rose, the homemaking blogger a mention in our magazine section made an
overnight hit.”
Her brisk businesslike voice didn’t shift gear as she
repeated her outrageous statement.
“Send one of the junior reporters. This is a piece for the
lifestyle pages.” He turned to leave. “Excuse me, I have some real news
to chase.”
“It isn’t a suggestion for your next assignment. It’s an
order.”
The hint of steel in her tone stopped him at the door. He
glanced back at her, eyebrows raised.
Was the editor reputed to be the toughest and smartest in
New York losing it? No one knew Meg’s real age, but she’d have to be hitting
her seventies. Not that old.
Her fist thudded on the desk. Controlled, but unmistakably a
thump. “I still run this paper. I know everyone’s contracts inside out. You’re
going, or you’re fired.”
They faced off. The words, Go ahead, hovered unsaid on his lips.
She’d mentored him from his first day as a cocky intern
here, made him who he was. Besides, Meg had way too much business savvy to fire
one of her best investigative reporters on a whim.
Her lips curved in the merest hint of a smile. “Don’t try
calling my bluff, Novak. You know I never make threats I won’t follow through
on.”
That much she was right about. In his fifteen years at the
paper, he’d never heard her order anything she didn’t make happen. But this was
ridiculous.
A homemaking blogger, for crying out loud, when his job was
uncovering the city’s hidden crime and deception! Still, he could knock over a
simple interview like this in a day. A day’s travel either side, three days
tops. If he couldn’t talk Meg out of sending him, he’d have to humor her and go
along with it.
But not without putting up a fight first.
“I want a follow-up on Samantha Rose. And I want you
to do it.” A perfectly manicured bony finger poked a folder across her wide
desk. “Here’s the plane reservation, the rental car, and your booking at a bed
and breakfast. The details have been emailed to you.”
He stepped closer to pick up the folder and leafed through the
printed pages as she continued speaking.
“Take whatever angle you want. You can add some critical
analysis. The power of the press. Why a modern woman wants to devote so much
time to homemaking. The impossible images of perfection most lifestyle media portray.”
Irony warped those steel tones. “Including our own lifestyle pages, by the way,
so don’t be too critical.”
“Forget the story for a minute. There’s something wrong
here.” Pausing, he checked the dates again on the bookings. “Your assistant
made a mistake. I’m booked into this place for four weeks. Even four days is more than it needs. There’s no
reason I can think of not to simply call the woman and do a phone interview.”
“It’s not a mistake.” She eyed him steadily. “That’s what I
told her to book. And there’s every reason not to do a phone interview. I want
you to go in person.”
“You’re demanding I fly right across the country and lose an
entire month doing what’s little more than a filler piece, no matter how
you try to dress it up?” Lowering the folder, he stared at her, head shaking,
forehead creased.
“When did you last use your vacation time?” The shrewd glance
over the top of her glasses said she already knew.
Jaw tight, he placed both hands on her wide desk, leaning
over it. “You know I haven’t taken any time off for years. And I don’t need to
start.”
“Don’t you? We have a difference of opinion on that.” Meg
wasn’t backing down. Not one inch.
Time for a different approach.
Stepping back, dropping his tense shoulders, he forced his
body language to become as conciliatory as he could manage. “With the paper
facing tough times financially, why spend so much on one story to fill space in
the lifestyle section? And why me?”
“Consider it a thirty-fifth birthday gift. I’m paying.” Her
harsh features softened, and for a moment, she looked more human than he’d seen
her. “I taught you to ask all those whys. Here’s why — you’re burning out,
Daniel. I know the signs better than anyone. You need some time off.”
He dragged in a deep, careful breath to relax his tensed
muscles. Conciliatory, remember? “No. No way am I burning out. My last few
stories were better than ever.”
The corners of her mouth turned down. “Were they? They were
scoops, sure. I know beyond doubt everything you write is one-hundred-percent
accurate and factual. But there’s something missing. It’s always been missing
from your stories. The human element. Any sense of caring for something greater
than the facts.”
“There is nothing greater than the facts. Getting to
the truth and seeing justice done is all that matters.” Outrage rocked him,
echoing in his voice. How could Meg, of all people, say differently? “That’s
what good investigative journalism is all about. You taught me that, too. About
the same time you taught me who, why, where, what, how.”
“Did I?” Regret further drooped her lips as she shook her
head. “In that case, I owe you an apology. I don’t like what I’m seeing in you.
You’re so tuned into dishonesty and deceit, it’s all you can see in people.”
Before he could reply, she held up a hand. “I know about
your father and the effect that had on you. But not everyone is crooked.”
The old pain of discovering Dad’s hypocrisy clenched his
gut. He stiffened. “Aren’t they? In my experience, once you scratch beneath
their nice shiny surfaces, most people are.”
Meg huffed. “You don’t think the fact that you’ve spent all
your adult life investigating crime and fraud has anything to do with that? And
this is exactly why I’m giving you a month off. You need to reset your internal
lie detector by spending time with normal, honest people. Tell me, who do you
trust? Anyone?” Her quirked eyebrow told him she didn’t expect the list would
be long.
It wasn’t. Despite the way it played right into her
argument, he couldn’t and wouldn’t lie.
“You. That’s it.” He shrugged, focused on her desk. “After
the way you mentored me, I can’t imagine you’d stab me in the back. Though this”
— he waved the papers — “sure looks like it.”
Meg rolled her eyes. “Come on, Novak. You know me better
than that. If I ever decide to stab you in the back, you’ll know. There won’t
be any ‘looks like’ about it. Besides, the city’s fraudsters and conmen aren’t
going to disappear if you take four weeks off.” She dismissed his concerns with
an airy wave of the hand. Easy to say when it wasn’t her career on the line.
“And yes, I did mentor you. You’re the closest thing to a son I have.”
Slowly, he nodded. She had him now. He’d never known his
mother, and though no one could call Meg motherly, he did respect and admire
her.
Smiling wryly, he spread his hands. “I know. If anyone else
but you had suggested this, I’d already have challenged them to go ahead and fire
me, and be back at my desk. It’s the craziest suggestion I’ve ever heard, but
I’m still here listening.”
“So keep listening, kid.” Genuine affection warmed
her face. “I’m not sure I want to see you turn out like me. Hard-boiled and
cynical. Living for nothing but the next scoop, on an endless search for truth
and justice.”
“Dedication to the truth made you the best there is.” He’d
never heard her speak such heresy, contradicting the journalistic code she
taught.
“The best in a very dirty game. Are you sure that’s
what you want?” She gazed at the copy of today’s newspaper on her desk, brow
furrowed, lips pensive. “A long time ago, I hit a fork in the road. I had to
choose — marriage or my job. I’ve loved this newspaper, and I’m not saying I
made the wrong choice. For the last forty years, I’ve been convinced I made the
right one. But lately, I’ve been wondering. What if I’d chosen marriage
instead…?” The choices she hadn’t made clouded her gray eyes.
He regarded her steadily. She was losing it. “What
ifs are for fiction writers, not journalists. This is the life I want. I’m not
pining for anything different.”
Meg lifted one hand to the chest of her man-styled gray
suit. “That’s what worries me. You’ve made the decision without ever
considering an alternative. I’m giving you the chance at a fork in the road
now. You have a week to tidy up loose ends here. Then I want you on your flight
to Spokane. Take time out. Start the book you want to write. Think about what
you really need from your life. And email me the story on Samantha Rose.
Make it a good one.”
In other words, discussion
over. And he’d been well and truly steamrollered. Arms flexing, he stalked
from her office. A boss who’d lost her edge. She’d be ordering him to write
about unicorns and fairy dust, next.
And a month in a hick lakeside town with nothing to do but
write a fluff piece on some homemaking blogger.
Probably his worst nightmare.
My review:
Wow. Kind of sums it up in one word. I read this without being able to put it down. Loved it. The interaction between the heroine and the children is amazing. Also the hero and the children. Must also try the pie, but probably with apples.
My review:
Wow. Kind of sums it up in one word. I read this without being able to put it down. Loved it. The interaction between the heroine and the children is amazing. Also the hero and the children. Must also try the pie, but probably with apples.
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