The Critic (35 page)

What would happen if artists and people from all walks of life listened to negative opinions? We could miss out on famous works of art, great fashion, wonderful movies, television shows, Broadway productions, and great books—what a travesty that would be!

Everyone is critiqued in one way or another, whether it be their style, hair, or even the way they talk. Sometimes it’s positive and sometimes it isn’t. Either way it happens whether we like it or not. How we choose to deal with that criticism is what makes a difference.

Bentley told Andi,
“A critic doesn’t slingshot you into stardom. You need to control the pull and release. The sling can only go back as far as you decide to draw it.”

Which is my point exactly. Don’t let anyone hold you back. Be like the makers of Ferris Bueller and go for it.

Joanne xoxo

A lot of people go into writing a book. Yes, I’m the author, but without the support of family, friends, and colleagues, this would not be possible.

My family are the ones who put up with me while I write and smile when I say I ordered pizza for dinner (again) and don’t get mad when the laundry isn’t folded. My husband has had my back and supported me not only on this writing journey but throughout my entire adult life. When I told him about this book, we were watching television. I was in the middle of writing a different one, and I grabbed my notebook and started making notes. I explained my idea, and he said, “You write what you feel you need to.” Those words are enough for me, so thank you, Dave, for loving me and understanding when I temporarily lose my mind and can’t locate my patience. My boys, Nick and Zack, this would not have been possible without your understanding. To say that I am blessed would be an understatement. I love you all so much, and you mean more to me than anything else in the world!

My beta readers, Lisa Paul, Erin Noelle, Vina Platania, Heather Ford, Mary Lou Moench, Katherine Katie Mac Crane, Lauren Collins, Lee Ann Parks, and Ann Marie Madden, thank you for taking the time out of your busy schedules to read for me. Your feedback, comments, suggestions, and more importantly, your honesty were incredibly helpful. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

My friends who always have my back, thank you for supporting me. Without all of you, I know I wouldn’t be where I am today. You all do so much, and I don’t even think you realize it. Just by telling me you enjoy my writing and my characters makes me happy.

To my “Rockin’ Street Team,” thank you for “pimping,” support, and more importantly, for your encouraging words. You’re the best, and I’m so glad to have you on my team.

My critique partner, one of my closest, trusted, and funniest friends, Lisa Paul. You know I could write a short story about how wonderful I think you are! But you’re going to have to settle for a shorter version. Spending my days writing and sharing pieces of this story with you has been invaluable to me. Your wit and incredible skills make me a better writer. Your friendship means the world to me, and we finally got to meet in person! To think I was fangirling over you a couple years ago, and now here we are . . . it’s funny what brings people together. Thank you for writing
Thursday Nights.
Without that awesome book, we wouldn’t be together. So thanks, Max and Janie! I look forward to many more years of friendship, many laughs, good times, and great books. I love you.

My teammate and close friend, Erik Fellows. It’s been more than a year since we became friends, although I feel as if I’ve known you my entire life. You are more than a friend, you are family. I’m very happy your handsome face will be gracing another of my covers. The time you took to make sure I had just the right photo goes above and beyond—not that I’d expect less from you. You mean the world to me. Love you! XOXO Actor Boy

Madeline Sheehan, thank you for being you. I think you rock. You’ve been there to answer questions and to give me your honest opinion since my first book, back in 2013, and I’m very proud to call you my friend. Thank you for writing and for pushing me out of my “norm” when it comes to reading. You’re truly are a wonderful person.

Ashley Suzanne, thank you for your help and confidence. I’m so glad we finally met in person. I think you rock and are a very special lady, talented author, and friend.

To all the bloggers, thank you for everything that you do. I truly appreciate all your support. I wish I could list all of you, but that would add several more pages! Thank you for all the time you spend supporting authors and reading our stories. You take time out of your personal lives, and I am very thankful.

Thank you to Otilia Villar Baker (About Time Photography) for taking an awesome cover picture!! Thank you for sharing your talent with me!!

Special thanks to my editor, Cassie Cox. This is the third book you edited for me, and I look forward to working with you many more times. I appreciate your honesty and your wonderful talent and mind. You’re the best, and I’m lucky to have you!

Sommer Stein from Perfect Pear Creations, a thank you isn’t enough. You create the most amazing covers, swag, and then some! I adore you and I look forward to working with you in the future. You killed it with this cover!!!

The Fictional Men’s Room for Book Ho’s group, thanks for your support! It’s so great to have a group that shares the same love of books!

Most importantly, I’d like to thank the readers. We all love to read and talk about the books and characters we love, and I am so thankful to all of you for not only sharing your favorites but taking the time to send supportive messages. Your enthusiasm keeps me going, and there isn’t a thank you big enough for that.

COMING SOON:

Brett & Julie’s story in
A Heart’s Forgiveness
(A Chance Series Companion Novel)

Bev & Dane’s story in
Gripped

Unexpected Chance

(Chance Series 1)

Chapter 1

When I was little and watched the Olympics on my family’s television in our humble, middle-class living room, I’d get lost in my thoughts and would dream that I’d be the next great figure skater like Tara Lipinski or a great gymnast like Shannon Miller. Then I would go outside and attempt to ice skate on the pond behind our house and fall flat on my ass with my ankles going in opposite directions. I couldn’t even do a cartwheel in our backyard and was far from graceful; I was lucky I could manage a somersault.

My parents always said, “You can be whatever you want to be, Aubrey. You just need to apply yourself.” Yeah, that’s the story of my life. Since I was a twenty-five-year-old college graduate with my Master’s Degree in Journalism and Creative Writing, I should have been able to handle whatever came my way. At least that’s what my mom said when my parents sold my modest childhood home and moved to their ritzy chateau in Paris. To say my mom had changed was an understatement. Apparently, my grandparents had invested wisely, and when they passed away, they left my mom everything. Now that my parents were well off, Mom decided she wanted to live the life of the rich and glamorous. I couldn’t fault her really. My parents worked their asses off and deserved a great life. I just didn’t expect them to move to Paris.
Oh well, I’ll survive on my own.

At my age, I knew I should be applying the education I earned by joining the workforce. I should also be partying with my girlfriends, meeting guys, and just having fun. Was I doing that? No. Instead, I sat in the small apartment that my parents rented for me in the city and I read. Life was going on right outside my window, but my nose was stuck in a book. My life came down to romance and mystery novels—some good, some just cheesy, some that just got me hot and bothered. Who was I kidding? It was all just fiction. That stuff couldn’t possibly happen. That was how I thought of my life sometimes—full of fiction. I didn’t have an ounce of romance in my life and had no clue how to remedy that.

I looked around my small bedroom at the pictures: my parents and me at Jones Beach, my best friend Julie and me just goofing around, but none of me with a man. I realized I hadn’t had a true boyfriend . . . well . . . ever. At one point, I thought I did. His name was Garrett Reed. We were good friends, and I thought we had something special. He told me I was special, and I believed him, but once I slept with him that was the end of the relationship. Maybe that was all he really wanted, or maybe I just didn’t get his rocks off. I don’t know. Honestly, he didn’t do much for my rocks either. I snickered at the thought; although, it still made my heart ache a little. I really liked him, or I wouldn’t have slept with him. I wasn’t that kind of girl, and he knew that. Maybe that’s what hurt me the most. The feeling of being used is a horrible feeling, and that was how I felt. I had Garrett to thank for being guarded.

After graduation, I hoped to be an editor for the Times, but my secret aspiration was to write a romance novel. I had a problem though; I didn’t know a thing about romance. That wasn’t a slight problem; it was a huge problem.

My friend, Julie, knew about it, though. She was confident, beautiful, and she turned heads everywhere we went. I was known as the pretty girl’s friend, which was fine with me. I didn’t exude the confidence that she did. I had been in school, so inundated with classes and homework and wanting to be the best in my class that I never took the time to apply makeup or spend a lot of time on my hair. Sure, I had great clothes because Mom sent them or the money to buy them to me and I loved to shop, but that was about it. I was going to have to confide in Julie to get her to help me with this. I trusted her with my life. We had been best friends since the sixth grade, and I knew she could help me. I just had to find the courage to tell her without sounding like a complete head case.

I looked in my bathroom mirror at the person staring back at me: long dark hair, empty light blue eyes, and skin that desperately needed some makeup or a spray tan. Exhaling, I picked up the phone to call Julie. She answered on the second ring.

“Hey,
chica,
what’s shaking?”

“Hey, I need to talk to you about something. Are you busy or can you stop over?”

“I’m not busy. I can come over in a few. Is everything okay? Are you okay? You sound weird.”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I knew I didn’t sound convincing. “I just need your help with something.” I felt like Sandy in the movie
Grease
calling Frenchy for a makeover. I guess in a way I was.

“Say no more. I’m on my way.”

Julie really was the best. She showed up less than an hour later. We sat on the couch, had a soda, and I tried to muster up the courage that was needed to tell her why I needed her help. I ran my fingers on my microfiber couch, creating a figure eight pattern, around and around and back again.

Julie stared at the shapes I was nervously making. “So are you going to tell me what’s going on, or are you trying to hypnotize me?”

Julie was tall with perfectly highlighted blond hair and big, gorgeous green eyes with sweeping lashes. She was taller than I was, probably about five foot seven, and had a gorgeous figure. Her personality was even more beautiful. She had the entire package. It was no wonder men loved her.

I took a deep breath and cleared my throat. “Well, I’ve been thinking about writing a book—a romance novel to be exact.” I looked up at her through my thick eyelashes to gauge some sort of reaction. I didn’t know why, but I felt embarrassed and a little shy. This was my best friend. I should have been able to say anything and know there wasn’t going to be any snarky attitude.

She grinned ear to ear. “I think it’s an awesome idea! You majored in this stuff, right? From what you’ve told me, you’ve read hundreds of those books, so, yeah, right on!” Then Julie’s brows furrowed and she looked confused. “Why do you need me? I practically failed English, so writing a story is totally out of my realm of expertise.”

Okay, here comes the hard part.
“I know my studies prepared me, and I aced my writing classes, and, yes, I’ve read a ton of books, but when it comes to actual heart-melting, making-me-want-someone-so-bad-I-can-feel-it-in-my-legs romance, I’m clueless.”

I looked down at my hands, which were now twisting in my lap. “I haven’t had a boyfriend in years, and the last one was crappy at best. I want to feel romance, the swept-off-my-feet-I-can’t-believe-this-is-happening-to-me type of romance.”

Realization dawned in Julie’s eyes, and they grew bigger. She bounced up and down on the couch cushion and clapped her hands as if they were on fire and she needed to extinguish them. “Oh my God, we are so going to do this! I’m so excited! We need to find you a muse and get you a sexy outfit! Then we need to make sure that you’re trimmed everywhere if you know what I mean!” She winked after that.

I wanted to smile at her enthusiasm, but instead I felt a little nauseated. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. “Okay, so the outfit seems easily attainable, and, uh, I don’t need a trim anywhere, except maybe the ends of my hair, but finding a muse will not be as easy.” I made sure to use finger quotes when I said “muse.”