Sorry this is late–here is another excerpt from my WIP, “Knowing Naomi.” Thanks to all for reading!
“Naomi?” Andy Berman, Seth’s lanky, brown-haired best friend, asked. Andy had let his hair grow. It was almost shoulder-length, and he had a goatee. Somehow, the long hair and goatee suited him, especially since he also played the guitar in Seth’s band.
She shrugged. “Yes. It’s me.” She knew she’d lost weight. She didn’t know what her parents would think about her dying her black hair blonde. She wondered what Andy and Seth felt about the girl they’d once made fun of. Well, she wasn’t a chubby sixth grade girl who had a pet turtle anymore. She was a woman with plans. Not only was she here to run the satellite office of the Schwartz Detective Agency, she wanted to do some investigating of her own.
“Naomi,” Seth said, his deep voice like a hot cup of coffee on an ice-cold Maine afternoon. “What are you doing back in Morganville?”
Oh, yeah, Naomi thought. They’d changed the name of the town from Mensocket to Morganville, in honor of the founding of the place. “My parents insisted that I come back for some R and R.”
“Can we drop you off somewhere?” Andy asked, smiling that charming smile of his.
“I was going to take a cab.”
Check out the other sneak peeks here: http://sneak-peek-sunday.blogspot.com/
M is for Marian Goldberg, my mother, age 88, who should be celebrated every day, not just Mother’s Day—it’s also for the great memories that she gave me.
Some of the things I’m remembering as I write this—her exercising with our two cats, Boo Boo and Sugar, when an exercise program came on TV before I went to school in the morning and her typing my school reports.
O is for outstanding, which she is.
T is for terrific, which she is. She’s funny and beautiful and I love her so much. If I ever figure out how to put photos in my blog, you’ll see what I mean. Maybe by Father’s Day.
H is for humor. My mom has a great sense of humor. She always has a ready smile, and jokes with me, my friends, and my late husband. One of the things I remember is when I had to put out a newspaper that was printed during the time of Robin Hood, and my mom typed it for me and on the last page typed: “This newspaper was written by Nancy Goldberg and typed by Maid Marian Goldberg.” I love all of the funny comments I found in her photo albums from the 1940s. There is a picture of her sitting between my dad and his friend and she wrote “A rose between two thorns.” Then there’s the picture of my dad standing next to a statue of Lincoln and she wrote “Which one is Lincoln?” and another one of him standing on a cliff that reads “Heathcliff Goldberg.” Can you see where I got my sense of humor?
E is for encouragement. She’s been encouraging me and my writing since I was seven years old. I remember when she and my dad went to the open house for parents at my school, and got a folder of my class assignments, as well as an extra one with stories I’d written in it. And I remember her going to book signings and writers’ conferences when my first book, “Tempting Jonah” was released.
R is for romance – she and my dad have been married since January 2, 1949—63 years. I don’t think any of the couples in the books I write can top that. Maybe Jimmy and Ellie Morgan, but I doubt it.
Put them all together, they spell Mother. Mom, I love you more every day.
My computer and my kitty were being bad this morning, but I’m finally able to post a sneak peek at my WIP, “Knowing Naomi,” which is the long (and I do mean long) awaited sequel to “Tempting Jonah.” It’s a New Adult sweet contemporary romance. Seth Morgan once worked at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City, but after losing his job due to the economy, he’s back in his hometown of Morganville, Maine, living in his parents’ house, and running the town thrift store. Naomi Schwartz is back in town to run the satellite office of her family’s detective agency, and to find her birth mother. There are issues between Seth and Naomi…
Hope you like this!
Naomi Schwartz wasn’t used to delays. She hated waiting at the security checkpoint at the Bangor Airport because the knee replacement she’d had had set off the alarms. She’d tried to show them the card they’d given her at the hospital, but the TSA agents had made her stand there, until they called her doctor to check with him.
Naomi had never liked waiting, and patience wasn’t a virtue with her. She hadn’t wanted to come back to her hometown of Morganville, Maine. She preferred to stay and work with her parents at the Schwartz Detective Agency in Washington, D.C. They were the ones who’d insisted that she come back to Morganville to run the small office in Maine that her great-great-great-great grandpa Hank had opened during the Civil War. She was sure his daughter, Danielle, wouldn’t have had to go through such nonsense.
If only the drug dealer she’d discovered in D.C. hadn’t shot her in the knee. If only she hadn’t had to go through months of physical therapy and re-hab. There were too many “if onlys” to suit her.
“No!” Naomi groaned, staring at two men, about her age, twenty-six. Seth Morgan and Andy Berman were hurrying past the check-point. She had been good friends with Seth when she and her parents had lived in Morganville. At least, she thought they were friends until… she didn’t want to think about it; didn’t ever want to see him again.
It had been easy to do that in Washington, but in Morganville, she’d never be able to hide from him.
“You’re free to go, ma’am,” the TSA agent said. Naomi silently thanked God and walked confidently away. She was in such a rush to get away from Seth and Andy and call a taxi that she didn’t look where she was going. She collided with five foot ten inches of rock-hard, solid, slender chest and legs. She found herself face to face with Seth Morgan.