Who can remember back to their first time crush?
International singer/songwriter/musician superstar, idol of women worldwide with boy-next-door appeal. But just who is the real Daniel Haines? Rachel Warner would love to know. Yes, he is cute beyond belief, polite, humble, and adored by fans and critics alike. He can have any woman he wants so why is he so interested in Rachel – a single mum from a small English Home Counties town? It isn't as if she encourages his interest. She wouldn't dare. Ex-husband, Richard, backed up by ruthless father hold a psychological axe over her head. One wrong move, a hint of inappropriate behaviour and they will swoop down and remove her son, Alexander, from her care. She daren't give in to Mr Haines all too flattering attention. Will Daniel convince her he can protect her and Alex from Richard's malicious fingers?
Excerpt from Letting Go:
And knocked and knocked. About to give up, she turned when the door flew open. An usually tall, anorexic- looking Japanese girl glared at her with catlike eyes. Rachel shuddered.
"Yes? May I help you?" The crimson-painted mouth narrowed into a hard line.
Rachel blinked. Bloody hell. Kill Bill Volume One. With one eye on the woman's lethal-looking talons, she held out her hand. "Good morning. On behalf of the management, I would like to welcome you to The Country House. May I come in? There are a few details that I would like to go over with you concerning MrerMr" She furtively glanced down at the lone page inside the file. God, how embarrassing. She'd forgotten his name. She breathed easier. Disco Dimwit had at least managed to write that down. "Em...Mr. Haines."
A pair of black fish eyes stared back at her from beneath thick false eyelashes, making Rachel feel like something spewed up from an overflowing drain. But she knew better than to wait for an answer. From her experience, if she didn't get a toe nudge in the door now, she never would. Her golden rule was never be intimidated by the PA even under threat of a karate chop from this Charlie's Angel wannabe. She took a step forward into the room.
"Ex-cuse me."
Rachel ignored the frosty glare as she cast a surreptitious glance around the huge split-level living area. She took note of the numerous bodies, male and female, draped across the squashy ivory leather chairs and sofas. They were oblivious to her presence. Two pony tailed men with elaborate tattooed torsos were lost in their own world as they strummed together on acoustic guitars. A shaven-headed mountain of a man sat cross- legged on the floor, wearing nothing more than a pair of cycling shorts that left little to the imagination (at least they wouldn't if Lynn had been with her). He stared at the wall-to-wall television in a zombie-like trance, pushing fast and furiously on his console control, absorbed by Lara Croft. Fascinated, Rachel supposed he moved his fingers at such speed because of all the guitar playing or drumming he must do. By the size of him, she pegged him for a drummer.
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of yet another body in similar state of undress. This man lay sprawled out, fast asleep, nearly buried in the pile of wool off-white carpet with his head resting in the lap of a stunning blonde who leaned over him, busy painting her toenails. She seemed unperturbed that she dripped silver varnish all over his bronzed and toned chest. Rachel winced, hoping the drips would not stray. Brian's blood pressure was already too high. In this familiar tableau, "Rock Band at Rest," she wondered which one was Daniel Haines? She hoped not the scary one with the PlayStation.
Rachel turned her attention back to the leather-clad predator who waited, talons poised like an eagle's, ready to swoop down for the kill. "You must be Miss Owgawa," Rachel said in her best BBC pre-Thames-Estuary-era voice. "I have a few questions I would like to ask Mr. Haines concerning any special requests he may have. I'm afraid there seems to have been an oversight on our part.
You see—"
"Look, Miss Whoever-you-are, I take care of all of Daniel's needs, thank you. So why don't you go back to your cleaning, or whatever it is you do." The PA took a step forward, her yellow jumpsuit crackling. Her eyes widened to the point that she could have auditioned for a part in Dragonball, so affronted that anyone would dare try and encroach on what she considered her exclusive territory.
By now a few heads rose and Rachel found herself the subject of bemused curiosity. She knew that her uninvited audience was captivated by the floorshow, awaiting the outcome with bated breath. The intrepid Mai must not be a force to be taken lightly. Under normal circumstances, Rachel would have backed off, content if the guests stayed happy. But this young woman standing in front of her, a superior smile stretched across her porcelain face, annoyed her. She'd had a bad day from the moment the alarm failed to go off. She felt tired, irritable and her head pounded louder than an AC/DC drum roll. In fact, she grew pissed off. She took a step forward and prepared for battle. "While I am certain that Mr. Haines is more than satisfied with your 'services,' it is, however, hotel policy that I deal directly with our guests."
A faint titter came from the blonde with the nail polish.
Dealing directly with guests wasn't exactly true, but Rachel didn't care. "I demand to speak to Mr. Haines." Rachel mentally crossed her fingers and hoped that the illusive Daniel wasn't already in the room, otherwise she would look ridiculous.
Miss Owgawa raised herself up to her intimidating height of five-foot-ten, making Rachel think that anyone who thought Japanese girls dainty didn't know much. She took a cautious step back, preparing for a quick round of kickboxing before lunch.
"I reiterate: I and I alone am responsible for Mr. Haines's well-being. Now please leave or I shall be forced to speak to the management."
Rachel blinked at the venom in her tone and racked her brain, trying to remember the moves from the local constabulary self-defense course. She took a deep breath.
"I am the management. Now, if you please—"
"Would it be too much trouble for someone to tell me what all the shouting is about? I was trying to sleep? What's going on here, Mai?"
Rachel spun around and found herself staring at who could only be the Daniel Haines. For a moment, lost for words, she studied Lynn's latest object of desire and she was surprised, pleasantly. Not at all what she'd expected, he stood above average height, about five-ten, five-eleven. Under the black jeans and black long-sleeved T-shirt she detected firm, lean muscle, the muscle of a natural athlete as opposed to an iron-pumping steroid popper. He wore his dark brown, almost black hair closely cropped, drawing attention to a well-sculptured profile. She thought him good-looking but not in an Enrique Iglesias almost-too-perfect way. Nor did he possess that Robbie Williams laugh-you-into-bed cheekiness. He appeared more the boy-next-door type. The kind of boy whose mother dressed him in Thomas the Tank Engine jumpers until age twelve.
He turned from Mai to look at her and the breath caught in her throat. Daniel Haines had the most beautiful, luminous, deep blue eyes. Eyes big and soulful, fringed by the longest lashes Rachel had ever seen on a man. But the way he looked at her sent her heart fluttering. His gaze seemed to penetrate deep into her soul—as if he could read her innermost thoughts, feel her every mood. Extremely unnerving.
He smiled then, his full, sensuous lips parting to reveal a set of perfect American white teeth. Rachel revised her opinion from cute to amazing. An insane thought flashed through her mind—what would it be like to kiss that mouth?
"I'm Daniel. Daniel Haines."
The cultured New England accent floated over her,
caressing her as he held out his hand. "How do you do.
And you are?"
Rachel found her fingers pressed into his and still his eyes wouldn't leave hers. She wished he would look away because she couldn't function. He seemed to suck all reason out of her. In the end, she lowered her gaze, pulled herself together and cleared her throat. After all, she'd dealt with Ozzy, this should be a walk in the park. "My name is Rachel. Rachel Warner. EmI am the personnel assistant to the hotel manager. I"
"Oh?" He arched one well-shaped eyebrow. "And just how do you 'personally' assist him?"
Rachel caught the hint of a smile and scowled, deciding he wasn't that cute after all. Just another spoilt, pampered, overpriced, big-headed singer—or whatever he did in the band. She still wasn't sure. But then she looked into those eyes again and saw that they crinkled with warm, gentle humor. Which was more than could be said for Miss "Sushi." Her feline optics gleamed with malice and triumph, so thrilled by what she perceived to be her boss's putdown.
"You can personally 'assist' me anytime, sweetcakes." The leering voice from the corner of the room made Rachel turn just in time to catch one of the ponytails flash her a lewd wink. Any other day, she'd have laughed it off good-naturedly. God knows she'd put up with a lot worse. But by now she'd reached the end of her tether. "Here." She pushed the file into Mr. Haines's hand. "If there is anything you need, please don't hesitate to contact me. My office is on the floor below. Enjoy your stay." She turned on her heels, walked out and slammed the door. As soon as she did it, she realized her mistake. She hurried to the lift with the sound of laughter and wolf-whistling reverberating through the corridor. God, how she wished it was Friday!
Available from Wild Rose Press.
Purchase link:
http://www.thewildrosepress.com/letting-go-paperback-p-3275.html?zenid=07f8093f0a8bf46d6c208f017b35d073
Viviane Brentanos
http://Corfu-author.tripod.com
JULY 2010 - Please welcome VIVIANE BRENTANOS our Author in the
Spotlight!
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Excerpt from Letting Go:
And knocked and knocked. About to give up, she turned when the door flew open. An usually tall, anorexic- looking Japanese girl glared at her with catlike eyes. Rachel shuddered.
"Yes? May I help you?" The crimson-painted mouth narrowed into a hard line.
Rachel blinked. Bloody hell. Kill Bill Volume One. With one eye on the woman's lethal-looking talons, she held out her hand. "Good morning. On behalf of the management, I would like to welcome you to The Country House. May I come in? There are a few details that I would like to go over with you concerning MrerMr" She furtively glanced down at the lone page inside the file. God, how embarrassing. She'd forgotten his name. She breathed easier. Disco Dimwit had at least managed to write that down. "Em...Mr. Haines."
A pair of black fish eyes stared back at her from beneath thick false eyelashes, making Rachel feel like something spewed up from an overflowing drain. But she knew better than to wait for an answer. From her experience, if she didn't get a toe nudge in the door now, she never would. Her golden rule was never be intimidated by the PA even under threat of a karate chop from this Charlie's Angel wannabe. She took a step forward into the room.
"Ex-cuse me."
Rachel ignored the frosty glare as she cast a surreptitious glance around the huge split-level living area. She took note of the numerous bodies, male and female, draped across the squashy ivory leather chairs and sofas. They were oblivious to her presence. Two pony tailed men with elaborate tattooed torsos were lost in their own world as they strummed together on acoustic guitars. A shaven-headed mountain of a man sat cross- legged on the floor, wearing nothing more than a pair of cycling shorts that left little to the imagination (at least they wouldn't if Lynn had been with her). He stared at the wall-to-wall television in a zombie-like trance, pushing fast and furiously on his console control, absorbed by Lara Croft. Fascinated, Rachel supposed he moved his fingers at such speed because of all the guitar playing or drumming he must do. By the size of him, she pegged him for a drummer.
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of yet another body in similar state of undress. This man lay sprawled out, fast asleep, nearly buried in the pile of wool off-white carpet with his head resting in the lap of a stunning blonde who leaned over him, busy painting her toenails. She seemed unperturbed that she dripped silver varnish all over his bronzed and toned chest. Rachel winced, hoping the drips would not stray. Brian's blood pressure was already too high. In this familiar tableau, "Rock Band at Rest," she wondered which one was Daniel Haines? She hoped not the scary one with the PlayStation.
Rachel turned her attention back to the leather-clad predator who waited, talons poised like an eagle's, ready to swoop down for the kill. "You must be Miss Owgawa," Rachel said in her best BBC pre-Thames-Estuary-era voice. "I have a few questions I would like to ask Mr. Haines concerning any special requests he may have. I'm afraid there seems to have been an oversight on our part.
You see—"
"Look, Miss Whoever-you-are, I take care of all of Daniel's needs, thank you. So why don't you go back to your cleaning, or whatever it is you do." The PA took a step forward, her yellow jumpsuit crackling. Her eyes widened to the point that she could have auditioned for a part in Dragonball, so affronted that anyone would dare try and encroach on what she considered her exclusive territory.
By now a few heads rose and Rachel found herself the subject of bemused curiosity. She knew that her uninvited audience was captivated by the floorshow, awaiting the outcome with bated breath. The intrepid Mai must not be a force to be taken lightly. Under normal circumstances, Rachel would have backed off, content if the guests stayed happy. But this young woman standing in front of her, a superior smile stretched across her porcelain face, annoyed her. She'd had a bad day from the moment the alarm failed to go off. She felt tired, irritable and her head pounded louder than an AC/DC drum roll. In fact, she grew pissed off. She took a step forward and prepared for battle. "While I am certain that Mr. Haines is more than satisfied with your 'services,' it is, however, hotel policy that I deal directly with our guests."
A faint titter came from the blonde with the nail polish.
Dealing directly with guests wasn't exactly true, but Rachel didn't care. "I demand to speak to Mr. Haines." Rachel mentally crossed her fingers and hoped that the illusive Daniel wasn't already in the room, otherwise she would look ridiculous.
Miss Owgawa raised herself up to her intimidating height of five-foot-ten, making Rachel think that anyone who thought Japanese girls dainty didn't know much. She took a cautious step back, preparing for a quick round of kickboxing before lunch.
"I reiterate: I and I alone am responsible for Mr. Haines's well-being. Now please leave or I shall be forced to speak to the management."
Rachel blinked at the venom in her tone and racked her brain, trying to remember the moves from the local constabulary self-defense course. She took a deep breath.
"I am the management. Now, if you please—"
"Would it be too much trouble for someone to tell me what all the shouting is about? I was trying to sleep? What's going on here, Mai?"
Rachel spun around and found herself staring at who could only be the Daniel Haines. For a moment, lost for words, she studied Lynn's latest object of desire and she was surprised, pleasantly. Not at all what she'd expected, he stood above average height, about five-ten, five-eleven. Under the black jeans and black long-sleeved T-shirt she detected firm, lean muscle, the muscle of a natural athlete as opposed to an iron-pumping steroid popper. He wore his dark brown, almost black hair closely cropped, drawing attention to a well-sculptured profile. She thought him good-looking but not in an Enrique Iglesias almost-too-perfect way. Nor did he possess that Robbie Williams laugh-you-into-bed cheekiness. He appeared more the boy-next-door type. The kind of boy whose mother dressed him in Thomas the Tank Engine jumpers until age twelve.
He turned from Mai to look at her and the breath caught in her throat. Daniel Haines had the most beautiful, luminous, deep blue eyes. Eyes big and soulful, fringed by the longest lashes Rachel had ever seen on a man. But the way he looked at her sent her heart fluttering. His gaze seemed to penetrate deep into her soul—as if he could read her innermost thoughts, feel her every mood. Extremely unnerving.
He smiled then, his full, sensuous lips parting to reveal a set of perfect American white teeth. Rachel revised her opinion from cute to amazing. An insane thought flashed through her mind—what would it be like to kiss that mouth?
"I'm Daniel. Daniel Haines."
The cultured New England accent floated over her,
caressing her as he held out his hand. "How do you do.
And you are?"
Rachel found her fingers pressed into his and still his eyes wouldn't leave hers. She wished he would look away because she couldn't function. He seemed to suck all reason out of her. In the end, she lowered her gaze, pulled herself together and cleared her throat. After all, she'd dealt with Ozzy, this should be a walk in the park. "My name is Rachel. Rachel Warner. EmI am the personnel assistant to the hotel manager. I"
"Oh?" He arched one well-shaped eyebrow. "And just how do you 'personally' assist him?"
Rachel caught the hint of a smile and scowled, deciding he wasn't that cute after all. Just another spoilt, pampered, overpriced, big-headed singer—or whatever he did in the band. She still wasn't sure. But then she looked into those eyes again and saw that they crinkled with warm, gentle humor. Which was more than could be said for Miss "Sushi." Her feline optics gleamed with malice and triumph, so thrilled by what she perceived to be her boss's putdown.
"You can personally 'assist' me anytime, sweetcakes." The leering voice from the corner of the room made Rachel turn just in time to catch one of the ponytails flash her a lewd wink. Any other day, she'd have laughed it off good-naturedly. God knows she'd put up with a lot worse. But by now she'd reached the end of her tether. "Here." She pushed the file into Mr. Haines's hand. "If there is anything you need, please don't hesitate to contact me. My office is on the floor below. Enjoy your stay." She turned on her heels, walked out and slammed the door. As soon as she did it, she realized her mistake. She hurried to the lift with the sound of laughter and wolf-whistling reverberating through the corridor. God, how she wished it was Friday!
Available from Wild Rose Press.
Purchase link:
http://www.thewildrosepress.com/letting-go-paperback-p-3275.html?zenid=07f8093f0a8bf46d6c208f017b35d073
Viviane Brentanos
http://Corfu-author.tripod.com
WIN! WIN! WIN!
===========
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Can you remember your first crush? Viviane Brentanos Can!
Reviewed by Sassy Brit @ Alternative-Read.com
on
8:55 am
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Reviewed by Sassy Brit @ Alternative-Read.com
on
8:55 am
Rating:
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