 | Dancing in the White Room, a contemporary women's fiction set in ski world, was released last February. I love writing about skiing, and the world created in this story, so much so that I decided to give Creech, one of the characters in Dancing his own story. The Fall Line is about Creech in his new job as ski coach to the US ski team and ski superstar Mia Whitmeyer,, who is hoping to win her seventh world cup victory. The story is humming along, though it's not done yet--and I have to leave it be for a while so I can finish another love story, that of Anton and Lenora, as I wrap up the Sweet Lenora historical series. Here, uncut and as yet unedited, is a little taste of Fall Line. I hope you like it! |
The Fall Line
Mia
I tried to get into it. I told myself I wanted this, I needed this; a romantic fling with a passionate young Italian man who smelled of expensive cologne and who would mean nothing in my life. I tried, but as I stood there and kissed him back for all I was worth, all I could think was it would be over soon. And soon, I’d feel worse for having done this. And then Creech waltzed back in to my brain and my next thought was that this guy’s kisses weren’t the ones I wanted.
I pulled back. “I’m sorry. This is a terrible idea.”
He looked at me with questions in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” I repeated. “I can’t.” And I turned and walked away, before he could say anything, hoping he didn’t take it into his head to do something stupid or romantic like follow me and call my name.
He didn’t follow and I turned the corner and he was gone. I nearly ran back to our hotel, my heart hammering as my head asked what I had been thinking. I went into the lobby. A hot bath, alone, seemed like a good idea. A dark room and a bed to myself seemed an even better idea.
Creech stood at the bank of elevators, his back to me; we were the only people besides the concierge in the lobby. The elevator dinged, the door opened and he stepped inside. I ran to get into the car with him before the door shut. “Mia,” he said, sounding surprised.
I grabbed his jacket and kissed him as though my life depended on it.
Mia
I tried to get into it. I told myself I wanted this, I needed this; a romantic fling with a passionate young Italian man who smelled of expensive cologne and who would mean nothing in my life. I tried, but as I stood there and kissed him back for all I was worth, all I could think was it would be over soon. And soon, I’d feel worse for having done this. And then Creech waltzed back in to my brain and my next thought was that this guy’s kisses weren’t the ones I wanted.
I pulled back. “I’m sorry. This is a terrible idea.”
He looked at me with questions in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” I repeated. “I can’t.” And I turned and walked away, before he could say anything, hoping he didn’t take it into his head to do something stupid or romantic like follow me and call my name.
He didn’t follow and I turned the corner and he was gone. I nearly ran back to our hotel, my heart hammering as my head asked what I had been thinking. I went into the lobby. A hot bath, alone, seemed like a good idea. A dark room and a bed to myself seemed an even better idea.
Creech stood at the bank of elevators, his back to me; we were the only people besides the concierge in the lobby. The elevator dinged, the door opened and he stepped inside. I ran to get into the car with him before the door shut. “Mia,” he said, sounding surprised.
I grabbed his jacket and kissed him as though my life depended on it.
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