Book Details:
Title: Unwritten (The Unspoken Series Book #1)
Author: M.C. Decker
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Day: September
10th 2014
Synopsis:
I thought it was too late. I
thought our story had already been written.
College
sophomore Brooke Anderson thought she had it all − a loving family, her sexy
high school sweetheart, a supportive, quick-witted best friend and dreams of
being the next hotshot reporter for the
Washington Post.
Fate had something else
in mind when Brooke collided with the devastatingly handsome upperclassman,
Rich Davis. Rich was cocky, conceited and arrogant. He was everything that Brooke didn’t want, but
Rich never gave her the option. He had already made the choice to be, at the very least, her friend. Would Brooke accept
this egotistical man’s friendship? Would she choose to want more? Would it be
too late if she did?
Fast
forward nearly ten years. Brooke’s life hadn’t played out quite as she had
envisioned it. She was suffering from the heartbreaking loss of her mother, her
high school sweetheart was long gone, and her dreams of the Washington Post had turned into a career at a small town paper.
Brooke decided it was time to follow her dreams. If she couldn’t be happy in
love, at least she could be happy in life.
Brooke’s
dreams brought her to the lobby of the Washington
Post where fate intervened once
again as she collided with none other than the devastatingly handsome Rich
Davis. As her potential employer, Rich now seemed off-limits. Brooke wanted her
successful career more than a chance at love. But, was it really her choice to make, or was it beyond her control?
Maybe my story is, in fact,
Unwritten …
Buy Links – To come!
Excerpt: (please choose one to use for your post)
Excerpt #1
Prologue
October 2011
There was a limousine waiting
for me when I exited the terminal at Dulles International Airport, just a
little after daybreak. I’d only ridden in a limo once before and it had been
with him. I never imagined a
potential employer going to such extremes for an interviewee. First, I received
first-class boarding passes and now a stretch Hummer with my very own driver.
This was certainly a few hundred steps above my current, small-town, reporting
gig.
Even while riding in the lap
of luxury, I couldn’t shake the butterflies fighting in my stomach, or the
incredibly sweaty palms that I kept wiping on my navy, pinstriped, pencil
skirt. Thankfully, I decided to forgo breakfast before catching the red-eye out
of Detroit. That would’ve made the butterfly situation a whole lot worse.
I could do this. I should
have researched the editor, Davis, a bit more. Why didn’t I think of doing it
two days earlier? Where was the brown paper bag when you needed it? They were
always so readily available to the broken heroines in the kinky romance novels
that I enjoyed reading.
After what seemed to be a
short drive, the limo began to slow down in front of a large building with
oversized, tinted glass windows. Both an American flag and the flag of
Washington D.C. flanked the entrance of my destination, the home of the Washington Post. Before the car came to
a stop, I wiped my sweaty palms one final time, pulled my compact from my
purse, applied a light pink lip gloss and took a deep breath. Showtime!
My driver came around and
escorted me from the car. For that I was thankful, as I’m not sure my nervous,
wobbly legs could have survived my new ankle-strap, cream leather Louboutins
that I purchased just for this interview. Sure, they may have cost me half an
entire paycheck, but I wanted to look the part of an up-and-coming Washington
reporter. My new shoes paired nicely with the vintage Valentino suit jacket
that I found on clearance at my favorite consignment store and with my favorite
go-to, pencil skirt.
I made my way up the front
stairs, opened the heavy doors and headed toward the receptionist’s desk. There
sat a young blonde with what appeared to be a fake rack and an even faker tan.
“Hi, I’m Brooke … Brooke
Anderson. I’m here for an interview with Mr. Davis.”
The much-too-perky female
handed me a visitor’s badge and directed me to the twelfth floor where I was to
ask for Mr. Davis’s secretary, Caroline. I waited at the elevators for what
seemed like an eternity before the doors opened and a group of people pressed
forward.
A few suits exited the
elevator on the sixth floor before the doors, pinging open on the twelfth
floor, snapped me out of my nervous trance. I straightened my skirt and began
to exit the elevator when I collided with all solid muscle and six feet three
inches of him. And, that smell – why did this man smell so familiar? … I hadn’t
smelled that perfect scent since … it’s then that I looked up and was greeted
by those teal eyes. I’d never forget those eyes – those eyes that I never
believed I would gaze into again. It was immediate déjà vu. I’d met him like
this once before, only eleven years earlier. I had been a young and naïve
student with so much to learn about life, love and heartache. I felt my heart
begin to race and I feared that it might actually leap from my chest.
I
thought it was too late for us. I thought our story had already been written…
Excerpt #2
We
spent the morning, once again, interviewing some of Rich’s contacts at the
Exchange. It started snowing just as we were exiting the building for lunch. I
pulled my red, wool peacoat tighter to my chest and wrapped my knitted, white,
infinity scarf closer to my neck. I was glad that I chose my knee-high boots
rather than the black pumps I had originally unpacked this morning.
“Why don’t we skip our afternoon
appointments and play hooky this afternoon,” Rich said. “I have the perfect
idea.”
“Did Rich Davis just suggest playing
hooky?” I questioned in disbelief.
“Shockingly, I did,” he answered
amusingly.
“You’ve come a long way since you referred
to me as the ‘slacker-type.’”
“You never let me forget my arrogant ways,
do you Miss Anderson? Now let’s go have some fun, shall we?”
How could I argue with this playful side
of Rich?
“Lead the way, Mr. Davis,” I said with the
widest possible smile on my face.
We took a cab back to The
Plaza where Rich insisted I change into something warm and comfy. I went into
my bedroom and changed into a pair of skinny jeans and my favorite white,
cashmere sweater. I pulled on my pink Ugg boots and completed my ultimate
snow-bunny look with my matching pink puffy jacket. After wrapping my scarf
around my neck, I added a knit headband to cover my ears. I figured I would be
prepared in case Rich was planning an outdoor activity.
I headed downstairs to the living room and
noticed that Rich was already waiting for me, dressed in his winter gear. I tried my best to hide my disappointment
after seeing his ski jacket covering so much of his sexy body.
“Where are we headed, Rich?”
“That’s my surprise, Brooke. You said you
had never been to the city before and I thought we could have some fun and
maybe tackle a couple of those locations that are probably in your precious Frommer’s Travel Guide.”
I soon realized, when Rich didn’t
immediately hail a cab that we were walking across the street to Central Park.
Rich’s hand clung to mine as we made our way through the gates and headed
toward the signs that pointed toward the Wollman Rink.
“Oh my god, are we going ice skating?” I
questioned, as I began jumping up and down on the sidewalk.
“Somehow, I knew you would love this. Is
this part of your Home Again movie, too?” he asked.
I couldn’t help but laugh at Rich’s error.
“First, it’s Home Alone and no, no
ice skating. I’ve just always dreamt of skating in Central Park. And, we’re
also so close to the zoo.”
“Well, I’m not sure if we’ll have time to
make it to the zoo. If memory serves, it closes fairly early in the winter.
But, I do have another surprise planned for this evening.”
Rich and I rented skates and glided over
the ice for several hours. The snow started coming down more heavily as the
afternoon flew by. After I was certain that my nose was going to fall off, Rich
pulled me into a warm embrace. I gazed into his eyes and knew he was going to
come in for a kiss. In that moment, I desired his kiss more than my next
breath, but instead of letting my heart win, my head pulled away from Rich’s
arms. “Just colleagues,” my inner
voice whispered.
Although
no words were spoken between us, the carefree atmosphere that had lingered
between us all day began to fade away. I had ruined what would have been the
most beautiful and romantic kiss in the middle of the Wollman Rink in Central
Park. If our lips had met, the falling snow would have coated us both in a
light dusting. My already rosy cheeks would have further flushed as a result of
his tongue dancing with mine. But, I had ruined that picture-perfect moment.
Instead, I just wanted to go back to my room and sulk. Why do I have to be so damn stubborn?
Even
though I wanted to head back to the suite, Rich wouldn’t hear of it. He may
have lost some of his earlier, carefree spunk, but he was still determined to
show me the “right way to play hooky.”
“If you’re gonna be a slacker and play
hooky, you might as well do it up right,” he kept saying.
“Go big, or go home,” I added.
We grabbed hot cocoas and hot dogs, minus
the pickles for me, from a street vendor, before Rich waved down a cab to take
us the few blocks to his surprise destination.
I laughed to myself when I realized we
were stopping at Rockefeller Center. “Hey, this one is in the movie,” I said,
as I lightly nudged him in the side.
“I figured. Any Christmas movie set in NYC
has to include the tree here.”
It really was beautiful. As I stood
there in Rockefeller Plaza looking up into the tree, illuminated by thousands
of tiny white lights, I began thinking about how perfect this day had been. I
didn’t want to leave because I was afraid of what tomorrow might bring. I
didn’t want to think about Rich’s possible relationship with Janine, my career,
or my reservations about us. I just wanted to stay here with Rich – forever.
About the Author:(picture attached)
M.C.
Decker is the author of the upcoming, debut novel, Unwritten. She lives in a suburb of Flint, Michigan with her
husband and spoiled-rotten Siamese cat, Simon. For the last decade, she has
worked as a journalist for several community newspapers in Michigan’s Thumb
region. She enjoys all things ‘80s and ‘90s pop culture: movies, boy bands,
music and especially the color, hot pink. She also strictly lives by the motto,
“Life is better in flip flops,” and is a diehard Detroit Tigers fan. You can
e-mail her at author.mcdecker@yahoo.com. She would love to hear from you.
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