Just Another Writer

 Just another writer trying to get my name out there. 

The excerpt below is a follow up story from Without Love. The main character was a secondary character in the first story named Becca. Tentatively calling this book Without Trust.

Chapter One

A gaggle of children’s voices and laughter filtered through the chilly early morning air. Dr. Becca Greenlee leaned from the porch swing and looked across the street to her right. A big yellow school bus stopped at the foot of the drive and three noisy boys leaped into it. A few second later two quieter girls followed suit. The children’s very pregnant mother stood near the fence, waving goodbye.

Five children, with one more on the way? Should any one woman have that many offspring?

“Morning, Carrie.”

Damn. She refused to look at the newer arrival. Why the hell was she still standing on the porch anyway?

“Hi, Wolfe.” The pregnant lady yelled back. “Off to solve another case?”

“If only.”

Both of their laughs filled the air.

“Well, someday,” the woman said. “Just give it more time.”

“Time I have,” he said. “More than enough.”

Get inside the house, Becca Greenlee. Now.

“Good morning, new neighbor.”

Too late.

“Looks like it going to be a nice day.”

Becca’s heart soared in her throat. A deep-down part of her sensed exactly why she hadn’t disappeared back into the house at his first word.

“No comment on the weather today?”

Why in the hell was his deep, rumbling voice affecting her so easily anyway? Every morning since the day after she’d arrived in Emerald Falls, North Carolina, she’d been awakened by the deep, pleasing tone of his greeting to her pregnant neighbor. Yesterday she’d been awake and at the living room window a minute before his usual loud yell, just so she could get a glimpse of the man behind that sexy voice.

And today she decided to sit on her porch swing, drinking her coffee, hoping he’ll come by and say hello.

Idiot.

One of the reasons her life was in such turmoil was because of a man. Letting another’s stupid voice get to her wasn’t good. Becca didn’t need the complication. The one and only reason she might follow the conditions set up in her aunt’s will was so she could be alone. Six months was enough time to get over Mark—once and for all. But would it be enough time to figure out what she wanted to do with the rest of her life?

“You’re Frannie’s niece, right?” He set one foot on the bottom step and rested his arm onto his raised knee. His dark brown eyes—almost black—blazed into her. “Becki, right?”

Oh, Aunt Frannie, even in death you’re meddling with my life.

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Wolfe, of course, is the hero. 

And, yes, his name does describe him to a tee.