Single mom Lizabeth Kane isn't exactly carpenter material -- she's never picked up a hammer in her life. But she desperately needs the construction job that builder Matt Hallahan is offering. And even though he knows trouble is ahead, Matt can't refuse Lizbeth's irresistible smile.
Matt Hallahan isn't exactly relationship material -- he has always been too busy working on other people's houses to make a home of his own. And even though she knows better, Lizabeth can't stop thinking about the rugged carpenter.
Is the relationship Matt and Lizabeth are building solid -- or more like a house of cards?
When I was a kid, I spent a lot of time in la-la land. La-la land is like an out-of-body experience—while your mouth is eating lunch, your mind is conversing with Captain Kirk. Sometimes I'd pretend to sing opera. My mother would send me to the grocery store down the street, and off I'd go, caterwauling at the top of my lungs. Before the opera thing, I went through a horse stage, in which I galloped everywhere and made holes in my Aunt Lena's lawn with my hooves. Aunt Lena was a good egg. She understood that the realities of daily existence were lost in the shadows of my loony imagination.
After graduation from South River High School, I spent four years in the Douglass College art department, honing my ability to wear torn Levis and learning to transfer cerebral excitement to primed canvas. Painting beat the heck out of digging holes in lawns, but it never felt exactly right. It was frustrating at best, excruciating at worst. My audience was too small. Communication was too obscure. I developed a rash from pigment.
Somewhere down the line I started writing stories. The first story was about the pornographic adventures of a fairy who lived in a second-rate fairy forest in Pennsylvania. The second story was about…well never mind, you get the picture.
I sent my weird stories out to editors and agents and collected rejection letters in a big cardboard box. When the box was full, I burned the whole damn thing, crammed myself into panty hose, and went to work for a temp agency.
Four months into my less-than-stellar secretarial career, I got a call from an editor offering to buy my last mailed (and heretofore forgotten) manuscript. It was a romance written for the now defunct Second Chance at Love line, and I was paid a staggering $2,000.
With my head reeling from all this money, I plunged into writing romance novels full-time, saying good-bye and good riddance to panty hose and office politics. I wrote series romance for the next five years, mostly for Bantam Loveswept.
I read comic books, and I only watch happy movies. I motivate myself to write by spending my money before I make it. And when I grow up, I want to be just like Aunt Elsie.read more