Impatient Passion was my first book, published in 2003 on Valentine’s Day. I had no idea what I was doing–I was just trying to “write a book.” I did it in a month, sent it to Liquid Silver Books (in the process of folding now, sadly), and they accepted it. I was bitten by the writing bug, for better or worse! đ
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Blurb:
Austin D. Gardner, an award winning web designer in San Francisco, has just faced the fact that she is going to turn thirty-five years old on Saturday and her life is nowhere near what she dreamed it would be. She needs to make big changes.
On the crowded bus trip home, Austin is pushed into a man. Instead of trying to move away, he pulls her to him. Austin is shocked at first, but then lets fate take her by the hand. An anonymous adventure on a crowded bus might be a safe way to break out of the dull life she is living.
Tyler Birch spent years waiting for Austin to give some indication she would welcome getting to know him better, but time is up. He decided Monday to stop being passive. That afternoon he finds himself pressed against her on the crowded bus trip home. Not one to turn down an opportunity when heâs presented with one, Tyler accepts the chance to mount a two-pronged plan of attack. One as the anonymous stranger who can set Austin fire with his touch, and the other as Tyler Birch who can touch her soul.
Excerpt:
In the years Austin had worked for Bay Web, her contact with Tyler had been limited, just the way she liked it. She glanced at him and found he was looking at her.
“You look as though you’re having a conversation with yourself. Want to tell me what about?” The look he gave Austin was open, friendly.
“No.”
He grimaced at her terse response. “Fair enough.” Tyler got up and closed the door, which worried Austin. She had never been alone in a closed room with any of the staff there. Even Henry, when he was arguing with her over designs, left the door open. What was this about?
“Ms. Gardner, or Austin, if I may call you that?” She nodded, and he gave a half smile. “Austin, you’ve been working on the Ron Morris project haven’t you? How do you think it’s coming?”
“I’ll have it ready for Henry to look at by end of day Wednesday. That should give him plenty of time to familiarize himself before Friday’s presentation. Is there a problem?”
“No. How do you feel the work is going? I guess what I mean is, how do you feel about what you’ve done?”
“Good. I think I’ve captured what Mr. Morris wants, and I think he’ll be happy with the results. Why? What’s going on? I’ve given Henry the preliminary drafts.”
“Yes, and he showed them to us at the executive meeting this morning.” He stopped and regarded her with a frank expression. “I’ll get right to the point. Austin, I want you to handle the presentation on Friday. Can you do it?” Tyler leaned back in his chair, crossed his legs and tapped his fingertips together, forming a steeple with his hands.
Austin was stunned. Presenting her own work to the client was not something she had ever done. In fact, not being able to do so had irritated her more than once, because she felt Henry might not have given her work the pitch he should have. She knew that part of being a backbench employee was being behind the camera, so to speak, not up where the client action was.
However, this account was really important to her, and she had hated the thought of turning it over to Henry, especially since he hadn’t shown much enthusiasm for her ideas. He wanted flash and lots of action on the screen instead of her more unadventurous, calm design. She quickly made up her mind. She looked up to see Tyler staring at her, quietly waiting for her response. “Yes, I can do it.”
“Good. I hoped you would say that. I liked your prelims and I think you can best explain them to Morris.”
“My only concern is Henry. This won’t go over too well with him.”
“Let me worry about that. Now,” he said as he uncrossed his legs and leaned forward. He rested his elbows on the desk and looked at her intently. “I hope you won’t take this the wrong way. I know we’re a very casual company-this is California, after all, and what’s California if not casual? But for this level of client dealing, I like the staff to be a bit more formal. No offense, but you look like the college kids out there.” He waved vaguely toward the cubicle area. “I’d like you to represent the adult side of the firm on Friday. Will you come in to work dressed a little more formally and with a different hair style?”
Austin bristled, and Tyler could obviously tell. “Now, don’t go getting all huffy. This isn’t anything I wouldn’t ask of a man if he normally came in every day dressed for the beach.” Austin opened her mouth and he held up his hand. “Which you don’t. That’s not what I meant.”
“If you don’t mind my asking, what exactly is wrong with how I look?”
Tyler stood and walked around his desk. He took her hands in his and forced her to stand. Austin was struck speechless as he casually appraised her, front and back, then motioned for her to sit again and went back to his chair. He leaned back and looked at her, still saying nothing.
Tyler sat quietly because, truth be told, he couldn’t speak quite yet. He thought Austin was beautiful. Had thought so since she started working there, but had been very careful never to reveal his thoughts. She had gorgeous blonde hair that she kept in a horrid braid. If it was loose, falling over him… He cleared his throat and forced his mind off of that track.
“With how you look? Nothing. With how you dress? Plenty. Bagginess is fine for sitting in a cubicle in front of a computer screen, but not for client presentations.” Tyler saw Austin tense and a flush spread up her neck and across her face, but he continued. “You have very nice hair, but this is a San Francisco business, not Little House on the Prairie. Something a little more suitable to your age and responsibility would be good.”
Austin caught her breath, and Tyler saw her eyes sparkle with tears. Fortunately, they didn’t fall, but he immediately softened his tone. Leaning forward, he said a little more gently, “You have beautiful skin and you’re one of the few women I know who doesn’t need makeup. Your eyes are amazing, even behind those gosh awful glasses you wear to see the computer screen. But tennis shoes don’t go with the image I have of the corporation, Austin.”
He looked at her steadily, and saw that she had control of her emotions. No tears for her, he thought. She’s pretty brave to sit through this and not lose it. He tempered his criticism with the next statements. “You’re a valuable employee. Your work is excellent and has brought the company recognition. I take you seriously, and I want others to take you seriously too.” He could see that his last words had an effect on her.
He lowered his head slightly and regarded her through his lashes. “I don’t mean to be harsh. For here at the office your regular dress is okay. If it’s a problem making a few changes for Friday, I understand. But I really wanted you to handle the presentation.”
There it was. The challenge. Would she give in to his request or give up control of her work? “I’ll do it,” she said in a low voice. “Is that all?”
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To set the stage, I attended Mary Washington College of the University of Virginia (now University of Mary Washington), in Fredericksburg, Virginia. At that time, sooooo many years ago, the University of Virginia was all male. The exception were those women who had majors that had to finish in Charlottesville, like nursing majors. If you were a woman and wanted to attend UVA, you went to the girls’ branch, Mary Washington. All female, when I attended, we were just a couple of years way from having to wear a skirt or dress when leaving the dorm and being forbidden from getting into a car with a male without a chaperone.
on the hall. Her roommate had immediately christened her Caddy, based on her initials, and thatâs what we all called her. She was tall and kind of willowy where I was stubby and not willowy at all. She had naturally curly auburn hair (that took forever to dry) and a fair Irish complexion. We hit it off right away, partially, Iâm sure, because she didnât go home very often and neither did I. She had (still has) a wickedly sharp sense of humor, an amazing intellect, and one of the kindest hearts Iâve ever known. Sheâs very loyal to her friends but sheâs not a pushover. She loves her family fiercely, and sheâs a damn hard worker.
I really donât know any writing programs, so I suspect I donât use them. Or maybe this means writing tips and suggestions? Those I useâon and off.
nothing works for me except what I useâwhich is nothing like a plotting program! Sometimes I start a book with only a kernel of an idea, and thatâs kind of too little to use in a plotting program.
Writer, photographer, social critical artist, musician, and occasional actress, J. Arlene Culiner, was born in New York and raised in Toronto. She has crossed much of Europe on foot, has lived in a Hungarian mud house, a Bavarian castle, a Turkish cave-dwelling, on a Dutch canal, and in a haunted house on the English moors. She now resides in a 400-year-old former inn in a French village of no interest and, much to local dismay, protects all creatures, especially spiders and snakes. She particularly enjoys incorporating into short stories, mysteries, narrative non-fiction, and romances, her experiences in out-of-the-way communities, and her conversations with strange characters.
