Flotsam & Jetsam

What set Ellie off anyway? A thought intruded. No, couldn’t be. He checked her profile. Nah. But his mouth formed a hopeful smile, and he leaned back, humming his favorite tune. Flotsam & Jetsam

The dashing Frenchman or the handsome handyman? Who will she choose? For the Love of a Spy

Tuesday, January 8, 2019

Is He a Handyman? Or Something Else? Excerpt from For the Love of a Spy

Is he a handyman? Or something else? Maris wades into international intrigue to find out.

I admit it: For the Love of a Spy was born out of a delicious dream. I woke slowly, savoring the romance, and latching onto the last line. It is in fact, the last line of the story. But you have to read the whole book to get to it. Thankfully, there’s quite a lot of good stuff—adventure, action, and romance—to help you through.


Maris Graystone, Washington pundit, meets Michael Kinder, handyman with an air of mystery, and sparks fly. But he appears unpredictably, leaving Maris limp and lovelorn.  Looking for safe harbor, she yields to Émile, a dashing French diplomat. Will she embrace the luxury and comfort of Émile and his chateau or the romance of international intrigue with Michael?


Excerpt: Zagreb

Something is wrong. He cares about me, of that I’m sure. So what is it?
In the beginning, a lifetime ago and before they surrendered to their desire, he had said something about it being neither the time nor the place. What did he mean? She didn’t want to know just yet, but she would ask him. Yes, when he wakes up.
Over his shoulder, she glimpsed the clock—five p.m. We’ve been in bed for four hours! She sat bolt upright. He hadn’t fixed her air conditioner. He hadn’t called his office. She hadn’t finished her column. What on earth were they thinking? Or on what other planet? Did we beam up to Mars, where this sort of behavior is acceptable?
She shook him. “It’s late. You have to go.”
He came instantly awake. His azure eyes fastened on hers; his arms went automatically around her.
She felt herself slipping into their world but fought it. “You have to go!”
He kissed her tenderly. “I know. I have to…pack. I have to go.”
“I’m leaving Thursday. I told you.”
“No, you didn’t.” Maris wanted to be indignant, but in the back of her mind, a little voice nagged that he was right. “But—where are you going?”
He opened his mouth and closed it. He peered at her, his eyes questioning. Finally, he said flatly, “To Zagreb.”
“Zagreb? As in, Yugoslavia? Why?”
“It’s not important.” His serious tone told her that it was indeed important, but it also stopped her from asking any more questions.

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Melissa Keir said...

I love dreams like that... heck even the ones which don't lead to a story but are just so savory that you wish you didn't have to wake...

Congrats on your release!

M. S. Spencer said...

Thanks Melissa! And on yours.