Screwdrivered (Cocktail #3)
Alice Clayton
This one goes out to all the lovely author ladies who work so hard to feed our addiction: romance novels. I always need a hit.
acknowledgments
This book was inspired by a vacation I took several years ago to the mountains of North Carolina. Surrounded by the beautiful town of Cashiers, with the lakes and the mountains and the quiet and the peaceful, I wondered what it would be like to live in such a magical town. I wondered if romance simply bloomed naturally there, as naturally as the beautiful trees and flowers, or if it had to be cultivated like anywhere else in the world. I further wondered what it would be like for a secret romance novel junkie to be pulled from her everyday life and plopped into the middle of a fantasy. How would she react? Would she see romance everywhere? Like someone who watches lots of porn might begin to assume the pizza delivery guy is there to deliver his own special brand of pepperoni? (This is never the case, btw, in case you were wondering.)
And does a secret romance novel junkie begin to assume that all men have layers to peel? Would she assume that there is a hidden pirate king or lost prince inside every hunky body? Would she miss the real hero simply because he was dressed in tweed instead of swashbuckling buckles?
I scrambled up the ideas a bit, exchanged the mountains for the equally magical coastal town of Mendocino, and Screwdrivered was born.
But this was not an easy birth. No, no, chickens—Mama Alice nearly lost her already batshit mind over this one. This book fought me, kicked me, clawed at me, and tried to tear me in two. In the end, I won. But barely. And only because I had the most amazing team cheering me on and fighting alongside with me.
I’m talking about Team Micki Nuding, the editor who has finally told me that turning in a book two minutes before it’s due (West Coast time, BTW) is not technically allowed. But took it anyway. And she has the hots for Clark.
I’m talking about Team Christina Hogrebe, the agent who shakes her pom poms at exactly the right time and lets me stay in the cave as long as I need to. As long as I turn it in two minutes before it’s due. And she has the hots for Clark.
I’m talking about Team Jessica Royer-Ocken, my sounding board and cleaner upper of commas big and tall. She’s been rooting for me since fourth grade, folks, and she’s still keeping the faith. And she has the hots for Clark.
I’m talking about Team Nina Bocci, my taco and chief life wrangler. She sat across from me in San Francisco while I wrote the last 20k of this book in the lobby of the Westin St. Francis, and ate ramen at a noodle house—even though she was scared of it and just wanted pizza. And she has the hots for Clark.
I’m also talking about Team Christina Lauren, who always wants the best for me, especially when that means I’m getting them fast passes for Space Mountain. Team Publicity, including Team Kristin and Team Jules, for keeping me from getting carsick. Team Gallery, including Team Louise and Team Jen, for letting me show them pictures of women with hot dogs flying at their faces, and just getting it and me. Oh yeah, and also helping to create the beauty that is my life now.
Team Family, which includes immediate, extended, absorbed, and created. You let me let my freak flag fly, and for that I am eternally grateful.
Team Mr. Alice, your thumbs are mine and mine alone.
The Team that supports me is a giant web of amazing, stretching and spanning the globe. The tweets, the emails, the reviews, the pimping, the everything you readers do when you tell a friend about that book you just read, and tell me you’re excited about my next book. It’s Team Chicken that I’m most grateful for.
So please read, enjoy, chuckle, swoon, it’s all good. Keep reading all those amazing romance novels out there, and please. Tell a friend when you find a good one. Caring is sharing, chickens.
Alice
XOXO
chapter one
Standing atop a lonely hill, Vivian gazed out upon the turbulent sea. Voluptuous and shapely, she cut a striking silhouette. Resembling the siren she was purported to be, she looked to the west. A dark ship appeared on the horizon, and with its sighting, her pulse quickened. Was it the dark pirate captain who haunted her dreams? A tall and fierce warrior, his face was full of fury. And passion. With just a glance from him, her loins quivered. With a touch . . . implosion.
Was it he? Returning from faraway lands and adventures she could only dream of, would he pillage and plunder her body as only he could? Would the pirate bestow upon her the treasure of his manhood? Or would he cast her aside as an empty booty?
Would he?
Would he?
Would he care for another Diet Dr Pepper?
Wait, what?
I was torn from my pirate fantasy by the nasal, weenie voice of Richard Harrison, CPA.