Writing and interior design have always been my dual passions. And to that end, I am delighted to share my latest book:
The Next Best Thing--which brings my two loves together. It is about an interior designer in New York looking for love and getting unexpected results.
Evie Dupont, a twenty-something interior designer has it all. A prominent last name, a hundred-million-dollar trust fund, and a man or two who love her. But she doesn’t want any of it. She adds an ‘E’ at the end of her name to throw internet searchers off the scent—a conceit her twin brother, Michael, finds hilarious. And in order not to dip into the family till, she needs to rely on the one-percenters she’s been trying to purge from her life in order to keep her fledgling business afloat during the slow economy.
Add to that, Ethan Brandt, decade-plus older, brilliant tech-entrepreneur is chasing after her. He isn’t exactly a movie star, but Sullivan Pearce is. This mega-movie star/former high-school classmate pops by Evie’s Brooklyn brownstone between movie shoots for sizzling sex. And while some women might find the prospect of a secret lover titillating, Evie finds it terrifying. Sully is her secret and she is his, but secrets have a way of getting messy. Sully lives for the spotlight while she avoids it at all cost. But some secrets are too delicious to keep under wraps.
Evie is aware these first-world problems are ones many women would gladly trade with her—which is another reason she hates her life right now. Three nights a week she brings food to the local women’s shelter near her office in a renovated brownstone in DUMBO. Seeing the empty look in the women’s eyes spurs her to do more than hand out care packages, ultimately realizing using her wealth and influence to build a new shelter is worth stepping out from behind the scenes.
Will she choose Ethan’s geeky charm or Sully’s soulful declarations of love? And when it comes to love, are her choices really only between a man who makes her the center of his universe, or a man whose star is so bright everyone else dims by comparison?
Or maybe there’s another choice.
Excerpt
I glance at the car like the threat that it is and nudge the ring around to my palm, squeezing it tight. The window rolls down as I near.
“Can you come in? If I come out there will be a scene.”
I suck in my breath because that’s my reaction every time I see him. I despise myself for that, but him even more. “I can’t.”
I run up the steps of the brownstone and hear the car door slam almost immediately. He is behind me.
“Why? Tell me why, and don’t say because you love him.”
“And why is that?”
“Because you’re in love with me.”
I drink in his golden looks as the sun shines off his hair. I could have sworn it was cloudy just a minute ago, but the sun always follows him, relegating those around him to the shadows. I don’t correct him because he’s right.
Sully leans into me. “Please don’t do this,” he whispers.
“I’m engaged barely twenty-four hours; I haven’t even told my parents or Michael yet. How do you know?”
“Evie, please.”
“How do you know?”
“My driver knows his driver.”
I glance at the car and can’t believe this first world problem could be the undoing of the future I’ve carefully acceded to. “And how do you know he won’t go back and report that you’ve come here?” I ask, pointing accusingly at the driver.
“Because he’s paid handsomely for his discretion.”
I close my eyes. Sully is too trusting. Discretion can be bought over and over again. It’s a ghastly way to live.
“How did you get here so fast?” I ask.
“The red-eye.”
“You can’t…” I shake my head. “And after this…this stopover in Brooklyn, where will you be heading?”
“You’re not a stopover in my life; you’re the main point.”
“Where will you be heading?”
“Macau.”
“How long is that shoot?”
He shrugs, but I don’t let off my glare. “Three months, give or take.”
“And where are you coming from?” I continue in my prosecutor’s voice.
“Last month was Vancouver. After this one you have me; I’m yours.”
“No, Sully. You are not mine. I share you with millions of other women and I get that. I’m surprised you don’t. Why can’t you be happy for me?”
“I’m not that good an actor.”
I shake my head. “I love you enough to let you pursue your dream. Love me enough to give me my peace.”
He sighs and glances toward the street where people are starting to point. Our time is limited. “Can’t we go inside and speak?”
“No.”
“Because you don’t want to be alone with me—because you know what will happen. Why are you marrying a man you don’t love?”
I feel tears spring to my eyes. “He loves me enough for the both of us.”
“You’re not fair,” he whispers. “Can you please do me the courtesy of opening the door and letting me inside?”
He’s not finished with me, and I can’t have this conversation on my stoop with people walking by in deliberate steps as they wonder if the man standing with me on the stoop could possibly be who he looks exactly like. I unlock the double glass doors that provide little cover and quickly walk into the secondary entryway away from the faces and cell phones that could reveal this secret I carefully guard. I drop my work bag as fabric and wallpaper samples spill out in a fan onto the gleaming wood planks. I ignore them because it’s the least of the messes I have to contend with. I sit down on a leather French Art Deco club chair and curl my feet under me.
He sits down across from me and rests his elbows on his knees, his face in his hands, avoiding my gaze.
“You said you’d wait,” he mumbles through his hands.
I don’t speak and he finally looks at me. “I did say that, and I’m sorry. You’re too young to get married.”
“We’re the same age.”
“It’s different for women.”
“Is it because he’s so much older and will take care of you?”
I ignore his dig at Ethan because I know he’s hurt. His attitude is out of character and ungracious because he knows I’m the one who’s been doing all the ‘taking care of’ in our relationship.
“Getting married would do great damage to your image. Females have to believe they can get you into their beds, as improbable as that may be.”
“Do you think I care about that shit?”
“I know you don’t, and that’s why I have to worry about it.”
He looks desolate, and I almost burst out laughing with the absurdity of the situation. It makes me stronger in my resolve to put our relationship in a safe box and set it on a shelf firmly labeled Past Loves in indelible black marker.
“Don’t do this to me.”
And there it is—the crux of all the issues between us. The fact that he equates a life decision that I’ve made for myself as something that is being done to him sums up just about everything: Our relationship…his dependence on women to make his decisions for him…
his mother and me acting as advisers-slash-enablers. The hordes of adoring female fans who view the wounded, soulful man at their local Cinemax as someone who needs rescuing rather than the other way around, take his power from him and reduce him to victim status.
He thrives on it. His entire career is based on it.
“I’m not doing this to you, Sully. I’m making a proactive decision for my own happiness.”
“Why do you think he can make you happy when I can’t…when you won’t let me?”
And again, he gives me way too much power.
“I’m the star in his orbit. Turns out I like that.”
He looks at me forlornly, and I retract my fangs.
“Do you think I like being objectified by faceless women? And at the expense of the one woman I love?” he asks with a groan. He’s being overly-dramatic, and I wonder if he’s switched into playing a role. I am aware I’m viewing our conversation from a distance because it’s the only way to keep from flinging off my ring and burying my head into his shoulder.
“We all make our choices.” I force myself to look at the floor because my resolve is weakening under his all-consuming magnetic gaze. “You’ll do better without thinking about me waiting for you in Brooklyn. I love you enough to set you free. I wish you could do the same for me.” I stand up, trying to end it in one masochistic move as I walk to the door.
He finally gets up to join me and pulls me toward him. I try to protest but he’s faster. His mouth captures mine and my mind goes numb. It’s always this way with him and it is so very real that I berate myself for having doubted him a few minutes ago. Reluctantly he pulls away enough to kiss me softly near my ear and rasp his heartfelt plea one more time.
“Please don’t do this, Evie.”
I shake my head and close my eyes because it’s too painful to watch him walk out the door even though I know with every fiber of my being that us being together is a total impossibility. He has always been naïve when it comes to love. He thinks love is enough for a successful run as a couple, while I always knew that love was the one thing that could get in the way.
Professional Reviews
Very Enjoyable Read!
I glance at the car like the threat that it is and nudge the ring around to my palm, squeezing it tight. The window rolls down as I near.
“Can you come in? If I come out there will be a scene.”
I suck in my breath because that’s my reaction every time I see him. I despise myself for that, but him even more. “I can’t.”
I run up the steps of the brownstone and hear the car door slam almost immediately. He is behind me.
“Why? Tell me why, and don’t say because you love him.”
“And why is that?”
“Because you’re in love with me.”
I drink in his golden looks as the sun shines off his hair. I could have sworn it was cloudy just a minute ago, but the sun always follows him, relegating those around him to the shadows. I don’t correct him because he’s right.
Sully leans into me. “Please don’t do this,” he whispers.
“I’m engaged barely twenty-four hours; I haven’t even told my parents or Michael yet. How do you know?”
“Evie, please.”
“How do you know?”
“My driver knows his driver.”
I glance at the car and can’t believe this first world problem could be the undoing of the future I’ve carefully acceded to. “And how do you know he won’t go back and report that you’ve come here?” I ask, pointing accusingly at the driver.
“Because he’s paid handsomely for his discretion.”
I close my eyes. Sully’s too trusting. Discretion can be bought over and over again. It’s a ghastly way to live.
“How did you get here so fast?” I ask.
“The redeye.”
“You can’t…” I shake my head. “And after this…this stopover in Brooklyn, where will you be heading?”
“You’re not a stopover in my life; you’re the main point.”
“Where will you be heading?”
“Macau.”
“How long is that shoot?”
He shrugs, but I don’t let off my glare. “Three months, give or take.”
“And where are you coming from?” I continue in my prosecutor’s voice.
“Last month was Vancouver. After this one you have me; I’m yours.”
“No, Sully. You are not mine. I share you with millions of other women and I get that. I’m surprised you don’t. Why can’t you be happy for me?”
“I’m not that good an actor.”
I shake my head. “I love you enough to let you pursue your dream. Love me enough to give me my peace.”
He sighs and glances toward the street where people are starting to point. Our time is limited. “Can’t we go inside and speak?”
“No.”
“Because you don’t want to be alone with me—because you know what will happen. Why are you marrying a man you don’t love?”
I feel tears spring to my eyes. “He loves me enough for the both of us.”
“You’re not fair,” he whispers. “Can you please do me the courtesy of opening the door and letting me inside?”
He’s not finished with me, and I can’t have this conversation on my stoop with people walking by in deliberate steps as they wonder if the man standing with me on the stoop could possibly be who he looks exactly like. I unlock the double glass doors that provide little cover and quickly walk into the secondary entryway away from the faces and cell phones that could reveal this secret I carefully guard. I drop my workbag as fabric and wallpaper samples spill out in a fan onto the gleaming wood planks. I ignore them because it’s the least of the messes I have to contend with. I sit down on a leather French Art Deco club chair and curl my feet under me.
He sits down across from me and rests his elbows on his knees, his face in his hands, avoiding my gaze.
“You said you’d wait,” he mumbles through his hands.
I don’t speak and he finally looks at me. “I did say that, and I’m sorry. You’re too young to get married.”
“We’re the same age.”
“It’s different for women.”
“Is it because he’s so much older and will take care of you?”
I ignore his dig at Ethan because I know he’s hurt. His snarkiness is out of character and ungracious because he knows I’m the one who’s been doing all the ‘taking care of’ in our relationship.
“Getting married would do great damage to your image. Females have to believe they can get you into their beds, as improbable as that may be.”
“Do you think I care about that shit?”
“I know you don’t, and that’s why I have to worry about it.”
He looks desolate, and I almost burst out laughing with the absurdity of the situation. It makes me stronger in my resolve to put our relationship in a safe box and set it on a shelf firmly labeled Past Loves in indelible black marker.
“Don’t do this to me.”
And there it is—the crux of all the issues between us. The fact that he equates a life decision that I’ve made for myself as something that is being done to him sums up just about everything: Our relationship…his dependence on women to make his decisions for him…
his mother and me acting as advisers-slash-enablers. The hordes of adoring female fans who view the wounded, soulful man at their local Cinemax as someone who needs rescuing rather than the other way around, take his power from him and reduce him to victim status.
He thrives on it. His entire career is based on it.
“I’m not doing this to you, Sully. I’m making a proactive decision for my own happiness.”
“Why do you think he can make you happy when I can’t…when you won’t let me?”
And again, he gives me way too much power.
“I’m the star in his orbit. Turns out I like that.”
He looks at me forlornly, and I retract my fangs.
“Do you think I like being objectified by faceless women? And at the expense of the one woman I love?” he asks with a groan. He’s being overly-dramatic, and I wonder if he’s switched into playing a role. I am aware I’m viewing our conversation from a distance because it’s the only way to keep from flinging off my ring and burying my head into his shoulder.
“We all make our choices.” I force myself to look at the floor because my resolve is weakening under his all-consuming magnetic gaze. “You’ll do better without thinking about me waiting for you in Brooklyn. I love you enough to set you free. I wish you could do the same for me.” I stand up, trying to end it in one masochistic move as I walk to the door.
He finally gets up to join me and pulls me toward him. I try to protest but he’s faster. His mouth captures mine and my mind goes numb. It’s always this way with him and it is so very real that I berate myself for having doubted him a few minutes ago. Reluctantly he pulls away enough to kiss me softly near my ear and rasp his heartfelt plea one more time.
“Please don’t do this, Evie.”
I shake my head and close my eyes because it’s too painful to watch him walk out the door even though I know with every fiber of my being that us being together is a total impossibility. He has always been naïve when it comes to love. He thinks love is enough for a successful run as a couple, while I always knew that love was the one thing that could get in the way.
Worth Reading on Many Levels!
It’s rare for a book to be a fun read as well as thought provoking. This book succeeds in entertaining while posing questions about money, friendship and romance. I found it thoroughly enjoyable.
Synopsis
Zeke Milligan is stuck between a rock and a hard place. He is desperately in love with Lynn, but a dark secret from his past continues to rear its ugly head. Worse yet, he persistently punishes the love of his life for events that took p
