Well, it's here, and I've been trying to get Blogger to cooperate all morning so I could post and squee and generally annoy the hell out of everyone, but of course, nothing can ever go smoothly. The bastard. (Blogger, that is). :P
Like I was saying....today, my novella, my FIRST novella, Fragile, was released as part of Dreamspinner's daily dose antho, "First Time for Everything". <Insert ear-piercing *squee* here>
Annnnnd, a <dreamy sigh>. It's such a pretty cover...Anyway....
While I am beyond nervous about anyone ever reading it, I am still very proud of the fact that it's out there to read. Anyone who picks it up, I hope you enjoy. : )
Here's the 411:
Dr. Andy Jameson considers the job of team physician for a regional college football team to be the perfect prelude to a specialized residency. But tending to injuries suffered during the brutal, full-contact sport is nothing compared to the injury he inflicts upon himself by falling in love with the ruggedly handsome head coach, Erik Sheridan. Andy’s content to love from afar until he literally sees the writing on the wall—a message hastily scrawled on the coach’s bathroom mirror—and realizes his last night on the job could be just the beginning of a life with the man he loves.
And, a little sneak peek:
“Doc, you look as tired as I feel.” His voice was deep and scratchy, as if he had been talking too much, though it was probably due more to the emotional overload. He nodded his head toward the stack of papers lying on the desk in front of Andy. “You about finished there?”
Andy’s head bobbled like one of those dolls as he continued to stare up at the man standing in front of him. He must have looked like an idiot, but he was too tired to care. These were the last few moments he’d be in the coach’s presence, and he was going make the most of them.
Andy cleared his throat when he noticed the half-smile the coach had on his face, bringing him back to reality.
“I just need you to sign off on them, here.” He began shuffling the papers nervously, searching to put the ones on top that needed the coach’s signature.
He nearly jumped out of his skin when the coach’s big hand clasped his shoulder. “Bring them inside; we’ll take care of them.”
The warmth of the Coach Sheridan’s palm remained even after he turned to head into his office, leaving Andy to snatch up the papers and follow him.
“It’s been a helluva day,” Coach Sheridan offered, closing the office door as Andy followed behind him. The coach hung his suit jacket on the back of his desk chair before collapsing into it with a heavy sigh. He shoved his fist through his salt and pepper locks, pulling on them in complete frustration. “A helluva day.” He laid his head back against the leather of his seat, his eyes closed, every line of his body echoing the tiredness that was etched onto his face. “That was a career-ending injury.” His voice was barely audible, stretched thin with pain. “Just a kid and his dream could be over.”
This was one of the aspects of the coach that made him so attractive to Andy. Beyond the rugged good looks and the swagger of a man who was keenly aware of his appeal to those around him, he had compassion. To the outside, these players were nothing more than athletes chosen to increase the odds of the team making it to a post-season bowl game, but to those who were lucky enough to see inside the locker rooms and to be present at practices, these were the coach’s kids.
In his late forties, and having never been married, he took these players under his wing. He was always there for them to lend an ear, offer support, to give advice. Those kids looked up to him, and the mutual respect they had was the reason the football team played so consistently well.
Andy didn’t know what to say… what to do. He sat down in the opposite chair, forgetting the papers for now. “Is that what they said?” he asked quietly, wishing now he had gone to the hospital too. A lot of truth was in what the doctors didn’t say.