Not Just Another Love Story by Christie Craig

GOOD COP

Sue Finley murdered people…on paper.  As a mystery writer, she knew all the angles, who did what and why.  The only thing she couldn’t explain was…well, men.  Dating was like diving into a box of chocolates: sometimes the sweetest-looking specimens were candy coated poison.  After a breakup with a bank robber and a divorce from a cross dresser, she gave it up for good.  Then came Detective Jason Dodd.

BAD BOY

Raised in foster homes, Jason swore never to need anyone as much as the parent who abandoned him.  That was why he failed to follow up after experiencing the best kiss of his life: real passion was addictive.  But when Sue Finley started getting death threats, all bets were off. The blonde spitfire was everything he’d ever wanted—and she needed him. And though this novel situation had a quirky cast of characters and an unquestionable bad guy, he was going to make sure it had a happy ending.

Not Just Another Love Story

A couple of weeks ago was my wedding anniversary. Somehow hubby and I have managed to laugh our way through 24 years of ups and downs. I’ll be the first to tell you that there’s been a lot more ups than downs. Not that he’s perfect. But he’s darn near perfect for me, which basically means that his flaws don’t drive me crazy, or too crazy anyway.

I mean, there was the morning after our wedding. We were in a cozy cabin in Ventura, California. The fireplace still had a few burning embers, the champagne was probably still cool in the ice bucket. He leaned in, sweetly kissed my cheek, and asked, “Do you want me to go get you some coffee and croissants, Jackie?”

I reached over and caressed his cheek and said, “That’s awful sweet of you. Only problem is, my name isn’t Jackie. But I just happen to know that it is your ex-wife’s name.”

You gotta know I’ve given him hell for that ever since. Poor man will go to his grave paying for that one. In good humor, of course.

Ahh, but the truth is that I know what I’ve got in my hubby and in my marriage. Because you see, I’ve been through a bad marriage and the Big “D,” aka that place where your heart feels like chicken liver gone through a garbage disposal.

Yup, I’ve got ex-husband stories that could outwit, out beat most of yours. I mean, how many of you can say your ex appeared on an FBI wanted list? I’m serious.

And while I don’t wish those experiences on anyone, for me, they’ve come in handy. It was those experiences that inspired the Divorced & Desperate series. You see, like all three of my heroines in these three books, I know how hard it is to move past that pain, to trust again.

As a matter of fact, that pain almost prevented me and hubby from hitching up.

I had just arrived in California and my mother, playing cupid, had targeted a Mr. Steve Craig. I was certain she was bat-shit crazy. With my heart still wearing band aids from the ex, the last thing I wanted was a man. And unfortunately, I pretty much let Mr. Craig in on that little secret the first time we met.

Mr. Craig was a friend of my uncle, who was only six years older than I. Both divorced, every weekend, they went bar hopping in hopes of meeting chicks. I actually met Mr. Craig the first night I arrived in California. It was like one of those awkward meets in a romantic comedy. He came in and everyone sat down, leaving only the small spot next to me open on the sofa. When he sat down, the cushion made this farting sound, and I wanted to sink like an unwanted penny between the sofa cushions.

The next weekend, my uncle said he wanted to take me out. What he’d neglected to tell me was that Mr. Craig was coming too. When my uncle pulled up in his MG, a two seater, and expected me to crawl into Mr. Craig’s lap, I laid down the law. “I don’t sit in men’s laps that I don’t know.” Hey I knew that car was gonna bump around like crazy and I wasn’t the type to give lap dances to strangers. More importantly, I’d had my heart gnawed on by one man and didn’t want to go there again.

So, my uncle, shocked, got out of the car and made Mr. Craig drive so I could sit in his lap.

At the bar, Womphoppers, (a local meat market) we were sitting by the glass wall watching as lonely people seeking company walked inside. I looked at my uncle checking out the hot babes. “Do you see anything that interests you?”

“A few,” he said, and asked. “What about you? Anything catch your eye?”

I saw Mr. Craig lean in to hear what I had to say. I figured it was time to nip this right in the bud.

“Nope. There’s nothing, nothing here that interests me.”

Mr. Craig raised his glass to me in a silent toast, and he and his drink went strolling through the bar to find someone “interested.”

Hours later, Mr. Craig, with a very hot, sexily-dressed redhead hanging all over him, walks up to my uncle and me. He introduced me to his new friend, and then asked me to convince her to join us for pizza at this great Italian place right down the hill. Being the friendly sort, I did my “southern” best to talk that woman into joining us. She declined, saying she was with friends.

As my uncle, Mr. Craig and I walked outside to head to dinner, my uncle’s recently broken up girlfriend came up. They took off to go discuss some unresolved issues, leaving Mr. Craig and I alone. For over an hour we stood by the locked car. It was chilly, as California always is at night. Mr. Craig gave me his jacket. Somewhere in that hour, Mr. Craig became Steve. We chatted about everything from my five year old daughter to his dogs. I learned he was trying to get past his own Big “D.”

“Sorry I couldn’t talk the red head into joining us,” I told him.

He shrugged. “No big deal, she wasn’t my type.”

“Yeah, probably the perfect body and hair,” I teased.

He just laughed.

When my unhappy uncle came back and got in the driver’s seat, Steve asked me if I wanted him to insist my uncle let him drive. I said no, I thought, now that I knew him better, I could sit in his lap. Yup, that was my first mistake. J

But the story doesn’t end there. Where it ends is when we got to the restaurant and a hot, sexily clad redhead jumped up and met Steve.

Steve spoke to her, told her he really hoped she enjoyed her pizza, then he picked up his drink and asked me if he could help me carry my tray.

I’m not going to say I fell in love with him then, it took some time to get those band aids off my heart, but he impressed me. And to this day when I give him a hard time about calling me by his ex-wife’s name, he accuses me of preventing him from getting lucky with some hot redhead.

Yup, we’ve laughed a lot through the years. And I can promise you that if you pick up Divorced, Desperate and Dating you’ll laugh a lot and you’ll sigh a little as my heroine gets past her own Big “D” and two-steps into the travails of love.

Today we’re giving away a copy of Divorced, Desperate and Dating , some note cards with a Christie Craig “silly” pen. So make sure you post. Also go to Dorchester at http://dorchesterpub.com/ and find out about my contest there for a $20 Amazon gift certificate. Plus, every Tuesday through December 9^th, I’m holding contest over at Killer Fiction: http://killerfictionwriters.blogspot.com/

Merry Christmas