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About the author:
I am a writing instructor with Gotham Writers' Workshop. Additionally, I am the author of several contemporary sweetheart romances, two memoirs, a short story collection, and two poetry chapbooks. I write speculative fiction and comic book fantasies under the pen name A.R. Gross.
What inspired you to write your book?
Gina, one of the wives in my husband’s senior softball team, suggested I write a seasoned romance series. “Call it Women of the Crush,” she said. “Make sure to include a medicine woman.” And Hope Spirit Walk Spencer was born. “Make your husband a character.” And Nick came to life. “Don’t forget to include your real estate experience.” And Love Again was born.
Here is a short sample from the book:
A knot of fear bundled in Hope’s chest. What did Nick consider fair? She had nothing of value to offer him.
Opening the door with cold hands, she led the way down the stairs into the gallery. With each step, she quivered. At the base of the staircase, she narrowed her gaze. “I didn’t want to call you. I trust you as much as I trusted your father. But Geraldine insisted I call.” She squared her shoulders. “I trust Geraldine.”
“Don’t worry. The feeling is mutual.” Glancing over the boxes, he grimaced. “I didn’t want to come and help a woman who refused to sell to my father because of stubborn pride.”
She stepped closer. “Why did you come?”
After he set the boxes on an empty display stand, he crossed his arms over his broad chest and nodded toward the exhibits. “Don’t you know I could poach this place for the lowest price and convert the building into high-rise condos?” He straightened his lips into a firm line. “But I’m friends with Geraldine’s husband. And friends don’t screw over friends. They help them.”
She jutted her jaw and knotted her hands. “I wish I didn’t need your help.”
“I feel the same way.” He uncrossed his arms and stepped closer. “I don’t like difficult clients. I don’t like family drama. I don’t like complicated histories.” He pointed between their two bodies. “We have everything I hate.” He dropped his hands and stepped back. “We need to put aside our differences to see if we can rectify this situation. Then we can go back to leaving each other alone.” He softened his gaze. “Understand?”
She bit her lower lip and nodded.
“Good.” He cradled the boxes.
After turning over the Open sign, she held the glass door. A cool gust of wind blew over her face, tangling her hair.
“Thanks.” He nodded over the boxes and stepped outside. “Don’t spend any money on the business until we talk.”
“Okay.” She shoved the door closed and stood before the bank of windows facing the street.
He remotely unlocked the tailgate to his silver sports utility vehicle. Bending, he shoved the boxes into the trunk and activated the automatic door. Straightening, he met her gaze through the window and waved.
His bright smile warmed her face. She touched her cheeks to extinguish the flames. Why did his friendliness catch her body on fire? She wiggled her fingers to return the parting gesture.
He held her gaze for a moment longer before walking around the vehicle and slipping into the driver’s seat.
He drove like a silver bullet. Facing the almost-empty exhibit hall, she wondered how much his assistance would cost and if she would be willing to pay the price. A sinking desperation plummeted to her stomach. She wrapped her arms around her waist to stop the roiling fear. She had to trust him. Saving Richard’s legacy was worth any price. What else could she do?