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Authors In The Spotlight
Book Title: How Sweet It Is
Category: Contemporary Romance
Description: Diner waitress Lizzie Carpenter wishes for the perfect man—one who will fix stuff, then scram. But when a mysterious stranger appears at her front gate with a screwdriver, she is forced to confront the fact that what she really wishes for is a love she can depend on...
Author Spotlight: Sophie Gunn
Knitting clubs, cookie clubs, quilting clubs—everyone seems to have a club these days. Do you?
I do. And I decided to write a series of books about it.
So what is my club? The I Love Cats Club? I Love Dogs Club? I Love Snakes Club?
No, no, and definitely NO.
I have an Enemy Club.
See, five years ago, I moved back to the small community where I’d grown up. Everywhere I went—the gym, the grocery store, the elementary school—I ran into people I’d gone to high school with. My former ‘enemies’ from high school were everywhere. Funny thing was, though, we had a blast rehashing the past. Yes, we were still radically different people--the class brain, princess, jock, the bad girl-- but it didn’t matter. Hallelujah! We were finally grown-ups!
Cups of coffee led to glasses of wine, which led to true friendship. But it was friendship that was different from any I’d ever known. We shared a past, but in the present we were still wildly different. My husband started to call us the Enemy Club, and it stuck.
The rest, as they say, is history. Each book of the Enemy Club series is set in small town Galton, New York. Four friends who had been the worst of enemies, are now the best of friends, struggling to help one another juggle jobs, kids, love, heartbreak, and triumph as seen from their very (very!) different points of view. I like to think of it as the Breakfast Club for grown ups.
How Sweet It Is is the first book in the series, and I hope you’ll give it a try. Visit my website, www.sophiegunn.com to learn more. When you do, click the contacts tab and tell me about your club. I’d love to hear from you.
Thanks for reading!
“I heard you tell your friends that you wished a man would show up once a week, fix things that needed fixing, then disappear,” Tay said.
“I didn’t wish,” Lizzie began, then stumbled, then started again. “I did. But I didn’t mean—“
“Sounded like a real wish to me.”
They stood on the path, looking at each other. Lizzie felt as if she was being pulled in two. On the one hand, this man was everything she had wished for. On the other, he was possibly a serial killer. What kind of man shows up out of nowhere to grant a stranger’s wish?
Then, there was something else. Something even more disturbing. A nagging discomfort that started as an itching at her palms, then bloomed into heat on her cheeks. She knew that feeling so well, even if she hadn’t felt it in a long, long time. Shame. “I don’t accept charity, even if in a moment of weakness, I wished for it,” she said.
He nodded, as if he’d expected just this response. “I get that. And I know this sounds strange, but this isn’t about you. I happen to have some free time. I happen to be stuck in this town for a little while. And, I happen to be pretty decent with a screwdriver.” He wiped his hands on his jeans and nodded at the fixed gate. Then Tay Giovanni gathered his tools. He picked up the toolbox, and started down the sidewalk toward a broken-down red pick-up truck parked at the curb.
“Wait. Come back here, Mr. Giovanni.” She marched after him to the truck.
He got in, ignoring her.
“Mr. Giovanni.” Lizzie leaned in through the lowered passenger’s window. “If you’re being honest and you’re here to grant my wish, which I don’t believe by the way, then I’m sorry, but that’s too creepy for words. And if Jill or Georgia or Nina sent you, you tell them it’s hilarious and now back off. I don’t need or accept charity from anyone. Not from you and especially not from them.”
He waited patiently as the truck sputtered reluctantly to life. Once the motor had caught and had quieted to an uncertain idle, he asked, “Why do you wish for what you don’t want?”
She had no answer. She’d wished for a charity handyman when she couldn’t abide charity. She’d wished for Paige to leave when the last thing she could survive in this world was her daughter leaving.
“Don’t come back,” she said firmly, desperate to hold her ground.
“Now, how do I know if that’s what you want or just what you’re saying?” he asked in such a friendly casual way, as if they’d known each other forever, as if they had something deep and important in common and had come to some kind of agreement long ago that really didn’t bear further discussion.
And then Tay Giovanni, whoever he was, drove away without waiting for an answer.