Nobody Does It Better. JENNIFER LABRECQUE
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Nobody Does It Better
Jennifer LaBrecque
JENNIFER LABRECQUE
After a varied career path that included waitress, corporate number cruncher and bug-business maven, Jennifer LaBrecque found her true calling writing contemporary romance. Named 2001 Notable New Author of the Year and 2002 winner of the prestigious Maggie Award for Excellence, she is also a two-time RITA® Award finalist. Jennifer lives in suburban Atlanta with her husband, an active daughter, one really bad cat, two precocious greyhounds and a chihuahua who runs the whole show.
Dear Reader,
I was thrilled to get a chance to set a love story in what I consider one of the most hauntingly romantic cities in the world, Venice. And, of course, a special city demanded a special hero. Enter Gage carswell, British agent – tall, dark, sexy and as elegantly sophisticated as Venice itself – who’s assigned to stop an international threat. What kind of heroine finds herself in Venice? Enter Holly Smith, a rather ordinary schoolteacher from Atlanta, Georgia, in search of her long-lost mother. Stir the pot with a case of mistaken identity and a generous splash of espionage and you’ve got Nobody Does It Better.
While writing this story I laughed, cried and fell in love with a beautiful city all over again, even as I watched Gage and Holly fall in love. I’ve taken licence to create fictional streets, restaurants and businesses just because it’s easier that way and as the writer, well, I can. I hope you enjoy the result.
I’d love to hear from you. Drop by my website at www.jenniferlabrecque.com to check out my daily blog and www.soapboxqueens.com where Rhonda Nelson, Vicki Lewis Thompson and I blog about this, that and the other.
Happy reading…
Jennifer LaBrecque
To the guys and gals who show up at the Soapbox Queens blog (www.soapboxqueens.com).
Y’all are the best.
Table of Contents
1
“IT LOOKS AS IF WE’LL BE flying with clear skies tonight out of Atlanta and across the pond. We expect to have you in London by 8:00 a.m. tomorrow morning, their time.”
Holly Smith relaxed her grip on the armrest. She was flying. Yes, indeed. Maybe she shouldn’t have ordered that third glass of wine at the airport bar, but she had a pleasant buzz going and she wouldn’t be nearly as relaxed otherwise. So far, flying wasn’t as bad as she’d imagined it might be.
Despite what her ex-boyfriend Greg had said, she was not a neurotic mess. So she had some quirks. Who didn’t? Who cared if she checked her silverware for cleanliness in a restaurant before she used it, and had brought along her own blow-up travel pillow and blanket so she wouldn’t have to use the airline’s? And, she was careful with her money. But cheap? She thought not.
A neurotic mess? Hardly. A mess was just ugly. A person couldn’t be a mess, spilt milk was a mess. Screw him. She nearly laughed aloud. Nope, she wouldn’t be doing that anymore. And hadn’t he been surprised to hear it?
She’d known they were in a go-nowhere relationship. Ending that had been the first step in her new plan to make all aspects of her life proactive rather than reactive.
It was rather funny how such a life-changing event had started out so innocuously. Three months ago, she’d been waiting in the hair salon to be called back for a wash and trim. She’d been thumbing through a magazine when she’d stumbled across an article. Usually, she never read those pseudo-self-help pieces, but she’d found herself sucked into this one. The article focused on being the change you wanted in your life rather than waiting for someone to change it for you. It had been an aha, scales-falling-from-her-eyes moment.
She took charge in so many other aspects of her life. She’d deliberately pursued a high school teaching career that focused on working with gifted students. She’d set a goal and achieved it. Buying her condo? Same thing.
The “aha” had come in the relationship department. It was as if she’d discovered thousands of dollars of therapy between the covers of one glossy magazine.
She’d realized she was the queen of reactive relationships because…drumroll…she didn’t trust herself. She’d known she and Greg were going nowhere but she would’ve waited on him to end it. Her breaking up with him had been huge. It’d been like getting to base camp on a Mount Everest climb—an important first step.
She reached overhead to direct the stream of cool air from the vent more directly in her face. That felt good. She just wouldn’t think about all the germs that were probably in all that recycled air. So far,