Dear Reader,
My husband and I visited Seattle last year, and after all Id heard about the citys weather, what I expected to notice the most was the rain. Instead, what struck me was the proliferation of great coffeehouses. I couldnt help thinking that Seattle would be the perfect home for a caffeine junkie, and soon my heroine, Sheryl Dayton, was born. She began telling me all about herself and her problems (when youre a writer, conversations with imaginary people are normal and dont require medication). Luckily for Sheryl and me, Harlequin announced a new comedy lineHarlequin Flipside, the perfect home for my caffeine addict who might sound sarcastic at times but is intensely loyal to friends and family.
Its that very sense of loyalty that brings Sheryl into conflict with journalist Nathan Hall, whose columns question the integrity of Sheryls friend and employer. Sheryl is prepared to dislike Nathan on sight after his accusatory newspaper pieces, but she doesnt count on him making her laugh or having eyes as rich and dark as her favorite espresso.
A lifelong fan of romantic comedy, Im very excited to be writing one of the launch books for Harlequin Flipside and hope that Sheryl and Nathan give you plenty of reasons to smile as they overcome the obstacles between them and fall in love.
Happy holidays,
Tanya Michaels
Did you just invite me to dinner?
Nathan widened his smile. Sounded like it, didnt it?
Well, Sheryl was going to say no, of course. How completely out of her mind would she have to be to say anything else?
But before common sense could assert itself, she nodded. Sounds good. When she got home tonight, shed have to check herself into some twelve-step program for women who made unwise romantic decisions.
Not necessarily unwise, the devil on her shoulder insisted. Maybe dinner with Nathan could be excused with the same principle she always used when dietinghave some extra chocolate before the day started to get cravings out of the way.
You in the mood for anything? he asked.
Wh-whatever restaurant you like is fine, she was relieved to hear herself say. Because saying, You and a bottle of chocolate syrup might have been inappropriate. Not to mention the mess it wouldve made of her bedsheets.
Who Needs Decaf?
Tanya Michaels
www.millsandboon.co.uk
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Tanya Michaels has been reading books all her life, and romances have always been her favorite. She is thrilled to be writing for Harlequinand even more thrilled that the stories she makes up now qualify as work and exempt her from doing the dishes after dinner. The 2001 Maggie Award winner lives in Georgia with her two wonderful children and a loving husband whose displays of support include reminding her to quit writing and eat something. Thankfully, between her husbands thoughtfulness and that stash of chocolate she keeps at her desk, Tanya can continue writing her books in no danger of wasting away.
For more information on Tanya, her upcoming releases and periodic giveaways, please visit her Web site at www.mindspring.com/~tjmic.
Books by Tanya Michaels
HARLEQUIN DUETS
96THE MAID OF DISHONOR
Dear Reader,
A brand-new year is around the corner and once the holiday celebrations are over, its time to make resolutions. And this time, ignore those pesky ones you never really pay attention to! Instead, make sure to give yourself a break from your troubles. Relax and unwindwith a Harlequin Flipside novel! These clever and witty stories blend comedy and romance in a way thats sure to smooth away any tension.
In December, award-winning author Jill Shalvis brings us Natural Blond Instincts, a story about an independent woman who finally has the chance to prove to her conservative family that she can succeed in the family business. Of course, the gorgeous man who shares her position is so distracting shes having trouble focusing on the job!
We also have Who Needs Decaf? by Tanya Michaels. Given the stress of her life, this PR exec needs large injections of high-octane java to get through her day. Too bad the caffeine isnt having an effect on her love life. At least, not before she meets the good-looking guy whos determined to dig up dirt on her company.
Look for two new Harlequin Flipside novels every month at your favorite bookstore. And be sure to check us out online at www.harlequinflipside.com.
Have a Happy New Year and enjoy!
Wanda Ottewell
Editor
Mary-Theresa Hussey Executive
Editor
Contents
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1
STEERING HER COMPACT CAR onto the exit ramp off Seattles Interstate 90, Sheryl Dayton frowned, and not just because of the possibility of ice on the road. Had her car made a noise when she turned? A kind of thwacka thwacka thwacka?
Not now, please. This really isnt a good time. Funds were always tighter coming into December, but holiday season aside, Sheryl was trying to save up to buy her own place. Not to mention that with the escalating situation at work, she had no time in her busy schedule to visit a mechanic.
Deciding tough love was her best immediate course of action, she inhaled sharply and threatened the car. Dont even think about breaking down until after the first of the year. If you do, Ill yank your spark plugs out with my bare hands and hang them on my Christmas tree! She was only marginally sure shed know what a spark plug was if she saw onepublic relations was her specialty, not the inner workings of American automobilesbut she did know how to solve the disturbing thwacka-thwacka-thwacka problem.
Sheryl turned up the radio.
An elaborate musical introduction swelled through the speakers, followed by the voice of an enthusiastic singer confiding that her true love had gifted her with a partridge and a pear tree. Sheryl didnt have a true love, herself, but she did have an ex-boyfriend. Brad Hammond, owner of Hammond Gaming Software, the company Sheryl worked for.
On the first day of Christmas, my ex-boyfriend gave to me, a good job and a migraine.
When shed broken things off with Brad six months ago, Sheryl had worried it would be too awkward to continue running the miniscule public relations department at Hammond, but Brad had implored her to stay, insisting he needed her. Which had proven to be prophetic.
Until now, Sheryl had devoted her time and energy to gaining favorable public attention for the up-and-coming software company, but their spot in the limelight had backfired on them when a Web site owner filed a lawsuit claiming theft of intellectual property. With revived public interest in Tolkien, along with some recent, popular fantasy novels and movies, HGSs newly released fantasy-action game, Xandria Quest, had promised to be their first major success. But writer Kendra Mathers was claiming that the premise, characters and levels for the game had been stolen from her online epic fantasy story. Sheryls publicity skills were suddenly needed for damage control.
Particularly, she muttered, since Nathan Hall seems intent on causing damage.
The columnist for the Seattle Sojourner had written a couple of pieces on the pending suit, and his writing made Sheryl nervous. He managed to blend cynicism and passion in his annoyingly factual columnsshed scanned carefully for glaring, malicious, libelous errors. Nathan Hall resonated with readers, and Sheryl worried about his insinuations that big bad Brad Hammond, overnight success, was now sticking it to the little guys hed so recently been one of.
Sheryl snorted indelicately as she approached the parking garage of the modestly sized, yet state-of-the-art building HGS leased. Big bad Brad Hammond, indeed. When she and Brad had watched the Titanic DVD together, hed wept like a baby, and shed spent the better part of an hour trying to console him.
That one evening, she realized now, had encapsulated their relationship. Though a good-looking programming phenom, well on his way to becoming a rich man, Brad was a little too needy in other ways, almost painfully earnest for a man who owned a company in a fiercely competitive field. But Sheryl doubted it would be a good PR spin to release an announcement that her boss was too naive to steal from anyone.
Maybe as a last resort.
In her opinion, she and HGSs attorney, Mark Campbell, had sent out some brilliant press releases, but she noted that the Sojourner hadnt bothered to print any of them. Brad praised her work, but refused to worry much about the problem since, as he saw it, Xandria Quest was his baby and he hadnt stolen it from anyone.
Rolling down her window, Sheryl smiled at the parking garage attendant who sat in the small booth, his gloved hands cradling a steaming thermos of coffee. The rich aroma made her glance longingly at her own to-go container. She hadnt allowed herself to lift it from the safety of its snug cup holder as she drove on the freeway, for fear of spilling burning liquid down the front of her ivory knit tunic and skirt.
Morning, Henry.
The mans weathered face wrinkled into an answering smile as he tipped his uniform cap. Ms. Dayton, he returned, despite all the times shed asked him to call her Sheryl. Say, is your car acting up? Thought I heard sort of a thumba thumba thumba as you came round the corner.
Thumba, huh? Nope, no thumba here. Her response didnt stem completely from denial. No way was the sound more of a thumba than a thwacka.
Oh, okay. Well, Im glad, Henry said. Id hate to see a nice lady like you get stranded on the side of a cold road at night, after the late evenings you put in here.
Well, when you looked at it that wayNote to selfcall mechanic on lunch break, do not end up freeway Popsicle.
He held up a folded edition of Wednesdays paper. You seen the Sojourner? Your boss made headlines again.
Surely, with approximately two and a half million people in the metro Seattle area, reporters could find something to write about besides her boss! What new angle could Hall possibly have used for his latest piece when the case was still in the early deposition stages? Sheryl decided that along with the Christmas check shed planned to give Henry as his annual tip, shed also throw in a subscription to the Post-Intelligencer or Seattle Times.
Forcing a pleasant tone, she said, Have a nice day, Henry.
You, too, Ms. Dayton.
Too late for that, but she nodded anyway as she pulled her car up the entrance ramp.
In the elevator from the garage to the main lobby, Sheryl sipped her white-chocolate cappuccino and dreaded the day. Or more accurately, the fallout from Tuesday evening, which was when Brad saw his therapist each week. Brad had read somewhere that top-level executives needed balance more than anyone since so many people depended on them, and hed gone right out and hired a shrink. Unfortunately, the quack dictated Brad and Sheryl must have a long conversation to determine exactly where theyd gone wrong, so Brad could learn and grow as a giving, loving being and be more successful in all future relationships.
Well, he would have to learn and grow on his own time, not Sheryls. Their relationship was strictly professional now.
The elevator dinged and the doors parted, allowing Sheryl to step into the reception area she knew so well. When theyd moved into this building from the tiny space HGS had occupied before, Sheryl and her roommate, Meka, an interior decorator, had helped Brad pick out the furnishings. Right down to the blue leather upholstered chair the plump receptionist, Denise Avery, was currently standing on.
Morning, Denise said from around the thumb-tacks clenched between her lips.
In her hands the receptionist held a shiny red-and-green garland that she was pinning onto the wall in one remaining bare corner of the room. Clearly in the spirit of the season, Denise looked adorably younger than her almost-forty years in a red jumper and green sweater, a piece of plastic ivy tucked into her bouncy blond ponytail. Her festive mood was also evident in the pot of poinsettias sitting on the small rectangular coffee table and the fake snow that adorned the window of the executive conference room.
Brad asked for you to report to his office immediately, the receptionist continued before Sheryl could voice a greeting. Unless, of course, you havent had coffee yet, in which case see him immediately after your stop to the breakroom.
Sheryl grinned and held up the fortifying cappuccino. Her favorite thing about this city, a caffeine-addicts nirvana, was that no street corner was without either a Starbucks or Seattles Best Coffee. Shed had two cups of coffee at home, naturally, but that was to get her through personal grooming and the drive to the office. Each day, she needed at least one cup post-drive, and then she was good to go until afternoon fatigue set in. Woe to anyone who encountered her on a morning she didnt get that crucial third cup.