Excerpt Monday: Take 17
Once a month, Bria Quinlan and Alexia Reed host a bunch of authors who get together and post excerpts from published books, contracted work or works in progress, and link to each other. You don’t have to be published to participate–just be a writer with an excerpt you’d like to share. For more info on how to participate, head over to the Excerpt Monday site or click on the banner above!
This month’s excerpt is from an abandoned holiday themed contemporary. There’s still something about the characters that keeps me from simply deleting the file, so I hope you enjoy this snipped and don’t have to experience anything similar to their travel woes. I’ve got something different in the works for Excerpt Mondays in 2011, but you’ll have to come back in January to find out what exactly. Until then…
Heads swiveled toward the television screens located around the concourse. Holiday travelers held their collective breaths, straining to hear the weather report. A sudden winter storm had blown down from Canada and intensified as the cold winds collided with the warm, moist mid-Atlantic air. The approaching blizzard ensnared thousands as hostages, waiting for the airlines to decide if they would reach their destinations on time.
A tingling alerted Noël Douglas that her hands were falling asleep as she gripped her present-laden bags too tightly. She forced her grip to relax. Her family was gathering at her parents’ house. Everyone except her. It sucked being the last to arrive home.
Sighs sounded and movement resumed around her when the talking heads declared the storm the worst in decades and joked about everyone wishing for a white Christmas.
An urge to get up and move, to dispel the feelings of helplessness and hopelessness, came over Noël. Pacing wasn’t helping. Her flight had only been delayed for an hour so far. Mom would probably still be holding dinner; on the off chance she arrived home tonight.
Haphazard piles of luggage and kids sprawled on the floor, hunched over one another’s GameBoys, presented an intricate obstacle course. She tiptoed her way past the arms and legs and over feet and around bags.
Noël glanced at her watch. Damn! Only another two minutes had passed. She might as well walk over to check the status of her flight on the bank of monitors nearby. At least, she would have something to do.
Elbowing her way through, she moved to the front of the crowd standing around the departures board. The list of delayed flights filled every screen. A sprinkling of entries blinked the word ‘CANCELLED’, a parody of holiday lights.
Noël sighed in relief. Her flight still read ‘DELAYED’.
She needed a new romance. She had finished the one she’d brought shortly before the last plane landed. After pushing her way back through the crowd, she headed for the News shop. Although winter holiday travel carried the risk of delays, she forced herself to believe she would arrive home eventually.
She sank into an empty seat and dropped her bags to the floor. Noël flipped open her new book, ignoring the picture on the cover where the hero molested the heroine. The first several pages flew past until a nearby cell phone blared out the William Tell Overture, breaking her concentration.
She gritted her teeth and turned to glare at the man sitting behind her. Stupid ringtones. She hated when people conducted their business loudly in public spaces. Already pulled out of her book, Noël inspected his clothes, laptop, and trendy roller bag. They marked him as a businessman. His watch and shoes indicated a successful one. The man was handsome enough to do cover work for GQ – far more striking than the model on the front of her new novel.
Their eyes met over the top of her book.
A shiver ran up her spine as she realized she had caught his attention and he was giving her the once over as well. While thanking her lucky stars for dressing in stylish comfort this morning, she prayed her hair hadn’t completely wilted.
Her cell phone rang. Great. Her mom, again. She fumbled her paperback and it clattered to the seat beside her.
“Hi, Mom. No, I’m still here at the airport.”
She felt like a rebellious teenager, staying out well past curfew. This wasn’t even her fault! Why did she give her mother the power to send her on guilt trips because of an act of nature?
“No, no word yet. I’ll let you know as soon as I do.”
She scowled. Mr. GQ hung on her every word. The nerve of some people.
“I promise, Mom. Love you. I can’t wait to see everyone. Bye.” Noël hung up, leaned back in her seat and picked up her novel again.
Just her luck, she’d lost her spot. So she flipped to a likely looking page, but the words blurred more and more the longer she stared. She needed to recapture the romance.
A low rumbling sound swept through the airport. The gate attendant shook her head as she reached over and flipped the ‘DELAYED’ sign to ‘CANCELLED’. Murmurs and curses filled the air as this action repeated at the other counters.
Noël slammed down her book, losing her place, again. Shit! Her address book lay buried deep in her purse. She unearthed the thing, flipped through the pages, but failed find any one close by. Just great. Now she’d have to scramble for a place to wait out the storm.
The crowds around the gates thinned out within a few minutes. Those remaining were stranded, far from home on uncompleted journeys.
Pangs of jealousy gnawed at Noël as she watched the locals leave, laughing as they returned to the bosom of their families and their own beds. She snorted with disgust. How could she blame them? If she lived here, she would do the same thing. As much as her mother annoyed her, she loved her family and had been looking forward to going home this Christmas.
Mr. GQ got up and went to the counter to speak with the attendant for a few minutes. Both of them shaking their heads, the woman handed him a piece of paper and shrugged. He studied the paper, thanked her, then turned and walked down the concourse.
Noël’s heart raced a little faster as she watched him walk away. Her gaze drifted over his form, noting the play of muscles across his shoulders as he shifted his laptop back to the other side. His legs were long and the definition in his thighs stood out beneath his trousers. A shame he was walking away from her, but she certainly appreciated the view. Too bad he carried the gate attendant’s phone number instead of hers.
A few moments later, the same attendant approached her. Noël smiled weakly at her.
“Nowhere to go, Hon?”
“I wanted to be home by now.” She bit her lower lip, refusing to cry in front of this Amazon who had caught the businessman’s fancy.
“Here. The airline is handing out vouchers for hotel rooms. We’ve already made a reservation in your name. Rooms are pretty scarce, so we doubled people up. We can’t let anyone sleep overnight in the terminal, so enjoy a comfortable night’s rest on us!” The attendant handed Noël a familiar piece of paper.
Relief surged through her. Noel grinned from ear to ear. “Thank you! Thank you!” She barely resisted the urge to hug the woman.
“You’d better hurry, Miss. Hotel said they’d only hold the rooms for so long.”
Noël wiped her palms on her pants leg, gathered her bags and picked up her novel. The paper directed her to the airport Radisson. Her best bet would be to catch a taxi. Now to find the sign for Ground Transportation.
Ten minutes later, people dressed in heavy winter gear huddled together against the wind on the curb outside the terminal. They formed a rough line that snaked past where an orange cone sat with a bent and battered piece of cardboard reading “Taxis” had been stuck in at an angle.
A sharp pain alerted Chris Nichols that a considerable weight had just landed on his foot. Unable to locate the offender, he grumbled. Everyone was tired, stressed and no one appeared particularly guilty or apologetic. He shrugged and tried to stand a little taller. His height usually protected him since he was tall enough to see over most of the crowd
Chris read over at the voucher the attendant had given to him again. The thought of taking a long, hot shower and falling into bed once he got to the hotel soothed his frayed nerves.
The line moved slowly, but he finally reached the front and sighed with relief as a taxi arrived. Reaching for the taxi’s door handle, he turned his head toward the terminal when a shout sounded from that direction.
A static shock jolted through his body as his fingers landed on a soft feminine hand instead of cold chrome. She gasped, drawing his attention. The attractive woman from the gate stood there, glaring at him.
“The airline putting you up some place?” Wow, she was even prettier up close.
“The Radisson?”
“Yeah, same here.”
“Why don’t we share the cab then?”
Ice crackled as he opened the door and gestured her inside. “Might as well.” Pretty and practical.
Her large assortment of bags jostled his arm as she swung around, scrambling into the taxi. His presentation folder went flying and landed open in the slush.
Damn. Too late.
He scooped up the papers and brushed off the worst of the wet snow and dirt. What else could go wrong? First, his connection had been delayed and his prospective client was angry he’d miss the scheduled meeting. Now with the flight cancelled, he didn’t know about rescheduling or if he could still manage to land the account. He needed to pay the rest of his bills this month.
“I’m so sorry! Is everything ok? Anything I can do to help?” The expression of concern on her face almost made him laugh. Her hair had steadily wilted as they waited for the plane. Her day couldn’t be going much better.
“No, the weather brings out my worst side. I didn’t mean to bite your head off.” Another Taxi sped by, splashing the leg of his pants as he walked around. He slammed his door with a good solid, but unsatisfying wham.
“I think I have something in here. Somewhere.”
“The Radisson.” The taxi pulled away from the curb and out onto the wet street.
“I’m sorry. Here, let me take them.” Three napkins and two tissues later, she gave up and shrugged hopelessly. Pity such an attractive girl was a walking wreck.
“It’s all right, Miss.” He tucked the ruined pages back in the folder. Nothing to be done for them now. He’d spread the papers out later to dry or print another copy tomorrow. After a good night’s sleep, he would be better prepared to deal. No point to worrying now.
He forced himself to smile. “Since we’re at the same hotel, want to grab breakfast tomorrow? We can compare airport horror stories or something.”
“I’d love too. I admit I’m rather homesick right now. It would be nice to eat with a familiar face.” She smiled back at him.
“Here we are. The Radisson.” The driver parked under the awning and helped them out of the car.
The lobby was crowded with other travelers, many of whom were familiar faces from the airport. The GameBoy toting kids lounged in the lobby chairs while their parents checked-in at the desk.
Noël’s feet ached. Out of habit, she slipped one foot from her shoe, rubbing the aching toes against her calf. Ah. That was much better. Eager to get up to her room and crash for the night, she slipped her shoe back on when the line moved forward. Mr. GQ was the same number of people away from the desk in his line as well.
When her turn came, the clerk assured her everything was set and her airline assigned roommate had also arrived. If she needed anything, all she needed to do was contact the front desk.
The elevator opened as she approached and she stepped in. A rush of adrenaline shot through her as a strong, masculine hand grabbed the closing door and in stepped Mr. GQ. “Which floor?”
“Eighth.”
“Wow. Me too!” A quick peek at her keycard holder gave her the answer. “819. You?”
“Hmmm. 819. We’d better check on this.”
Her stomach did a flip-flop. Noël pushed her hair back from her face as they stepped off the elevator, heading back to the desk.
The clerk stood behind the desk, finishing up some paperwork. His surprise turned to confusion as they approached.
“Problem?” The clerk swallowed and wiped his brown under the stare of the large man beside her.
“Yes. One of us got the wrong keycard. These are both for room 819.”
“One moment.” Tap, tap, tap. “Ms. Douglas, correct?” She nodded.
“And your name, sir?” The clerk turned to her companion.
“Chris Nichols.” Of course, he had good strong name.
The clerk turned back to the keyboard. A few taps later, he was frowning again. “The airline requested a room for the two of you.” The clerk shrugged.
The color drained from her face. She thumped her fist on the counter. “Of course! Idiots. All they did was scan the passenger list, match up families traveling together and pair up the rest of us by name.”
Chris Nichols cocked an eyebrow at her, clearly not making the connection with her.
She sighed. “My parents didn’t stop to consider what I’d have to deal all my life just because I was born near Christmas and they liked the name ‘Noël’. If they had spelled it N-o-e-l-l-e, my life would be much simpler. No, I’m not male and my name isn’t Noel. Great. Just great.” She clamped her moth shut as soon as she realized she was rambling. And incoherently, at that.
The clerk blanched as her companion turned back and glared down at him while sliding his keycard across the desk. “Here. I have no problems changing to another room.”
The clerk gulped. “Sorry, sir. That was our last room. There aren’t any others. This storm has everyone booked to the rafters. We just turned some other folks away. We even called across the street and they’re booked solid too.”
Her head throbbed. She pressed her fingers against her temples and took a deep breath. She lowered her hands and turned to look at her companion.
“Appears there are no rooms at the inn.” Shut up, Noël! Mr. Nichols didn’t look amused – more like tired and cranky.
Her lower lip trembled and she quickly wiped away the tear that streaked down her cheek. Ugh! The helpless female who cried at the least little thing wasn’t her usual style. She probably had raccoon eyes now too.
If you enjoyed this, you might enjoy some of my other Excerpt Monday offerings.
Links to other Excerpt Monday writers
Note: I have not personally screened these excerpts. Please heed the ratings and be aware that the links may contain material that is not typical of my site.
Kaige, Historical Romance (PG 13
Richard Blakely, Memoir (PG 13)
Patricia Bates, Paranormal (R)
Keri Ford, Contemporary Erotic (R)
Sable Hunter, Erotic Romance (R)
Ali Katz, Contemporary Sensual Romance (R)
Alexia Reed, Urban Fantasy (R)
As always, our hostesses Bria Quinlan (PG13), Alexia Reed (R), Rachel Jameson (PG13) and Kendal Corbitt (R) thank you for stopping by!
