Sometimes it pays to be unlucky...
Marissa Carmichael wasn’t usually a klutz, but she was having a bad day, in a hurry, and lost her balance. It was too late to catch herself. Arms flailing, her forehead connected with the side of the display. She crumbled down beside it like a limp noodle one minute, and was in the arms of a handsome stranger the next.
Trey Cleary didn’t think his day could get any worse, but after picking up his side view mirror from the ground, he was wrong. On a mission to do something about it, he located the flower shop that matched the name on the back of the van that mangled his BMW and went inside to inform the owner of the issue, only he was sidetracked by a beautiful woman who burst into the room like an out of control whirling dervish. For such a petite looking person she made a huge entrance, and then took one mother of a wipeout. After going to the woman’s aid, Trey realized there was something alluring about her that made him want to be her own personal hero.
For Marissa and Trey, this just might be the one time it pays to be unlucky.
Please tell us a little about yourself
I’m London Saint James, and I have a lot of characters rattling around in my head so I write about them. Sometimes I write sweet romance and sometimes I write naughty romance novels. I’m in love with my hot man, my fluffy fat cat, anything chocolate, and Coca-Cola.
How did you come up with the idea for your book?
I saw a submission call with Roane Publishing for a sweet romance anthology called, For the Love of Murphy, were the theme for the stories were to be based around bad luck (Murphy’s Law) and I knew I had to write something becuase I loved that concept. The idea for my story, The Shamrock Incident just followed along well with what Roane was looking for. So the idea sparked from that submission call.
When did the characters first pop into your head?
I’m pretty sure Marissa Carmichael had been lingering around in my thoughts for a while, and when I decided to go for the Murphy’s Law theme, she was kicking and ready to go
Without giving away any spoilers, was the story always straight forward for you to write, or did it pop up any surprises along the way?
The first part of the story was pretty straight forward. Marissa is having a horrible day, has a huge klutz moment, and takes a tumble. There was a surprise along the way. My original ending changed during the edits process, and I’m happy with the way things turned out.
Where do you like to write?
I write using my trusty old laptop while flopped in a comfortable chair, stretch out on my couch, or even lounging across my bed.
Do you read a lot?
I really try to. I love to read, but I don’t read as much as I use to. I find my own writing takes a lot of time away from lesiure reading, although I sneak a few books in here and there. *Smiles*
Who are some of your favourite authors?
This is a hard one because it is a very long list. This is just a few. Megan Hart, Sherrilyn Kenyon, Charlaine Harris, Gena Showalter, Sarah McCarty, Julia London. A whole bunch of fellow authors from my publishers. I could go on and on, and on.
And last but not least, have you any words of wisdom for aspiring writers out there?
Write what you love. What you find inspiring. Read as much as you can. Find someone wonderful to bounce ideas off of. Grow a thick skin, and don’t let negativity get you down. Keep yourself in your work, and keep on writing.
Marissa slammed the handset back onto the receiver and swiped her palms along the front of her jeans, leaving a trail of green sparkle smeared down her thighs, before she hurried to the propped open door to the shop.
“Hello?” A deep male voice echoed. “Is anyone here?”
“I’ll be right with you!” She slipped on one of the paper shamrock decorations. As she righted herself, her left foot came down dead center on the tape. “Son of a biscuit eater.” She kicked the shamrock free of her path and, half bent over, started hopping, right knee crooked, foot up, trying to grab the sticky, smooshed wad from the bottom of her shoe.
Her long hair swirled around her face and mouth. She reached for the tape with one hand, swiped the rogue strands back with her other, freeing her vision—doing what she imagined looked like some odd version of a modern interpretive dance—then lost her balance just as she hopped, stumbled, tumbled through the open door and into the store.
Arms flailing, her forehead connected with the side of the display case that was chock-full of silk flowers. She crumpled down beside it like a limp noodle.
She thought someone said something, except she couldn’t be sure. She tried to concentrate.
The phone was ringing.
Just my luck.
The sound stopped. Started. Stopped…
Maybe, since she was seeing stars and her head was pounding to beat the band, the intermittent trill came from deep inside her skull.
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