Sherryl Woods – The Backup Plan (страница 1)
Praise for the novels of
“Woods … is noted for appealing character-driven stories
that are often infused with the flavor
and fragrance of the South.”
“A whimsical, sweet scenario …
the digressions have their own charm, and Woods
never fails to come back to the romantic point.”
“What better way to welcome spring back into our lives
than to be able to sit down with a book by a beloved
author, a cool drink, and dreams of young love blooming?”
“Woods’ readers will eagerly anticipate her trademark
small-town setting, loyal friendships, and honorable
mentors as they meet new characters and reconnect with
familiar ones in this heartwarming tale.”
“Warm, complex, and satisfying.”
“Sparks fly in a lively tale that is overflowing with family
conflict and warmth and the possibility of rekindled love.”
“Launching the Chesapeake Shores series,
Woods creates an engrossing … family drama.”
“Woods is a master heartstring puller,
and her endearingly flawed characters deal with their
plethora of problems in a predictable but satisfying manner.”
*The Sweet Magnolias
**Trinity Harbor
***Chesapeake Shores
Look for Sherryl Woods’s next original novel
DRIFTWOOD COTTAGE
available April 2011
And the next novel in
The Charleston Trilogy
FLIRTING WITH DISASTER
available August 2011
SHERRYL
WOODS
Dear Reader,
I can’t tell you how delighted I am to have
You may be reading
Dinah’s a woman at a crossroads of her life, an intrepid foreign correspondent who’s been through too much and is very close to coming unglued. Cord is one of those laid-back bad boys we all dream about, but at his core he’s one of the genuine good guys. For Dinah, he may turn out to be her greatest risk ever, but he also promises to offer her the greatest reward of her life.
I hope you enjoy traveling to the low country with these two wonderful characters and will be anxiously awaiting more when
All good wishes,
1
Her producer was tiptoeing around bad news. Dinah could see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice. After a decade of working in TV journalism with basically the same news team, she’d learned to recognize the signs.
Ray Mitchell was an outstanding producer, but he was lousy at subtle communication. Barking out directives was more his style. In fact, he belonged in another era, one of hard-drinking, cigar-smoking journalists and legendary war correspondents such as Ernie Pyle, Edward R. Murrow, Walter Cronkite and Dan Rather. They had brought battle coverage to new heights through shrewd performances. Watching Ray try to sheepishly soft-pedal whatever was on his mind was painful.
“What is it you’re trying so hard not to tell me?” she finally asked. “Is there something wrong with the piece I just turned in? It was a great interview.”
The pictures had been good, too, even if they weren’t as great as her previous cameraman’s would have been. But they were better than adequate.
Ray looked even more uncomfortable. “For somebody else, maybe,” he said with the familiar bluntness Dinah had always respected. “Not for you.”
On some level Dinah had been anticipating that comment. Still, she stared at him in shock. She wasn’t used to being even gently criticized for her work. The many years of accolades from her colleagues in the field and her superiors in their lofty New York towers made her expect praise. “What are you saying, Ray? Just spit it out.”
It was hot as blazes without air-conditioning in their makeshift newsroom, but Dinah knew that wasn’t the reason Ray needed to mop his round face with a handkerchief. He was so nervous that he looked miserable.
“Okay,” he said eventually. “You want the truth, here it is. You’ve lost your edge, Dinah. It’s understandable, given what happened a few months ago, but—”
Dinah tuned him out. Nobody ever mentioned the incident in front of her anymore. Not being able to talk about what had happened had been difficult for Dinah. Whenever she brought up the subject of that tragic nightmare, everyone’s eyes filled with pity as they murmured soothing nonsense and then cut off any further discussion.
That was partly because for weeks after the episode, Dinah had listened dry-eyed to everyone’s sympathy or made the kind of impersonal, caustic comments that all reporters made to keep their fears and grief at bay. They’d all taken their cues from her and had stopped discussing it. Now that she was finally able and eager to talk, their grieving was over and they didn’t want to be reminded that only through the grace of God had they not been on that deadly roadside. They no longer wanted to face their own mortality, or consider the risks inherent in this hellish assignment.
War correspondents were a special breed of journalists. The burnout rate was high for those who favored ambition over self-preservation.