Cindi Myers - Detour Ahead

Dear Reader,

Ideas for books come from everywhere. The idea for this book actually came from personal experience. Anyone who knows me knows I have no sense of direction. I can get turned around in a huge discount store and have to stop and ask someone how to find the exit! I have taken many a detour in my travels, some of which have led to meeting interesting people and discovering beautiful faces. (Of course, some of them also lead to lots of frustration.)

My husband, a man who was born with an internal compass, is amazed at how easily I get lost, but he’s learned to live with it. I’ve long wanted to write about a directionally challenged woman and an always-knows-where-he’s-headed man who learn to love each other. So here it is. I hope you enjoy Marlee and Craig’s story.

And if you ever see me driving aimlessly down a street near you, take pity and offer to give me directions!

Cindi Myers

P.S. I love to hear from readers. Write me at P.O. Box 991, Bailey, CO 80421 or e-mail Cindi@CindiMyers.com. Visit me on the Web at www.CindiMyers.com.

Marlee gripped the steering wheel so tightly her fingers were pratically fused to the leather. She gnawed her lower lip and tried to think calming thoughts.

Except that she didn’t have a clue where she was, or even if she was headed in the right direction. She glanced over at Craig, still sleeping, snoring softly. Thank God he wasn’t awake to witness this.

She’d done fine for the first hour or so driving. Then one of those nasty orange signs had popped up on the side of the road. Detour.

She’d told herself she could handle it, she just had to follow the signs. No problem.

Except she must have missed one of the signs, or maybe they’d forgotten to put one out. By that point she’d made two or three turns and had been completely confused.

So she’d guessed. A dangerous proposition, but the only other alternative was to wake Craig. And admit that she’d gotten lost. In the middle of nowhere. Not anywhere close to his precious planned route.

And what self-respecting woman wanted to do that?

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Cindi Myers believes in love at first sight, good chocolate, cold champagne, that people who don’t like animals can’t be trusted and that God obviously has a sense of humor. She also believes in writing fun, sexy romances about people she hopes readers will fall in love with. In addition to writing, Cindi enjoys reading, quilting, gardening, hiking and downhill skiing. She lives in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado with her husband (whom she met on a blind date and agreed to marry six weeks later) and two spoiled dogs.

HARLEQUIN FLIPSIDE

10—LIFE ACCORDING TO LUCY

20—WHAT PHOEBE WANTS

HARLEQUIN TEMPTATION

902—IT’S A GUY THING!

935—SAY YOU WANT ME

HARLEQUIN BLAZE

82—JUST 4 PLAY

118—RUMOR HAS IT

149—TAKING IT ALL OFF

168—GOOD, BAD…BETTER

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Epilogue

THOSE OF YOU who’ve been following this Web diary for a while know that I am somewhat directionally impaired. In fact, you may recall I began this blog as a way of sharing some of my more interesting adventures while deviating from my original route—in other words, crazy things that happened to me while getting lost.

But my latest attempt to find my way in unfamiliar surroundings has landed me in hot water. I’m almost embarrassed to admit it here, but then, when have I ever held anything back from you, my faithful readers?

I lost my license.

I don’t mean I’ve misplaced the thing and can’t find it. I mean it was taken away from me. Pulled. I’m no longer a legal driver.

I was driving the wrong way down a one-way street and…And the traffic court judge took one look at the points on my driving record and confiscated my license. It wouldn’t have been so bad if I hadn’t racked up all those speeding tickets, too. And if I hadn’t been cited two other times for carelessness behind the wheel. Can I help it if I make a few wrong turns sometimes?

Maybe it’s like my friend Susan says. I need to carry a compass. Of course, then I’d have to learn to actually read a compass. A Girl Scout I was not….

Just thought I’d share that update. Now, real life beckons.

Real life in the form of two projects that needed to be finished by Friday, four phone calls to return and a handful of mail to open. Not to mention Susan’s wedding to deal with. Marlee Jones sighed and signed off from her Travels with Marlee Web site. What had begun as a way to teach herself HTML code had turned into a guilty pleasure. Her Web log, or blog, pulled in several hundred hits a day and she actually got fan mail. Most of it from nice ordinary people. Of course there was Dave, who wrote to her from Cellblock Sixteen at the state pen, but he at least was polite, and safely locked away for life, or so her contact in the criminal justice department had assured her.

She shook her head and picked up the heavy cream-colored envelope she kept propped against her monitor.

Mr. and Mrs. Anthony St. John request that you join them in celebrating the marriage of their daughter, Susan Elisabeth, to Bryan Fredericks, son of Mr. and Mrs. Wayne Fredericks and Alison Reynolds.

Susan would have a fit when Marlee told her the latest. She ought to be calling any second now….

The phone rang and Marlee picked it up on the second ring. “Hello, Susan.”

“How did you know it was me?”

“I’m psychic.”

“No, really, how did you know? Did your cheap-ass boss finally spring for caller ID?”

“Gary isn’t cheap, he’s frugal. After all, we are a nonprofit organization.”

“That’s his excuse for everything. But I notice that he isn’t doing without the finer things in life, while you labor away in that little closet of an office.”

Marlee glanced around her office, which had, in fact, been a storage closet in another life. Yeah, it was small and dingy and out of the way, but that had its advantages. Nobody ever bothered her back here and she was pretty much free to do what she liked.

“You’re not answering my question,” Susan said. “Since when are you psychic?”

“I know you’ve got Travels with Marlee linked to your home page. You read the new post, didn’t you?”

“What’s this about losing your license? How does a grown woman lose her license?”

“It’s not my fault,” Marlee protested. “Some people are born without a sense of direction. There’ve been studies.”

“You’re a study all right. The big question is, how are you going to get to my wedding? Don’t think I’m going to go through this without you. Besides, there’s a groomsman I want you to meet.”