I wrote a book duh! You must be new here but I do this on occasion with regular cadence it would seem but I wrote a book and its a short story for the holidays, a continuation if you will of the summer story… actually it is, as a where are they now type thing and its such a delight.
FLAP COPY:
Sawyer and Jameson were never going to go the distance of a marriage; it is one of convenience after all, an agreement with a shelf life. One swallow does not a summer make, and by winter, they are on their way to a divorce, as it ought to be.
Sawyer has left their London home for her country cottage and Jameson… well he never really came home.
However, what started out as an arrangement between two people who needed the out, turns out to be a lot more complicated to unravel because in the mix of things, is the heart that wants what it wants, and the death of an author that is sure to complicate things.
Or would unravelling the mystery of a death be the tie that binds these two who started out tongue tied to one another, quite literally, in a supply closet of the Moulin Rouge?
Happy reading!