Wednesday, October 24, 2012

The Big Reveal

So here it is. I can finally reveal it. The cover for Drive Me To Distraction...

I have a proud.
I cannot believe how well the cover artist has captured the heroine, Alex.
Isn't it just wonderful??

The first chapter is up on the Momentum website.

And here is the first page....

Drive Me To Distraction

“If he doesn’t slap my bum, make female driver jokes or tell me to brace myself because he’s the hottest boy-racer I’ve ever seen …”
Mike’s eyes continued to glaze over. They’d paused when Alex said bum, but now they continued their journey into complete ambivalence.
“… then we’ll get along just fine.”
“You’ll never get anywhere until you lose that chip.” Mike brushed an imaginary chip from her shoulder. His gaze wandered down to her chest.
“You’ll never get a un-skanky girlfriend if don’t stop perving at women’s boobs.” She rolled her eyes and zipped her heavy racing overalls up to her neck, risking heat exhaustion on this rare hot English summer day.
“I wasn’t looking at your —”
“Yes, you were.” She narrowed her eyes at him.
“You haven’t got any to look at. Why would I bother?” Mike smiled innocently.
“That is not true.” She glanced down at the nearly flat front of her overalls. She wasn’t Dolly Parton, but still.
“Anyway. My girlfriends aren’t skanky,” he said, without much conviction.
“What about that Belinda one?” Alex grimaced at the memory.
“Mmm, yeah.” He grinned. “I miss her.”
“She gave you crabs.”
“Itchy.” He fidgeted at the memory. “But she was great in —”
“Can you at least try not to be disgusting?” Alex grabbed a clipboard from her desk and swatted his arm.
“Why?” Mike looked baffled by the idea, though laughter danced in his eyes.
She shook her head, amused and exasperated. Then she left the small administration office of Thruxton Motorsport Centre with enough force to make the windows rattle in their cheap aluminium frames. Outside, the smell of baked tarmac and hot oil hung heavily in the warm still air, soothing like aromatherapy – if you bought into that girly rubbish, which she didn’t.
She glanced at her clipboard and undid her overalls a couple of inches. Mr. Robert Dryden was the next driver eager to conquer the Thruxton racetrack and attain his racing driver’s licence. At least he’d had the imagination to pick the Lotus, most wanted the Porsche or the Lamborghini.
She strode up the pit lane to where he waited leaning on the car. He turned when heard her, and smiled a warm sexy grin, teeth gleaming. Tall and lean, brown hair flopping across his dark eyes and the pale skin of an office dweller, all came together to make him meltingly handsome, in a laddish way.
Surrounded by men, working in an industry that only saw women as decorative, Alex had learned to be aloof and matter-of-fact, especially with the distractingly handsome ones. But the hint of kiss-me-nowness about his grin unsettled her. She zipped her racing overalls back up to the neck.
“You’re a girl,” he said, as soon as she got within earshot.
“And you’re an idiot.”
She ignored him. “Hi, I’m Alex. I’ll be testing you for your racing licence today.”

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