I am happy to be hosting a stop on the blog tour for WHAT WE DO FOR LOVE by Anne Pfeffer! I have an excerpt with you today check it out and enter to win the giveaway below!
About The Book:
Title: WHAT WE DO FOR LOVE
Author: Anne Pfeffer
Pub. Date: May 21, 2019
Publisher: Bold Print Press
Formats: Paperback, eBook
Pages: 208
"If Lorelai Gilmore of Gilmore Girls was
dropped into a thriller, it might resemble this appealing novel." --Kirkus
Reviews
Thirty-eight-year-old Nicole Adams has given up on finding love. The
single mother focuses on the two things she cherishes most—her sixteen-year-old
son Justin and her art—while relying on the support of her friends Mike and Jamie
and her loyal sister Caroline.
When she convinces a prominent Los Angeles museum to feature a
large-scale installation of her ceramics work, she thinks her life has finally
turned a corner.
Then Justin brings a girl, Daniela, home to spend the night. Daniela’s
angry parents have thrown her out of the house because she’s pregnant with
Justin’s child. Shattered, Nicole takes Daniela in and by doing so is drawn
into the inner circle of Daniela’s family and a frightening world of deceit and
violence.
Nicole struggles to keep life going as normal. Forced to deal with
people she doesn’t trust or like, fearful for the future of both her son and
the grandchild they’re expecting, Nicole wonders if she can do what she tells
Justin to do: always have faith in yourself and do the right thing.
What We Do for Love: A Novel is a standalone story written by
award-winning author Anne Pfeffer.
What We Do for Love is Winner of the Chick Lit category in the 2019 Next Generation Indie Book Awards! It’s also a Finalist in Best Cover Design / Fiction.
What We Do for Love is Winner of the Chick Lit category in the 2019 Next Generation Indie Book Awards! It’s also a Finalist in Best Cover Design / Fiction.
WHAT WE DO FOR LOVE will be free on Amazon on May 22-24!
Now on to the excerpt!
Chapter 1
Funny how
one’s life can make a U-turn.
My life made
two. In a single day.
I started
that day as a mere potter—yes, a person who handmakes vases and dinner plates
for a living—wearing borrowed clothes and driving to the most important interview
of my life. A few hours later came U-turn number one: the board of directors of
CCMLA, the Contemporary Crafts Museum of Los Angeles, offered me a place in
their upcoming show!
In an
instant, I had become an artist. I pondered this fact wonderingly as I drove
home that afternoon. I was to provide them with a brand-new, never-before-seen
mural in ceramics, an installation piece. My wall would be located at the
entrance to the exhibit, the first thing you saw as you walked in. This was my
chance, an incredible opportunity.
I was an
artist!
It didn’t
bother me that desperation clearly underlay the board’s decision. All the
better when I saved the day with a great contribution to their show.
I hoped.
Flushed with
success, I revved my ancient Toyota, Bernice, up to twenty-two miles per hour.
We practically skipped over the potholes as we barreled our way up the Trail of
Terror. This was the name my son Justin had given the rutted, one-lane road
that wound its way up the side of Laurel Canyon to our house.
Of course, I
was a fill-in, hired at the last minute. I’d gotten this job when Miriam
Fletcher, a customer of mine who happened to be on the museum board, moaned to
me that an artist had dropped out of a show scheduled to open in six weeks.
“We’re in such a pickle! We don’t know what to do!”
Though her crepey neck revealed
a senior citizen, Miriam otherwise projected youth, running long acrylic nails
through her cropped, bleached, and spiked hair, her copper earrings swinging.
My cue to
pipe up. “I’m sure I could help you.”
Miriam
trained her eyes upon me. She had recently ordered customized handmade pieces
from me to give to her granddaughters— a miniature tea set for the youngest and
a statuette of a mermaid for her older sister.
“You do such
beautiful ceramics work, Nicole.”
“What you’ve
seen is my commercial work, which I do through my business Clayworks. I create
as an artist under my own name.” That is, I hoped to create as an artist
under my own name, if I could ever get the proper start.
And now I had.
I could hardly wait to tell my son the news. After sixteen years of single
motherhood and hard work, struggling to support myself and Justin, I couldn’t
blow this chance. And yet, I’d never done anything like this before.
A
twelve-by-nine-foot mural. In just six weeks.
You can
do this, I told
myself. I had to. Letting the museum— and myself—down was unthinkable.
I could
practically hear the snap-crackle-pop of my nerves.
I pulled
into what we called the car park, an open space situated beside the house at
the top of the Trail of Terror, big enough to park a half dozen cars. Justin’s
Ford Focus wasn’t there.
When he got
home from school, which should be any minute, we would raise a toast, our
champagne glasses filled with sparkling apple cider.
The day was
unseasonably hot, and I was boiling in Bernice, her air conditioner long dead.
Thank heavens my hair had stayed up all day in the deliberately loose knot that
I’d coaxed it into this morning, with pretty little bits of hair hanging down
around my face. A chignon, according to the YouTube tutorial. One more degree of
humidity and my whole head would have coiled itself into a giant Brillo pad
right there before the entire board of directors.
And thank
goodness I’d been able to borrow my sister’s striking red-and-orange
color-blocked linen dress, which had given me just the boost of artist/business
woman confidence that I’d needed. Now though, its linen skirt was hopelessly
creased and hiking up around my hips. I bounded out of the car and proceeded
along the circuitous route that we all used to enter the house, going through
the rickety side gate and past what was technically our front door, which no
one ever opened. Instead, I followed the path that ran alongside the house
toward the yard and pool, giving a glance to my irises and roses, which grew
under our bedroom windows.
The white,
yellow, and purple irises stood tall and elegant, but it was the roses I really
loved—the fluttery, homegrown variety that came in every color of the sunrise.
I would have to harvest some for tonight’s dinner table.
As I reached
the yard, I stepped from the cool shade of the side path into direct, hot
sunshine. The sliver of Los Angeles ahead of me that appeared on clear days
like this one, the perfume of herbs and blooming plants, the swimming pool that
shimmered invitingly— except for my college years, this had been home all my
life. Along with my sister Caroline, I’d inherited the small, dilapidated house
on its magnificent parcel of land in the Hollywood Hills. At today’s prices,
neither of us could have ever afforded to buy it.
Entering the
house as always through the French doors off the living room, I waltzed into my
bedroom. It was the beginning of a new era. Soon, there would be no more making
pottery on consignment. No more sets of dinnerware for twelve.
I shouldn’t
get ahead of myself. Of course, I would continue to operate Clayworks. Those
dinner sets paid the bills after all. Still, though, there was now a chance I
could taper off the business over time, if I could sell some of my more
creative pieces. Imagine me, finally, at age thirty-eight, beginning to show in
museums and galleries.
I changed
into my regular daywear—a sleeveless cotton blouse, long flowy skirt in the
coolest featherlight cotton, and Teva sandals.
My old
friend Mike Sawyer would be over to eat with Justin and me as he did most
weeks, once or twice. Maybe I’d give them both my wonderful news at the same
time.
No, I
couldn’t wait that long to spread the news. I knew I would tell Justin the minute
he walked in.
Hearing the
muffled noise of a door opening, I sprinted to the kitchen, where my son, home
at last, would for sure want to hear all about it.
I stopped
short when I saw that Justin was not alone.
About Anne:
Award-winning
novelist Anne Pfeffer grew up in Phoenix, Arizona reading prodigiously, riding
horses, and avoiding rattlesnakes and scorpions. After living in Chicago and
New York, she escaped back to the land of sunshine in Los Angeles. She has
worked in banking and as a pro bono attorney, representing abandoned children
in adoption and guardianship proceedings. Anne has a daughter living in New
York and is the author of four books in the YA/New Adult genres.
Giveaway Details:
1 winner will receive a $25 Amazon GC,
International.
Tour Schedule:
Week One:
5/6/2019- Jena Brown Writes- Review
5/6/2019- Lone Tree Reviews- Review
5/7/2019- BookHounds- Excerpt
5/7/2019- Rainy Day Reviews- Excerpt
5/8/2019- Life With No Plot- Review
5/8/2019- Lisa-Queen of Random- Spotlight
5/9/2019- KayBee's Bookshelf, A
Literary Blog- Review
5/9/2019- Novel Novice- Excerpt
5/10/2019- Lifestyle Of Me- Review
5/10/2019- A Dream Within A
Dream- Excerpt
Week Two:
5/13/2019- the suburban
lifestyle- Review
5/13/2019- Wonder Struck- Review
5/14/2019- Tyto Forest- Spotlight
5/14/2019- Colorimetry- Excerpt
5/15/2019- Lisa Loves Literature- Spotlight
5/15/2019- Daily Waffle - Spotlight
5/16/2019- Books A-Brewin'- Excerpt
5/16/2019- Two Chicks on Books- Excerpt
5/17/2019- Jaime's World- Excerpt
5/17/2019- Parajunkee- Spotlight
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