Title: LANDING FLETCH LAYTON
Author: Beth Henderson
Genre: Romantic Comedy
Book Blurb:
Sometimes, to save a man from himself, it takes the patience of a saint!
Excerpt:
Brenda Burton glanced up from her place at her parents’ kitchen table when a familiar voice called a greeting through the back-screen door. Without waiting for an invitation, Fletch Layton pulled it open, strolled into the room and swung Bren’s mother into his arms for a familiar hug and kiss.
He’d been making himself at home since he was seven, although there wasn’t much of the boy to be seen in his six-foot-two frame now. The tight, faded jeans he wore emphasized the long length of his legs, while the white T-shirt with the bright red-and-blue beer logo emphasized his broad shoulders and lean build. He hadn’t bothered to comb his nut-brown hair, which fell forward in thick waves. Hadn’t shaved, either, although seeing a bristling masculine face was nothing new in the Burton house. Bren’s older brother was razor resistant on weekends, too. But when Fletch pocketed his sunglasses, Bren decided something was up. He looked haggard. It would take more than a few hours of sleep to erase the circles that hollowed his hazel-green eyes. Then he flashed his familiar, raffish smile and, as always, Bren felt a bit breathless.
“What a pleasant surprise,” Mrs. Burton declared, giving him a fond squeeze in return. “You’re just in time to help with the corn.”
“What, no steak?” Fletch asked. “I thought that was traditional Sunday fare.”
Bren’s mother grinned happily at him. “Ground round, and you’ll like it, young man,” she said with mock severity.
“But first you have to work for it like everyone else,” Bren added, tossing him one of the ears of corn she was busy husking.
Fletch caught it one-handed and donned an expression of stunned disbelief. “You’d make a guest work for his supper?”
“Mom makes all moochers work for their supper,” Bren said as she stripped dark green leaves from a piece of corn.
“Oh, but don’t feel badly, dear,” Mrs. Burton soothed softly, patting his bristling cheek. “You’re one of my favorite moochers, Fletch. Now sit down and help Bren. She’s dawdling over the business, so I won’t find another job for her. I need to supervise your father and the charcoal, Bren. The two of you can bring the corn out when it’s ready.”
As the screen door slammed shut once more, Fletch threw one long leg over the back of a kitchen chair and took his place across from Bren. “Tsk, tsk,” he murmured. “Dawdling, are you? I’d never believe it of you, sweetheart.”
Bren ripped into a fresh ear. She hated it when he tossed one of his little endearments her way. They’d grown up together. She should be immune to him.
But she wasn’t. She had gotten the world’s worst crush on him when she was thirteen and he was sixteen, and in the ensuing twelve years, she’d never gotten over it.
He didn’t know, though.
Frequently, Bren wondered if Fletch even remembered she was from the female branch of the species. To him she was an old friend, a buddy, a pal. One of the guys.
So she kept her sighs and longing hidden, husbanding them to expend, in an undesignated future, on a man who was less blind to her feminine charms.
The fact that Fletch had helped her land a job in the advertising department of the Bailey and Salazar Corporation, where he was a breath away from a vice presidency, hadn’t made it any easier for other Prince Charmings to impress her. It had done just the reverse.
But, since he thought of her as a sort-of-sister, she retaliated by treating him like a brother.
“Can it, Layton,” Bren growled, untangling clinging bits of corn silk from her fingers. “What brings you out to the old neighborhood?”
Fletch dealt quickly with an ear, stripping it free of husks. “You do.”
Be still my heart, Bren cautioned herself. He didn’t mean what she’d like him to mean. If he’d come looking for her there could be only one reason: work.
“I told you to bone up on the latest promotion materials,” she said. “But would you listen? Not you. What’s the matter now? Afraid you can’t BS your way out of this spot?”
He laughed and tossed the newly cleaned ear of corn aside. “Me? Afraid? Not of a minor little thing like a tube of toothpaste.”
Bren picked up his discarded ear of corn and handed it back to him. “Mom likes these closely shaven, slick. You have to pick every bit of silk off it.”
“You don’t believe me, do you?” Fletch demanded, his tone a bit too overdone to reflect honest emotion. He did begin plucking the finer bits of silk from the corn, though.
Bren concentrated on her own work. “I’ll bet you don’t even remember what the new toothpaste is called,” she said.
He scowled at her. “I do, too,” he insisted. “It’s Virgin Fresh.”
“Not it, pal,” Bren said flatly. “It’s Fresh All Day.”
“Can’t be. That’s a slogan for deodorant.”
“Nevertheless…”
“You’re kidding.”
Bren looked at him over the rising pile of empty husks.
“You’re not kidding!” Fletch shook his head sadly. “That’s the silliest name I ever heard. Why did you let them do it?”
How could she have stopped them?
“So, what do you want to know about the promotion?” Bren asked.
“Hmm. A lot, I suppose. But that can wait. When I called your apartment earlier and didn’t get an answer, I guessed there might be a barbecue brewing at the old homestead,” he said.
“Just because there has been one every Sunday during the summer for the last twenty years?” Bren asked. “Your thought processes are truly amazing.”
Fletch gave her a quelling glance and leaned toward her over the table. “I need you, Brenda,” he said quietly.
Bren’s mouth went a bit dry. He’d never looked at her with that serious expression and said he needed her before.
“I’m in big trouble,” Fletch said.
Bren’s bubble burst. What else had she expected?
Buy Links (including Goodreads and BookBub):
Amazon US https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07H1Q9DVW
What’s your favorite part about being a romance author?
I get to fall in love with every hero I pen and then can go back and hang out with him again in the future by rereading the book!
Here’s my tip to add romance to your love life:
When real life gives you men who turn out to be lemons, go back to the “grocery” and pick out a different guy. It’s amazing how many men are sadly lacking in romantic hero traits. You’ve gotta look a lot sometimes at the stock available. Maybe squeeze a few.
Giveaway –
One lucky reader will win a $75 Amazon US or Canada gift card
Open internationally. You must have a valid Amazon US or Amazon CA account to win.
Runs February 1 – 28
Drawing will be held on March 1.
Author Biography:
BETH HENDERSON spent a decade writing and rewriting the same three books during the 1980s, but all those rewrites paid off via a romance spinning career now 30 years long. Romantic-comedy and historical romantic adventure are her forte.
Today she divides her time writing urban fantasy comedic mystery as J.B. Dane, and Steampunk and Dieselpunk adventure as Nied Darnell. She also continues to dapple with romantic suspense and historical romantic adventure. For the past decade she’s been at the front of various online workshops, sharing her experiences and offering helpful – she hopes – hints to other fiction writers. As each of those workshops is retired, it morphs into an e-book, so the info is still circulating. Let’s say Beth is diversified, hmm?
Social Media Links:
Twitter @Beth__Henderson
Facebook.com/BethHendersonAuthor