Mollie Edgewater

By Dawne Hendrix

Sometimes a man is not what a woman needs-at least that's what popular romance writer Mollie Edison

discovers. Her career in a slump, Mollie sits at her computer wondering about the direction of her career,

and more importantly, how she can get her fans interested in her books once again. Then, she befriends

the dashing Eric, a

• Language: English
• Publisher: Authors Avenue Media Group
• Release date: Jun 8, 2022
• ISBN: 9781087995274

Book preview

Chapter 1                      Mollie Edison 

Mollie Edison sits in front of her computer, stumped for ideas for her next adventure. Most ideas for her novels come effortlessly, but today, the worst writer’s block has plagued her. The block might have to do with the lackluster sales of A Season in Torment, her latest romance novel. Today’s heroines of current chick lit are no longer passive damsels in distress but assertive women playing center stage to their male counterparts in the contemporary versions of lust, betrayal, and love. 

The current reality of female fiction is extremely disappointing to Mollie. Reality has no place in fantasy in her fiction, and for years, Mollie has sold fantasy to a number of women of various types and kinds, so she knows that the romance novel still lives. Anyway, Mollie does not want to write those types of narratives, though. Those stories are too real, and she is a writer known for her fantastic imagination. 

Molls, her editor says to her in their last meeting, Great plot, great characters, but we want to move in a different direction than this last one. 

Mollie has been writing with Eastbrook Publishing, and Beatrice Bee Campbell, her editor, has been with her since the beginning of her career. Bee loves Mollie’s work, but of late, she has been afraid to tell her favorite author that the novels that usually titillate her readers no longer are interesting to many. This recent call has been the most difficult because, over the years through their working relationship, she and Mollie have become good friends. Business, however, dictates that Bee remain honest with her long time writer and friend about the current direction of her art. 

Awakening from this daydream she and Bee had earlier, Mollie removes herself from in front of the computer. She swivels in the chair carefully perusing the contents of her office while trying to find that new direction. Mollie pans the room for a source of inspiration, but instead she discovers her life. 

She and Rich have the extension built on the house after her second novel, Lucky’s Love, sells a million copies. They have French doors put in a while later, so she can sit on the patio to clear her head in times when she stumbles onto a block. The fireplace serves well in the winter when sometimes the room, because of poor insulation, gets quite chilly. The furniture is very simple, a fold out futon where she sleeps as to not disturb Rich when she works through the night, a computer desk, three bean bag chairs, and a small coffee table decorate the space. When her children are little, the room doubles as a play room. This design, however, is perfect for Mollie because the room has an airy feeling, which aids in her writing process. In this moment, however, summer is in full bloom, and the hum of the fan in her office provides a gentle lull to the silence in the house. 

After a couple of minutes, Mollie gets out of the chair and moves toward the mantelpiece. She revisits family photos hoping they will unlock the block she is experiencing. Pictures of Rich and the kids in various poses and settings decorate the mantelpiece. In one picture, her daughters, dressed in identical jumpers, hang from the monkey bars at the school park. Katelyn and Kathryn, born two years apart and who presently are at camp, are on the threshold of adolescence, the time when teenage rituals of dating, wearing makeup, listening to extremely loud music, and being taken over by rambunctious behavior would overwhelm the quiet couple. While she enjoys her daughters’ presence, the cacophony they bring into the house as pre-teens is driving her a little batty, and she relishes the silence and solitude of the home when they are away. 

Then, there is the picture of her and Rich in Bali years ago, she in a two piece string bikini, the curves falling in all the right places and he in his speedos, washboard stomach and all. Richard Edison, or Rich, is a marine biologist. He and Mollie met in college. Those school days were heady times, but the two of them got through it. Collectively, they create the perfect life for themselves and their daughters. Vacations to international locales, the right social standing in the community, and a nice plush professor’s job at the local community college for Rich complete the portrait of Mollie’s life with him. Taking it all in, Mollie decides pictures of her family are not going to be the source of her inspiration, so she heads to the Snowcap Café.

Hi Greg, Mollie says to the barrister.

What are you having today? he asks.

Umm, a scone and a raspberry tea.        Doing any writing lately? he asks.        Taking a break. 

Mollie prefers to keep the details of her work mums until the product is finished, so she avoids questions about the plot and any unsolicited ideas about characterization because talking about her work with others always interferes with her own process.

Mollie says, I’ll be outside on the side walk.

Mollie takes a seat on the patio of the café and scans the people passing by. One couple comes into the shop and sits at a table cattycorner to hers. She watches the man fuss over his date, but nothing inspires her. He is handsome enough, though, but this novel needs more than handsome. It needs edgy. It needs bite. She is into her third bite of the savory pastry when the character walks into her life, or sort of. 

Across the street from the café sits a self-serve car wash. A guy in a Ford Explorer pulls in, the right height, age, look, but it is eleven in the morning, and he is dressed for the beach. The tag on his SUV reads FUNNN! and it looks as though he spends a great deal of time on leisure. This particular day, he wears a purple tank top, jean shorts, and flip flops accompanied by very tan skin and long black hair and the requisite pecs, of course. This guy is her man. She would make adjustments of course, but for all intents and purposes, Eric Majerich is the hero she needs for this blockbuster.

Chapter 2                      Eric 

Eric would rock any woman’s world. When Mollie finishes with his bulging biceps, rock hard abs, long flowing black hair, chiseled features, and penetrating hazel eyes, her readers would be driven wild with desire. Sitting in front of the computer at home, Mollie is satisfied with her creation, but she ponders a little more on the type of woman that would attract the attention of a man like Eric. She takes a sip from her coffee and then a bite of the blueberry muffin sitting on her desk. Another sip. Another bite.

This time make her more of a woman, says a deep voice from behind Mollie. Surprised, Mollie turns around quickly in the chair to see a man sprawled across her futon in black leather chaps and a matching bare chest. 

This time make her more experienced, Eric says in a foreign accent from some European country. Tossing back his black mane, he then adds, I’m tired of these flighty virgins. 

The accent is American with a tinge of Eastern European, or maybe Southern, Mollie ascertains, but it is not the sound of his voice that entrances her, it is the stunning vision before her.

But— Mollie says while trying to process the image of him. 

Eric interrupts her and says, But, a woman who’s had at least, let’s say fifteen lovers and several broken hearts is far more interesting than the usual fare you’ve been feeding your fans.

Offended, Mollie puts the muffin down and says, "Excuse me, for your information, this is not going to be that kind of novel."

"I know, I know, and this time you’re going in a different direction. I heard you and Bee talking about A Season in Torment," Eric says, already bored with this author.

Watching the vision of Eric tossing his hair some more, Mollie asks, "Well, how would you characterize her?" She asks him, not really intending to take his suggestion seriously. 

Mollie knows women, being one herself. She understands every woman wants to escape her mundane reality. They do not want to be reminded of their own lives, of the problems and toils of everyday living. This is why they seek Mollie and her books out for comfort, for validation that fantasy, even for a short while, is addictive, and in some cases, therapeutic.  "For one, she should be a little older, more aggressive, and not so pretty, Eric says this if beauty was distasteful. You know aggressive is just as sexy on a plain woman as beauty is on an attractive one."

"Okay, but readers want to read about beautiful, young, interesting people—not man eaters, although they can be just as interesting, though," Mollie says and places her index finger and thumb on her chin while in thought. She swivels around to type. Eric says nothing else with the expectation that Mollie would at least consider his advice. 

Not the usual type of woman, Margaret, does not come from wealth and opulence, but she knows the value of hard work. Her first husband was a magnet in the textile business—

Yawn. Borrrrriiiinggg, Eric says from behind Mollie.

What now? she asks slightly annoyed.

"Don’t any of these people work? It’s always the same. Raised in the palaces of old France—in Monte Carlo. You know rich people aren’t that interesting."

"But people don’t want to read about themselves, about the

ordinary. They want to escape from reality, and rich people live fantastic lives. My books allow that."

Well according to said editor, Eric states pointing his hand in the direction of Mollie’s last work sitting comfortably on the bookshelf, Your readers are trying to escape you. His voice softens, Come on Molls, let’s go in a different direction besides rich and boring. Before she can answer him, she hears the latch to the front door catch.

Oh, that’s my husband, Mollie says walking briskly to the French doors while gesturing for Eric to leave.

Honey! Rich calls from the foyer. He continues, I have great news on the Smith grant.

Go! Mollie says to Eric motioning with her hands for him to make haste. 

We’re not finished here, Eric says and slips out the French doors. Mollie reaches the foyer when she hears the sound of horse’s hooves. She side glances outside the double doors to see Eric perched on a silver mustang, hair blowing in the wind, galloping through her yard into that of her neighbor’s. Too worried about Rich discovering Eric, she only has a second to consider the strangeness of Eric in this setting.

Honey, Rich announces opening the doors, We got the grant. We can start research as soon as the money is released.

Good for you sweetheart, Mollie gushes and pecks her husband on the cheek. "Good for you."

Chapter 3                             Eric

After Eric leaves and the two sit down to dinner, Mollie completes chapter one of The Marrying Type and turns off the computer. She takes a shower and slides into bed next to Rich. Not thinking too much about the day’s earlier conversation with Eric, Mollie soon drifts off to sleep and to another place. She is in the middle of the pasture picking flowers for what reason she has no idea.

Do you even know what you are doing? Eric asks from in front of her. He is standing in front of her watching as she picks flowers.        Mollie is nineteen and is wearing a baby doll dress, a pair of shorts and flip flops. Her hair is parted in two plaits, and she appears innocent. 

Yes. I’m picking flowers. Me and Rich have a date tonight and—

You want your place to look nice.

Yeah, something like that.

Richard. Richard Edison, Eric says while rolling the name softly over his tongue.

Yes, Mollie answers. She is hypnotized, as the sun is extremely bright and the flowers illuminate very bright blues, greens, reds, oranges, and yellows.

Mollie’s innocent eyes do not leave the man’s face. She is attracted to him, but not in the way most women would be. In this carnation, Eric has the most beautiful, bronzed skin, and his eyes shimmer a brilliant hazel. He has the thickest, longest mane a man could have while still remaining masculine.

So—you and this Rich, you are going to live happily ever after?  Yes, that’s why I am picking flowers. I want him to know how I feel about him.

He takes her hand and guides her toward a mustang, black of

course. As he hoists her up on the horse, he whispers in her ear, "Do you know how you feel about yourself?"

Mollie does not answer him, but she holds onto his waist, and then out of the blue, she says, The flowers aren’t for me, but for him.

Eric says, So you love him?

I, I don’t know just yet. We’ve just started dating.

But do you know how you feel about him?

Yes, I think, I feel like I could love him, love him forever.

And get married and have children, and be happy, Eric says

finishing her sentences.

Yes, Mollie says. She is not sure if she is comfortable with Eric, but she answers to the affirmative anyway.

Eric smiles sardonically. He then says, No, you know what I’m thinking?

What? Mollie asked

I’m thinking you and I should get married, have children, and be happy, Eric said.

Mmmm. I don’t know how I feel about that, Mollie said.  Shhh, Eric says. I will first make love to you with my thoughts, then my words, and then my body.

And then, we’ll be married and be happy? Mollie asks.

Do you know what it is to love someone without regret, with abandon? Eric asks.

Mollie remains quiet, and then sometime later, she says, I don’t know if I have ever felt that way about anyone—even Rich.

Eric repeats her last sentence and then says, Hold onto me tighter. I don’t want you falling off.

They ride and ride, and he drops her off at the dwelling that she would share with Rich after they marry. Before they dismount the mustang, she asks, Why have you brought me here?

To teach you how to feel, to love, Eric says while kissing her on the lips. Mollie is not scared of him, but a chill runs up her back. Before the anxiety overwhelms her, she wakes up with her face to Rich’s back.

Chapter 4                      The Edisons

That Saturday morning, Mollie and Rich reconnect after a long week’s work. Mollie, as customary, begins the weekend with one of Richard’s favorite pastimes, breakfast on the veranda. She cooks while he sets the table in the small garden she maintains. If the girls were home, they would have the chore of setting the table. Instead, having cooked, Rich set out two plates for him and Mollie.

Mollie! Rich calls from the patio. When she does not answer him, he calls her again, Mollie dearest! She steps outside, but before Mollie gets to the spot in the garden where he is standing, he asks, Is this poop?  Remembering the encounter with Eric the day before, Mollie lifts the coffee cup to her lips and says, What would that be doing in the yard?

I don’t know. It’s pretty disgusting, though. I hope we’re not going to have to talk to the Victor’s about their pets again, he says picking the mess up with the funnies.

She watches Rich scoop up the horse’s manure, wash his hands, and return to their spot on the veranda. Mollie slowly picks at the sliced grapefruit and watches Rich tuck into Belgian waffles, bacon, and fruit.  Let’s eat out tonight— Rich suggests, in celebration of the grant money.

Remembering the news about the grant the night before, Mollie asks, Oliver’s?

Don’t we need a reservation? Rich asks.

We can call, but it is the summer, their busy season. It might be a problem, Mollie says.

Speaking of which, Rich says leaning into his wife, Guess who’s getting married? Mollie can tell by the tone in Rich’s voice that this information is a juicy tidbit, a tidbit she knows she would enjoy nibbling on, dissecting, and then passing on to her girlfriends.

Mollie considers all of the couples she knows who are serious, but before she answers, Rich blurts out, Maxine, the dean’s daughter.

That’s great, Mollie says while slightly disappointed there is nothing more than a mundane wedding announcement. The person in question is a mere child barely into her twenties—not much to discuss.  No Mollie, guess who she’s marrying! Rich says, insisting she guess correctly, but she only gives Rich a blank stare.

You remember the Piper grant we applied for last year? Rich said.  Yeah, she says, "You were turned down for lack of integrity in the program or something like that." The only reason Mollie remembers that phrase is because weeks after the department receives the rejection letter, Rich’s colleagues, in a mocking manner, keep on about the lack of integrity in the program.

Apparently, Mr. Piper took a liking to her. They’ll be married in a few weeks, Rich announces.

I didn’t know Piper had a son, Mollie says.

Rich derisively explains, The kid’s in school, and he’s not the one getting married. She’s marrying the father, the elder Mr. Piper. 

Hardly appropriate, she answers.

I know. I felt so badly for the guy, Rich says. "Imagine, you spend countless hours working on a grant to be told by some rich asshole your program sucks. Then, the same guy turns around and