Plot Monkeys

You all loved Julie’s Bookclub so much, you asked if we’d do it again! So today I’m announcing the date for the KISS ME IF YOU CAN bookclub and inviting you all to join in!

KISS ME IF YOU CAN is available for purchase everywhere on July 27, 2010. You can preorder from any online bookseller. My website provides a page with easy links to help you decide which place you want to order from or you can pick up the book in stores! Click HERE to preorder online!

KISS ME IF YOU CAN BOOKCLUB
~ Discussion date – August 31, 2010 (one month after the book’s release.)
~ Place – The Plotmonkeys Jungle, of course!
~ Time – 6 AM (EST) – until we get tired of talking!
~ Random Prizes – to be announced that day
No RSVP necessary! Just read and show up ready to discuss.

Now for the hard part. For this bookclub discussion to happen, I NEED YOUR HELP! I’ll need bookclub questions!!!! So any time after you’ve read KISS ME IF YOU CAN, send me your question ideas. Since I don’t know how many I will get, I can’t promise I’ll use them all. But I will randomly pick 3 people from all the questions I receive to win copies of the sequel, LOVE ME IF YOU DARE when they finally show up on my doorstep! So please, please send me questions or we won’t be able to have this bookclub!* (Note – I reserve the right to use any questions sent to me for the bookclub questions on my website without crediting the person who wrote it. The reason for this is web formatting and simplicity. I hope you understand and will still participate!)

Once you’ve read you can email me your question(s) at: carly phillips @ mac . com (no spaces)!

To whet your appetite, I’m posting the beginning of KISS ME IF YOU CAN which isn’t even available on my website yet!

Prologue

THE DAILY POST
THE BACHELOR BLOGS

The city’s most eligible bachelor; From single dads to firefighters to New York’s finest, he’s a man who makes a difference. Do you know an everyday hero? If so, write in! The next spotlighted bachelor is up to you!

Chapter One

Sam Cooper approached his favorite hot dog stand, his stomach grumbling at the sight of the blue and yellow umbrellas shading the cart from the blazing sun. Fresh from a boring press conference where the mayor and police commissioner announced the long awaited wrap-up of a string of apartment burglaries on the upper west side, Coop had his digital recorder in one pocket and cash in another.
The aroma of New York’s finest hot dog had his mouth watering. “Hey, Dom. How’s business today?” he asked the owner.
“Can’t complain. Busy lunch crowd. Slow now but it’ll pick up again during the commute.” The older man, tanned from his days outside, lifted the metal lid, revealing Coop’s belated lunch. “The usual?”
Coop nodded. “The works. Actually make it two. I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”
He glanced at his watch. Nearly three P.M. Enough time for him to eat and get his story in before heading home for the day.
While Dom placed his hot dogs in their buns and began loading them up, Coop glanced around his city. On a hot August day like this one, few people wandered around outside. The smart ones high tailed it out of town, heading for the ritzy Hamptons or Jersey Shore. Others holed up inside, with their A.C. blasting.
Coop’s favorite hot dog stand was located on the corner of 47th Street and Park Avenue South. A people watcher by nature, part of what led him to become a reporter he supposed, Coop always studied the stores and buildings in the vicinity, and the people entering and exiting each.
As usual, The Vintage Jewelers caught his eye. It didn’t strike him as upscale. Instead it was rather ordinary. As if to compensate, the window changed often, rotating gaudy, elaborate pieces almost daily. Usually only women frequented the establishment, no big surprise, but today a man wearing a sweatshirt, hood over his head, stood inside.
“Strange,” Coop muttered, since the heat from the sun had him sweating in his shirt and the steam coming off the sidewalk blistered the souls of his shoes.
“Dogs are ready,” Dom said, distracting Coop’s attention.
But not before Coop caught sight of what looked like a gun in the man’s hand. Coop’s adrenaline kicked in and he focused on the store and the two females behind the counter. If Coop barged in, he risked the guy shooting, hitting the ladies or himself.
Inside the store, the man turned to leave.
Coop glanced at Dom. “Don’t ask questions, just call 911,” he said, as he grabbed the metal lid off the cart and swerved back to face the store.
The man exited and Coop acted on instinct. He stuck his foot out, tripping the guy before he could run. The man staggered but caught his balance and straightened. Coop drew a deep breath and bashed the man in the head with the aluminum hot dog cover. His hood must have cushioned the blow or else the guy had a thick skull because he struggled to stand a second time. Coop swung harder and the guy fell to the sidewalk, moaning in pain.
Before he could regroup again, Coop grabbed the gun from inside the other man’s sweatshirt and waited for the cops to arrive. His heart still beat hard, roaring in his ears as the sirens alerted him to the arrival of the police and the cops quickly relieved him. While one cuffed the criminal and hauled him into their car, another took Coop’s statement.
As he replayed the events, Coop was almost glad his torn rotator cuff had forced him to quit the police academy and he definitely garnered a new found respect for his father and older brother, both career policemen who dedicated their lives to enforcing the law. Wouldn’t they get a laugh when they heard about his exploits. They’d rib him but good for trying to do their job – which would only serve to remind him of the failure he’d yet to put behind him.
“Hey Mac, are you finished grilling me?” From his years working the crime beat, he was on a first name basis with many of the detectives and cops.
The other man nodded. “We know where to find you. Go home and take it easy. You’ve had a rough day.”
Coop shook his head. “I’m fine. I’ll be at the office if you need me.” At the very least he could make sure the right spin went into this story.
He turned to leave when two women came running out of the jewelry store. “Wait,” the older one called. “I wanted to thank you!”
Coop strode towards the petite brunette who would have been no match for the taller robber, with or without his gun.
“I’m so grateful to you. Normally my father would be in the store with me, but he’s in Florida for the weekend. That man loaded up his sweatshirt full of expensive items. You saved us a small fortune!”
Coop shifted from foot to foot, uncomfortable with her gratitude. “I was just in the right place at the right time.”
She shook her head. “Don’t be modest! You reacted. Most people would have just walked away. I was in the store with my fifteen year old daughter, so I handed over the items because I didn’t want her hurt. You must come inside. I insist you get a reward for your heroics. I already went to the bank, so I’m going to have to offer you jewelry instead.”
He shook his head once more. “No reward necessary.”
“Reward?” A female television reporter Sam recognized shoved a microphone between Sam and the shop owner’s daughter. “Go on! I’d love to get the exclusive on this for tonight’s Five o’clock news!”
“You mean you’d mention our store by name?” The store owner’s eyes lit up at the idea.
The reporter nodded. “We can even shoot inside as you give your savior his reward.”
Coop groaned. He recognized the runaway train and fought to avoid the inevitable anyway. “I can’t accept a reward. Like I told her, I just happened to be in the right place at the right time.”
The reporter smoothed her hair, straightened her shoulders and motioned to her camera crew. “Roll tape,” she said, ignoring him.
“This is Carolina Martinez, ABC News, reporting from the sight of a robbery in midtown Manhattan, with the reluctant hero, crime beat reporter, Sam Cooper and the grateful store owner who is just about to present him with a reward.” She glanced at her crew and said, “Cut!” before turning back to the stunned store owner. “It’s your show. What do you intend to give him?” Carolina asked.
Coop found himself dragged into the shop by the insistent reporter and store owner’s daughter, followed by the camera crew. He wanted to get the hell out of here, but the store owner’s daughter, whose name he learned was Anna Burnett, had placed a tray of antique jewelry in front of him. Meanwhile, Carolina and her crew taped everything, leaving Coop with no choice but to go along with Anna’s plea that he choose an item for his trouble.
Coop scanned the tray looking for something that appeared inexpensive, that he could take without guilt but he knew little about jewelry.
“How about this watch?” Anna raised the hammered gold men’s time piece, angled not for Coop but towards the camera.
Coop shook his head. “I couldn’t. It looks too expensive and besides I don’t wear jewelry.”
“Then how about a necklace or a ring for your wife?” She lifted what appeared to be an emerald necklace, showing it off with a wide smile for the camera.
“Not married.” Anymore. He forced a smile.
“Something for your girlfriend then!”
Before she could reach for something else, Coop chose the ugliest, most gaudy ring in the bunch, hoping it was also the least expensive. “I’ll take this.”
“I’m so glad you’ve accepted a memento for preventing our beloved store from being robbed. The ring is beautiful and there’s many more lovely items at The Vintage Jewelers, located at 47th Street and Park Avenue South.” She swept the inside of the store with her hand, hamming it up as she took advantage of the free publicity.
Coop stifled a chuckle if only because the damn cameras were still rolling. He waited for Carolina to yell, “Cut!”
Then Coop pocketed the ring, thanked Anna and Carolina, and got the hell out of the store before the intrepid reporter decided she wanted to interview as well as humiliate him in front of the city.
A reporter by day and an aspiring novelist in his private time, even Coop couldn’t have scripted anything like today.
#
As Coop walked into the newsroom, a round of applause greeted him and his colleagues rose to their feet.
Uncomfortable with the attention, Coop frowned, waving away their whistles and comments, and headed for his desk. He lowered himself into his seat and leaned back, relaxing for the first time all day. He pulled the ring from his pocket and held the gaudy piece up to examine it more closely.
“You aren’t going to see much in this dingy lighting.” Amanda Stevens, the Features Editor at the paper, propped a hip on his desk. She leaned in for a better look at his ring and her long blonde hair fell in curls around her shoulders.
Coop liked Amanda but just as a friend. They’d had their moment, a brief fling after Coop’s divorce but there’d been no spark for either one of them. She’d been getting over a serious relationship and they’d both agreed once was enough. Luckily she was the rare woman who could separate sex from friendship and they’d been able to remain on good terms ever since.
“It’s ugly as sin, isn’t it?” he asked.
“Let me see.” Amanda held out her hand and he placed the ring in her palm.
Into glitz, glamour and shopping, she enjoyed material things. Clothing, jewelry, you name it, she knew its history.
She narrowed her gaze and peered inside the ring. “Ugly by today’s standards, but by vintage ones, this is a collector’s dream. It’s Trifari. Look at the insignia.” She drew his attention to the inside of the ring’s shank, pointing with her long, painted nails. “You picked yourself a winner,” she said, handing him back his reward.
“I didn’t want something valuable, I wanted something I wouldn’t feel guilty about taking,” he said in frustration.
Amanda shrugged. “From what I heard, you saved the store owner a fortune. Don’t feel bad. You can just give it to the special lady in your life.” She not so subtly raised her gaze to meet his.
Coop cocked his head to one side. “Is that your way of asking if I’m seeing anyone?”
She grinned. “Actually, yes it is. You work too hard. You’re always pounding away at your computer.”
Because he often pulled up his other work when he wasn’t on deadline at the paper. Fiction writing was his real love, not that he shared the information with many people. And lately, the creative juices had dried up, causing him many hours of staring at a blank screen, both here and at home.
“I’m not seeing anyone,” he said, hoping she’d leave it at that.
“I worry about you. A girlfriend would add some balance to your life.”
So much for her dropping the topic.
Coop rolled his eyes. “I have enough balance and there’s no need to worry. I’m fine. Now if we could stay on track?” He shot her a wry look and placed the ring on his desk. “Since it’s worth something, I guess I’ll store it in a safe place.”
“Okay but you know what they say about all work and no play …”
“I play enough.” He lied.
“If you say so.” She pinned him with a look that told him she was onto him.
What could he say? Lately there’d been no woman who’d captured his interest. But if he admitted as much to Amanda, she’d start setting him up with her friends and he shuddered at the thought. Blind dates were bad enough. Well meaning friends trying to match make were even worse. Coop had an ex-wife and a healthy respect for being more careful with the women he chose. He certainly wasn’t lacking for bed partners if that was all he needed.
“I do. Now I need to get back to work.”
She shook her head and sighed. “Okay then. Catch you later, hero.” She winked and strode away, her hips swaying as she walked.
Coop turned to his computer.
Googling the word Trifari, he spent a considerable amount of time researching until he finally found a photo of what looked like the same ring he now had in his possession. To his surprise, it belonged to a set that included a bracelet and necklace. Back in the 1950’s the jewels had belonged to a wealthy family in Manhattan until they’d been stolen in a brazen robbery during a dinner party at the family home. The culprits had never been caught and the jewels had reportedly never been recovered.
He glanced at the ring on his desk. What the hell did he have in his possession? Did the jewelry store even know the value of the ring? How many times had it been passed on since the robbery over fifty years ago?
His journalistic mind wondered about history of the jewels and knew he had some more digging to do. But his writer’s mind began to spark with fictional spin offs and possibilities. An unsolved crime dating back to the 1950’s. A large dinner party, wealthy socialites, ongoing affairs between supposedly close friends and business associates, and a crime of passion. A murder and theft of beloved family jewels.
Or … A new thought struck him. Did he want to move from genre fiction to true crime? Once he delved into this open case even further, he might find a treasure-trove of information to work with.
Either way, Coop knew he was onto something. After months of writer’s block, his adrenaline was pumping in a way that surpassed even the excitement of stopping the robbery today. He finally had the germ of an idea for his next story, with more characters and intrigue than he’d ever written before.
His first novel, published by a small press, had a piddly print run and had barely sold enough copies to buy him dinner. And it hadn’t been the first book he’d written but his tenth.
But this story had potential.
His gut, which had never guided him wrong in his full time career, told him he was finally looking at a book that would surpass mediocrity and let him realize his private, lifelong dream of being a bestselling novelist.
#
Lexie Davis hovered over her grandmother, the scent of violets permeating her every inhale.
“So let me make sure I understand you,” Charlotte Davis said. “I click on the compass looking thing and it brings up the Internet. Then I place the mouse –“
“The cursor –“ Lexie corrected her paternal grandmother, placing her hand over the warm, weathered one and moved the mouse, guiding the cursor over the screen.
The older woman sighed, sounding put upon. “I place the cursor over here, click, and then I can Giggle anything I want to know about. Is that right?”
“Google not Giggle!” Lexie shook her head and tried not to laugh at her grandmother’s innocent mistake.
These computer lessons were going to be even more challenging than she’d thought. Well worth her time and effort since it meant Lexie could remain in constant contact with the grandmother she loved, but taxing her patience nevertheless. Lexie figured her grandmother had a thirty minute attention span, max. They’d only gone through half that time so far.
Her grandmother’s old PC had died a natural death and Lexie, a web designer and Mac addict had surprised her with a new computer. When the next wave of wanderlust hit and Lexie felt compelled to pick up and travel, she wouldn’t have to worry about her grandmother’s computer being on the fritz, leaving Lexie to wonder if she couldn’t reach the aging woman because the computer had died – or her grandmother had.
A glance at Charlotte reassured Lexie. Even with Charlotte’s upcoming birthday, her grandmother had aged well. She was mentally fit and physically still able. A healthy specimen, if Lexie discounted the older woman’s self-dyed red hair and decades old housecoat adorned by the antique jewelry Charlotte always wore around her neck and on her ears. Hopefully Charlotte wasn’t leaving this world any time soon.
Lexie shivered at the mere thought of something happening to her one kindred spirit and shoved the depressing notion aside.
“Oh look, it’s five o’clock. Time for Eyewitness News!” Charlotte reached for the television remote control and turned on the T.V.
“Can’t you wait another fifteen minutes? We’re almost finished with the basics of surfing the ‘Net.”
“The news can run in the background. You know I like to keep up on local events.”
Lexie nodded. She knew. If Charlotte Davis’ stories were to be believed, Lexie’s eccentric grandmother had lived a colorful life and had known many famous people. At the ripe age of seventy-nine and three hundred and thirty days – Grandma Charlotte counted off the boxes on her Derek Jeter wall calendar – Charlotte watched television and read the paper to see who she’d out lived this week. Lexie had long since stopped reminding her that the TV news only broadcast the more sensational deaths. Her grandmother’s true interest in the Channel Seven news was –
“Bill Evans!” Charlotte exclaimed, pointing towards the handsome weatherman.
Lexie bit the inside of her cheek as she saw her hopes for more lesson time slipping away. “Grandma, pay attention.”
“After this segment. Check out the dimples on this dude.”
A glance at the screen told Lexie her grandmother was no longer referring to the weatherman.
“Of course he doesn’t hold a candle to Bill Evans, but he’s still hot.” Charlotte pointed a wrinkled hand towards the large television screen in the corner of the room.
The words, Crime Beat Reporter Foils Robbery, caught Lexie’s mental attention but the man captured her female imagination. Dark hair, longer at his neck, he was tanned, dimpled, and sexy. She couldn’t tear her gaze away. His blue eyes showed his obvious discomfort as the store owner whose jewels he’d saved tried to reward him for his trouble.
“Would you look at that? He’s too noble to take the reward!” Grandma Charlotte said.
“A true gentleman,” Lexie said, impressed by his actions as well as his handsome face and toned physique.
An exasperated sound escaped her grandmother’s throat. “A fool is more like it. Take the goods!” the older woman yelled at the screen.
Lexie laughed.
The man, whose name flashed on the T.V. as Sam Cooper, turned down a watch and a necklace before the grateful store owner shoved a tray of rings in front of him.
“. . . Not married,” he said in a deep voice that suited his rugged good looks. “I’ll take this,” he said at last, reluctantly choosing a ring from the assortment on the tray.
The camera panned in for a close up of the ring. A large, gaudy, flowery-looking ring.
“Grandma, look! That looks just like one of your necklaces!”
Charlotte peered at the screen. “You’re right! Holy Shit – ake Mushrooms!” her grandmother exclaimed.
Lexie rolled her eyes. “You’ve got to stop watching Austin Powers movies.”
Charlotte ignored the comment. Instead her hand flew to her chest. She grasped not the necklace in question, but another one of her so-called treasures that she’d promised to leave to Lexie one day. Some of them were hideous, but in a world without her grandmother, Lexie would want any item that reminded her of Charlotte.
“I wonder if it’s the exact match,” Lexie mused.
“I hope Sylvia is watching this!” her grandmother said of her long time friend and neighbor, Sylvia Krinksy, who lived down the hall.
Both Lexie’s grandfather and Sylvia’s husband had long since passed away, but the women’s friendship had predated their marriages and had remained to this day. Sylvia was Charlotte’s person, the one who was there for someone in good times and bad. Sylvia would bury the body for me, Charlotte liked to say, while Sylvia would sit beside her friend and nod.
Suddenly agitated, her grandmother began pacing the small apartment, muttering as she moved.
Lexie walked to Charlotte’s side, placing her hand on her frail back. “What’s got you so upset?”
“Nothing.” Her grandmother waved her hand, dismissing Lexie’s concern. “I’m fine. Seeing that ring was a surprise that brought back memories. I’m okay now.”
Not so certain, Lexie narrowed her gaze and studied her grandmother. Charlotte looked paler than she had earlier, though it was hard to tell beneath the heavy foundation and rouge she wore.
“Grandma? Was the ring part of the original set? Did you ever own it too?” she asked.
Charlotte looked away. “I’m suddenly tired.” Her grandmother let out a heavy clearly forced sigh.
Lexie wondered what in the world was going on. Something about the ring on the television had upset her grandmother but she didn’t want to discuss it. Not even with Lexie.
Hmm. “Well we can pick up your lesson tomorrow,” Lexie said. “Why don’t you go lay down?”
“I think I’ll do that.”
Lexie started to gather her things together. “I have to go out and meet Claudia about our newest client,” Lexie told her grandmother. “I may be late so don’t wait up. I have my key.”
Claudia Milne, a self-taught computer genius, did most of the coding for the sites Lexie designed. She lived, ate and breathed HTML and Lexie thanked her lucky stars they’d met on the plane-ride from Israel to New York after Lexie’s first middle-east trip five years ago.
A wanderer by nature, Lexie had the enviable ability to do her job from anywhere at any time. She saw no reason to lease an apartment in between travels when she could stay in her grandmother’s spare bedroom any time she was in town. Charlotte loved having Lexie over and Lexie appreciated being able to do things for her grandmother when she was around.
“What site are you working on now?” her grandmother asked. Charlotte was always interested in Lexie’s client list and often offered input on design. Most of which Lexie politely ignored.
“Actually it’s Athlete’s Only. The Jordan sisters and Yank Morgan asked for an overhaul, she said of the sports and PR powerhouse agency – and Lexie’s first client when she’d started her own web design business.
“Isn’t it late for a meeting? Do I need to call Yank and tell him they’re overworking you?” Charlotte asked.
She and Yank Morgan were old friends. They’d met during Lexie’s childhood spent at the skating ring. And thanks to that friendship, Lexie had garnered her first major client in need of a high tech website and an entrée into the prestigious and lucrative sports world.
As a result, Lexie’s portfolio now included a variety of areas from sport drinks to sports teams – much to the surprise of her parents who had at one time tried to mold their daughter into a competitive ice skater.
To their never ending dismay, Lexie had innately rebelled against the rigid competitive world of schedules and conformity. The only good that had come from those years was her grandmother’s friendship with Yank, who’d occasionally scanned local rinks for up and coming Olympic talent. Charlotte and Yank shared a love of unconventional eccentricity. They also understood being true to oneself and together they’d convinced Lexie’s parents to stop pushing their desires onto their daughter.
Lexie would be forever grateful to Yank for that, and for his and his niece’s
belief in her web design talent. “Grandma, I never mind working late. Don’t you dare say a word of complaint.” Evening meetings suited Lexie’s lifestyle perfectly.
When Charlotte didn’t reply, Lexie turned to where Charlotte had stood, but the older woman had already disappeared into the bedroom. To lie down? She’d been distracted since seeing the ring on television. Obviously the piece had hit a sentimental nerve.
As Lexie gathered her laptop and her bag, she caught sight of her grandmother’s wall calendar – and the date circled in red. August twenty eighth, Charlotte’s 80th birthday. Lexie had been wracking her brain for something different and personal she could get her grandmother as a gift.
The matching ring provided the perfect answer, and her thoughts immediately turned to the reluctant if sexy man who currently held it in his possession. He’d said he didn’t have a girlfriend and he’d been clearly hesitant to accept anything from the store owner. So surely he’d be willing to sell the ring.
Lexie was excited by the prospect of being able to give such a personal gift to her grandmother for her birthday. Now all she had to do was meet the current owner and convince him to part with his new possession.

SO send in your questions and see you August 30th for Bookclub! Tell your friends too!