Plot Monkeys

First off, I wanted to make an announcement…Bruce has scheduled his next interview on Secrets of a Romance Writer’s Husband. He’s going to be interviewing the fabulous Teresa Medeiros this Thursday night, 9pm EST. Don’t miss your chance to call in and talk to her LIVE on the air! I’ll be acting as producer, answering the calls, and will be moderating the chat room…we’re trying a weeknight for the first time, hoping the time slot works better so we’ll have a bigger turnout. Please spread the word! You can listen to the show here.

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Since Janelle started talking yesterday about our upcoming anthology–NOT ANOTHER BLIND DATE–I thought I’d tell you a bit more about what inspired my story, “Hold On.”

First, the description:

Shy Sarah Holt has a bad case of unrequited lust. She’s hopelessly enamored with a client—sexy Steve Wilshire. So, when she gets the chance to impersonate the very kissable doctor’s blind date, she takes it….and has the most torrid night of her sheltered life. But will Steve still be “holding on” when the truth comes out?

What the above snippet doesn’t say is that Sarah works as an answering service operator. She’s also co-owner of the company, but the main point, the thing that thrusts her into this story, is that she’s been answering phone calls for doctors after-hours. And over the course of a few months, she’s developed this mad crush on a very sexy doctor who she hasn’t met in person, but who she’s fallen for over the phone. She loves his voice, the way he cares about his patients, his sense of humor…she’s got it bad for this guy. And on Valentine’s weekend, when she answers a call to his office and speaks to a woman who was supposed to go on a blind date with this doctor, and is calling to cancel, she finds herself in a very unusual situation.

She swaps herself out for the blind date.

She (and her best friend) think it’ll be okay, because the woman admits she has never spoken to the doctor, never set eyes on him, they are absolute strangers. What Sarah doesn’t realize is that Steve has seen pictures of his date, and he knows from the minute Sarah shows up that she’s not her!

That’s what made the story fun to write–not that Sarah substituted herself for this other woman, but that Steve knows from the get-go.

Okay, back to the “real life” part of this story. Many years ago, when Bruce and I had first moved to Florida with our older two girls, I was a stay-at-home mom for the first time. And I loved it. Thing was, money was a bit tight, and I really wanted to try to find a part-time, evening and weekend job.

I landed one at an answering service.

Now, I think with the advent of texting and such, the traditional answering service is going to go away. But back then, business was thriving. I worked in a room with probably twenty other women, all in little cubicles, wearing headsets, entering call information onto computers. If we paged a client to “call the service” their calls usually just came in the same way a regular caller’s did–via the computer phone lines.

But doctor’s calls were different. Because we often dealt with emergency situations, we had to have a direct-to-the-operator line just for use by physicians. So there were a few dedicated land-line phones, and when that phone rang, you’d better believe somebody grabbed it quickly.

Unlike in my story, where Sarah likes being the one to answer those calls—in hopes that she’ll get to talk to Steve—most operators did not like being the one to answer that line. Because, I hate to break it to you, but as nice as your family doctor might be when you go in, the majority of the ones we answered for (and there were hundreds) were real jerks. Impatient, rude, superior…I was never made to feel so incompetent or uneducated as when some doctor called in a horrible mood because I’d paged him in the middle of his golf game. (Florida, remember?)

That, however, was real life. This is fiction. And I will admit, there were a few nice doctors in there—none that I had a crush on, certainly. But they weren’t all jerks. (And Dr. Steve most certainly isn’t.)

Here’s an excerpt of “Hold On” and let me tell you, it’s pretty darned true to life–I had these types of conversations (oy) and these thoughts. (Well, except for the doctor crush!)

The book will be in stores at the end of the month. But if you’re dying to get it now, it’s already available at eHarlequin for 20% off…just $3.99. Just click on the title below.

Not Another Blind Date…

“Hold On”

CHAPTER ONE

Sarah Holt’s job might not be the most exciting one in the world, but it sure could be sexy. Take now, for instance.

She’d just heard personal details about someone else’s sex life. Soon, she’d share those details with a rich, powerful man. They’d discuss private, naughty things. There’d be mentions of heat, and odd sensations in personal areas. The word intercourse might enter the conversation, and vagina certainly would.

Sexy stuff.

Except for the fact that the man in question was sixty and married, that the heat was caused by fever, the odd sensations involved itching. Oh, plus, the intercourse was being had by—and the vagina belonged to—another woman.

Yeah, super-sexy, that. Only, not. But all in a day’s work—if you worked as an answering service operator for a company that specialized in taking after-hour calls for physicians. Or, in her case, the co-owner of Call Anytime, who doubled as an operator during heavy shifts like this one.

Her business partner, Mindy, sat in their office doing paperwork. Sarah, who had lost the coin toss, was here in the bullpen taking forty calls an hour. Which was why she had just had the pleasure of hearing an itchy, hot-crotched woman describe her symptoms…as if getting that personal would ensure a return call from her physician.

“So you’ll get Dr. Emerson to call me back?” asked the woman who’d dialed her doctor’s number on this busy Saturday. “Valentine’s Day is Monday, and I got a date.”

Poor guy. Hope he practices safe sex.

Before the caller had finished describing her symptoms, Sarah had pulled up Emerson’s after-hour instructions on her work station. As usual, he wanted to be paged to call the service to get all the gory details, rather than getting them in a text.

“I’ll page him and give him your message.”

“So, he’ll call me right back?” the woman persisted.

Knowing not to promise that, she repeated, “I’ll page him.”

Hanging up, she sent the page, then eyed the dedicated doctor’s line, which every operator could access but only senior ones were supposed to answer. She was the most senior person on the floor…and would almost certainly be the one stuck talking to Emerson about his yeasty patient.

Oh, yay.

As Sarah waited for the doctor to respond—certain he’d call from a golf course, AKA every Florida doctor’s second home—she forced herself to remember it was good that she had to work the phones today. It meant business was thriving.

For the past two years, she and Mindy had worked sixty-hour weeks, both of them determined to succeed. Having been best friends since the second grade, when Mindy had rescued Sarah’s Smurfette backpack from a classroom bully, they made a good team.

Mindy had always been the tough, ballsy, backpack-saver while Sarah was the quiet, reasonable one who could be counted on to talk her friend out of doing extremely stupid stuff. Going into business together had seemed like a no-brainer. Mindy provided the creative juices and Sarah the business sense. And after just two years, Call Anytime was a bona-fide success.

Of course, that business success had caused erosion in other areas. Her personal life was in a stall. And her romantic one in a kamikaze death spiral.

Be honest…it wasn’t like you had one to begin with.

“Doctor’s line!” someone called, interrupting her musings.

She answered. As expected, it was Dr. Emerson, who listened, flirted, then hung up as someone called, “Fore!” in the background. Sighing at how repetitive the days seemed, she decided to take a quick break, but paused when she saw the next incoming call pop up on her work station.

“Somebody’s calling Dr. Steve,” she whispered. Fitting that Steve Wilshire was a cardiologist, because just seeing his name on the screen made her heart go pitter-patter.

Like Emerson, Dr. Wilshire liked to phone in for his messages. Meaning, if this was a legitimate patient issue, and he had to be paged, somebody here would get to talk to him soon.

The pitter-patter became a thud-thud.

Dr. Steve had the greatest voice, deep and calm, masculine and sexy. He’d stood out from their very first conversation. He was so incredibly friendly and easy-going when calling in, unlike a lot of other high-powered doctors. Never slimy, never inappropriate, never rude and abrupt—he was simply a gentleman. One who always sounded truly concerned about his patients.

From that first call, she had wanted to meet him in person, something she’d never even considered before. Some devilish bit of curiosity had even made her look him up online.

Big mistake. Seeing his handsome picture on his website had almost made her too self-conscious to answer when he called. But, knowing they’d never meet face-to-face, she had let herself enjoy the brief verbal interactions—titillating highlights of some boring days.

It was innocent and harmless. She’d never let on that she had a tiny crush on him, or that she fantasized that one day he’d ask if he could take her to dinner so they could meet at last. Their relationship was built on her lonely daydreams, she knew that…but that didn’t mean it wasn’t important to her. And though she knew it would remain in her daydreams, there was one thing she’d done differently when talking to Steve Wilshire vs. any other client. She’d let him hear the real her.

After surviving a shocking bout with esophageal cancer as a child, which had damaged her vocal cords, Sarah had been left with an unusual speaking voice. As an adult, the suggestion that she become a phone sex operator had grown so frequent, she’d considered just changing her name to Desirée or Erotique. Yet, it was because of her voice that she and Mindy had come up with the idea for this business. Smooth and throaty could be sexy, but could also be soothing, especially to frantic patients.

Soothing…except when she was talking to Steve Wilshire. Whenever he called in, she probably sounded like that vampy phone-sex operator. She pretended she was the kind of woman who could have a man like that, rather than one who’d been so sheltered by her parents throughout her sickly childhood that she wasn’t far past the virgin state. At twenty-five. Pathetic.

Four rings now. Too long. Unable to resist, she pushed the answer button, saying, “Dr. Wilshire’s Answering Service.”

A woman’s voice—airy, vapid—replied, “Hi. Uh, I have a problem. I mean, it’s not a medical thing…it’s personal.”

Disappointment filled her. “The doctor requires any non-emergency calls to be made to his office when it opens Monday.”

“He might wanna know I’m breaking our blind date tonight.”