I thought it
was too late. I thought our story had already been written.
College
sophomore Brooke Anderson thought she had it all − a loving family, her sexy
high school sweetheart, a supportive, quick-witted best friend and dreams of
being the next hotshot reporter for the
Washington Post.
Fate had
something else in mind when Brooke collided with the devastatingly handsome
upperclassman, Rich Davis. Rich was cocky, conceited and arrogant. He was everything that Brooke didn’t want,
but Rich never gave her the option. He had already made the choice to be, at the very least, her
friend. Would Brooke accept this egotistical man’s friendship? Would she choose
to want more? Would it be too late if she did?
Fast
forward nearly ten years. Brooke’s life hadn’t played out quite as she had
envisioned it. She was suffering from the heartbreaking loss of her mother, her
high school sweetheart was long gone, and her dreams of the Washington Post had turned into a career at a small town paper. Brooke
decided it was time to follow her dreams. If she couldn’t be happy in love, at
least she could be happy in life.
Brooke’s
dreams brought her to the lobby of the Washington
Post where fate intervened once
again as she collided with none other than the devastatingly handsome Rich
Davis. As her potential employer, Rich now seemed off-limits. Brooke wanted her
successful career more than a chance at love. But, was it really her choice to make, or was it beyond her control?
Maybe my
story is, in fact, Unwritten …
Unwritten is a good debut novel by M.C. Decker. This author had a lot of potential.
There was too much pushing away from Brooke. I didn't get it. I mean I kind of did. She didn't want to start a new job seeming like she has the bosses favor because she is sleeping with him. I get that. But, she kept saying things to push Rich away and would not even give him a chance. Honestly I thought she was annoying. I just couldn't understand why Rich would still want her. This made it hard for me to connect with the story.
I remember riding down in the
elevator at what seemed like a snail’s pace. “Seriously, could this thing move
any slower? It must know we are on a deadline, or something,” I snickered,
trying to break the tension that had quickly formed between us.
We finally made it to ground level
and began our walk down to the basketball game. We were both quiet for awhile
just enjoying each other’s company.
“Nice night, isn’t it?” Rich said,
breaking the silence first.
“Mmmhmmm,” I whispered.
I swear he moved closer to me and
brushed his arm against mine. I felt a chill rush up and down my spine. How did
this guy do this to me? It was only a year ago that I wanted him to fall and
drown in a sewer somewhere.
“Do you want to play a game?” he
asked.
“A game?” I questioned. “Sure, what
do you have in mind, Rich?”
“Truth, Dare, Double-Dare, Promise,
or Repeat.”
“You’re kidding, right?” I said
between giggles. “Are we at a fourth-grade, slumber party now? How do you even
know about that game?” I asked curiously.
“My sister, Jennifer … she’s a few
years older than I and her friends always wanted me to play with them at her
sleepovers. I was like their little mascot, or something,” he said, smiling at
the memory.
In that moment, my heart softened a
bit more where Rich Davis was concerned.
“Sure, let’s play. I’ll start with a
truth. Give it to me,” I dared.
“Do you love your boyfriend?”
Whoa,
that is not what I was expecting. I was expecting something more like – Is your
favorite color purple? These questions were a lot less serious when my
girlfriends asked them nearly a decade ago. Why did he care if I loved Jay?
Most importantly, why was I hesitating?
“Did you hear me, Brooke?” he asked
in a louder voice.
“Yes, I heard you … and, yes, I love
Jay.”
“OK, repeat,” he said, trying to
hide the disappointment in his voice.
“Ooooh, OK, let me think. I need to
make this a good one. … How about … Brooke Anderson is the most beautiful,
brilliant and bodacious girl I’ve ever had the privilege of knowing.”
His Hollywood smile appearing, Rich
erupted in a hysterical fit of laughter. “Bodacious?”
“What? I was going for alliteration,”
I shrugged. “Now repeat!”
“That’s the best B-word you could come up
with. How about bad ass, or babbling … because we all know that you sure do
babble a lot,” he teased.
“Whatever, just say it already,
would you! Unless you’re giving up already,” I insisted.
“Fine,” he said with a sigh. “Brooke
Anderson is the most beautiful, brilliant and bodacious girl I’ve ever had the
privilege of knowing,” he repeated, stifling his laughter.
“Damn straight! Now hit me with a dare.”
“Kiss me,” he challenged.
“Wh—What?”
“You heard me. Kiss me,” he repeated.
I
couldn’t let Rich win. We were only in the second round. What kind of loser
goes out in the second round of Truth, Dare, Double-Dare, Promise, or Repeat? I
needed to think and think quickly – got it!
I leaned over and gave Rich a quick,
chaste peck on the cheek. After all, he
didn’t specify where he wanted that kiss.
“Nice one, you got me there. Now hit
me with a dare,” he shot back.
“Hmmm, OK. You know my feet are
killing me. I think you should carry me the rest of the way to the rec center.”
Before I knew it, Rich scooped me up
in his arms and began carrying me down the steep hill that led to the college’s
gymnasium.
“That’s all you got, Beautiful?
You’re making this way too easy on me.”
“Whatever, I choose truth again,” I
said, without missing a beat.
“What’s your idea of a perfect
date?” he asked.
“That’s an easy one! An afternoon at
the beach; maybe a picnic, or some stargazing. Ohhh, fireworks over the water.
… Yes, now that would be perfection.” I always envisioned Jay proposing to me
in that exact setting, but in that moment, it was Rich I envisioned lying next
to me in the sand.
“That does sound perfect … I’ll go
with a promise,” Rich said this time.
“Yes!” I exclaimed. “I was waiting
for you to choose promise. When you become the editor of a big-time newspaper –
because we both know you will someday – you need to hire me. Got it, Mister!” I
said, poking at his chest.
Chuckling, he answered, “Yes,
Brooke, I promise that when I’m the editor of some big-time newspaper you will
be my second-in-command.”
“Wow, I just asked for a job and now
I’m second-in-command – score,” I joked.
“I don’t have the job yet,
sweetheart.”
“I know, I know. OK, give me another
dare,” I requested.
“Brooke, I, uh, dare you to grab
dinner with me tomorrow night?”
Crap,
crap, crap, I can’t do this. I LOVE Jason. Jay-Jay is your forever, Brooke.
Well, at least I made it to the fourth round.
“I
don’t think that’s a good idea, Rich. I’m sorry if I have been giving you the
wrong idea, but you know I am spoken for … not to mention, I’m kind of your
boss,” I tried to tell him as convincingly as possible. The question remained
as to whom I was trying to convince.
“Yeah, yeah, I know. I just thought
… never mind,” Rich said, with a hint of regret in his voice.
M.C. Decker is the author of the upcoming, debut
novel, Unwritten. She lives in a
suburb of Flint, Michigan with her husband and spoiled-rotten Siamese cat,
Simon. For the last decade, she has worked as a journalist for several
community newspapers in Michigan’s Thumb region. She enjoys all things ‘80s and
‘90s pop culture: movies, boy bands, music and especially the color, hot pink.
She also strictly lives by the motto, “Life is better in flip flops,” and is a
diehard Detroit Tigers fan. You can e-mail her at author.mcdecker@yahoo.com.
She would love to hear from you.
AMAZON

















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