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HEROES ARE MY WEAKNESS
Susan Elizabeth Phillips
Releasing in Paperback July 28th
Avon Romance
The
dead of winter.
An isolated island off the coast of Maine.
A man.
A woman.
A sinister house looming over the sea ...
He's a reclusive writer whose macabre imagination creates chilling horror novels. She's a down-on-her-luck actress reduced to staging kids' puppet shows. He knows a dozen ways to kill with his bare hands. She knows a dozen ways to kill with laughs.
But she's not laughing now. When she was a teenager, he terrified her. Now they're trapped together on a snowy island off the coast of Maine. Is he the villain she remembers or has he changed? Her head says no. Her heart says yes.
It's going to be a long, hot winter.
An isolated island off the coast of Maine.
A man.
A woman.
A sinister house looming over the sea ...
He's a reclusive writer whose macabre imagination creates chilling horror novels. She's a down-on-her-luck actress reduced to staging kids' puppet shows. He knows a dozen ways to kill with his bare hands. She knows a dozen ways to kill with laughs.
But she's not laughing now. When she was a teenager, he terrified her. Now they're trapped together on a snowy island off the coast of Maine. Is he the villain she remembers or has he changed? Her head says no. Her heart says yes.
It's going to be a long, hot winter.
Now Available in Paperback
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Susan
Elizabeth Phillips soars onto the New York Times bestseller list with every new
publication. She’s the only four-time recipient of the Romance Writers of
America’s prestigious Favorite Book of the Year Award. Susan delights fans by
touching hearts as well as funny bones with her wonderfully whimsical and
modern fairy tales. A resident of the Chicago suburbs, she is also a wife, and
mother of two grown sons.
Annie hadn’t thought she’d ever be
warm again, but she was sweating when a coughing fit awakened her sometime
around two in the morning. Her ribs felt as if they’d been crushed, her head
pounded, and her throat was raw. She also had to pee, another setback in a
house with no water. When the coughing finally eased, she struggled out from
under the blankets. Wrapped in the scarlet cloak, she turned on the flashlight
and, grabbing the wall to support herself, made her way to the bathroom.
She kept the flashlight pointed down
so she couldn’t see her reflection in the mirror that hung over the
old-fashioned sink. She knew what she’d see. A long, pale face shadowed by
illness; a sharply pointed chin; big, hazel eyes; and a runaway mane of
light brown hair that kinked and curled wherever it wanted. She had a face
children liked, but that most men found quirky instead of seductive. Her hair
and face came from her unknown father¾“A married man. He wanted nothing to
do with you. Dead now, thank God.” Her shape came from Mariah:
tall, thin, with knobby wrists and elbows, big feet, and long-fingered hands.
“To be a successful actress, you
need to be either exceptionally beautiful or exceptionally talented,” Mariah
had said. “You’re pretty enough, Antoinette, and you’re a talented
mimic, but we have to be realistic…”
Your mother wasn’t exactly your
cheerleader. Dilly stated the obvious.
I’ll be your cheerleader, Peter
proclaimed. I’ll take care of you and love you forever.
Peter’s heroic proclamations usually
made Annie smile, but tonight she could think only of the emotional chasm
between the men she’d chosen to give her heart to and the fictional heroes she
loved. And the other chasm¾the one between the life she’d imagined for
herself and the one she was living.
Despite Mariah’s objections, Annie
had gotten her degree in theater arts and spent the next ten years plodding to
auditions. She’d done showcases, community theater, and even landed a few
character roles in off-off Broadway plays. Too few. Over the past summer, she’d
finally faced the truth that Mariah was right. Annie was a better ventriloquist
than she’d ever be an actress. Which left her absolutely nowhere.
