Out of Hiding VBT

Blurb:

Charles Dampor was supposed to be a blessing, but instead turned out to be a curse. A family torn by deception and greed now saw Emily for what she was, and a co-worker with a vicious past of his own now has his own personal vendetta against her. If Emily doesn't open her eyes and see the doors she's unlocked, she'll find herself at the bottom of Lake Bermin...with Charles's ex-wife.

Excerpt:

Maybe it was the push-up bra she’d worn in combination with her ultra-deep v-neck shirt. Or maybe it was her constant smile and flirtatious laugh. Maybe she’d batted her eyelashes just the right amount. Whatever it was, it worked. Because Charles invited her to have dinner with him. Not a weeknight date. Not an afternoon date or a group dinner or coffee. A Saturday night date.

“And what brought you to us?” Charles asks.

Us. He isn’t an arrogant man. He isn’t egocentric. He’d created his own empire, yes, but he doesn’t think he’s better than everyone else. Us, he said. Not me or my company. It’s hard to find people like this these days. A business owner out to dinner with a factory worker? Very atypical.

“I saw an ad online,” she responds.

“Oh,” Charles says with a smirk.

“Why?” Emily asks.

“I feel old,” he says. “I always placed my ads for employment in the newspaper. That was back before I had Mary.”

“I wouldn’t have found it if it was in the paper,” Emily jokes. “Good thing for Mary.”

“Good thing for Mary,” he laughs.

The laugh from the comment carries them into talk about work, about people at work. Charles tells her about some of the people who work upstairs, the management team. He tells her more about Mary, and about what Mary had to say about Emily when discussing their job opening with Charles after her round of interviews had commenced.

“All good things,” he jokes. “No worries.”

“I’d assume so,” she replies. “I got the job.”

They share a smile and after a brief pause, he says, “I’m glad.”

The drinks continue to come and conversation carries on. The topic of work remains, but only briefly. Emily points out the pissed-off old guy who works in Station A and Charles laughs.

“That’s just Herb,” he says. “He’s been here for a while. He’s a good worker.”

I’m Still a Kid at Heart

I remember being a kid and hearing my mom talk about turning thirty and how she was old. And then she turned forty and wanted to die. She would tell me stories of when she was a kid, and how the thought of turning forty meant Take me out back and shoot me in the head because I don’t want to be that old and decrepit.

Graphic, I know. Sorry. I guess I could have piped that down a bit.

But now here I sit, a thirty-three-year-old man with a wife and two kids and a house and still not a damn clue how I’m going to survive each week. I do what I have to do to pay the bills, but I tell myself each and every day that one day I’ll be a full-time writer. One day I’ll be able to settle down and not have to run around like a wild animal to make money. I’ll be a writer. Simple. Honest. And the only thing I ever really wanted to do.

For the average person, someone like me can be compared to that struggling actor who moved out to Hollywood and has been waiting tables for fifteen years just waiting for their big break. And I think I’ll get it.

Every day, I write. Every day, I read. Every day, I sit and think about what I can do to make myself a better writer. I read newsletters and blogs and books on writing. I work hard at my craft.

Have you ever spoken to someone who absolutely loves what they do for a living? What’s the one thing they all have in common? They say that work doesn’t even feel like work to them. They feel blessed to have the chance to do what they love. And you know what? That’s how I feel about writing. Even if I don’t make much money off of it. And even if the hours spent away from writing are some of the most stressful. I know I’m chasing a passion.

I feel like everyone should have something they love—some passion—and they should chase that passion. Even if they chase it so long that they’re pushing that decrepit age of forty.

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Author Bio and Links:

John Feldman was born and raised in southern New Jersey, but has since moved to Florida at the request (demand) of his beautiful wife. He has written several short stories and novels, including his newest release, OUT OF HIDING. He writes a lot, thinks a lot more, and is currently wondering why he’s writing this in the third person.

For more information, visit www.johnfeldman.com, or email him.

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