Researching this was very hard for me as a mom. I'm sure I got a lot of stuff wrong, but I tried the best I could.
Here's something I wrote for the Pink Heart Society about the cover for this book and you can see who inspired my hero, Chase Ryder!
EXCERPT
"Mr. Ryder." Standing in the foyer of Cyberworx's state-of-the-art meeting facility, Jane Dawson couldn't believe how steady her voice sounded when inside she felt like a coffee bean being ground into tiny bits. Still she managed to smile at the gray-haired businessman. "I would like to speak with you. For a minute. That is if you have time. Please."
Jane winced.
So much for being smooth and collected, but this was different from speaking with customers while she managed The Hearth, a trendy coffee house in downtown Portland, Oregon. That job required patience, a smile and making sure the staff at the counter got the orders right, not cultured eloquence and grace.
"You want to speak to me?" In spite of his tailored suit, he looked more like a doting grandfather than the successful CEO of a multinational hi-tech company. "Chase...Ryder?"
He sounded surprised.
Of course, he did. People like Jane, college drop-outs who brewed coffee all day, didn't usually approach people like him. And normally she wouldn't. Especially when picking up after a catering job. On her day off.
But this wasn't a normal situation.
She'd jumped at the chance to set-up and pick-up the breakfast meeting buffet for thirty guests at the corporate headquarters though catering jobs weren't her usual responsibility. Her boss, Zoe, had offered her the opportunity to meet Chase Ryder, and Jane wasn't going to blow it.
Act like you know what you're doing. Saying. And think before you open your mouth. Zoe's advice echoed in Jane's head. She raised her chin. "Yes, I would, Mr. Ryder."
His grin deepened the lines around his mouth and eyes. "I'm more than happy to speak with you, miss."
Jane hadn't felt this light, this hopeful in...well, years.
"Unfortunately," he continued. "I'm not Chase Ryder."
Her heart plummeted to her feet, as if two fifty pound bags of Sumatra Gayo Mountain coffee beans had been dumped on each of her shoulders.
Not Chase Ryder.
How could she have made such a big mistake? Her assistant manager, Ally, had told Jane she couldn't miss the Cyberworx's head honcho. Tall, handsome and surrounded by people. She'd assumed the distinguished looking man had to be him. She'd assumed wrong.
The man stared at her. "Are you okay?"
No, she wasn't okay. Jane needed Chase Ryder. She needed...a miracle. Or the fundraising benefit she wanted to throw was never going to happen.
"Miss?"
Whatever you do, do not cause a scene. Remembering Zoe's final words made Jane force a smile. She wasn't about to risk her job or future catering jobs for The Hearth over this.
"I'm sorry," she said. "Thank you for your time."
"No, thank you." The man chuckled. "You made my day thinking I was Chase."
As the man sauntered away with a spring to his step, her shoulders slumped. She was in over her head and not qualified to do this, but she couldn't get discouraged. She couldn't give up. She still had to try.
For Emma. For sweet, four-year-old Emma who loved to play with baby dolls and still had months of chemotherapy left, Jane wouldn't give up.
She would write more letters and make additional phone calls. Somehow she would find sponsors for the fundraiser. Somehow she would help Emma's mother, Michelle, tackle the mounting medical bills. Somehow Jane would pull this off.
If only she knew how.
Jane shuffled her way to the buffet table to pack up the equipment. Less than a dozen of the muffins, scones, cinnamon rolls and Danish rolls remained on the trays, and she transferred them to a smaller plate to leave. All of the fruit cups were gone, except...
Oh, no.
One had spilled on the tile floor. Pieces of cantaloupe, grapes and pineapple had been squished, kicked and trampled on. The building's janitorial staff cleaned after events, but Jane couldn't leave a mess like this. She grabbed a towel near one of the coffee air pots, kneeled on the floor and wiped the sticky goo.
Nothing like a bit of fruit road kill to finish off a lousy morning. She reached for a smushed strawberry. At least her day couldn't get much worse.
"Excuse me," a male voice said.
Still kneeling, Jane took in the shoes first. The black running shoes needed new laces, but looked comfortable. Just like his faded blue jeans. Her gaze traveled up the length of this calves to his thighs to his, um...
Her cheeks burned.
"You wanted to speak with me?" he asked.
What was she doing? She'd come to provide service. To beg a favor. Not stare at his... Jane jumped up. "I'm Ja..."
As she looked into his intense blue eyes, everything stopped. She couldn't breathe let alone remember her name.
From the angular planes of his face to the slight cleft in his chin to his oh-so-kissable full lips, each feature fit perfectly together with his warm, bright eyes. His blond hair fell in loose curls and brushed the back of the collar of his grayish-blue dress shirt and navy sports coat. No man could be so naturally good looking. There had to be a flaw, something more than a mole or two...
And then she found it--a jagged scar running through his right eyebrow. But rather than distracting from his looks it gave him an edge, a sexy, dangerous edge. She stepped back and bumped into the table. Her heart rate increased.
"Jay?" he asked.
"Jane." Her voice sounded different, lower. She cleared her dry throat. "Jane Dawson."
"Chase Ryder."
Everything in her revolted. This was worse than before. He was too young, too handsome, too...male, like a cowboy who'd wandered into the wrong building. Wide shoulders and tall, six feet at least, as the top of her head came up only to his chin. Talk about being at a disadvantage.
"You wanted to speak with me?" he repeated.
His honey rich voice washed over her sending her temperature up at least another twenty degrees.
Don't freak out. She could do this. So what if he was the most attractive man she'd ever seen? So what if he was richer than Midas himself? A family's financial future depended on her. She couldn't be derailed by a pretty--make that gorgeous--face.
"Yes." Jane extended her arm only to realize she was holding the towel full of smashed fruit. She tossed the rag on the table and wiped her hand on her apron. "I did."
He glanced at the watch on his right wrist. "I've got three minutes."
His terse response irked her, but what was she going to do? She had less than three minutes to get his help.
