Description : The Denim Dom
Sunglasses…check. Coffee…check. Laptop—
Shayla Pierce glanced over her shoulder at the backseat. Check.
She’d been damn lucky to fall into this job. Last thing she needed was to mess up her first day by forgetting something important.
She put her Civic into reverse, then hit the brakes.
Shifting back into park, she shut the car off and pulled the keys from the ignition. Might help to have my purse today. She jogged back to her apartment and found her purse sitting on the kitchen counter where she’d left it. She grabbed it and returned to the car.
One more try.
This time she made it out of her apartmentplex and down the street. She turned onto Clark Road and headed west toward US 41. She’d timed her drive already. She should make it to her new office in downtown Sarasota in under forty minutes.
Tropical Sarasota was a far cry from her snowy Minneapolis childhood, college days spent in Athens, Ohio, at the Scripps School of Journalism, and a year on the copy desk at The Plain Dealer in Cleveland before being promoted to reporter, when she got to write her own copy.
Now, at thirty-three, she was starting her life over again. Or at least that was what it felt like.
No more snow. No more ice. No more turtlenecks.
Her fingers tightened around the steering wheel. No more backstabbing, lying sack-of-monkey-shit bastard ex-fiancés named James I wasted eight years of my life on.
The publisher and editor in chief...