Title: Brake Failure
By: Alison Brodie
Publication Date: January 9, 2017
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Brake Failure is a contemporary romance with a kick-ass heroine. The story is set in one of the most fascinating periods of America's history: the months leading up to Y2K "melt-down."
"Is it too late to tell him you love him when you're looking down the barrel of his gun?"
Ruby Mortimer-Smyth is an English debutante, destined for Lady's Day at Ascot and taking tea at The Savoy. She knows the etiquette for every occasion and her soufflés NEVER collapse.
She is in control of her life, tightly in control. Until fate dumps her down in … Kansas.
Ruby believes that life is like a car; common-sense keeps it on the road, passion sends it into a ditch. What she doesn't know is, she's on a collision course with Sheriff Hank Gephart.
Sheriff Hank Gephart can judge a person. Miss Mortimer-Smyth might act like the Duchess of England but just under the surface there's something bubbling, ready to explode. She's reckless, and she's heading for brake failure. And he's not thinking about her car.
With the Millennium approaching, Ruby gets caught up in the Y2K hysteria. She joins a group of Survivalists, who give her a gun and advise her to stockpile basic essentials, such as gasoline and water-purifying tablets. So she bulk-buys Perrier, Gentleman's Relish and macaroons.
Ruby, far from home, is making Unsuitable Friends and "finding herself" for the first time. She falls in with a gang of Hells Angels and falls foul of the law. At every turn, she comes up hard against Sheriff Hank Gephart, whose blue eyes seem to look deep into her soul. She desperately wants him but knows she can never have him.
She's angry at the emotions he arouses in her. Pushed to her limit, she bursts from her emotional straightjacket.
As the clock strikes midnight of the new Millennium, she's on a freight train with three million dollars, a bottle of Wild Turkey and a smoking gun.
What happened to Miss Prim-and-Proper? And why did she shoot Mr Right?
______
Note: Alison Brodie wrote this story from first-hand experience. She lived in Kansas during this time and was stunned by the hysteria, unnerved that the US government was spending $150 billion preparing for Armageddon. As Lionel Shriver says in "We have to Talk About Kevin": '1999, a year widely mooted beforehand as the end of the world.'
What Others Are Saying
5 * "OMG…I freakin' LOVED this book…going on the list of one of my favorites of 2016." -Star Angels Reviews
5* "Everyone needs to read this book. It's blooming brilliant." -The Reading Shed
5* "Hilarious." -Lauren Sapala, Book Reviewer and Writers' Coach.
5* "A laugh-out-tale that will keep you flipping the pages as fast as possible." -Tome Tender
5* "Empowering…comical…refreshing." -San Francisco Book Review |
Excerpt
4 – Brake Failure
That afternoon, Ruby parked outside
Shady Acres. She couldn’t wait for
Gephart to ask her out on a date. Then
she could tell him she was married. Ha!
He sat in reception. In full uniform. Why
couldn’t he have changed into civilian clothes? Now he would make her look like an
offender. Or was that his intention? Just because she’d put a few scratches in his
police car.
‘Hi, Ruby.’
He stood up, crushing a plastic cup in one hand and tossing it in the
bin.
She stared pointedly down at his belt. ‘Are you going to put me in handcuffs?’ she
asked sarcastically.
He
winked. ‘Not if you’re good.’
Ruby
blushed. Why was it that every time she
gazed into his eyes, she felt as if a hand was pressing down on her chest? She was only thankful that once she started
reading to the old lady, Hank Gephart would go.
The receptionist was busy dealing with two
elderly gentlemen, so Ruby and Hank had to wait to sign-in. Ruby felt strangely jittery in the big man’s
presence. She only wished he wouldn’t
stand so close. She inched further along
the reception counter and, wanting to hide her nervousness, started squaring up
the brochures into neat piles.
He came closer.
‘Ruby, I don’t like you mixing with Hells Angels.’
She felt his warm breath on her cheek. ‘Is there a law against that?’ Refusing to look at him, she picked up a
brochure and found herself reading about incontinence.
‘No, but-’
‘Then, presumably, I have the freedom to choose
with whom I associate?’
‘Yeah, but I’m warning you-’
Warning you.
Angrily, she grabbed up another brochure and flicked through it at
speed, false teeth and hearing-aids flashing by. ‘Why do you have to be so aggressive? Why
can’t you say, “may I suggest?”’
‘Okay.’ He rested his arm along the counter and leant
towards her. His eyes were blue, very
blue. ‘May I suggest you keep away
from them?’
‘No, you may-!’ She stopped abruptly. A matronly nurse was hovering beside them.
‘Well, Hank,’ the nurse said
gaily. ‘Is this your lady friend you’ve
been telling us about?’
Hank beamed down at Ruby with proprietary
pride. ‘It sure is.’
‘I’m not his lady friend,’ Ruby mumbled.
‘Nice to meet you, Ruby,’ the nurse said. ‘I’m Amy.’
She beckoned with a finger as if tempting two small well-behaved
children to an exciting treat. ‘If you
want to come along, Mrs Amstruther is waiting.’
As they walked along the corridor, Ruby noticed
two pretty nurses break off from their conversation to study her. She sensed that Hank had been gossiping about
her. She caught up with Amy, determined
to quash whatever rumours were flying around.
‘I am not at all familiar with Geph- I mean, Hank.’
The nurse stopped at a door and knocked. ‘I love your accent.’
Ruby persisted.
‘I have merely bumped into him on various occasions.’
‘We know.’
The nurse winked and opened the door.
‘You two go on in.’
As Ruby spluttered indignantly, Hank took her
by the elbow. ‘Mrs Amstruther?’ he
called. ‘I’ve brought my friend to meet
you.’
‘Come in, come in,’ a quavery voice replied.
Ruby stepped across the threshold and froze.
Mrs Amstruther was blind.
The old lady was sat up in bed, dressed
in a faded, flower-print bed-jacket, her eyes wrapped in bandages; her skin
appeared almost translucent, the pink skull showing beneath a mop of dazzling
white hair. She smiled sweetly, reaching
out a tentative hand.
Ruby felt a pang. Mrs Amstruther shouldn’t be here; she should
be in a cottage-garden in Devon with a wicker table laden with a cream tea and
a vase of freshly cut delphiniums; and surrounded by her grandchildren.
‘Dear
Hank,’ Mrs Amstruther murmured. Ruby
stepped forward, and put her hand in the old woman’s. ‘Hello, I’m Ruby.’
‘Oh, how lovely
to hear an English voice! You’re so
kind, Ruby; volunteering to read to a boring old lady like me.’
‘It’s my pleasure.’
‘Hank didn’t bully you, I hope?’ Mrs Amstruther
said in mock gravity.
With an ache of sadness, Ruby gazed down at the
old woman so far from home - a home she would never again see. Ruby realised the childish bickering between
her and Gephart was pathetic. The
discord she had brought into the room, evaporated. ‘I didn’t need to be bullied. I was delighted with Hank for asking me.’
‘Do take
a seat, Ruby, dear,’ the old woman said.
Ruby pulled an armchair closer to the bed. The room was sunny, the walls covered in
framed photographs of children at the seaside.
Beyond the window, at the far perimeter of a vast lawn, a freight train
rumbled passed, the melancholic blast of its horn fading into the
distance. Gephart, too, was watching it.
Mrs Armstruther’s hand was searching the
rumpled bedding. ‘Ruby, could you
possibly read a few pages of Wind in the Willows? My son loved it when he was little.’ She brought out a book from under the
covers. ‘It’s so annoying not being able
to see. Thankfully the bandages come off
at the end of the month.’
‘So it’s
not …?’
‘What, dear?’
‘Permanent?’ Ruby asked, taking the book.
‘Oh, no, it’s just cataracts; the curse of old
age.’
Ruby, discovering the old woman would recover
her sight, felt a lightness of spirit; felt she could embrace all her fellow
beings - including Hank. He was
standing, studying the photos on the wall.
Catching his eye, she smiled at him, tilting her head towards the door,
a silent message that he could leave.
He wrinkled his brow, evidently unable to gauge
her meaning.
She tried again, running her fingers through
the air towards the door.
He gave her a stupid look.
‘Are you going?’ she mouthed silently.
He nodded to signify that he understood. Then he shook his head, walked over to the
armchair by the window, sat down and rested his hands squarely on his knees.
He was obviously staying.
‘Have you ever read Wind in the Willows, Ruby?’ Mrs Amstruther asked.
‘Yes, years ago.’
The old lady laughed. ‘Mole is delightful, isn’t he? Who is your favourite character?’
‘Toad. I
loved it when he dressed up as a woman to escape the police.’ Ruby instantly regretted the words. ‘Of course, I don’t identify with Toad,’ she added hastily, forcing herself not to look
at Gephart. ‘I just think he’s a
loveable rascal.’
‘Isn’t he just!’ Mrs Amstruther settled back to enjoy the
story, and Ruby began:
‘“The Mole had been working hard all the
morning, spring-cleaning his little home …”’
Why is P.C. Plod
hanging about anyway? Surely he’s not
interested in riverbank creatures.
‘“First with brooms, then with dusters; then on
ladders and steps and chairs, with a brush and a pail of whitewash till he had
dust in his throat and eyes and splashes of white-wash all over his black fur,
and an aching back and weary arms …”’
He’s staring at me; I
know he is.
‘“Spring was moving in the air above and in the
earth below …’”
This was too much! Ruby glared at him. ‘Haven’t you got a murder to solve?’
‘What?’ Mrs
Amstruther jerked in confusion.
Ruby was appalled by her thoughtlessness. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, Mrs Amstruther, I was talking
to Hank. You see, I don’t want to keep
him from his work.’
He folded his arms across his chest and
grinned. He was obviously taking delight
in her embarrassment. ‘I’m off-duty,’ he
said.
For the sake of the old lady, Ruby had to speak
sweetly, but there was nothing stopping her from raking the man from head to
foot with hostile eyes. ‘Do you always
wear uniform when you’re off-duty?’
‘I do when I haven’t had time to get to my
locker and change.’
She couldn’t bear to look at that smug face a
second longer. She snatched up the book
and continued to read. ‘“Spring was
moving in the air above and in the earth below-’” She stopped in confusion, her
cheeks a fiery red.
‘Oh, I’ve read that bit already.’
She could sense him laughing at her. And he was!
He stood up, his eyes dancing
mischievously. ‘I’ve got a feeling Ruby
can’t concentrate with me here. I’m
flustering her pretty little head.’
Her relief that he was going was rapidly
replaced by horror. That awful man was
insinuating she fancied him! As he
passed by, he bent and kissed her on the cheek.
‘I’ll be waiting for you in the lobby … Sweet Cheeks,’ he said softly,
squeezing her shoulder.
Wide-eyed and apoplectic, she watched him walk
to the door.
‘He’s such a lovely man,’ Mrs Amstruther said
after he had gone.
Ruby couldn’t trust herself to speak.
‘The nurses say he’s very handsome. Is he?’
Ruby was still pinning the door with a look of
fury. ‘O-h-h, you don’t want to know
what I think.’
She picked up the book, her decision made.
She was no longer angry; in fact, she was
rather jubilant. Like any institution,
this building would have a goods delivery entrance. Well, Gephart, she thought complacently. You’re about to have a long wait because
Sweet Cheeks, here, is going out the back.
#
Alison Brodie is a Scot, with French Huguenot ancestors on her mother's side of the family. Alison was a photographic model, modelling for a wide range of products, including Ducatti motorbikes and 7Up. She was also the vampire in the Schweppes commercial.
A disastrous modelling assignment in the Scottish Highlands gave Alison an idea for a story, which was to become Face to Face. She wrote Face to Face as a hobby and then decided to send it off to see what would happen. It was snapped up by Dinah Wiener, the first agent Alison sent it to. Three weeks later, Alison signed a two-book deal with Hodder & Stoughton. Subsequently, Face to Face was published in Germany and Holland. It was widely reviewed, ie: "Vain, but wildly funny leading lady." -Scottish Daily Mail. It was also chosen as Good Housekeeping's "Pick of the Paperbacks."
Unfortunately, Alison then suffered from Second-Book Syndrome. The publisher's deadline loomed and she was terrified because she didn't have an idea for a story! She found the whole experience a nightmare; and this is why she cautions first-time authors to write more than one book before approaching an agent. She managed to finish the book - Sweet Talk - but it bombed.
While writing Sweet Talk, she moved to Kansas and lived there for two years. She loved the people, their friendliness, their free-and-easy way of life, the history and the BBQs! Sadly, her visa ran out and she had to come back to the UK - although her dream is to one day live permanently in America. Now, Alison lives in Biarritz, France.
Alison has taken the exhilarating steps to becoming an indie author. Her second ebook, THE DOUBLE, is out on Amazon Kindle with some great reviews. "Excellent." -San Francisco Book Review.
Alison writes contemporary romance. She aims for a strong plot line, set against the background of a world-changing event, coupled with touches of humour, sexual tension and character transformation.
She loves to hear from her readers.
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