Manhattan Special

Manhattan Special

Manhattan IS special but a Manhattan Special is even more special…to my heroine.

In my upcoming romantic suspense, Surrender at Canyon Road, my heroine, Dani, is basically living on her last dollars. She’s hopeful though. She’s about to take the last photographs for a contest, and believes she has a great chance of winning. Doing so will provide her with much needed financial, and hopefully emotional, security.

First Prize - Manhattan Special - Surrender at Canyon Road 

Naturally, the hero challenges her every step of the way. He brings his own goals, his own motives, his own level of passion.

New York Grit and…Caffeine

Dani will not be thwarted, though. She’s fought too hard to reach this point, and she’s overcome abuse and trauma. No one is going to stand in her way now.

A big man looks so lost - Surrender at Canyon Road - Manhattan SpecialBut, to navigate her way through her own desperate needs and the turmoil he causes, to somehow balance the true danger he’s facing and her limited ability to help, takes focus, and fuel.

Manhattan Special to the Rescue

It’s a simple thing, but packed in her car, along with all of her worldly possessions, is a case of liquid magic. A sweet carbonated, caffeinated, espresso delight like no other – a Manhattan Special.

Like the author of her story, moi, Dani pops one open only at special times. They are not to be wasted to merely quench a thirst, but to revitalize, to motivate, to please.

Of course, a generous slice of luscious New York cheesecake would do the trick as well, but Manhattan Specials travel better. And in Surrender at Canyon Road, Dani travels a LOT.

She’ll share her car, her dream, her secrets…and maybe even her life…but she will NOT share her stash of coffee soda. Oh, how well I identify with her.

Manhattan Special Coffee Soda - Surrender at Canyon Road

She reached into the back seat and came back with two sandwiches, a bottle of water and a bottle of soda.

He eyed the small soda bottle. It was some kind of carbonated espresso that he’d never seen before. Since he was running on empty, a bottle full of caffeine would do him good right about now. “You’ve been holding out.”

She followed his eye to the bottle in her hand, and tucked it possessively against her chest. “Mine.”

He put his hand up in surrender. “Okay… it’s just, you know… I was going to buy you a cup and here you have… whatever that is.”

“It’s a Manhattan Special…espresso soda…and it’s fabulous. I brought some all the way from New York. But they’re mine.” She held out the bottle of water. “You can have this.”

Do you have a specific vice? One that is harmless yet incredibly potent for you, though perhaps silly, to others?


 

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