Today on the Blog: Lacie Doyle

Today, I'm so excited to have Lacie Doyle, with her new book, The Deal. And a little advice from the heroine:

What Not to Do When Getting a Divorce

By Aimee Duchamp, contributing writer

Most girls grow up dreaming about meeting their prince charming, getting married, and living happily ever after. Unfortunately, sometimes life doesn't go according to plan and you end up making that painful decision to divorce. Such was the case with me and my husband, Marc. After five years of marriage, I grew tired of being set aside in favor of his work. Granted, he is the CEO of a major corporation, but it was lonely never seeing one's husband, except in bed at night. So I told him I wanted a divorce and we separated. This is what I learned during that time, what not to do when getting a divorce.

1. Do not agree to a deal to be his secretary, whereby you end up spending eight hours a day together. Being in close proximity can lead to the two of you getting into compromising positions.

2. Do not imagine him without his shirt. That just leads to you losing your shirt.

3. Do not agree to dinner with him. You'll start going down memory road together and laugh and start to forget why you wanted the divorce in the first place. Under no circumstances should you drink copious amounts of wine while having said dinner with him!

4. No matter how much he cajoles you, do not go on that business trip with him. When you're in a foreign city, in a hotel room, spending over eight hours a day together, it can only lead to one thing. See #1.

5. Above all else, once you move out, stay out! Learn from my mistakes. Unless of course you don't really want that divorce.

Blurb: Marc Duchamp is a bit of a workaholic, trying to turn around the company he's recently taken over as CEO. But all the time at the office doesn't sit well with his wife Aimee, who announces on their fifth wedding anniversary that she wants a divorce. It's the last thing Marc wants. So he strikes a deal with Aimee. While his secretary is on maternity leave, she is to take her place in the interim.

Aimee agrees to the deal, on two conditions: She gets to move out, and no one at the office will know her true identity.

Marc has no choice but to agree. He's going to have to let his wife go in order to have a chance at saving their marriage. All he can hope is that by the end of it, she'll be coming home with him.

AUTHOR BIO

Lacie Doyle writes romantic comedies and contemporary romances. When she is busy working on a book, she can usually be found procrastinating by watching cat videos on the Internet. She believes in happily ever afters.

SOCIAL MEDIA LINKS

Facebook group: Lacy Doilies and Tea Parties https://www.facebook.com/groups/1804065256312670/

Amazon:US: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B078Z3KJWHUK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B078Z3KJWHCA: https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B078Z3KJWHAU: https://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B078Z3KJWHB&N, Kobo, iBooks, Nook:https://www.books2read.com/u/bMrAQA PUBLISHER Lacie Doyle GENRE Contemporary Romance

EXCERPT

By the time Marc showed up, Aimee had already filled up one suitcase and had moved on to the second one. When she heard the loud ruckus of the garage door opening, her heart pounded against her chest so hard it nearly drowned out the noise. And at the jangle of his keys, her heart picked up speed and for one wild moment she considered abandoning her plan to leave, just to avoid the inevitable confrontation. She knew he would never hurt her physically, but she didn't want to face him and watch the final seconds of their marriage counting down. Aimee took a deep breath. Now was not the time to weaken her resolve. She needed to be strong and carry through with her decision. She was done being just a wife when Marc remembered, usually when he slipped into bed beside her, done playing second fiddle to his work. With that reminder, she returned to filling her suitcase with more blouses. But try as she may, she could not help but listen for the progress of his footsteps as she resumed her task. So when the floor creaked on that second step on the stairs, she heard it and knew he was almost to the bedroom door. Her heart revved up once more and she broke out in a sweat, but she persevered. Put the clothes in the suitcase. Just get the clothes in the suitcase. If she could do that, she would survive this. His footsteps ceased and she felt more than saw him standing in the doorway. She didn't dare turn her head, instead focusing her eyes on the task at hand, expecting him to say something soon. But for the longest time he didn't say anything, so long she turned to see if he was even there, as she thought. There he stood, motionless as he watched her, his eyes dropping every so often to the open suitcase on the bed, before returning to stare at her. He remained in the doorway, not coming any further into the room, but not leaving either. Half in, half out. The story of their marriage. They stared at each other, neither saying a word. Neither acknowledging what was happening. She turned back to her suitcase, placing some capris into it. Was he not going to say anything, do anything? Nothing would change her mind, but did he care so little about their marriage that he would just stand there and let her leave without even one word of protest? "Don't go." The words were spoken softly, but they still carried over to her, nearly undermining her resolve. She had thought she would feel better if he said something to stop her, but she was wrong. Quite the opposite. Now all she wanted to do was weep. Ignoring the lump in her throat, Aimee forced herself to continue to fold more clothes into her suitcase, told herself this was what she needed to do. She didn't chance looking at him, lest the tears in her eyes spilled over. "You knew this day was coming." "What can I do to make you stay?" "It's too late for that, Marc." She'd given him so many opportunities already. "What if I promise to come home earlier?" She paused in the middle of her task at the familiar words. "You've been promising that for a long time now." After hearing it for the umpteenth time, she knew they were empty words. It had taken a while, but she had finally learned. No more pinning her hopes on them, only to end up eating dinner beside an empty chair yet again, no more thinking this time it would be different, only to glance at the clock every hour past midnight and telling herself it was the book in her hands keeping her up so late. No more wishing.