Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 73568 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73568 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
My lips tip upward at the memory, even as my heart squeezes with sorrow. My dad would make up the most ridiculous sayings, trying to impart wisdom, but they never quite made complete sense. I miss him so much, but I know one thing—he would have been fully supportive of me doing this. He was telling me that there’s no reward without risk.
Just… he passed the message on with butterflies and rabbits.
The dour executive secretary, Rosalind Pierce, sits at her desk, typing away, completely oblivious to the fact that I have no business being here.
She also has no clue how determined I am to see this through. I’ve come too far to back down now and I’m spunky, if nothing else. This is my chance to write something new, something authentic about Formula International racing. Sure, I had to fake credentials to get here, using my real name of Elizabeth Evans and not my nickname, Posey, but the sport is exploding in popularity, and if I want to write a convincing romance novel set in this world, I need to see it from the inside.
A door opens into the lobby and Harley Patrick steps through. I’ve done a lot of research into FI racing, which included devouring an intensely insightful documentary series on the sport. After getting this opportunity, I dove heavier into researching Crown Velocity. Ms. Patrick looks every bit as powerful as I imagined. She’s beautiful and tall, with sharp green eyes that look like they miss nothing. Her dark blond hair is in a casual ponytail, and she wears jeans, a Crown Velocity long-sleeve polo and Converse Chucks. Despite her laid-back appearance, she carries herself with the kind of confidence that can make or break someone’s career with a single sentence. I don’t imagine they come any tougher than a woman who raced stock cars for a living.
Now she’s the only female team principal in FI, which is no small feat. I’ve done enough research to know that Harley Patrick holds perhaps the most vital role in this organization. She’s responsible for managing the team’s race strategy, engineering decisions, driver management, sponsor relationships and media interactions. She is the leader who coordinates the efforts of all departments to ensure success on and off the track, and the pressure on her to produce a winning team must be immense.
I stand up quickly, smoothing my pants with trembling fingers.
“Elizabeth Evans?” Her voice is warm but firm, and I nod, my mouth suddenly dry.
“Yes, that’s me. But you can call me Posey. It’s what everyone calls me.” I try to sound confident, but my voice wavers slightly. I’m prepared for her to out me as a charlatan, but she smiles at me warmly.
“Welcome to Crown Velocity.” Harley offers her hand, which I take, cringing that my palms are a little sweaty. “Come on in.”
I follow her back through a maze of halls to her office which is all sleek, modern design—glass walls, minimalist furniture and large windows overlooking the perfectly manicured grounds and lake beyond. It’s impressive, but then again, everything about this place is designed to impress.
We sit and I try to relax into the chair, but I’m too busy wondering if she’s already figured out that I’m not who I say I am. I resist the urge to confess all, beg her forgiveness and plead to still get the all-inclusive entry that’s been granted to me under my guise as a journalist.
“I was really inspired by your idea for this article,” she says, leaning back in her chair and kicking both her Chuck-clad feet up on her glass desk. I notice a replica of the Crown Velocity car sitting on top of a stack of folders.
“Thank you, Ms. Patrick. I—”
“Harley. Please call me Harley.”
“Harley,” I repeat with a smile and relax a little. “FI racing has really started to take off in the States with the documentary on Netflix, and since Brad Pitt has a movie coming out, I thought it would make a great freelance piece for me to sell, especially since the sport is attracting female fans in droves.”
“And Brienne Norcross is buying a team,” she adds. “Really tying the sport further to America.”
“Yes,” I say with enthusiasm. “And you as well. An American female stock car racer heading up an FI British team. It’s so inspiring and empowering. I’d love to bring that same love to women across the pond.”
Just… in the form of a romance novel.
“Well, I agree,” Harley says as she clasps her hands over her stomach. “We need more press coverage if we want to teach new audiences about the sport. There are so many intricacies that go into it. A lot more than just super aerodynamic cars flying around a track at breakneck speeds.”
I nod with a polite smile, because I intend to teach my romance readers about formula racing while weaving a sexy, swoony romance in behind it. In addition to bolstering my career, I would love to bring in a whole new slew of fans and I know women love their sports as much as men do. Plus, these drivers are super sexy and that’s a selling point as well.