"Edge of my seat story!"

​Amazon Review
★★★★★

Read the Opening

Margo McAllister had promised herself her photographs would change the world. That dream would come true in a mere fourteen hours. Just a few shutter clicks away.

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Favored to win the Butler Prize, the world’s most prestigious photography award, Margo surveyed the crowd gathered for the pre-announcement soiree. If her peers and mentors were right, she’d win not just tomorrow’s prize but the fame and adulation that went with it. Just like her father had thirty years earlier.

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She raised a brow at a passing waiter. He handed her a flute of champagne from a silver tray before sauntering away. “To me,” she whispered. “And to you, Dad.” Margo raised her glass to the starry sky.

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A cool breeze fluttered the sleeves of her custom gown, a splurge but one that seemed worth it when you finally went from struggling for a life goal to attaining it. She wondered what her father had worn on this night so many years ago. Probably an elegant tux. Her mother had been at the party as well. They’d met there, the famous photographer and sophisticated fashion model. But the storybook romance had ended just three years later, in a war-torn valley in Afghanistan.

Margo had never even met him. She’d come into the world two months after he’d died. But he was still her hero. Still the person her mother had loved above any other. Of course Margo had followed in his footsteps. Although, she’d stayed far away from the battlefields where most photojournalists became famous.

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“Drinking alone?”

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The question came from behind her, and she turned to see the firm jaw and tanned skin of Kirk Jones, badass war photographer extraordinaire and fellow Butler prize nominee.

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“So, they let you in.” Margo smirked, then looked into his bold green eyes, entranced as always. She let her own eyes wander the length of him. He’d slicked back his usually spikey black hair and wore an actual suit with a tie instead of worn cargo pants and a ratty T-shirt. “You clean up well.”

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“So do you. You’re gorgeous tonight.” He stepped close and bent to kiss the tender spot between her cheek and lip.

All the feelings came swooning back. The week they’d spent in Zanzibar lying on sugar sand beaches under a hot African sun—when they weren’t in the hotel room. The half-dozen other one-night stands when they happened to be in the same location.

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She took a step back. “This is a big night. We have to be on our best behavior.” The farthest thing from well-behaved, Kirk walked the line between brilliance and madness. Known for blowing up when things didn’t go his way, he’d been tossed out of several countries and fired by half a dozen magazines. She didn’t need that tonight. Green eyes stared back at her. She didn’t need it, but boy did she want it.

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“Come on, Margo. This is your big night. Everyone says you’re a shoo-in for the prize. If this isn’t a night for misbehaving, then I’ve been living my life wrong.”

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That made her laugh. “I think there may be a few people who would argue about how you’re living your life.”

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“Tomorrow, you’ll have fame and fortune. In this fickle business, the rewards of winning this prize last a lifetime. I’d say it’s better than sex, better than love, lasts longer anyway.” He turned and looked toward Lake Como.

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He almost had it right. This kind of fame brought adulation and love. It had for her father. Admirers still talked about his brilliance and how much they loved him, loved his work. And he had found real love here, with her mother. A love so strong she’d never recovered. If it happened, if Margo won the prize, all that would come her way. She had a shot, but the outcome hinged on tomorrow.