Meet Elle Davidson

For today’s post, I’m not only sharing a writing exercise but introducing you to Elle Davidson. In my first novel Finding Home we follow Elle, who after fourteen years of many excuses, returns to her hometown. Only it’s not home, it’s where she’d grown up. Numbed to bad decision-making after too many glasses of rosé, she heads back to Perry, NY to attend a family wedding and the fiftieth birthday of her beloved Uncle Pete. All she wants to do is survive the next thirty days without dealing with the very alive ghosts of her past that haunt the small farming community. After losing a tug-a-war with a baby goat, Elle falls butt-first for Dr. Clayton Owens, an unexpected man from her past. The gray-eyed Airbnb host was not part of the plan…and Elle likes a plan. For thirty days she finds herself diverting from her plan, while gripping onto it with dear life as she comes face-to-face with the mother that she hasn’t seen in eighteen years. Will her ghosts keep her locked in her own haunted house or will Elle go ghostbusters on them freeing herself and her heart?

I can’t wait to share Elle’s journey with you! It’s currently with my amazing editor. I am hopeful to submit to Literary Agents and Publishers in late spring or early summer. I’ll share updates with you as my journey unfolds.

In the meantime, today’s word was brunch and I hope you enjoy your first introduction to Elle Davidson. Pinkies up!  

The Brunch Date

By: Melissa Whitney

Elle’s strappy wedges slapped against the pavement as she threaded through the crowded sidewalk towards the restaurant. She wasn’t late because she was never late. Just wasn’t her style, but her pulse quickened knowing the clock ticked closer to eleven thirty. Willa and her brunch reservation at Nicks on 2^nd was ten minutes away. On time was late to Elle. She liked to be early. It gave her time to settle in. Get the lay of the land and prepare herself. Preparation was the key to everything.

            Reaching the corner where the restaurant stood tucked into the first floor of a much-loved gray brick building, she slipped through the front door flanked by oversized palm plants. Smoothing down her auburn waves, Elle smiled waiting for the hostess to finish with the couple in front of her.

            “Reservation under Willa Sanchez,” Elle said to the smiling hostess.

            Tapping on the screen in front of her the hostess beamed. “The other half of your party is already seated.”

            Had Hell frozen over? Elle blinked in disbelief. Willa was never on time, let alone early.

            The hostess grabbed a brown leather menu from below the granite counter. “Let me take you to your table,” she said, rounding the hostess stand and motioning for Elle to follow.

            The restaurant hummed with the standard brunch soundtrack of forks clinked against dishes, boisterous laughter, and roar of the expresso machine. Every inch of the L-shaped dining room brimmed over with brunch goers. It was your typical Saturday in Long Beach, CA.

            Weaving through the clusters of filled tables and booths, the hostess led Elle to the outdoor patio that hugged the perimeter of the building. Elle’s hazel eyes scanned the metal tables looking for Willa’s bright smile and caramel-colored locks. Passing tables full of hand holding couples, toasting ladies that brunch types, and a man scowling at his bill they stopped at the last table hidden behind a Ficus tree in the corner of the patio.   

            “Here you are,” the hostess said, pointing to the empty chair of the two-person table.

            Elle’s steps halted. Her gaze pulled to the very much occupied seat across from her and the man sitting there. The corner of his lips ticked up in an easy smile as he stood up reaching his hand out to her.

            “I’m Ned. Willa’s cousin,” he introduced himself. The smooth quality of his voice like a creamy Chai latte.

            “Willa,” Elle sighed, taking his hand.

            “I take it she didn’t tell you she was setting us up.”

            Shaking her head, she took the seat across from him.

            “Your server will be here soon,” the hostess said with an apologetic smile towards Elle. Plopping the menu down, she wandered away.

            Elle ran her fingers over the embossed Nick’s on 2^nd scrawled across the menu allowing its smooth ridges to ground her. Dating was not Elle’s favorite. She’d once cancelled a blind date to go to the Dentist.

            “This is the second time she’s done this to me.” Ned ran his fingers through his thick black hair.

            “This is the fourth for me.” Elle blew out a long breath. “Once she even had this college professor friend of hers show up at a resort in Palm Springs that we were staying at.”

            A deep belly laugh vibrated through him. His milk chocolate eyes sparked with amusement at his cousin’s antics.

            Picking up her glass of water, Elle sipped allowing her eyes to drink Ned up. The almost carefree smile softened the chiseled features of his face. Warm almond skin popped against the sunshine yellow collared short-sleeved shirt he wore. Defined forearms leaned against the edge of the table.

            Yummy. A baby-sized flutter kicked in her belly. What was it about men’s forearms that she found sexy? The second sexiest thing a man could do for her was to roll up his sleeves. The first was to read aloud from one of her beloved Jane Austen novels.

            “She means well,” he said.

            The sweet defense of his cousin spread warmth through Elle as if drinking the perfect cup of peppermint tea. As much as Willa frustrated Elle with these wannabe matchmaker escapades, she adored her best gal pal and wouldn’t tolerate anyone smack talking Willa. Even if it was a fellow victim.

            “She’s such an Emma,” Elle chuckled.

            “An Emma?” Ned’s right brow arched.

            “Emma Woodhouse from Jane Austen’s Emma. She’s a lackluster matchmaker who comes from a good place but gets it wrong.”

            Ned leaned back in his chair. “I haven’t read any Austen.”

            Strike one. Elle nodded.

            “I’m not a reader. I’m more of a movie guy.”

            Strike three. Elle closed her menu and sighed. Even the lovely forearms could not erase that. Willa would tsk that Elle was being too picky. That she’d find any excuse to rule out a potential boyfriend. Perhaps, but there were standards. A man that didn’t read Austen was one thing but a man that didn’t read was no man for Elle Davidson.

            “Ned…” she started, but his laughter cut her off.

            “Friends?” There was a knowing slant to his smile.

            “You feel it too? Well, not feel it actually?” Elle bit her lower lip.

            “Yeah. Don’t get me wrong. You are gorgeous, but I’m a traveling nurse so if someone is going to tempt me into giving up my wanderlust ways, I need to feel the spark from the start.”

            A big smile took over her face. “I appreciate your kind but blunt honesty. I agree. You are very handsome, but not handsome enough to tempt me.” There was zero shame in her giggle as she paraphrased Mr. Darcy from Pride & Prejudice. Ned may not get the reference, but she did. More importantly, the man that she’d allow herself to fall for would get the reference. At least, she hoped. If not, she always had Austen to keep her company.