Cat Jameson

CHAPTER ONE.docx 

STORY STATEMENT:

Uncover the real killer behind the attempted hit and save both 'Prince Charming' and the client charged with shooting him — without destroying her career or getting sucked back into the dangerous and manipulative world of the rich and famous that almost destroyed her once and threatens to do so again.

ANTAGONIST

Michael Grayson is rich, gorgeous, and brilliant. Founder and CEO of Grayson Aeronautics, he enjoys the perks of his wealth — beautiful women, fast cars, and a luxurious country estate, among them. And having a name that can open doors — or close them — comes in handy. But at his core, he's an adrenalin junkie. A former fighter pilot, he craves challenge and is easily bored. His passion is aeronautical design and he's built a reputation as one of the best in the field. By comparison, the business aspect of his company is necessary, but uninteresting, and the socializing expected of his position simply an irritant.

He likes to be in control, the one with all the information going into any situation and the one calling the shots once he's there — whether it's in the cockpit, the boardroom, or the bedroom. That said, he isn't interested in pushing people around just because he can. There's no challenge in that. What he seeks, always, is a worthy adversary, a matching of wits, a problem to be solved. He finds all three in 'Cinderella' — the stunning, surprising woman from a one-night-stand who turns out to be the lawyer defending the street punk who shot him.

TITLE OPTIONS:

(1) Farewell, Cinderella*

*At their first meeting and ensuing one-night-stand, the two start this 'Cinderella-at-the-ball / Prince Charming' repartee that comes back at various points throughout the story. 

(2) Fairy Tales Don't Come True

(3) Princesses Are Overrated

COMPARABLES:

Fans of Things We Never Got Over and Things We Hide From the Light by Lucy Score will find the sizzling romance of Farewell, Cinderella right up their alley — another perfect cocktail of humor and high stakes, swoon and suspense. 

Fans of the strong, contemporary heroines Nora Roberts brings to the page will find another favorite in the pages of Farewell, Cinderella, featuring a vibrant young lawyer, passionate about protecting the underdog, whose heart and career are both on the line when love and murder come calling hand-in-hand.

HOOK:

Love and murder show up hand-in-hand for a St. Louis Public Defender when her magical one-night-stand turns out to be the target in the case of her career -- sending her scrambling to save her career, her client, her principles, and her happily-ever-after.
 

PROTAGONIST'S INNER CONFLICT: 

Annie has a deep distrust of those in positions of power, especially when that power arises from the depth of their pocketbook.  Thanks to her Machiavellian grandmother, she has experienced firsthand how that kind of power can run over people, destroying lives and livelihoods without so much as a backward glance.  It took her years to rebuild her own life after being on the receiving end of that kind of manipulation. But she did, and now she has dedicated that life to fighting for the underdog, the little guy, the poor people of the world.  

So when she finds out that 'Mick,' the Prince Charming who stole her heart in just one night, is in fact Michael Grayson, CEO of Grayson Aeronautics and one of the rising stars in the world of the rich and powerful, her world starts spinning off its carefully-constructed axis. She can't ignore the depth of her attraction to him, but she also can't ignore his casual use of his position to push buttons and open doors just like her grandmother used to do. And when she finds out he's been having her investigated — getting reports on her background, her movements, and even her phone records — it's her grandmother all over again and she does what she did before.  Run like hell. 

SECONDARY CONFLICT INVOLVING SOCIAL ENVIRONMENT:

Annie has been a public defender for three years and is hungry to prove herself as a trial lawyer. She has just been handed the biggest case of her career, a high-publicity shooting of a big shot corporate mogul. Not that she knew anything about the big shot corporate mogul herself, because she never watches the news, but she quickly learned he was a big deal. She is psyched about the case — until she watches the news coverage about the shooting and realizes her big shot corporate mogul victim is none other than 'Mick', her one-night-stand after the Justice for All ball, the 'Prince Charming' she's been pining for ever since. 

To top it off, her case investigation reveals that the shooting wasn't the random robbery-gone-bad everyone thinks it was, but a failed hit involving someone other than her client and Michael is very probably still in danger. Now she has to figure out a way to save Michael's life by uncovering who's really behind the attempt to kill him without betraying client confidentiality or destroying her career — a line that becomes increasingly difficult to walk the more she is drawn into Michael Grayson's life and world.  

SETTING: 

The story is set in St. Louis, with a side venture to Chicago, and juxtaposes the depressing surroundings frequented by those who practice public defense and the people they represent against the glitz and glamour of the mansions, cars, and corner offices of the uber-wealthy. 

The Public Defender Office in the basement of the criminal courts building:

In stark contrast to the towering ceilings and marble floors of the halls of justice above, the ceiling down here hovers barely a foot overhead. It is stained and peeling. The institutional linoleum floor is yellowed with age and reeking of bleach. Scarred wooden benches line the wall outside the door marked Public Defender. A boy who looks barely fourteen sits on one of them, his elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. On the other end, a homeless man in an army jacket and grizzled beard sleeps with his arm thrown protectively across the plastic bag that no doubt contains all he owns in the world. Inside, the small lobby is overflowing, the City's down-and-out filling the molded-plastic chairs, leaning against the walls, and perching on the ancient radiators, awaiting their turn to talk to a lawyer. The switchboard is ringing nonstop and, as [our hero] waits for the harried receptionist to get free, he watches a roach crawling along the baseboard. 

A meeting at the Workhouse where prisoners are held pretrial:

Attorney visits took place in the room designed for family visits — two long narrow halves divided by a row of windows, their thick glass always covered with the palm prints of those trying to touch their loved ones on the other side. Annie usually tried not to look at them. 

Jonathan pulled three of the plastic chairs into a small circle while Annie snagged the only potential writing surface in the place — a grimy TV tray the guards used to hold their coffee when on family visit duty — and added it to their makeshift office. 

"God, I hate the smell of Lysol," she said, not for the first time. Jails and prisons reeked of it. 

"All part of the ambiance," said Jonathan. "At least it's private. More than you could say for the old jail. I always found it so easy to get clients to open up to me there — sitting in the center of the cell block with the guard ten feet away. Something about those whispered conversations that just built trust, you know?"

"At least they had chairs. Out in Montgomery County, all I got was an upside-down bucket inside my client's jail cell." 

"That bucket was your own fault." Jonathan wagged a finger at her. "You had choices. You could have sat on the bed with your client like the guard told you."

"That guard was beside himself because I refused to sit on the bed. Or on that metal toilet. Can you imagine? Conducting an interview sitting on a toliet?"

"Not sure the bucket was all that much of a step up, but still — you get props for sticking to your principles. Such a glamorous gig we have. Can't imagine why we have trouble recruiting people, can you?"

Barlow House in Chicago

This is the home designed and occupied by Eleanor Barlow, one of the world's wealthiest women and the one responsible for our protagonist's core wound. We first see the house through the eyes of her granddaughter, returning home after years of estrangement:

Time turned on its heels as they passed Lincoln Park and traveled down the familiar city streets. Then the limo swung onto Burling Street and there it was — her personal hell, wrapped in a multi-million dollar bow. Four stories high, with a wrought-iron widow's walk atop its broad expanse, the mansion looked as if it had stood there for generations. It hadn't. Eleanor had had the place built herself, recreating the glory days of the Vanderbilts in her own little corner of the world. She'd been disappointed at having to settle for just eight city lots on which to build her showplace, but she didn't want to locate any farther out of the city. Life required such unfair compromises. Still, it's measly 25,000 square feet managed to provide plenty of places for an unhappy little girl to hide. Annie knew them all. 

. . . . 

Her heels clicked across the marble foyer's inlaid circle of interwoven gold flames. Sunlight streamed through the fourteen-foot windows and the scent of extravagant fresh flower arrangements tickled her nose. She headed up the staircase that was the central showpiece of Barlow House, its intricate ebony and gold banister spiraling upward for four stories in a stunning geometric display. As she ascended, an unwelcome thought popped into her head. Michael Grayson would probably be right at home in this gilded birdcage of a house. Bloody hell.