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HEROES ARE MY WEAKNESS
Susan Elizabeth Phillips
Releasing in Paperback July 28th
The dead of winter.
An isolated island off the coast of Maine.
A sinister house looming over the sea ...
He's a reclusive writer whose macabre imagination creates chilling horror novels. She's a down-on-her-luck actress reduced to staging kids' puppet shows. He knows a dozen ways to kill with his bare hands. She knows a dozen ways to kill with laughs.
But she's not laughing now. When she was a teenager, he terrified her. Now they're trapped together on a snowy island off the coast of Maine. Is he the villain she remembers or has he changed? Her head says no. Her heart says yes.
It's going to be a long, hot winter.
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Susan Elizabeth Phillips soars onto the New York Times bestseller list with every new publication. Sheâs the only four-time recipient of the Romance Writers of Americaâs prestigious Favorite Book of the Year Award. Susan delights fans by touching hearts as well as funny bones with her wonderfully whimsical and modern fairy tales. A resident of the Chicago suburbs, she is also a wife, and mother of two grown sons.
Annie hadnât thought sheâd ever be warm again, but she was sweating when a coughing fit awakened her sometime around two in the morning. Her ribs felt as if theyâd been crushed, her head pounded, and her throat was raw. She also had to pee, another setback in a house with no water. When the coughing finally eased, she struggled out from under the blankets. Wrapped in the scarlet cloak, she turned on the flashlight and, grabbing the wall to support herself, made her way to the bathroom.
She kept the flashlight pointed down so she couldnât see her reflection in the mirror that hung over the old-fashioned sink. She knew what sheâd see. A long, pale face shadowed by illness; a sharply pointed chin; big, hazel eyes; and a runaway mane of light brown hair that kinked and curled wherever it wanted. She had a face children liked, but that most men found quirky instead of seductive. Her hair and face came from her unknown fatherÂ¾âA married man. He wanted nothing to do with you. Dead now, thank God.â Her shape came from Mariah: tall, thin, with knobby wrists and elbows, big feet, and long-fingered hands.
âTo be a successful actress, you need to be either exceptionally beautiful or exceptionally talented,â Mariah had said. âYouâre pretty enough, Antoinette, and youâre a talented mimic, but we have to be realisticâ¦â
Your mother wasnât exactly your cheerleader. Dilly stated the obvious.
Iâll be your cheerleader, Peter proclaimed. Iâll take care of you and love you forever.
Peterâs heroic proclamations usually made Annie smile, but tonight she could think only of the emotional chasm between the men sheâd chosen to give her heart to and the fictional heroes she loved. And the other chasmÂ¾the one between the life sheâd imagined for herself and the one she was living.
Despite Mariahâs objections, Annie had gotten her degree in theater arts and spent the next ten years plodding to auditions. Sheâd done showcases, community theater, and even landed a few character roles in off-off Broadway plays. Too few. Over the past summer, sheâd finally faced the truth that Mariah was right. Annie was a better ventriloquist than sheâd ever be an actress. Which left her absolutely nowhere.
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