*****Breaking News****
After years covering murders, disasters and tragedy for Los Angeles TV news, Kate Bradley knows that violence and cruelty are everywhere and that good is hard to find. When she is assigned the story about ten people who have each found $100,000 in cash on their front porch, Kate is intrigued by the anonymous Good Samaritan, dubbed Good Sam, who is behind it all.
As interest in the free money sweeps across the country, Kate finds that the elusive Good Sam and her exclusive interview with him thrust her into the national spotlight. Even as his message captivates viewers and wins ratings, Kate suspects he may not be all he claims to be and that the real Good Sam is still out there.
Searching for answers, Kate unravels the powerful and unexpected reason behind the mysterious cash gifts, the true identity of Good Sam becomes the biggest surprise story of her career, turning her personal and professional life upside down.
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My Opinion
What can I say....It was very interesting! With the whole Hidden Cash thing going on right now across the world this whole story just became so REAL. However, that begs the question that our character Kate had to answer....is it for attention???
As the story goes, someone is leaving a huge sum of money on the door steps of people around the city and news reporter, Kate Bradley, is assigned the job of finding out not only why, but who. A job she not only doesn't want in the beginning, but as the story progresses, a job that changes her life forever!
Who would leave money on a front porch???
Kate I have to say is a hard character to like. I wanna like her, but then I wanna smack her upside the head. She's a love/hate kind of character....you love to hate her. She does some really stupid things. Lucky for her someone was there to save her from her stupidity, but still.
Eric Hayes.....Oh how I love our man in uniform!!!! He is like the wounded puppy of this story. Blames himself for his brother's death and only wants to do good in the world. Its such a sweet little love story that he fell for Kate....I so loved that he was there in the river :)
Then you have the Devil himself, Jack Hansen. He is just a work of art. Totally in it for himself. Everything thing he does is for himself. He has everyone, including Kate fooled. Anything to get you name out there. URGH!!!!
With all the things happening Kate knows things aren't adding up roses and she smells a rat.....JACK!!!!
After some digging......she finds the truth, but what she can run and what she can't will surprise you!
The story runs on the News and even the Network picks it up.
I don't wanna give away how it ends and it does...well kinda. Kate may have found what she needed but the story goes on.
I would recommend this book to anyone!
About The Author
Dete Merseve
Good Sam is Meserve’s debut novel. When she’s not writing, Dete serves as president of Wind Dancer Films, a film development, finance and production company based in Los Angeles and New York. The company has created such television hits as “Roseanne” and “Home Improvement” along with George Lopez' latest series, “Saint George” on FX. In addition, the company has developed and produced successful features such as What Women Want, the award-winning comedy Bernie starring Jack Black and Academy Award winner Matthew McConaughey, among many other films. Meserve is also actively developing two animated television series, “Jet Propulsion” with Craig Bartlett (creator of “Hey Arnold”) and Antoinette Portis' award-winning book, “Not A Box.” Dete lives in Los Angeles with her husband, three children and a cat that rules them all.
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Extreme Excerpt
Chapter Seven
Eric moved in water like most of us wished we moved on land. Smooth, graceful, seemingly effortless. His strong arms sliced through the water with rhythmic precision, in perfect synchrony with his legs and torso, so it appeared as if he only had to stroke the water a few times to get across the pool. It looked completely natural for him, as though swimming had been bred in his genes.
I stood at the shallow end of the Olympic-size pool, my stomach shaking as if someone had dropped a jackhammer inside. I might have looked good in the stylish sapphire swimsuit I’d bought on a whim but never worn, but none of that would matter when Eric saw me flailing around in the water.
I hoped he wasn’t going to do the whole macho-guy thing and try to convince me how “easy” it was going to be to learn to swim. On the other hand, I didn’t want to be coddled like I was a fragile china doll that might break at the sight of the deep end.
As I watched him glide through the water toward me—oblivious for the moment that I was even there yet—I considered leaving. I ticked off a list of excuses I could make. “I’m coming down with the flu” might work. “I’ve got an important assignment at work” was certainly true. But before I had a chance to put one of them to use, Eric had reached my end of the pool.
“You made it,” he said, catching his breath.
In one smooth move, he hoisted himself out of the pool and stood next to me.
Wow. I’m glad I didn’t say it out loud, but I know it registered on my face. Know how some guys look terrific when wearing certain clothes? Eric looked fantastic wearing only a pair of black swim trunks. Given his line of work, I knew he was in great shape, but I had not expected the muscled arms and the washboard abs. I struggled to keep my breathing steady.
He wiped the water from his eyes. “Hey,” he said, seemingly unaware of the effect he was having on me. “Ready to get in?” Honestly, I wasn’t sure how I was going to focus on learning how to swim when he looked like that. “Sure,” I said, affecting a breezy tone.
“Meet you at the five-foot marker.”
He jumped back in the water, leaving me standing there. At first I wasn’t sure why he wasn’t waiting for me to get into the water, and then I realized he probably figured I’d be less nervous if I could control how and when I got in.
I stepped down the ladder into the water, momentarily shocked by its coolness. On the third rung, I stopped. This was my first time in any large body of water since the accident. The water was only at the level of my belly button, but panic rose in my throat. My legs felt wobbly and weak and my fingertips tingled. I closed my eyes to regain my focus, but all I could see was the endless ocean swelling above me.
Water is water. It may be part of the ocean and filled with salt, or it may be filtered and shocked with chlorine in a swimming pool. Even so, all water is the same, and I knew it was still waiting for a chance to grab me again, to finish what it started. Was I crazy for giving it a second chance?
I couldn’t stand there indefinitely, even though I wanted to, so in one jerky motion, I lowered myself into the water. Even in the shallow end, I was covered up to my shoulders. I curled my toes, gripping the bottom of the pool, and slowly moved about, adjusting to the water’s resistance.
Eric swam over to me. “I know you don’t like being in the water,” he said. “But you do look good in it.”
“Not as good as you.” There, I said it. Casual, of course. Like I was just being friendly. But the thoughts that were going through my head and the feelings that were stirring inside me as I stood just a few feet away, alone in the pool with him, were anything but casual.
“Let’s stay here a minute and bounce.”
“Bounce. Really?”
He nodded. “I want you to see that the water wants to hold you up—that’s its nature. No matter what, the water has no problem lifting you.”
“Or drowning me,” I grumbled.
“Not going to happen on my watch. If I can pull a boy out of thirty-mile-an-hour white water in the pouring rain, I think I can pull you out of an empty swimming pool.”
He had a point.
At first I felt ridiculous bobbing in and out of the water like a kid on a pogo stick. But then Eric started bouncing too and splashing a little water at me with a silly grin on his face. And when I splashed back, I forgot how stupid I must have looked.
“When you’re ready,” he said, “get in a little deeper.”
I crept a little closer to the deep end and felt the pool slope beneath my feet. The water was higher against my body, so when I bounced it rose to the V of my neck. I felt wobbly, certain my feet would lose their grip on the slope and I’d slide helplessly into the water’s clutches.
Eric reached out and took my hands, and I was no longer aware of the depth but how close our bodies were in the water, how little we both were wearing, how warm his hands felt.
“When you’re in the water, move as it moves. Allow yourself to be shaped by it.”
I couldn’t imagine allowing myself to be shaped by the water—not without it choking the life out of me. But the way he was looking at me, I knew I had to try.
“Let’s try and float on your back.” His hand was on the small of my back as I slowly leaned back into the water. I braced for the inevitable moment when the water would pull me under. I was brazenly provoking it, tempting it to try to claim me again.
But as I floated on the water, instead of fear I felt oddly calm. Eric released his hand from my back and allowed me to float a little on my own. I relaxed into the water, inviting it to cradle me. And it did.
I stayed there for probably only thirty seconds, but it seemed longer. Eric was grinning, deeply now, and looking at me as though I were swimming the English Channel. “In a week you’ll be doing laps,” he predicted.
“Doubt that.”
He swam back deeper into the water and pulled me with him. For an instant I glided through the water, pulled deeper into it by his strong arms. Then his big hands were on my waist, pulling me to him, until our bodies touched, then met. He wrapped one arm around my waist, holding me tightly to him, while he treaded water with the other.
Every cell of my body was tuned to him—the warmth of his skin through my swimsuit, the feel of his body gently swaying with mine in the water, and the possibilities if either of us moved our bodies a fraction of an inch. He pressed his lips to mine in a kiss that sent a ray of warmth through my chilled body.
In that moment the surface of the water looked different. Weaker perhaps. Less able to stake its claim on me again. Less.
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