Andrea never thought sheâd live in a camp trailer or work outdoors in inhospitable climates; but eager to leave the stress and tedium of grad-school behind, she sets off with her estranged grandpa, Buck, to build a pipeline through the rugged mountains of West Virginia. Sheâs determined to understand the man and the family divide that drove him away. Once the job starts, she forms an unlikely friendship with Nick, the rough and tumble foreman of the bending crew. Most of the guys arenât willing to accept her, and Rooster, the handsome, cocky, tie-in foreman, is determined that sheâs a ridiculous distraction.
But building a pipeline is fraught with danger, fatigue, and confrontation as egos collide. Caught up in the all-male social microcosm, Andrea canât help but understand the pecking order, and sheâs at the bottom. Being a woman makes it even more unlikely sheâll be accepted. Buck proves to be a taskmaster, but a kindhearted teddy-bear of a man under a gruff exterior, and Andrea comes to love him, opening herself up to the pain of his past.
Rooster and Andrea are drawn to each other, yet they know an on-the-job romance will only cause problems. Rooster is tormented by his own past, and determined to prove himself to Buck, a pipeline ledged. Messing with the old manâs granddaughter is a line Rooster refuses to cross. But as Andrea shows herself to be a hard worker and a valuable member of the crew, she earns Roosterâs respect and he canât keep his distance. It seems the couple canât go back, they canât move forward, and they canât let go. Both will have to make sacrifices and take a chance on ruining their credibility in order to be together.
More than any time in recorded history, women are choosing to work in male dominated fields. Every day you come across a woman truck driver, firefighter, or pharmacist. And even though itâs become commonplace, many fields stick with their traditional titles such as policeman, draftsman, and even garbage man. Given this plus the infamous glass ceiling, why would a woman choose to spend their entire career fighting an uphill battle? There are a million reasons, but overwhelmingly, the answer I find is âbecause I want toâ or âbecause the job appealed to me,â or âMy dad and grandpa did it, why shouldnât I?â
When was the idea planted for women to take the jobs they wanted, even if they were traditionally considered only suitable for men? Some would say with Eve, but both folklore and history are filled with women who not only worked at the jobs they pleased, they ruled societies: Joan of Ark and Cleopatra, to name a few. In Victorian times, women who wrote were forced to use a male pen name or work without recognition. But the women of my grandmotherâs generation were forced to work at jobs considered appropriate only for men during world war II. They worked everywhere from factories to the fields. Sadly, after a taste of the liberation a paycheck affords a person, these women were expected to quietly step back into the kitchen once the men came home.
My motherâs generation, were blessed with not only their motherâs experiences, but all manner of modern conveniences which allowed them to clean and cook and generally care for their families in a fraction of the time it took their mothers. Many of these women took it upon themselves to âhave it allâ and step out into the working world, and not just as nurses and schoolteachers. Their bravery gave the women of my generation the encouragement and conviction that we too could plan a career. However, we quickly learned that we couldnât be super mom and have a demanding and time consuming career without a shift in attitude, and this shift had to come from the men. The change had to happen not just because of the aforesaid glass ceiling on the job, but because we needed help at home.
Do I think only women who work have value, and somehow women who donât work away from home are lesser somehow? Of course not! In my lifetime I have been a stay at home mom, a sick in bed mom, a full time student mom, an employed full time mom, and a retired mom. All of those words we put on women are pointless when you realize that we are in this together, and we should be supportive and understanding, no matter what roll you chose.
âSo, take a moment this summer to grab a copy of Love on the Line. Then curl up in a corner with a cup of coffee and prepare yourself for a heartwarming story filled with feminine strength, challenge, bravery, friendship, and romance.
Hunching her shoulders, she clutched at the ends of her shirtsleeves, gripping them over her fingers like a cocoon. It was too warm for her heavy coat, but down right chilly without it. Much like this whole idea had been, she scoffed to herself: too good to pass up, and too outrageous to accept. But here she was.
âYou take them papers on over to the man behind the desk,â Grandpa Buck instructed, pointing toward the office manager.
She peered up at the tall thin man whoâd brought her to the mountains of West Virginia, and her motherâs words rang in her mind for the umpteenth time. âHeâs no good Andrea, you canât depend on him.â But then her mother had many opinions, and the woman made sure everyone within earshot knew exactly what she thought.
Buck nudged her with his elbow and pointed again at the desk.
With a silent nod, Andy put her thoughts aside, collected the stack of papers from the table, and headed across the room. Careful to avoid eye contact, she shouldered past the men gathered around the heater, wishing she had the confidence to join them and soak up some warmth.
At the front of the office trailer, she turned the employment forms on end and bumped the bottom of the stack on the counter to even them up. The thump of the papers sounded like a gunshot in the hushed room and she stifled the reflex to flinch.
The man behind the counter didnât turn from his computer, so Andy placed the paperwork on the dusty worktop and waited, trying not to fidget.
Moments stretched out, long and quiet but for the humming buzz of the heater. Someone cleared his throat. The stares of the men bored into her back, making the silence surpass the discomfort of the cold. She scoffed at her situation, struggling to conquer the near hysteria rising in the pit of her stomach. For the first time in her life she had everyoneâs attention, and she flat out wished she were invisible. Buck had warned her that there wouldnât be many women on the pipeline, but in her mind, not many meant sheâd be one of a few, not the only one.
âDonât mind em starinâ,â Buck had advised in his typical brusque manner. âTheyâll get used to ya soon enough.â The bigger question was, would she get used to them?
âFor heaven sakes,â she huffed under her breath. Considering her oversized clothes and heavy insulated coveralls, she probably looked more like the Pillsbury doughboy than a woman anyway. She tossed a self-conscious glance downward. Admittedly, sheâd had to extend the straps of her coveralls all the way out in order to stretch across her more than ample chest, but it wasnât like she was wearing a bikini.
The heater clicked and whirred, and the smell of burnt coffee wafted across the room. Boots shuffled on the dirty floor behind her. Unable to stand still, Andy turned to glance at the clock on the wall. The men behind her jumped, feet scuffing, all eyes averted to the ceiling or their hands, anywhere but on her.
Pretending not to notice, she turned back toward the counter. Her aunt June once said âLarge bosomed women will rule the world!â but Andy couldnât see how that could happen when most folks just stared at the straining buttons on the front of her shirt and--
âYou got this paperwork finished?â the office manager asked, pulling the stack of papers toward him.
Jumping in her skin, she glanced up to make eye contact with the man. âI... yes.â Sheâd have to pay better attention. She knew when she was nervous her thoughts tended to jump around like a lunatic monkey. She had to keep a handle on that.
The man behind the counter regarded her momentarily over his reading glasses, reminding Andy of her father. The thought was followed directly by a sharp pang of homesickness. But the man leafed through the sheaf of papers, oblivious of her pained expression, so she sucked in a deep breath, resolved to stay on task.
With a sniff he affixed a paperclip to the stack, then turned to toss them on the growing pile of forms on his desk. He puffed out a sigh and met her eye with one brow raised in speculation. âI take it youâll need PPE?â
Andyâs thoughts spun through the million bits of pipeline information sheâd managed to extract from Buck over the last twenty-four hours. Several snickers bounced through the group behind her as she floundered.
Squaring her shoulders, she pushed forward. âMore than likely...â
âCome on,â the office manager replied, motioning for her to follow.
At the end of the narrow counter stood a haphazard stack of cardboard boxes
filled with hard hats and safety vests. He pointed at the gear. âTake one of each and sign the form on the clipboard.â
âPersonal Protective Equipment,â She mumbled, irritated that the acronym had slipped her mind. âThanks.â
The office manager returned to his computer and Andy bent to select a white hard hat with its accompanying bag of parts, and a cellophane wrapped pair of dark tinted safety glasses. One glance at the box containing bright yellow vests and she sighed. Not that she minded the color, safety yellow made her look tan, it was the lack of gear anywhere near her size that gave her pause. Outdoor work clothes for small busty women were in short supply, evidently. Even the cursed steel-toed boots had been hard to find in her size.
Balancing her new hardhat on the counter, she placed her safety glasses inside the hat and bent with a grunt to kneel in the cramped space by the boxes. Cussing the layers of clothing hampering her movement, she searched in vain for a vest that was any size other than a manâs extra large. Finally she gave up and snatched up a vest, scribbled her signature on the pad, then collected her hat and glasses and turned back toward the crowded room. It was impossible not to notice that the other menâs vests were dingy from multiple washes, as well as smudged with mud smears and splatters. Hers practically glowed in the dark by comparison. Iâll stand out like scarecrow, she thought in disgust. One thing was certain though; the vest would fit around her chest without any problem.
About the time she shrugged into the huge vest, trying it on for size and finding that it hung well past her hips, the door of the office opened, pushing in a blast of frigid air that sucked Andyâs breath away. She jumped at the shock, knocking her safety glasses to the floor. With a shudder she bent to pick them up.
âRooster!â the workers cheered, hands raised in greeting.
A man leaned into the wind to close the door, then nodded a hello to the group. Andy peered around the base of the counter at the new arrival, her fingers frozen in mid air as they reached for her forgotten glasses.
At first, the man referred to as Rooster looked much like the others in the group,
but when he turned from the door Andy was shocked to find him younger and far more attractive than the typical middle-aged, paunchy, laborer. He wore a heavy-duty work coat over a flannel shirt, and his tinted safety glasses were perched on the brim of his ball cap.
Like most men in the room, the skin around his eyes was two shades lighter than the rest of his face, resembling a reversed raccoon. Unlike the others, his dark beard was neatly trimmed. He carried a hard hat covered in stickers tucked under one arm.
âHowâs your mom-an-âem?â a giant, red-faced worker standing near the door bellowed as he thumped the younger man on the shoulder.
âTiny,â Rooster grinned, extending his hand. âTheyâre well, thanks, and your family?â
The big man beamed as he pumped Roosterâs hand up and down. âOrnery as ever, Iâd expect.â
Rooster nodded and turned away to scan the crowd, taking in the crew with nods of recognition. Andy couldnât help but note that his gaze lurched to a halt on her Grandpa Buck.
She stood, partially hidden by the end of the counter and shrugged out of the vest. She wasnât necessarily great at reading people, but she noticed something change in the younger manâs expression when he spotted Buck. What was it, wariness maybe?
At least the arrival of Rooster seemed to have shifted the menâs attention away from her.
With purposeful strides, Rooster headed across the crowded room, calling out greetings along the way. A relaxed mood filtered through the group as he passed, and the men now talked amongst themselves, raising the noise level in the small trailer to a dull roar.
Rooster met Buck with a handshake. Andy couldnât hear what was said, but it didnât appear to be much more than an introduction, then Buck turned to the crew. âMen,â he hollered over the din, âLetâs head on into training.â
Laughter and joking subsided as the group shifted their hats and cold weather gear, feet shuffling, to plod toward the little room at the back of the trailer. Andy collected her hat and glasses and brought up the rear, thinking perhaps she could slip into a seat in the back without drawing much attention. Unfortunately, those seats had been filled first and the only remaining chair was in the front of the room.
As she stood in the doorway watching the men settle onto the folding chairs, she contemplated the best route to the few empty seats at the far end of the front row. Through the mutters and scuffles of the chairs on the floor, Andy became aware that the stares of the men fell on her once again. In every eye was a question, a taunt, or a glimmer that left her feeling... inadequate. Most of their eyes eventually landed directly on her chest, as if they expected the extended straps of her coveralls to give out at any moment.
This was not what sheâd envisioned at all. Sheâd come here to work, and work she would. But a niggling sensation in her stomach reminded her otherwise. This job was far more than a way to earn money. It was the chance to escape. Her gaze lit on Buck and held there. The opportunity to spend time with her grandfather had been part of it too. The man was a mystery to her.
Granted, she didnât have any idea what building a pipeline would be like, but standing out in a crowd had never been comfortable for her. She figured she would just be another worker, not a spectacle.
The silence in the room grew uncomfortable prompting Andy to once again contemplate how to get past the men to the chair in the corner. Squaring her shoulders, she swallowed hard and gathered all the courage she could muster.
Momentarily she contemplated turning to run, but her fatherâs earnest goodbye advice came to mind. âYouâll do fine, Honey, just keep your chin up.â
Resolute, she stepped forward, but when she reached the front row her heart fell further. As the men settled into their seats, most had crossed one muddy boot over the other knee, making it impossible for her to pass. How had four years of college and reading hundreds of books about people in life threatening situations, left her unprepared her for this? Was it so hard to get to a chair? None of the women in her novels had struggled with such trivial problems.
The worker she recognized as Tiny sat at the end of the row. His bearded chin lifted and he peered up at her in question, as if he had no clue what on earth she could possibly want from him. Then his face flushed even redder than before as he realized she needed him to move. He jolted to his feet, causing the hard hat in his lap to clatter on the floor and roll in a circle.
âSorry maâam,â he muttered as he maneuvered to let her pass.
The men in the room snorted and chuckled.
One at a time, the workers stood to let her move past. Making a quick choice, she
decided to face the men chest to chest, as she passed. She couldnât imagine trying to pass each one with her hinny toward them, but she immediately doubted her decision. Some of the guys stared her hard in the eye as she shuffled by, others nodded solemnly then looked away. In the close quarters, her chest barely cleared theirs, and she leaned back in an effort to avoid contact. One worker jeered at her openly, disrespect obvious on his scruffy face as he glanced from her face to her chest and back. Mumbles rumbled through the room, and as she turned to sit, Andyâs gaze snagged on Rooster scowling at her from the third row.
Once again her motherâs voice rang in the back of her mind. âStay home where you belong. Youâll love grad school, just be patient. No need to go running off half- cocked.â
Setting her jaw, she turned to the front. Half-cocked indeed, she thought. What have I done? Besides break my motherâs heart, that is. Back home, at least I knew where I stood. Well, most of the time anyway...
A fifty-ish woman entered and bustled to the front of the class. âGood morning,â she called out, brushing her greying bangs out of her eyes. Although she wore jeans and a t-shirt like the other men, hers were too tight, outlining every ample curve, panty line, and bulge. Her attire was also far too clean to have seen much action outdoors. Her clothing somehow resembled a costume, an effort to dress up like a pipeliner rather than actually be one.
Like she had room to talk, Andy admonished herself.
The woman readjusted her paperwork, all the while her eyes scanning the group of men. When her gaze lit on Andy she froze in shock, causing the men to snicker. The woman recovered, did one more double take in Andyâs direction, then perched reading glasses on the end of her nose and cleared her throat. âLetâs begin...Iâm Molly, the safety coordinator. â
Glancing from man to man, Andy remembered what Buck had told her that morning. âAll the workers are required to take a safety class at the start of a job.â
The gruff old man hadnât offered an opinion about Molly one way or the other, but Andy got the distinct impression that the men in the room had little respect for the safety lady or the information she shared. It was obvious to her that the men didnât care for Molly. The way one man adjusted his hat lower over his eyes, and another picked at dirt on his jeans, told her they were neither interested nor engaged. Saddened, Andy wondered if it was because Molly was a woman, or if they felt demeaned by being required to attend the training over and over. Or both.
As Molly droned on and on about procedure, Andy struggled to pay attention. She expected the information Molly shared to help her prepare for the work ahead, but even with her limited knowledge of the job, the safety topics covered seemed ridiculously basic: drug-testing policy, no weapons on the job site, no fighting. In an attempt to stay awake, Andy turned to glance over her shoulder at Buck. He sat in the back row, slumped down in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, with his safety glasses on and his hat brim pulled low. The old man was catching a nap, she realized. They had certainly got up far too early that morning. After yesterdayâs tearful airport goodbyes, and hours of travel, she was exhausted as well as stuck in the wrong time zone. And even though her bed had been comfortable enough, sheâd been so nervous she hadnât slept.
She always had trouble sleeping when she started something new, like the first day of grad school. Then again she more than likely hadnât slept then because she dreaded it rather than--
Molly thumped her binder closed, signaling the end of class, and Andyâs head whipped up to attention. The older woman passed a stack of palm size papers to Tiny. He took one and passed the stack along. When they came to Andy she took one, then handed the rest to the man behind her. Curious, she turned the paper over and realized it was a safety sticker for attending the class. Unsure what to do with it, she stood to survey the noisy crowd, dreading the journey back to the door. The man behind her peeled the back off his sticker and pressed it onto his grimy hard hat.
âSo thatâs where the stickers come from...â she muttered holding up her yet-to- be-assembled hat, wondering if there was a specific location for the sticker.
Molly pressed her way past the crowd of men to Andyâs side, her eyes bright with excitement. âOh my!â she said loudly as she pursued Andy from head to foot. âDonât you look cute!â
Andy stiffened. She didnât need any help appearing different in front of the men. She cocked her head to one side, her sharp gaze taking in every aspect of the safety woman, but it was difficult to assess much past Mollyâs floral perfume. The fumes were overpowering to the point of making Andyâs eyes water.
âI didnât know they made Carhart coveralls so small,â Molly gushed, âWhere ever did you find those?â
âAt the store.â Andy replied, taking a step back to disengage the woman. âWell, theyâre absolutely adorable...â
Adorable? Insulated coveralls? With an irritated shrug, Andy tried to sidestep
around Molly and follow the other workers, but the older woman grabbed her arm.
âIâm glad to see you here,â Molly continued, her expression serious. âUs girls need to stick together.â
Buck had offered Andy only one bit of advice that morning, and it had been short
and simple. âDonât let nobody push you around out there.â Molly may be the only other woman on the job so far, but Andy had no intention of being cowed on day one, so she offered a grimace of a smile and tugged her arm from the older womanâs grasp. She may need to gain allies, but something told her that this woman wasnât the place to start.
Back in the front office, Andy spotted Buck near the heater, surrounded by men. She wandered to the edge of the group, picking up scraps of the conversation. From the corner of her eye she spotted Buckâs hardhat on the table alongside his stack of site plans and clipboard filled with paperwork. She could see small safety stickers randomly stuck on his hat, so she stuffed her safety glasses into her overall pocket, then tucked her hard hat shell under one arm and cautiously peeled the sticker off itâs backing.
Careful not to wrinkle the thing, she retrieved her hat, turning it this way and that as she looked for a good spot. As she assessed the hat, the plastic bag containing the inner workings fell on the floor.
Embarrassed, she attached the sticker on what she hoped was the front, then tipped the hat over to look inside. Having never held a hardhat, she had no way to know it would be just a blank plastic bowl. She bent to collect the bag of parts consisting of a crisscross assembly with a nob on one side. Obviously the items in the bag fit on the inside of the shell to keep the thing on her head.
The workers paid her no attention as they stood talking and joking amongst themselves, so Andy sidled closer to the table and lifted her grandfatherâs hat for a peek inside. Sure enough, the crisscross part fit into slots on the inside of the shell.
Sheâd never been much good at working puzzles under pressure. Left to her own devices she could figure things out, but she hated looking like a fool. And unfortunately, this job was prime territory to look clueless. Which she definitely was. The last time sheâd felt this insecure was back in her Human physiology class and the professor had--
The door slammed, bringing her back to reality with a jolt. Quickly she replaced Buckâs hat on the table and side stepped, attempting to appear nonchalant as she inserted the assembly into her hat. How difficult could it be to put together a hard hat after all? As luck would have it, more difficult than she thought. The tabs didnât line up with the slots.
âYou have it backwards.â
Andy glanced up to find Rooster at her shoulder, and did a double take in surprise. He was even more handsome and imposing up close. Sheâd always been small for her age, even full grown she was only five foot two. Next to Roosterâs six foot three, she felt at a disadvantage. She hated feeling this way and it was sadly becoming the norm.
His sky blue eyes assessed her in a penetrating manner.
She turned the hat in her hands. Sure enough, the slots matched up, but with Rooster glaring over her shoulder, her hands trembled. The tabs on the headpiece should have slid into the notches, but for whatever reason they didnât fit.
She glanced up at Rooster in question and he nodded, confirming that she had it right, so she tried again. Using both thumbs she pressed harder on the plastic. Nothing happened. She gritted her teeth and braced the hardhat against her stomach. Still no luck, damn it all!
âGive it here,â Rooster huffed as he snatched the hat away. With little effort he snapped the plastic lining into the hat and pushed it back at Andy. He didnât say anything as he walked away, but his opinion of her was clear. Pure disgust.
Andy watched his retreating back as he made his way through the crowd to the door. For the hundredth time that morning she wondered what on earth sheâd been thinking to come here.
âYou ready?â Buck asked at her elbow, bringing her back to the present. Then without waiting for a reply, he turned away.
One of the workers tossed a curious glance her way and she offered a limp grin. The man turned away to mutter something about her to his coworker. Two more men turned to stare at her over their shoulder. That familiar sick feeling sheâd first experienced on the plane crept back into her stomach. Her shoulders slumped.
âGet your coat, Iâll meet you at the truck.â Buck tossed over his shoulder.
Thatâs how the old man operated, she supposed. Heâd issue a command then walk
away. Maybe her mother was right about him. With a resigned glance toward the door, she collected her coat from the back of a chair, and hurried to follow her grandfather.
The men trudged out of the office, leaving the door wide open to bang in the wind against the side of the trailer. Frigid air poured in, motivating Andy to shrug into the heavy coat. Zipping the bulky thing, however, was no easy task as she juggled her hardhat and vest and wove through the crowd of men.
On the wooden steps of the trailer she squinted across the yard into the sunrise. With the freezing wind pulling at her hair and burning her cheeks, she plopped the hard hat on her head and hunched down into the collar of her coat. The glare of sun off the snow-covered ground was blinding, so with icy fingers she pulled the safety glasses from her pocket and fumbled with the plastic wrapper.
When theyâd arrived at the yard at just after five that morning, it had still been dark, but sheâd been aware of a few men loading trucks. Now, with her tinted safety glasses on, she paused in shock at the hubbub spread before her.
The yard consisted of a huge, four-acres wide dirt patch, with trailers spread along one side and pieces and parts of long three-foot diameter pipe organized in several rows at the other end. Two inches of fresh snow had fallen the night before, but was now churned into a muddy path of tire tracks made by a multitude of large trucks and assorted vehicles, most still parked, back-end first, against the fence line.
Andy moved to one side of the steps and tugged her gloves from her coat pocket. Continuing to gawk, she pulled them on.
A strange configuration of semi truck trailers near the office caught her attention. One trailer was pulled in endwise with the hinged back doors open and a deck built across them for access. Inside the trailer she could see what looked like a well lit and heated office, but one entire inside wall of the trailer also contained three roll up doors, with more trailers pulled up to the openings endwise, like a giant letter E. The configuration was a brilliant way to bring in a warehouse full of supplies, she supposed in fascination.
A large tank of some kind was situated at the other side of the yard, with trucks lined up near it. In shock, she realized the men pumped gas from the tank. Werenât there regulations against pumping gas outside of a gas station? Men she recognized from the class hustled in all directions, loading supplies into pickups, and onto flat bed trucks. Some of the gear she didnât recognize, but amid the materials she saw ladders, chains, ropes, hoses, shovels, and cases of bottled water. Two men jostled what appeared to be a heavy roll of black plastic onto one truck. Workers stood in groups of two or three, smoking, laughing and talking as they hunched into their coats in the wind.
She noticed several of the men turn to stare at her, and the ripple effect spread across the yard, all eyes on her, as their conversation died. One man smirked and elbowed another and a worker whistled a sexy call.
A lump formed in Andyâs throat, and her cheeks burned with heat, even through the cold. The men ranged in age and body type, all wearing jeans and heavy coats, ball caps or hard hats, tinted safety glasses, and most had a beard or goatee. And every last one of them stared at her.
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Love the cover design!
ReplyDeleteLove the cover. Excerpt sounds intriguing!
ReplyDeleteSounds like a great YA read.
ReplyDeleteI love the cover and enjoyed the excerpt!
ReplyDelete"Love on the Line" sounds like an amazing story of a very strong & gorgeous woman!
ReplyDeleteI enjoyed the excerpt and the book sounds like a great read.
ReplyDeleteThis sounds really interesting
ReplyDeleteLove the cover, synopsis and excerpt, this is a must read for me. Thank you for sharing the book and author details
ReplyDeleteGreat cover! Love seeing females in male dominated jobs!
ReplyDeleteSounds like a good read
ReplyDeleteNeat cover. I like it! Hard hats are cool.
ReplyDeleteSounds really great
ReplyDeleteI really love the description and cover. This sounds like such a good book!
ReplyDeleteAs a pipeline veteran I'm glad to see the subject getting some love.
ReplyDeletesounds interesting
ReplyDeleteI love books with strong female characters. Thanks for sharing it.
ReplyDeleteLiked the excerpt.
ReplyDeleteSounds like a good read!
ReplyDeleteThe story line looks quite similar to "Armageddon"
ReplyDeleteKirsten Fullmer is one of my favorite authors. I don't think she has ever written a bad book.
ReplyDeleteI really like to cover of your book! It looks amazing and definitely sounds very interesting! Thank you so much for the chance!
ReplyDeletethis cover looks fantastic!
ReplyDeleteSounds good.
ReplyDeleteI enjoyed the excerpt. Adding this to my TBR list.
ReplyDeleteShe has a job mostly in a male dominated career path. This sounds like a unique story.
ReplyDeleteGirls Rule!
ReplyDeleteThis chick on the cover looks bad ass
ReplyDeleteit is nice
ReplyDeleteThis sounds so good!
ReplyDeleteI love everything about this from the cover to the concept. I was essentially raised "helping" my dad in the garage and learning auto repair as I grew up. It was my career until I too developed health issues that forced me to stop working. I dealt with my fair share of men who doubted my abilities. I can't wait to read this and see what else she's written. Strong female characters are always my favorites but ones that actually work in a traditional male field is even better. My grandma was the only female firefighter in our town and my mom can do anything my dad can do even though she chose a different career path. I consider myself very lucky to have been raised by strong women and open minded men. (If only they taught me not to ramble). 10/10 on the cover and summary.
ReplyDeleteIt sounds like a great read.
ReplyDeleteThe book sounds like a very interesting read.
ReplyDeleteIf I saw this book cover sitting on a book store shelf, it would catch my eye and I'd pick it up to find out more about it.
ReplyDelete