Board Games by Piken Sander

Piken Sander lives among sprawling oak and aspen in Northern California to where she escaped from colder climes many years hence. Her randy Auntie asked her to ‘tell her a story’, demanding that there be strong women and steamy passion, and this began the writings of Piken as she crafted stories of girl meets boy, girl and boy go through the torture of life and beyond, with at the very least hopeful endings. When her Auntie passed, she left her niece a one-sentence note in her will: “Now publish the damn things.” Piken’s day consists of writing and social media, and such difficult decisions as which of her dizzying array of wildly colorful pajamas she should wear on a given day. She loves a perfectly steeped cup of good tea. She has few she calls friends, but those in this cadre are cherished and fostered. A political liberal since preteens, she tolerates no racism or bigotry or inequality of any kind, especially in her stories.

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About the Book

At forty-five, striking Carol Blake has it all: a Chicago corporation she built from the ground up on the verge of international success with a complicated merger, and Brian Cross, who at thirty is the youngest Board member of her company. Against her better judgment, she and Brian fall in love and secretly marry. Marriage is not without its ups and downs, but as the merger grows closer to fruition, Carol’s Board of Directors, including Brian, undercut her to wrest control of her company from her. Betrayed and enraged, Carol, must regain control…but is it too late?

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Keep reading for an excerpt:

“There’s no room for sissies in a merger.” Carol Blake smoothed back her dark hair and stacked all the papers spread across the large oval table in front her. “In or out, kiddies, I need to know right now.” She considered the dozen startled faces around the conference table with her sparkling green eyes. Each head nodded in turn. “Good.” She stuffed the papers into her briefcase. “Go home. Eat a good dinner and get a full night’s sleep. It’ll be the last of both for a while. We’re going to do this in under a year.” Carol slung the leather strap of the briefcase over her shoulder and pushed open the double glass doors of the conference room to stride into the hall.

James cleared his throat. “I expect they’ll name the third hurricane in this season after her?” The dozen heads nodded one more time, and each began the task of loading briefcases with all the color-coded folders she had spread on the table in front of each.

She smiled at the thought of Hurricane Carol, then frowned at the storm analogy as she continued down the hall toward the bank of elevators. Carol reached for the door handle of her new Jaguar and looked around at a familiar voice.

“Home for that meal and sleep?” Brian asked.

“I had mine last night,” Carol replied, flipping her keys. “Never forget, little boy, I’m always way ahead of everyone around me.” She slid in behind the wheel and started the engine. She smiled up at the tall man and put the car in gear.