Book Description

When Harmony Jane Jones loses her cat, her car, her job and her boyfriend, all within the space of a week, she does what any twenty-something woman would do-she runs away and joins the circus. With finesse rather than a whip, Harmony takes charge of her life, finds a new career and possibly the man of her dreams. Excerpt: "Sorry, professional habit. Name, what's your name?" "Harmony Jane Jones." He was quiet for so long, I thought he'd hung up. "Are you shitting me?" "No, unfortunately I'm not." I silently cursed my parents for my weird name, again. "Okay, kiddo. I'll see you at one." "Wait! What's your name? How will I know you?" But already dead air filled my ear. Well, he sounded very tall, and with that deep masculine voice, probably handsome. My nerves jangled at the thought of meeting the man. I used the rest of the morning to take a bath, paint my nails a ladylike pale coral, do hair, makeup and then took an hour to pick out the perfect outfit. That posed a problem. Just what did one wear to impress the owner of a circus? Pale white make up? Big red shoes? I needed help, but all my friends were working and I hadn't yet told my mother about my temporary unemployment situation. She'd had to bail me out of too many sticky situations, so I wanted to try and find a job and save her the worry. I finally settled on a classy periwinkle Donna Karan suit I'd picked up at Nordstrom's Rack two years ago. The trolley took me to within a block of the office building and got me there fifteen minutes early. I found the place with no trouble, pulled back my shoulders, slapped a smile on my face and marched into the office. The outer lobby was empty, so I poked my head into the only open doorway. "Hello? Anyone here?" "Take a seat, I dropped my friggin' pencil. Ah, here it is." A head popped up from behind the desk, but not too far. The man's chin was even with the desktop. Bushy eyebrows squatted above eyes the color of soot. He had a fat cigar clenched in the corner of his mouth and a pencil stuck behind his ear. The cigar smelled like burning tires. My eyes started to tear and I only hoped my black mascara wouldn't run. "Well, you certainly ain't the fat lady so you must be Tranquility." With a whoosh he plopped into the swivel chair behind the desk and I realized he wasn't going to get any taller. He was a dwarf, midget, sheesh, what was the politically correct term anyhow? Oh, right, little person. Well, this was a circus, after all. "Actually it's Harmony, Harmony Jones." "Yeah, yeah, whatever." He twisted his head to look up at me. "You're a big one, ain't ya? Take a seat, sweetie and let's palaver." "I'm sorry; I didn't catch your name." "That's 'cause I didn't throw it." His cackle pounded against my eardrums. "The name's Zander." "Is Zander your last name or your first name?" "Yes." The corners of his mouth turned up in a wicked grin and he wiggled his big ears at me. I decided to ignore him and stop his fun right away. I wobbled across the room on my four-inch heels and sat in the leather chair opposite him. It made a farting noise when I landed. I hid my embarrassment by pawing through my purse and pulling out my resume. "Now, Zander, as you can see . . . ." He waved away my resume with short, stubby fingers. "Don't matter. You're a good-looking gal, seem smart enough, so if you want it, the job is yours." Alarm bells clanked in my head. This was too easy, way too easy. I opened my mouth to decline then I remembered I had to pay my rent by the end of the week, my car payment, insurance, credit card and cell phone bills were sitting unopened on my desk. Before I had a chance to ask questions, Zander mentioned the salary and hooked me.