Just Like a Man
Chapter One
"I guess you're all wondering why I
called you here today."
The minute the words were out of her mouth, Hannah Frost regretted them. She was the overworked,
overextended, overdressed, but egregiously underpaid -- not
that she was bitter or anything -- director of a tony private
school in Indianapolis, not a fez-wearing, hookah-puffing
nightclub owner in a Howard Hawks film noire. In place of
exotic Moroccan attire, she sported a classic -- meaning
she'd owned it for more than a decade -- dove-gray Ralph
Lauren suit and crisp white silk blouse, her only accessory
discreet pearl earrings. And a fez would have wreaked havoc
on the fawn-colored hair she'd cinched into a flawless
French twist that morning.
She did, after all, have a position as an overworked,
overextended, overdressed, but egregiously underpaid --
not that she was bitter or anything -- director of a tony private
school in Indianapolis to uphold. Not to mention
scores of trophy wife/mothers to compete with. And the
mothers -- Hannah hesitated to call them moms -- of the
Emerson Academy were fashionistas out the wazoo. To put
it in less-than-academic terms. To put it in even less academic
terms, Sidney Greenstreet and Humphrey Bogart woul ... read full excerpt from: Just Like a Man ebook
