Right Here on the Benz

Harvey Schull is the kind of man who fills a candy dish nobody touches-steady, generous, and quietly devoted to a woman who has spent their entire marriage collecting what he gives while giving nothing back. He built his soda distribution business with his own hands, drives good numbers every year, and has one dream left: parking a red Mercedes in the driveway with a bow on the hood. Georgiana has a different set of dreams-and a standing appointment in a secluded Palisades parking lot, her mink coat spread across whatever hood is available that afternoon.
Beautiful, disciplined, and constitutionally unable to consider anyone's needs but her own, she moves through her marriage the way a woman walks through a store she doesn't own: taking what she wants, leaving the bill for someone else. When Harvey's business begins to unravel, he tells no one-not his accountant, not his adult children, not the woman he has loved for eighteen years without ever quite reaching.
He manages, patches, and protects, all the way to the end. The insurance policy in the manila folder labeled POLICY has been in place for twenty-six months. He has done the math. RIGHT HERE ON THE BENZ is a tightly wound romance novella about desire, self-absorption, and the particular price of a life built on someone else's love. It ends in a Palisades parking lot on a warm March Thursday, with a repo truck, a cell phone camera, and twelve seconds of unguarded truth that forty thousand strangers will see by morning.
Some women ride in style. Some women pay for the ride. Georgiana never thought she'd be the one standing in the lot.