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"The Sexy & The Undead"
Charity Parkerson
“There’s not one man in this joint I’d be willing to sleep with.”
Lena’s bright pink hair, which stood out in a spike above her head, tilted from side to side as she did as Tam ordered. Her eyes widened, showing her confusion.
“Are you insane?”
Disbelief laced her words. Lifting one beautifully manicured finger, she pointed out a blond angel guarding a nearby door. “What about that one?” Before Tam could answer, Lena added, “or that one?”
Tam didn’t bother glancing in the redhead’s direction. She knew without looking both men wore matching black kilts and nothing else. Their golden muscular bodies were a common sight in the Heavens.
“Bloody freaking hell, Lena. All these guys are three feet taller than me. What am I supposed to do with them, I ask you? Their,” she made a swirling gesture with her index finger, searching for the right term. “Pricks. Yes,” she said with a nod, deciding she liked that word. “They are probably the size of my leg. I’d be killed.”
A snort of laughter escaped Lena. She covered her mouth as if attempting to hold it in. Tam’s nerve endings lit up at the sound. Most people believe chanting their belief in fairies will cause one to grow strong. In truth, laughter was the key to pixie power. A day with Lena was equivalent to a day at the spa for Tam. Not only was Lena the clumsiest immortal in all the realms, she was also a regular hoot.
Feeling encouraged, she grew even more outrageous. “Take him, for example.” Tam nodded toward a dark-haired angel who stood a few inches taller than the rest. “Notice how his kilt falls to his shins instead of his knees,” she pointed out.
Lena nodded. “I did think it was odd, but then again, what isn’t here?”
It was Tam’s turn to snort. “Well, his is not a fashion statement. I heard he tried wearing the standard uniform when he first arrived, but everyone got sick of seeing his huge one-eyed monster slapping his kneecaps every step he took. Mistress Katrina finally made him wear a longer one.”
Lena openly gawked at the man in question. Leaning over in her chair, she tried to peek under his pleat before losing her balance, almost landing on her face.
Catching her stare, the man began to inch the plaid upward as if fully prepared to relieve Lena’s curiosity.
http://www.amazon.com/Sexy-Undead-Witches-ebook/dp/B00CLYIMD0/ref=la_B004C4I35E_1_8?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1392729077&sr=1-8
From Curse of the Fae King, by Kryssie Fortune
For once Meena’s skin didn’t tingle as she passed her mother’s protective barriers—the ones that kept otherworld creatures at bay. Instead she did an abrupt double take. Yes, that really is Lipstick grazing his way through our profit margins.
She ran toward him, flapping her arms to attract his attention. “Get out of there, you dumb dragon.”
He roared out a welcome and galloped to her side, but now he stood as tall as a fully grown pony. How fast can one dragon grow? His tail wrapped around her waist, and his forked tongue flicked over her face.
“Down, boy. Stop it. Yecch. You’re worse than an oversize puppy. Did you ditch the jackass Fairy again? Yes, I get that you’re pleased to see me, but have you seen my mum? Come on, let’s get you something to eat; then we’ll see what you’ve done to our herbs.”
The drizzle lightened, but thunder rolled across the moors. Lightning zigzagged through the clouds. Her muscular Fae flashed into the garden, but he was more dominant warrior than passionate lover.
Meena fondled the dragonet’s ear. “Hey, here’s Daddy, come to take you home again. What’s up? Did your dragon ditch you?”
“No, he did not. It’s more like he popped in and out of Whitby like a needle through cloth until he sensed your trail. Apparently my dragon wanted to spend some time with the fascinating, slender creature that fed him cheese sandwiches rather than stay with his rightful owner—the one that feeds him fresh meat.”
*****
Read the opening of Curse of the Fae King here http://kryssiefortune.wix.com/kryssie#!excerpt/c16aoa
Follow me on twitter @Kryssie.fortune
Follow me on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/pages/Kryssie-Fortune-Author-Page/267100286738528
Buy links
http://www.loose-id.com/curse-of-the-fae-king.html
Or http://tinyurl.com/nka2gx5
Giggles from The Brain Exchange ~ enjoy
If Hal's "voice" sounded sexier, Amana could listen forever but the slight mechanical accent gets on her nerves. Besides, she can read much faster than Hal can talk. Shark-like, she takes a great-white bite out of the slice then settles her sizable shape onto the chair.
Her CP broadcasts a caller. Reverbing over the speakers, her mom's voice, with its precise diction, elocutes across the room.
Damn. What's she got? Some kind of food radar? It seems every time Amana has something in her mouth — Mom is right there — old Janie-on-the-spot.
"Amana, pick up if you're home. It's your mother! I just wanted to know the forecast with Peter. Did he get your barometer to bubble, Sunshine?"
Even if she was anxious to answer, there's no way the weighty wench could get words past the pizza. Besides, her mom's constant, not to mention corny, use of weather terminology was making her gag.
"Hmmm, I'm taking the fact you're not picking up as a good sign. Hope you are enjoying yourself. Don't keep me in the dark too long, Raindrop. You know I want to hear every single detail. I'm praying your date is off the Richter Scale! I'll be home all night — full moon tonight — so it doesn't matter how late you get in, just give me a tinkle. Tomorrow I've got a two o'clock with Doctor Devine. Nothing to get thermal over, my little lunar eclipse. It's just a consultation. I'm thinking about a small nip-tuck. Getting that turkey neck…"
Like the Energizer Bunny, her voice just keeps on going.
Buy Link
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Guaranteed to put a twinkle in your eyes & sparkles in your pants
https://twitter.com/RobinGlasser1
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http://www.myspace.com/robinglasser (to watch video (The Plumber) banned from youtube)
From THE ZERO KNOT (Rainbow Award-winning m/m contemporary, young adult/new adult)
Red resumed nibbling his lip. The questions clearly weren’t over.
“Do you ever, like…shove stuff up your butt?”
Jess wheezed into laughter. “What?”
“Umfy Randall says fa—” Another blush surfaced with volcanic speed. “He says gay guys like sticking things up their butts.”
Dare I ask? But it was too delicious to resist. “Such as?”
Red shrugged. “Root crops, small animals, grooming aids.”
Snorting into laughter, Jess fell back onto the mattress. He lay there, both arms thrown over his face, as his laughter spiraled and his eyes spilled tears. For one thing, he didn’t think Umfy Randall, who was dumber than a drumstick, was even familiar with phrases like root crops and grooming aids.
Abs cramping, Jess rolled onto his side and folded his legs. Oh, Christ.
“So…it ain’t true?”
The kid sounded serious, which made Jess laugh even harder. “Of course it’s true. If it came from Umfy Randall, it must be true.” He gasped for breath and tried to control his hooting. “In fact, I’m packing a blow dryer, three parsnips, and a litter of newborn weasels as we speak.”
Stony-faced, Jared regarded him. “Dude, weasels are dangerous.”
Jess curled in on himself. His gut was ready to split.
If only coming out to everybody else in his life could be as much fun as coming out to his kid brother.
Published by Dreamspinner Press in ebook & print -- http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=2565
ha ha ha Charity~'see' ya on Twitsville!
This excerpt is from my March 5 release - Seven Sensuous Days - Book Four Appointment with Pleasure.
Tessa, an escort, is at Logan's estate. He's a billionaire who won her in an erotic auction and changed the rules when he paid to have her for seven days.
In this scene, he's just awakened and finds her in the TV room with Molly and Jack, Logan's two Lab puppies.
***
Still nude, her hair bed-tousled, Tessa sat on the leather sofa, Molly on her lap, Jack snuggled against her thigh. The pups’ food and bowls of water were near one of the chairs, Molly’s pacifier forgotten on the floor, a large bowl of popcorn on the sofa’s center cushion. Blindly, Tessa dug into it, pulling out a fistful of the snack. She chomped on the kernels as her attention remained on the movie. Toy Story.
Logan rubbed his mouth to stop his smile. What in the hell kind of escort was she anyway? She should be swinging from the chandeliers, a rose clenched between her teeth, putting on a smutty act, her nipples rouged.
They were the same shade as her unadorned lips, looking as innocent as she did.
Never should she comb her hair. Logan liked it as it was now. Messy, natural, several tresses flowing past her shoulders, the ends just above her breasts.
They trembled nicely with her throaty laugh at Buzz Lightyear wearing a dress at a tea party, the astronaut toy looking miserable as hell. Molly’s tail wagged, whapping the sofa. Jack continued to snooze. Tessa took a long sip of her beer, placing the bottle back on the end table.
It was then that she noticed him.
Logan’s world paused. Sounds and colors faded. All he could focus on was Tessa, the same as that moment when he’d first seen her at the auction. She parted her lips now as she had then. An invitation?
He didn’t take it. Couldn’t. His legs didn’t want to work. He remained rooted to where he was simply staring at her as she did with him. The distance between them frustrating yet protective.
If he’d been another man with a different past, he knew they would have been dating or living together, enjoying popcorn, beer, a movie with the pups. Ordinary stuff that was more precious than all the money he’d accumulated, the accolades he’d received, this place.
More info: http://www.ellorascave.com/seven-sensuous-days.html
Tina
Tina Donahue
“Heat with Heart”
ILLICIT INTENT (5 FLAMES - MY READING OBSESSION)
ILLICIT DESIRE (4 STARS - ROMANTIC TIMES)
SENSUAL STRANGER (BOOK OF THE YEAR 2010)
DEEP, DARK, DELICIOUS (HOLT MEDALLION AWARD OF MERIT)
Website: http://www.tinadonahue.com/
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Excerpt from Wanda’s Surprise, Book Two in the Bellham Romance series, a WIP, scheduled for a 2014 release:
Ben reached up to gently touch the goose egg on top of Nora’s head. “I think you’re right. It does seem like it’s gone down some.” He lowered his voice, “And that little ruse a minute ago about losing your memory? Not funny.”
Nora gave him a Mona Lisa smile. “Serves you right for waking me up so many times last night.”
“You knew I was checking on you?” Ben asked. “I thought you slept right through it.”
“Yes, Dad. I knew each and every time you came into my room. You’re not all that stealthy.”
“And me a retired spy and all…You’re telling me I’m not stealthy?” Ben grabbed his chest. “You really know how to cut a man to the ground.” Ben staggered around the kitchen.
Gage laughed.
Nora shook her head.
Amie said, “Really, Grandpa? You were a spy? I always thought you surveyed roads and stuff.”
“Shhh,” Ben said, still clutching his chest. “No one must ever know I was a spy. It’s top secret.”
Gage laughed again. “You’re funny, Grandpa.”
“Okay. I won’t tell,” Amie said, crossing her heart with an index finger, her face sincere.
“He’s pulling your leg,” Nora said.
“Huh?” Amie asked looking down at her jean-clad legs. “I don’t feel nothin’.”
“Anything,” Nora corrected.
“Huh?” Amie asked again, still staring at her legs.
“You don’t feel anything,” Nora said.
“Right. I don’t,” Amie said. “How did you know?”
“Never mind,” Nora said. “Dad, if you could quit staggering around for a minute, I think the waffles are burning.”
“Oh, shoot,” Ben said scurrying to the waffle iron and prying open the lid. “Who’s ready for some well-done, secret-agent waffles?”
Danita’s author page: http://www.amazon.com/Danita-Cahill/e/B009NF74I4/
Richelda’s aunt refused to house Richelda’s mongrel dog, Puck, so the hero is looking after him.
“When Chesney’s valet entered the bedchamber he skirted the large, canopied bed hung with red velvet curtains. ‘Forgive me, my lord, for disturbing you. Lady Richelda presents her compliments and asks if she may see her dog.’
The announcement pierced Chesney’s sleep. He opened one eye. Another eye stared at him. About to sit up, Puck’s slobbering tongue wiped his face from chin to forehead.
‘A wet cloth, Roberts,’ he exclaimed and sprang out of bed.”
Extract from Tangled Love by Rosemary Morris
Publisher. MuseItUp Publishing
Available from the publisher, amazon and elsewhere.
Excerpt from "Inn on the Edge", an erotic horror novel from Ellora's Cave. Newlyweds Angie and Josh are checking in to their honeymoon destination, but things aren't quite what they'd expected. The strange old man who runs the place has asked them to sign registration documents with an old-fashioned quill.
The Excerpt:
I handed the quill to Josh. “Be careful.”
But he wasn’t. With a theatrical flourish, he signed the paper. Then he twirled the quill around in his fingers like it was a drum stick, showing off. “A prop,” he said, “that’s all this is! I don’t believe for a moment it’s real.” He rapped the quill on the edge of the lectern, ignoring the old man’s stifled intake of breath. Winking at me, Josh tapped the feathered part against his cheek. Then he turned it around and examined the tip, looking for the loose end of the splinter, running the pad of his finger over the rough spot. And then—and then—somehow—he managed to jab himself with it.
I gasped.
Josh stared at his index finger, at the splinter stuck in the precise same place mine had been. Laughing, incredulous, he showed the finger to me, then waved his hand in front of the old man.
The old man clutched the edge of the lectern. His knuckles turned white.
“Holy shit,” said Josh, “I have no idea how that happened!”
I didn’t know whether to laugh or to cringe. Surely my husband’s show of idiocy was testing the old man’s patience. I hoped the gourmet chocolates would still make an appearance in the North Tower.
“Oh dear,” breathed the old man.
“Watch.” Josh held his finger over the paper he’d just signed. Taking the injured finger in his other hand, he squeezed it, milking it, until a drop of blood formed. Then he shook the drop—it wasn’t a nice, fat drop like mine, it trembled and hung for a moment, clinging—onto the paper. He grinned in triumph. “See! Now we have matching signatures, Angie!”
I saw. And so did the old man.
***
Gail Bridges website: www.gailbridges.com
"Inn on the Edge" purchase links:
Ellora's Cave: http://www.ellorascave.com/inn-on-the-edge.html
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Inn-Edge-Gail-Bridges-ebook/dp/B00H2L3TSU/ref=la_B00HCRT8G6_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1392580549&sr=1-1
From book 2 in The Witchy Wolf and the Wendigo by Rose Anderson. A story inspired by true history and an unbelievable urban legend. http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B004XDGWL6
In this scene: Following Ash's direction, John and Cora have fled to his childhood home on the reservation. Cousin Jo decides to act cute. Mom thinks her son is acting rude.
......................................................................
Disappointment flickered in his eyes. “She’s seeing a red man?” At her nod, he grabbed her and made her squeal. “Then maybe I’ll have to steal you from John!” Lifting her, he made to run out the door. The women laughed and seeing opportunity for fun, Winston ran to get his ball.
John came into the kitchen followed by his uncle. He said, “Are you trying to steal my wife again, Jo?”
“Yeah, you’re too citified. Cora needs a wilder Indian. What do you say Cora? Wanna see my wigwam? Ow! Hey Ma! I was just kidding!”
“Do not be rude.” Mayweather spun her dish towel again, an action akin to recoiling a whip. She loved Cora too much to let her cheeky son innocently insult her. Having grown up on tales of the Indian schools, you never knew what white folks took seriously. While her nephew’s sweet-natured wife was different than most, with scant few exceptions, in her experience mostly they were a breed apart.
John chuckled, “Smack him again for me, Auntie!”
“Ow! Ma!”
“Put her down, maji. Go get some jam from the cellar, please.”
“Yes ma’am. Come on Winston, you can look for mice down there.” The dog, happily wagging his tail, followed him out.
Abbie laughed. His wife steered her boys with a dish towel as accurate as a mule driver’s whip.
.........................................................
Read chapter samplings of this story and more for FREE
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/333971
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An amusing exchange from Merry and Bright, by my alter ego Skylin O'Thomas
~*~
Presley wadded up a pile of wrapping paper and threw it his way, striking his chest. "Shut up. They don't think I’m normal because I'm not in a huge rush to start dropping kids like they did."
Gunnar shrugged. "Sounds perfectly normal to me. Then again, I think I define the word a little differently than most." He kicked his feet out and leaned back against the couch. "To date, I've celebrated one"—he made air quotes—"traditional holiday with the works, and a mishmash of every other kind you can think of"—he ticked off the names—"Hanukkah, Kwanza, Yule, and then we had the standard dinner, visit from Santa, and treats at the group home." He lifted his shoulder again. "Definitely something different all the time."
Presley gave him a sad smile. "Sounds a little lonely."
His lips quirked. "Sometimes, but seriously, not that often." He nodded toward Frazier. "What about you, Fraz?"
Frazier rolled his eyes. "Normal growing up, but over the last five years, more like a warzone." He got up and started gathering the torn wrapping paper. "If the folks weren't having a shouting match, my mom would go on and on about how insane her youngest son was for running into burning buildings instead of out of them." He jammed the festive packaging into a trash bag.
Gunnar snorted. "Dude, she's got a point." He ducked when Frazier tossed Presley's huge pillow in his direction.
Presley gave Gunnar a considering glance. "Says the hard-assed detective who steps into the line of fire." She shook her head.
"You're both kinda crazy, but so very necessary."
Gunnar smirked. "It takes a special kind of weird to do what we do, right, Fraz?"
Frazier nodded. "You know it, bro."
~*~
I hope you enjoyed reading!
Available here:
Silver Publishing
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Amazon
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All Romance
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BN
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Thank you for reading.
A view of Man versus Horse from RUNAWAY BROTHER by Icy Snow Blackstone, available from Class Act Books.
It had seemed so simple. Just clean out Shazam’s stall, shovel manure and dump it somewhere, but as he reached for the latch to open the stall door, Sidney caught his arm.
“You aren’t planning on cleaning with Shazzy in there, are you?”
“Well…yeah…?” He paused to look down at her. Then shook his head. “No?”
“No,” she affirmed. “Good way to get yourself kicked, moving around behind a horse with a sharp instrument.”
“So…”
“So you put him in the corral, then clean the stall.” She swung the door open, gesturing.
Nick took a step forward. The Tank took a step back. He didn’t look frightened, though. If anything, the horse looked…angry. Nick reached for the cheekpiece of the halter. Shazzy dodged.
“Whoa, boy.” It came out automatically. That’s what people always said in movies. Boy stood still, allowing Nick to seize the cheekpiece. Nick nodded. So far, so good. “Okay, Sherman.”
“His name’s Shazam,” Sidney corrected.
“Nope.” Nick looked around at her. “Sherman…as in Tank.”
She laughed and he joined in, neither seeing Shazam’s ears go back at the sound.
“Okay, let’s go.” Tugging on the halter, Nick took a step forward. Shazam followed…for three steps…then stopped so quickly, Nick was nearly jerked off his feet.
Recovering, he caught the halter again but no amount of tugging could get Shazzy to take another step. The horse planted his hooves firmly in the straw, stretched out his neck, and just stood there.
“Come on, you…” Nick managed to switch to Italian just in time, for some reason, not wanting to swear in front of Sidney in a language she’d understand. “…grosso pezzo maledetto di cavallo! We’re wasting time!”
Shazzy wouldn’t budge.
“Enough of this, Shaz.” After watching Nick struggle for a few minutes, Sidney spoke up. Walking around him, she caught the halter, tugged on it gently--just as he had--and Shazam promptly walked out of the stall. As he walked past Nick, who had to jump out of the way or have his toes stomped on by six hundred pounds of horse, he flicked him a dark gaze. Full of contempt, he’d swear.
A view of Man versus Horse from RUNAWAY BROTHER by Icy Snow Blackstone, available from Class Act Books.
It had seemed so simple. Just clean out Shazam’s stall, shovel manure and dump it somewhere, but as he reached for the latch to open the stall door, Sidney caught his arm.
“You aren’t planning on cleaning with Shazzy in there, are you?”
“Well…yeah…?” He paused to look down at her. Then shook his head. “No?”
“No,” she affirmed. “Good way to get yourself kicked, moving around behind a horse with a sharp instrument.”
“So…”
“So you put him in the corral, then clean the stall.” She swung the door open, gesturing.
Nick took a step forward. The Tank took a step back. He didn’t look frightened, though. If anything, the horse looked…angry. Nick reached for the cheekpiece of the halter. Shazzy dodged.
“Whoa, boy.” It came out automatically. That’s what people always said in movies. Boy stood still, allowing Nick to seize the cheekpiece. Nick nodded. So far, so good. “Okay, Sherman.”
“His name’s Shazam,” Sidney corrected.
“Nope.” Nick looked around at her. “Sherman…as in Tank.”
She laughed and he joined in, neither seeing Shazam’s ears go back at the sound.
“Okay, let’s go.” Tugging on the halter, Nick took a step forward. Shazam followed…for three steps…then stopped so quickly, Nick was nearly jerked off his feet.
Recovering, he caught the halter again but no amount of tugging could get Shazzy to take another step. The horse planted his hooves firmly in the straw, stretched out his neck, and just stood there.
“Come on, you…” Nick managed to switch to Italian just in time, for some reason, not wanting to swear in front of Sidney in a language she’d understand. “…grosso pezzo maledetto di cavallo! We’re wasting time!”
Shazzy wouldn’t budge.
“Enough of this, Shaz.” After watching Nick struggle for a few minutes, Sidney spoke up. Walking around him, she caught the halter, tugged on it gently--just as he had--and Shazam promptly walked out of the stall. As he walked past Nick, who had to jump out of the way or have his toes stomped on by six hundred pounds of horse, he flicked him a dark gaze. Full of contempt, he’d swear.
All Miranda wanted was a job as a nanny...from THE ROSE AND THE DRAGON by Toni V. Sweeney, available from Class Act Books.
“Tell me, Miss Wilson.” Dominic Andrus smiled at the
young woman sitting across from him. “Why do you wish to
work for me? Do you crave excitement, adventure, and...
danger?”
She paused a moment as if thinking about that, before
looking down at the paper she held in her lap, folded so the
ad Dominic Andrus had placed in the New York Times was
visible.
Nanny wanted. Must have desire for, and
ability to accept, excitement, adventure, and
danger.
“Would being a nanny really give me those things, Mr.
Andrus?” Miranda smiled in return. “Frankly, I can’t
envision working as a glorified baby-sitter as being either
dangerous or exciting.”
“You haven’t met my children,” he replied quietly, with
just a touch of irony. “So why did you answer my ad?”
“Because I need a job. You see, my parents are... Well,
Tracy and I are orphans. He’s older than I am and he put me
through school. Now he expects me to take care of myself.”
“And you think being a...glorified baby-sitter... is the
answer?”
Did I say the wrong thing? She’d meant it as a joke. His
accent told her he was a foreigner. Perhaps he hadn’t
understood that. She couldn’t tell from his expression.
“W-well...” For a moment, she stammered uncertainly,
then plunged on, “As I said, I like children, and...to tell the
truth, I don’t want just any job. I want something unusual.”
“Unusual.” His expression changed, showing definite
interest.
Encouraged, she explained, “I don’t want to be a
secretary chained to a desk or a waitress lugging trays of
food all day or...”
“In other words,” he supplied. “You want adventure,
excitement and danger?”
“Yes, I suppose I do.” She sounded surprised, as if she’d
just realized that fact.
“Miss Wilson, with my children...” There was the smile
again. “You might get all three, and demand hazard pay as
well.”
Vampires aren't always scary. Sometimes they're just misunderstood, as I found out in this little autobiographical story...excerpt taken from The Clan Andriescu, published by Class Act Books:
“Ohhhh…”
Someone was groaning in the dark. It took Tony-Paul
several moments to realize he was the one making the
noise and it was dark because he had his eyes squeezed
shut.
Very cautiously, he opened one eye, then the other. He
glanced down at the piece of furniture under him. His
guess was close, but no cigar. He was lying on a fainting
couch. Appropriate in a way, since he’d very obviously
fainted. Or did I? Memory came thundering back. The beach...the three strangers…He sat up, looking around. Holy
Shit! Where am I? The room looked like a museum
piece…a bedchamber, complete with canopy bed, heavy
draperies, a fireplace—no fire, thank goodness—and the
aforementioned couch. Am I imagining this? Did I fall
through a time-warp and I’m in some other century?
Staggering to his feet, he took a step toward the door,
and that’s as far as he got.
The air before the door wavered. It simply rippled, the
same way the Romulan war birds did when they activated
their cloaking device on Star Trek, and then…the three
strangers appeared in the still whirling air.
They stared at TP. He stared back. He made a dash for
the bed, getting it between himself and them.
“Well,” said the older of the three. What did he say his
name was? Marius? “I see you’re awake. And apparently
none the worse for wear.”
“Back, foul fiend!” TP crossed one forefinger over the
other, holding his hands out in front of him.
“What the Hell are you doing?” The one called Val
demanded, jumping back with a hiss.
Timon reached out, knocking TP’s hands apart. “That
won’t help you,” he snarled. “We’re Jewish!”
“Don’t believe him.” Val recovered, leaning forward to
whisper rather earnestly, “We’re Russian Orthodox.
Really.”
“Back foul fiend?” Marius started laughing when TP
spoke and now got himself under control. “I haven’t heard
that phrase in at least a century. Where’d you dig up
that?”
“I-I heard it in a Dracula movie the other night.” TP
looked a little disappointed at their reaction.
“Dracula.” Marius looked disgruntled. “The best
example of bad press, if ever there was. He should’ve
sued his publicist.”
In this scene from THE GIRL MOST LIKELY, Cara is railroaded into being guinea pig on live TV. But she also gets to meet Finn:
“I see you’ve brought one of the tools of your trade,” Jessica said,
indicating the giant tweezers in Finn's hand. “What does this instrument do?”
“Calipers like these measure body fat. I take skin-fold measurements from different parts of the body, like the upper arm and the waist, then use these measurements to calculate body fat percentages.”
Jessica’s eye lit with pure, evil delight. “Why don’t we try the calipers on Cara? As a demonstration for our audience, of course.”
Cara glared at Jessica, but said nothing. When she looked up into his face, Finn offered her an apologetic smile. Yeah, very helpful. Thanks a lot.
“Stand up and take off that big, bulky hoodie,” Jessica directed. “Finn won’t be able to get an accurate reading with all that material in the way.”
There was a reason she wore the oversize hoodie. It covered the spare tire Jessica was so anxious to measure. She slowly rose to her feet and unzipped the sweatshirt, closing her eyes as she pulled her arms from the sleeves and handed the garment to Finn. Between the fitness hunk and most of the greater Rochester viewing audience, she’d never felt so naked and exposed, even if she was fully clothed. Finn placed the calipers at her waist and closed the two sections together, trapping a healthy dollop of fat. She cringed, her face heating with embarrassment once more. He handed her the hoodie and she quickly slipped it back on.
“Oh dear, that’s quite a lot of fat,” Jessica said, shaking her head. “So, Finn, is there anything we can do to help her?”
Is there anything we can do to help her? Jessica made her sound like a beached whale. Next she’d be calling Greenpeace.
Thanks,
Jana Richards
www.janarichards.com
In this excerpt from A HEAT OF THE MOMENT THING Becky has hurt herself in a swimming accident and is trying to explain it away to her sister.
“It was the most random thing,” I said. “I was walking up the street, minding my own business, when a crazed madman wielding a baseball bat”—her eyes widened—“jumped out in front of me and—”
Jim piped up. “Hardly. She swam into the end of the swimming pool.”
“What?” Dani swung from me to him and back again. “Really?”
I shrugged. “I preferred the crazed madman story.”
Jim muted the TV.
“Crazed madman? Madwoman, more like. Doof!” He reeled as if from a head blow. “Oh yeah,” he slowed his words, “that’s right; the wall’s made of concrete. That’ll be why my head hurts.” He crossed his eyes, then uncrossed them and cackled.
She rounded on him. “What, and that’s funny? Look at her! My sister could’ve died, and you think it’s funny?”
He frowned. “Well, it is kind-of funny, don’t you think? Hold on—I can feel a joke coming on.” His eyes lit up, alien-like. “What did Becky say when she hit the end of the swimming pool? You’re a hard act to follow!” He hooted at his own humour. “Or . . . what’s Becky’s favourite song? All in all you’re just a-nother head in the wall!” He slapped his thigh, laughing manically.
She eyeballed him. “There’s nothing funny about a head injury.”
His laughter withered and died.
Hope you enjoyed it. :) If you want to read more, check out A HEAT OF THE MOMENT THING on Amazon:
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