Ok, so Joe Manganiello is drool worthy but I have to say, I can take him anyway he wants… He’s got that Hugh Jackman quality – sexy, fun, and yet he can be intimidating when he needs to be. So yummy alpha male!
The woman from the elevator stood banging her head against my neighbor’s door. She was soaking wet, her blouse transparent and wearing a wet paper bag around her waist. Karmically dressed, I mused, still angry about the. I opened my door a crack and her eyes widened as she recognized me. She slumped against the door, laughing uncontrollably until they turned to sobs. Dammit. I opened my door fully and motioned for her to enter but she shook her head.
Finally she spoke, “I’ll just wait for Mrs. Whipson.”
I shook my head, “She left this morning. She’ll be back Thursday.”
My writer’s group here in Huntington, WV has put together an anthology of spooky stories that is available for presale through amazon today. You can order it here, it’s only $2.99 and has something for everyone. I have to tell you I don’t like super scary but read every story and man, some of these people are seriously twisted and they seem so normal…. Our exciting news is that it made #8 in the Horror Anthology list today for Amazon’s best sellers. So exciting!!! I have written two stories for the anthology, Dead Letters as Doyle MacBrayne and The Perfect Gentleman as Tobi Doyle. A couple of members and I will be putting together a steamy collection for Valentine’s Day too. (Some of the guys are die-hard Sci-Fi and YA and don’t do romance…)
The lock snicked as I bent over to retrieve the broken bag of flour that had fallen through the wet paper bag. A tug against my waist and I knew the day had gone from bad to ludicrous. My skirt, now wedged tightly between the locked car door held me captive. Turning I could see my keys, still dangling from the ignition. Leaving the flour on the parking garage floor, I took off my skirt and donned the broken paper bag. Mrs. Whipson had my spare key so I braved the walk to her apartment. She wasn’t home… Mondays suck.
The elevator doors opened and the two passengers looked up, horrified. I stepped in and they scurried out. The taller one choked an apology as the doors closed. I heard peals of laughter shrieking as the elevator continued its descent.
And then… the odor assaulted me. To my mortification, the elevator doors opened and my boss entered as I left.
A few of my authorly friends and I are planning on putting out a romance anthology for Valentine’s Day. I am SO using this as my opening scene….