Welcome friends and writers to another Sunday. Father’s Day. Some are wonderful, some aren’t. We’re here and feeling just fine.
Thanks for the endearing and helpful comments. I appreciate the time we all take in reading each others eights.
Moving along in my book Now What?,widow Carly Evans meets Chicago’s most eligible bachelor at a red light.
excerpt in eight:
“Stopped at a red light listening to a hot chapter from a recorded novel, I suddenly couldn’t hear because a motorcycle pulled up next to me so I turned up the volume. At the same moment, the bike’s loud growl became a purr and every word of passion from my speaker poured out the open window of my Mercedes. Startled, I glanced at the biker hoping his helmet prevented the words from getting through to him; he lifted the visor and grinned displaying whiter than white teeth and dimples you could die for. Not the best expression a widow might use but it came to mind. The light turned green, he waved a leather glove and beckoned for me to follow.
I must have been out of my mind because I followed him, dumber than dirt, that’s me. I found a small can of hair spray deep in the handbag next to me, placing a finger on the trigger and hoping I wouldn’t spray myself, I followed the biker to a busy section and parked next to him. By now, I’d rolled up the window and locked the doors; a mixed message if there ever was one. Now what?”
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