Saturday, September 28, 2013

Story Saturdays - Go Ahead and Kiss Me

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I made three new book covers this week. Today's excerpt comes from the one entitled, 'GO AHEAD AND KISS ME." In case you were wondering how I come up with book titles, I look for something unique that stands out from the standard romance genre fair. 

I select more than half of the titles before I write the book.

In this scene, the male main character, Eric Spader, is confronted by one of his five older sisters on exactly why he's there.


His sister whirled, her skirt flaring outward, and hands suspended, stared at him with an expression he recognized from his youth. He stuffed the cookie he’d stolen from her in his mouth and leaned back on the counter, contentedly chewing.
“Where’d you come from?” she asked. She didn’t wait for an answer, but sent her next question to sister-#2. “Why’s he here?”
“Now, Martha Ann,” Eric said. “Don’t you want to see your baby brother? Sounds like you don’t like me.”
“Do not call me that,” she replied. “If you call me that in front of Cliff, I’ll …”
“I need him alive, Marti,” said his other sister, interrupting her.
“You mean, you asked him to come?”
Eric reclined against the counter on the palms of his hands and flicked his gaze from one to the other. Having five older sisters meant he had five mothers, six if you included their actual mother, seven if he added in Aunt Joyce. It also meant he’d learned how to play one off the other and at the same time, ignore them all.
He waited for Marti to calm down. She was the fourth in age, just older than him by two years at twenty-eight. Carol, the sister who had actually asked him to be there, was thirty-four. They had one sister between her and Marti, Philly, who was thirty, and two older, Angela, at thirty-six, and the eldest, Kathleen, who was thirty-seven.
“I’m hiring him,” Carol said. “I’m catering a birthday party for Janice and Stanley Rose’s daughter, Cherry.”
“Cherry Rose, the cute blonde with the freckles?” he asked.
Slender, outgoing, and dating some guy who drove a luxury car worth fifty grand.
Carol nodded.
“Why do you need him for that?”
Marti was obviously still miffed over the cookie, and probably the last time they were together when he’d made a scene in front of her latest boyfriend, Clifford Summerfield. Cliff was an all right guy, but a little dumb. Marti could do better.
“I need him,” Carol began, “because Mr. Rose specifically asked me for someone who could flirt, and I don’t know a better flirt on the planet.”
Eric crooked a smile.
“He’s so cute I even want to kiss him,” she continued. As if to prove this, she laid one hand on either cheek and smacked him on the mouth.
Eric laughed. He’d always liked Carol the best. “You’re hiring me to flirt?”
Carol smiled. “Think, a room full of twenty-year-olds in party dresses and you circulating amongst them. But you’re supposed to especially pour on the charm for Cherry, his daughter.”
“Isn’t that odd?” he asked. “Why would he want a boy to flirt with her?”
Carol shrugged. “Beats me. We were talking about food and he asked about servers. I said I had several people who I used on occasion. I was thinking of Jennifer and Tammy. But he asked if I knew any eligible males, that he’d rather have one who could flirt, and Eric popped immediately in my head.”
“What’s in it for me?” he asked.
She tilted her head. “Other than you get to practice your skills?”
He nodded.
“I’ll pay you, of course.”
“What’s in it for you?” He turned the question around.
She dropped her hands to her side. “If I do well, he’ll hire me for the big New Year’s bash. That would be a sweet job worth a lot of cash.” She crossed her arms and reclined against the stove. “So will you do it?”
He rolled the idea over in his head. Spend a couple hours in a room full of young girls flirting. A grin split his face.
Marti gave a snort. “You’ve just asked the mouse to live in a cheese factory.”
Eric laughed, then walked over and kissed her cheek. “You know you like me. Us Spader’s have to stick together.”
“Us Spader’s have to get along,” she replied. “You’d better not blow this for her.”
He threw his hands wide. “Tell me when to be there, and I’m in.”

Suzanne D. Williams  
Suzanne Williams Photography  
Florida, USA 

Suzanne Williams is a native Floridian, wife, and mother, with a penchant for spelling anything, who happens to love photography.

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