Tuesday, February 10, 2009
In honor of this month's virtual book tour for Avenging Angel, A Shannon Wallace Mystery, I am including here an excerpt for my new readers. It's a shortie, y'all!
And, tonight I am hosting a fabulous romance author, Raven Starr on my radio show, and would love for you to come by and have a listen, and you can call in too!
Here is the excerpt:
I stood in the middle of his ecru-colored, plushy furnished office, with my mouth open, making noises that came out in short stuttering sounds. A little bit like gargling.
“What did I do?” I finally managed.
He averted his eyes. “Call it downsizing.”
What was he really saying?
“What about us?” I asked, heartsick. I hated to even mention our relationship at this point. It was like a backhanded way of begging.
He shifted in the creaky leather chair, positioned himself with one arm behind his head. The other hand twirled the pen between his fingers. He could have been giving dictation for all his appearance.
“You’re a nice girl, Shannon, a little naïve but nice. We’ve had some fun, but it’s probably lasted too long. Things like this happen in business environments where a couple work as closely as we have. Here today, gone tomorrow. There’s no ‘us’. Not anymore. Let’s not fool ourselves. If you think about it, you’ll agree it’s best to keep it that way. Better if you just go out with style. Stoic, and proud.”
Proud of what? My blood pressure skyrocketed.
Whispered stories in the filing room returned to haunt me. Rick’s reputation marked him as a major player. I scoffed at it. I would change all that. Yeah, right. My fault for thinking he cared more about me than making the company money. I stared at the insincere smile plastered across his tanned face.
Stoic, was it?
My Aunt Nancy always said a woman should never have to use her power of persuasion, either for her good or for her ruin. Too late now, my ruination loomed, imminent.
I walked to his solid pine double pedestal desk and leaned over. The thin cotton tank top showed plenty of cleavage. I crooked my finger to get him to move closer. He did, eyes darting from my chest to my face. I let him get an eyeful, and then once I had his attention, I slapped him as hard as I could.
“Stoic that, you jerk. You’ll never make president of this company. You haven’t got the balls for it. I hope your trip up the corporate ladder gives you a heart attack and kills you!”
His face changed from bitch-slapped red to purple. I did the most prudent thing possible, I turned on my heel, collected my check from Payroll and went to get wobbly-ass drunk.