I'm thinking I need a pair of shoes to match the blue in the banner, don't you? Okay, so I'm a shoe freak. Don't judge...
But matching shoes aside, on Sneak Peek Sunday, a group of writers share SIX paragraphs from either a published work or a work in progress. Since I'm spending every free moment, writing so I can meet my deadline, looks like you're stuck with six from book one of my Firemen's Wild Heat series, set in Clearwater, Florida. The title to this work in progress is To Catch a Flame.
“Your hair looked okay before, peanut.” Quinn smirked at Milt. “See, that’s the difference between men and women. Men don’t diddle with their appearance. They know perfection when they see it. Am I right, Milt?”
The old guy extracted a small black comb from his back pocket and skimmed it over the seven grey hairs plastered to his scalp with some kind of hair goop. Nodding, he slipped the comb into place again. “That’s exactly what I used to tell Louisa.” He crossed himself. “God bless her soul.” He hiked up his baggy khaki pants with the insides of his elbows tucked against his belt. “A man does not mess with perfection.” He hip-wiggled a couple foxtrot steps, humming some ancient tune.
Cassie’s jaw dropped and her gaze ricocheted from Milt to Quinn. “Let’s state the facts correctly, shall we?” She planted her hands on her narrow hips and swayed her shoulders one at a time for some kind of goofy feminine emphasis. “Women like change. We have no fear of experimentation the way you men do.” She pierced Quinn with a look. “When was the last time you tried a new kind of food? Or a micro-brew beer?” She spun toward Milt. “When was the last time you wore navy blue pants? Every time I see you, you’re wearing khakis.” Turning her harangue back on Quinn, she pointed to his comfy Nikes. “You need new sneakers. You’ve been wearing those raggedy things for the three years I’ve known you.”
She poked a fingernail through a hole in his beloved Puddle of Mudd t-shirt. “And this faded, tattered rag belongs in the trash bin!” One swift tug and the hole grew from the circumference of a dime to fist-size. “See? It’s like tissue paper!”
Quinn couldn’t believe she’d torn his favorite shirt. Hell, the thing was barely ten years old. His gaze slowly swept from his ravaged, quality rock and roll wear to her green eyes, snapping with righteous indignation.
“Women also like variation in our sexual positions while, according to ninety percent of my female customers, their men do it the same way over and over.”
Can you imagine the explosion that happened next?
Don't forget to visit all the other lovely writers sharing their awesome SIX on their Sneak Peak Sunday. Click on this link for the listing...
Have a fabulous week!!!