I'm being an excerpt whore today friends. It's rainy and I feel like showing off my um...goodies.
xoxo
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From
The Mighty Quinn by Sommer Marsden
available now from
Whiskey Creek Press Torrid
“I met a guy.” It came out in a flat, husky whisper.
"That’s great!” she smiled wide, her face crinkling in an attractivemix of glamour and age.
“No it’s not!” I said, my voice rising. “I’m not done mutating yet!”
She frowned. “You mean transforming, Quinn,” said Frenchy.
“Whatever! I’m not even half baked.”
“Well, at the moment, I’m not arguing that point. Put the mutt down.”
I obeyed and Pickle scampered off to investigate. Icould only pray he wouldn’t pee on some priceless piece of burlesquememorabilia. “Bags too,” she commanded.
I dropped the bags and flopped onto the red sofa. Mmmm. . Maybe I should take a nap and when I woke up I would be myself again. A boring woman who apparently dressed like a nun. Not the most exciting life but I certainly wouldn’t be having small heart attacks over some guy if I was just regular-old-Quinn again.
“Don’t move.” Frenchy sashayed off. More sex appeal on her older frame than I’d ever possess. I eyed the sepia tone Frenchy. Beaming smile, elaborately made up eyes, a mysterious, seductive look that would most likely resemble constipation if I attempted it. I felt my eyes fill up again and blinked rapidly. I would not cry. No way. Nope.
Frenchy returned with two snifters of amber liquid and a cut crystal ashtray. She handed me a snifter, settled on the sofa, and lit up. “Drink it,” she commanded.
“What is-”
“Drink it!”
I downed it in one gulp. I sputtered, coughed, leaned forwardand clutched my belly. Fire burned a trail down my throat, ignitingin a ball of heat and pain somewhere around my sternum. When I got control of my breathing, I felt a warmth spread through my limbs, loosening me up. Now that part was pleasant.
“You okay?”
I nodded. My throat was still too raw to speak.
“Good. You’re not gonna puke on my rug are you?”
I shook my head and wiped my streaming eyes. “No,” I croaked.
“Good girl.” Frenchy puffed contentedly on her cigarette for a moment and then leaned back into the squishy sofa. “Now, calmly,tell me what in the blue blazes you’re talking about.”
I sucked in a lungful of air and exhaled sharply. “Okay, my best friend, Marla, stopped by. You’ve met Marla.”Frenchy grunted noncommittally.“Loved the outfit by the way,” I rushed on. “Anyway, she had her cousin with her. Her male cousin. And when I say male, I mean…” I rolled my eyes back and panted for a moment. “I mean male in the most primal sense of the word.”
“Like gets your button thumping?” Frenchy laughed.
I blinked at her. Did she just say button? And by button did she mean…“Er…”
“Hey, sweetheart, I’m old not dead. I do remember what it’s like when you meet a man who instantly kick-starts your motor.”
How was I going to survive this makeover? How was I goingto survive this conversation? “Well, yes. My motor instantly sprang to life.” I felt my with heat. This was ludicrous.
“Were you wearing that?” Frenchy asked, nodding at my new outfit.
“Yeah.”
“Excellent. Well, that’s one step in the right direction, at least.” She ground out her cigarette. “You still didn’t explain whyyou were banging on my door like a storm trooper.”
“I’m going to see him again,” I squeaked.
“Great. What’s the problem, sweets? You lost me.” Pickle cruised in and Frenchy patted her thigh. He took the invitation, springing easily onto her lap. He moved pretty fast for a low rider.
“I’m seeing him again tomorrow. Tomorrow!”
“Okay.” She nodded calmly and stroked Pickle’s long nose. Heclosed his eyes blissfully. His wagging tail made a muffled thump against the sofa cushion. “So it speeds things up a little but you’ll be fine.”
I doubted that.“What do I do?”
Frenchy rose and carried Pickle from the room. I stared after her, confused. Maybe I was a lost cause. Maybe she was giving up.Maybe she’d gone off to drink the rest of the bottle of whatever that fire water had been…
“Well! Come on!” she yelled.
I was better trained than Pickle. I dutifully followed her down the hall.
May you have good things to eat, pretty things to look at, many belly laughs, no calories in your cake, and later--if you can manage--tons of hot monkey sex!
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