Sample Sunday Excerpt

Welcome to Sample Sunday. For today’s excerpt, I’m unveiling more of my WIP, Cold Feet Fever, sequel to Fur Ball Fever. I’m 2/3 of the way through the first draft, and thought some of you might enjoy another sneak peek. In this excerpt, Katie, who has some teeny-tiny insecurity issues due to her mob connections, not to mention her former profession as a mortician, has had the presence of mind to flee her smokin’ hot new employer before doing something beyond stupid. Sam Jackson is a player who means nothing but trouble for any woman dumb enough to fall for him.

Here’s the ‘Elevator Pitch’ for Cold Feet Fever:

One for the Money meets The Sopranos
A playboy and an undertaker-turned-party-planner join forces to fight crime in a Goth night club. Vandalism, disappearing corpses, a goofy dog, and bungling thugs add to the fun, culminating in an epic Grand Opening the vampire wannabes of Atlantic City will never forget.

When the doorbell rang, Katie catapulted from her chair. Her first thought was that Zio Luigi had escaped from prison and decided to pay her a visit. Sanity returned when she remembered that no one escaped from maximum security, and if they did, they didn’t stick around. Besides, she loved her godfather. She just didn’t want him messing up her life again by interrogating the men she dated until they fled the city fearing for their kneecaps.

Her heart jack-hammered in her chest as she walked to the front door. Standing on tiptoe, she placed one eye to the peephole and jumped back. To verify she wasn’t hallucinating, she looked again.

The man outside was so tall and so close, she was unable to see the top part of his face. But there was no doubt in her mind who was ringing her doorbell. The chiseled jawline, the mouth that, incidentally, should come equipped with a warning label, the tanned neck disappearing into yet another silky cowboy shirt, could belong to only one person. Less than three hours since she’d fled his apartment, Sam Jackson had tracked her down.

Katie wasn’t ready to face him. Not yet. She felt too raw, too vulnerable. Let him think she wasn’t home. Next thing she knew, one light brown eye studded with golden specks and fringed with ridiculously long lashes peered back at her. She froze. If she moved a muscle, he’d know she was inches away.

“I know you’re inside looking at me.”

Was he a mind-reader? He couldn’t see her. She closed her eyes, willing him to go away.

“You’re blocking the light. I know you’re there. You might as well open up.”

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Thanks for stopping by. I hope you have an amazing week of writing and reading.




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