Saturday, May 11, 2013

A Hot Man and a Quickie ~ Women Are Bat-shit Crazy

The hot man:

Look at that grin!

  Romance cover model and body-builder John Quinlan has agreed to change up our Saturday morning quickies a bit, and answer two quick questions a week. Feel free to leave a question you'd like to see answered. I'm not shy..and apparently, neither is John.

  • Eden:  We're both huge baseball fans. What is the single, best memory you have of the game? The one shining moment that stands above all others whenever you think of the sport?
    John My 1st at-bat of my high school season I almost got hit by the pitch. On the very next pitch I hit a home run over the right field hill wall that cleared all the cars in the parking lot
    Eden: Pork or lobster?
    John Lobster of course! Dipped in tons of butter.....amazing! Love that!!!!!!!!

    Okay, while John's all excited thinking about hot butter, he's also excited about being nominated for's Hunk of the Month. We'd both love if you'd take a moment to vote for him here

    My quickie comes from Incidental Contact (Those Devilish De Marco Men, Book #3) again this week. 
    Eric knew two subjects well, the internal combustion engine and women. The engine was a modern miracle, dependable and predictable. He was convinced women, on the other hand, were bat-shit crazy. Some just hid the fact better than others.
    The shrill ring of the garage phone penetrated the cacophony of air ratchets and clattering wrenches. Dan grabbed the cordless handset between their work stations, freeing Eric to keep doing what he’d been doing—watching the short brunette in the garage’s parking lot. He'd just changed the oil and filter in Amy Sizemore's older Honda. Ever since he'd backed her car out of his bay, she'd been moving the contents of her back seat into her trunk. Ordinarily, that wouldn't have been anything to watch, but when she popped the trunk, it already held so much stuff, he wondered how the hell she'd managed to get it closed.
    From pulling her car onto the lift, he knew her back seat resembled a closet on wheels, minus any organization that would've come from using a hanging rod. Her passenger seat was piled high with thick textbooks, folders, and assorted loose papers. Now she seemed to think all that crap was going into the already-full trunk. He'd never seen a Honda explode before, so Eric picked up a rag, swiped his fingers through the waterless soap and leaned back against his workbench to enjoy the show while he cleaned up.
    His youngest brother Colton had already left. They were all supposed to meet at the solicitor’s office in about two hours. He and Dan were leaving momentarily in order to go home and change before finding out what the solicitor had decided to do about the man who’d murdered their mother.
    With a quick glance, Eric determined Dan was speaking into the phone. He ran through his mental Rolodex of females anyway. Charlene, Charity, Charise. No Charlotte. He returned his attention to Amy. Had Colton been here, he'd have found something else to do. Amy Sizemore was strictly off limits. She was Lila's best friend. Since Lila had moved in with Colton, Amy turned up at her dinner table as often as he did. He and Amy shared a love of country music. The young woman had a great sense of humor and she was fun to kid around with.
    Though Eric had a distinct weakness for short brunettes, Amy was about as sexy as a telephone pole. She always looked like an advertisement for a sporting goods store. Today was no exception. The neon orange sweatshirt she wore was about three sizes too big. The way the bottom bloused around her thighs made her look like a traffic cone. She needed a haircut far worse than he did. He couldn’t have said what color her eyes were with a loaded gun to his head. Her haircut could've been made by a chainsaw. Her thick black hair always either bluntly swept her shoulders or was yanked back into a pony tail, but either way, there was always a thick fringe of bangs hanging in her eyes. Lila usually razzed her about those bangs whenever Amy umpired one of his nephew's baseball games.
    Colton would've offered to help her. Had Dan not been on the phone, he'd likely be standing beside Eric, muttering about the mess, right before he stalked out there to tell her how to do the job. Eric was content to watch. Women used a variety of ways to signal they needed help, and Amy wasn’t flashing any of those.
    He started laughing when she dropped the armload of items on the asphalt, then began yanking things out of the trunk. The pile of possessions around her feet soon reached her bumper.  She stuck her head and most of her small body into the opening. The huge sweatshirt caught on the trunk latch when she emerged, causing the shirt to ride up above a pair of very low-cut jeans. Hot damn, that's one damn cute pair of dimples.
    "Hey, girl. Why you wanna give yo' money to a murderer?"

    Thanks for dropping in! Have a great week. 

No comments :

Post a Comment