Amanda Siegrist's Blog
March 2, 2021
The Right Time is now available!
————————————
💋 NOW AVAILABLE 💋
————————————
RELEASE BLITZ
Title: The Right Time
Series: perfect for you #2
Author: Amanda Siegrist
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: March 2, 2021
💋 Grab your copy here ➸ The Right Time
💋 Add it to your TBR list ➸
Blurb
The plan: Organize an epic birthday party without spilling the massive secret—that has nothing to do with the party.
Time Frame: Two weeks.
Plan a party? Check.
Try not to think about the man she can’t have? Check.
Suddenly accept said man’s proposal. Check.
Wait…what did Mia Carter do? There was no way she could marry Jaxson Brandt. It would never last. Nothing in her life ever does. They weren’t even dating. They couldn’t go from just friends to marriage. She’ll just have to tell him she changed her mind. If only he’d give her a chance to do so. But between planning a birthday party and trying to keep her bestie from finding out they’re getting hitched, she can’t seem to find the right time. He’s making it his mission to show her what love is truly about—something she’d never had before. She’s just not sure it’ll be enough to convince her.
Warning: This is not a full romcom. While it has moments of humor, it also has a twist of angst. Okay, now you can dive in, you’re prepared!
EXCERPT
A slow, seductive smile grew right before he tossed her onto the bed. She giggled, her eyes filled with pleasurable delight and a bit of surprise.
Then he joined her on the bed, covering her with his body.
“You threw me,” she said with a teasing twinkle in her eyes.
He couldn’t even say why he tossed—definitely didn’t throw—her on to the bed. Maybe to get a reaction out of her. Sometimes, it was hard to get the kind of reactions he wanted from her. It was like pulling teeth, hard and tumultuous.
“Did I?” His lips found her neck, making a delicious path up to her ear. “What can I say? I'm excited to get you in this bed.”
Then he pushed into her, so she could feel how hard his cock was, and how damn excited he was that this was finally happening.
Her arms wound around his neck, pulling him closer. Then their lips matched, more pleasure exploding throughout his body as their tongues mingled and their bodies moved to a beautiful rhythm.
But they had too many clothes between them.
“I need you naked, now,” he said between kisses as one of his hands wove down toward the edge of the silky shirt she wore.
She pushed on his chest, giggling. “Don’t even think about pulling up on this shirt. I don’t want to have to fix any of the buttons with your eagerness.”
He winked, pretty sure he would’ve popped a button or two pulling her shirt up and over her head, as she tried to sit up.
“Oh, no, sweetheart, I got this.” Then he sat up and scooted back a little and popped one button undone.
Bending down, he pressed a kiss to the small patch of skin exposed. He felt her tremble beneath him. Oh, the things he wanted to do with her. He’d been imagining having her in his arms for so many years, it would take more than one night to enact every scenario. It was a damn good thing she’d agreed to marry him. Now he had a lifetime.
Never in a million years had he expected this outcome when he came to her apartment. He had meant to make sure she was all right. Comfort her, hopefully. Let her use his shoulder for her tears. But this. Her willingly in his arms, saying yes to being his wife. Never in a million years.
Another button came undone with ease. His lips inched up, following the path his hands were taking. Each time he found a new spot to kiss, she trembled and a breathy moan left her sweet, luscious lips. He was torn between kissing her soft skin and tangling tongues with her. Both were like being in heaven.
“This is torture. Let me do it.” Her words came out soft and breathy. And not like she wanted him to stop.
Instead of answering, he continued his path upward, undoing another button, his lips meeting silky, beautiful skin. When he neared her breasts, he paused, taking in the view. A white lacy bra covered her, exposing more skin than containing it. He was in love…with this bra. Who knew she wore such sexy lingerie underneath her clothes? Well, now he did, and he’d be letting his imagination run away more and more from now on. He knew it.
He undid the last few buttons, then cupped her breasts. His eyes zeroed in on a rosy nipple, suckling hard as she arched upward off the bed.
“Jaxson…” Her breathy voice had him ramped up and ready.
But he wanted to take this slowly. He wanted to savor every second with her.
“You are so gorgeous. Every inch of you.” Then he slid his hands underneath her and unclasped her bra.
She sat up as he helped her slip off her shirt and bra, tossing them to the floor. Before she could take off his shirt, something he could tell she wanted to do when her hands reached for the bottom, he pushed her down and reclaimed a nipple.
He took his time giving each one attention, biting playfully and kissing afterward to soothe. He knew she liked it as her low moans and constant shifting closer to him didn’t stop, but only increased.
“Okay, I take it back. I’ll fix any button you want, but you need to take that shirt off now.”
(Copyright © 2021 Amanda Siegrist)
ALSO AVAILABLE
💋 #1 The Wrong Brother – 99c for a limited time! ➸
💋 NOW AVAILABLE 💋
————————————
RELEASE BLITZ
Title: The Right Time
Series: perfect for you #2
Author: Amanda Siegrist
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: March 2, 2021
💋 Grab your copy here ➸ The Right Time
💋 Add it to your TBR list ➸
Blurb
The plan: Organize an epic birthday party without spilling the massive secret—that has nothing to do with the party.
Time Frame: Two weeks.
Plan a party? Check.
Try not to think about the man she can’t have? Check.
Suddenly accept said man’s proposal. Check.
Wait…what did Mia Carter do? There was no way she could marry Jaxson Brandt. It would never last. Nothing in her life ever does. They weren’t even dating. They couldn’t go from just friends to marriage. She’ll just have to tell him she changed her mind. If only he’d give her a chance to do so. But between planning a birthday party and trying to keep her bestie from finding out they’re getting hitched, she can’t seem to find the right time. He’s making it his mission to show her what love is truly about—something she’d never had before. She’s just not sure it’ll be enough to convince her.
Warning: This is not a full romcom. While it has moments of humor, it also has a twist of angst. Okay, now you can dive in, you’re prepared!
EXCERPT
A slow, seductive smile grew right before he tossed her onto the bed. She giggled, her eyes filled with pleasurable delight and a bit of surprise.
Then he joined her on the bed, covering her with his body.
“You threw me,” she said with a teasing twinkle in her eyes.
He couldn’t even say why he tossed—definitely didn’t throw—her on to the bed. Maybe to get a reaction out of her. Sometimes, it was hard to get the kind of reactions he wanted from her. It was like pulling teeth, hard and tumultuous.
“Did I?” His lips found her neck, making a delicious path up to her ear. “What can I say? I'm excited to get you in this bed.”
Then he pushed into her, so she could feel how hard his cock was, and how damn excited he was that this was finally happening.
Her arms wound around his neck, pulling him closer. Then their lips matched, more pleasure exploding throughout his body as their tongues mingled and their bodies moved to a beautiful rhythm.
But they had too many clothes between them.
“I need you naked, now,” he said between kisses as one of his hands wove down toward the edge of the silky shirt she wore.
She pushed on his chest, giggling. “Don’t even think about pulling up on this shirt. I don’t want to have to fix any of the buttons with your eagerness.”
He winked, pretty sure he would’ve popped a button or two pulling her shirt up and over her head, as she tried to sit up.
“Oh, no, sweetheart, I got this.” Then he sat up and scooted back a little and popped one button undone.
Bending down, he pressed a kiss to the small patch of skin exposed. He felt her tremble beneath him. Oh, the things he wanted to do with her. He’d been imagining having her in his arms for so many years, it would take more than one night to enact every scenario. It was a damn good thing she’d agreed to marry him. Now he had a lifetime.
Never in a million years had he expected this outcome when he came to her apartment. He had meant to make sure she was all right. Comfort her, hopefully. Let her use his shoulder for her tears. But this. Her willingly in his arms, saying yes to being his wife. Never in a million years.
Another button came undone with ease. His lips inched up, following the path his hands were taking. Each time he found a new spot to kiss, she trembled and a breathy moan left her sweet, luscious lips. He was torn between kissing her soft skin and tangling tongues with her. Both were like being in heaven.
“This is torture. Let me do it.” Her words came out soft and breathy. And not like she wanted him to stop.
Instead of answering, he continued his path upward, undoing another button, his lips meeting silky, beautiful skin. When he neared her breasts, he paused, taking in the view. A white lacy bra covered her, exposing more skin than containing it. He was in love…with this bra. Who knew she wore such sexy lingerie underneath her clothes? Well, now he did, and he’d be letting his imagination run away more and more from now on. He knew it.
He undid the last few buttons, then cupped her breasts. His eyes zeroed in on a rosy nipple, suckling hard as she arched upward off the bed.
“Jaxson…” Her breathy voice had him ramped up and ready.
But he wanted to take this slowly. He wanted to savor every second with her.
“You are so gorgeous. Every inch of you.” Then he slid his hands underneath her and unclasped her bra.
She sat up as he helped her slip off her shirt and bra, tossing them to the floor. Before she could take off his shirt, something he could tell she wanted to do when her hands reached for the bottom, he pushed her down and reclaimed a nipple.
He took his time giving each one attention, biting playfully and kissing afterward to soothe. He knew she liked it as her low moans and constant shifting closer to him didn’t stop, but only increased.
“Okay, I take it back. I’ll fix any button you want, but you need to take that shirt off now.”
(Copyright © 2021 Amanda Siegrist)
ALSO AVAILABLE
💋 #1 The Wrong Brother – 99c for a limited time! ➸
December 1, 2020
Snowflakes and Shots is live!
RELEASE BLITZ
Title: Snowflakes and Shots
Series: A Holiday Romance Novel #5
Author: Amanda Siegrist
Genre: Holiday Romance
Release Date: December 1, 2020
BLURB
One last shot at love…
Stu doesn’t have many regrets in life—not even the fact he never decorates his bar for the holidays. But when a bar fight turns into needing medical attention, he’s put face-to-face with the one woman he’s tried to avoid for the last fifteen years. Okay, so maybe he regrets a few things. He should’ve never walked away from her. It only took a good knock to his head to make him see clearly. He’s going to win Chasity’s heart once again. It doesn’t matter that she’s not going to make it easy; he’s up for the challenge. Bring on the bets and all the Christmas spirit he can handle. Except, one person doesn’t like the idea of them together—the same person that had him walking away from her all those years ago.
Add it to your TBR list HERE!
Grab your copy HERE!
EXCERPT
He drove into town and parked his car near her apartment when he saw Chasity jaunt out of the front door to her building and start jogging at a steady pace.
Shit. Now he’d have to run hard to catch up.
But not too hard.
He caught up to her in short order, his breathing a little heavier than he was used to. He worked out. Usually some weights and a few strengthening exercises, but he didn’t generally run. Chasity ran without labored breathing. To be fair, though, he had to run faster to catch up to her.
Who was he kidding? She was going to kill him in this running business.
She cocked a tiny, adorable grin, but kept her steady pace. “Good morning, Stu.”
“Morning.”
His breathing started to level out as he caught on to her fluid pace.
“What are you doing?”
His arms swung in rhythm, the cold air brushing across his face in a soothing manner, rather than with brutality. Because it was cold as shit outside.
“I’m running. What are you doing?”
Sweet, beautiful laughter filled the chilly air. Oh, man, what he wouldn’t do to hear that wondrous sound every day for the rest of his life.
Wow.
How come he never saw this before? How come it took a knock to the head with a barstool to realize Chasity was who he wanted to spend his life with? Who he always had wanted to spend his life with. He was just too scared to see it. So damn fearful.
“Why are you running? I’ve never seen you run before.” Her pace slowed down a tiny fraction. “How did you know to find me out running?”
All in, baby.
Yep. He was all in.
“Well, not that I know your running schedule or anything, or keep tabs on you.” Hell, no. He tried his hardest to avoid seeing her around town. That didn’t mean it always worked. Plus, it was a small town. “But I know you always run on Thursday and Monday mornings at nine o’clock. So, I decided I was going to run at those times, too.”
“Oh, you just decided that?” She shook her head as more laughter came out. More like, irritated laughter than the lighthearted kind from before.
“Yep.”
Chasity picked up the pace.
Stu was forced to follow her lead.
“Keep up, old man.” Then she took off at a sprint.
Shit.
(Copyright © 2020 Amanda Siegrist)
Title: Snowflakes and Shots
Series: A Holiday Romance Novel #5
Author: Amanda Siegrist
Genre: Holiday Romance
Release Date: December 1, 2020
BLURB
One last shot at love…
Stu doesn’t have many regrets in life—not even the fact he never decorates his bar for the holidays. But when a bar fight turns into needing medical attention, he’s put face-to-face with the one woman he’s tried to avoid for the last fifteen years. Okay, so maybe he regrets a few things. He should’ve never walked away from her. It only took a good knock to his head to make him see clearly. He’s going to win Chasity’s heart once again. It doesn’t matter that she’s not going to make it easy; he’s up for the challenge. Bring on the bets and all the Christmas spirit he can handle. Except, one person doesn’t like the idea of them together—the same person that had him walking away from her all those years ago.
Add it to your TBR list HERE!
Grab your copy HERE!
EXCERPT
He drove into town and parked his car near her apartment when he saw Chasity jaunt out of the front door to her building and start jogging at a steady pace.
Shit. Now he’d have to run hard to catch up.
But not too hard.
He caught up to her in short order, his breathing a little heavier than he was used to. He worked out. Usually some weights and a few strengthening exercises, but he didn’t generally run. Chasity ran without labored breathing. To be fair, though, he had to run faster to catch up to her.
Who was he kidding? She was going to kill him in this running business.
She cocked a tiny, adorable grin, but kept her steady pace. “Good morning, Stu.”
“Morning.”
His breathing started to level out as he caught on to her fluid pace.
“What are you doing?”
His arms swung in rhythm, the cold air brushing across his face in a soothing manner, rather than with brutality. Because it was cold as shit outside.
“I’m running. What are you doing?”
Sweet, beautiful laughter filled the chilly air. Oh, man, what he wouldn’t do to hear that wondrous sound every day for the rest of his life.
Wow.
How come he never saw this before? How come it took a knock to the head with a barstool to realize Chasity was who he wanted to spend his life with? Who he always had wanted to spend his life with. He was just too scared to see it. So damn fearful.
“Why are you running? I’ve never seen you run before.” Her pace slowed down a tiny fraction. “How did you know to find me out running?”
All in, baby.
Yep. He was all in.
“Well, not that I know your running schedule or anything, or keep tabs on you.” Hell, no. He tried his hardest to avoid seeing her around town. That didn’t mean it always worked. Plus, it was a small town. “But I know you always run on Thursday and Monday mornings at nine o’clock. So, I decided I was going to run at those times, too.”
“Oh, you just decided that?” She shook her head as more laughter came out. More like, irritated laughter than the lighthearted kind from before.
“Yep.”
Chasity picked up the pace.
Stu was forced to follow her lead.
“Keep up, old man.” Then she took off at a sprint.
Shit.
(Copyright © 2020 Amanda Siegrist)
November 16, 2020
Snowflakes and Shots Preorder Blitz
Title: Snowflakes and Shots
Series: A Holiday Romance Novel #5
Author: Amanda Siegrist
Genre: Holiday Romance
Release Date: December 1, 2020
BLURB
One last shot at love…
Stu doesn’t have many regrets in life—not even the fact he never decorates his bar for the holidays. But when a bar fight turns into needing medical attention, he’s put face-to-face with the one woman he’s tried to avoid for the last fifteen years. Okay, so maybe he regrets a few things. He should’ve never walked away from her. It only took a good knock to his head to make him see clearly. He’s going to win Chasity’s heart once again. It doesn’t matter that she’s not going to make it easy; he’s up for the challenge. Bring on the bets and all the Christmas spirit he can handle. Except, one person doesn’t like the idea of them together—the same person that had him walking away from her all those years ago.
Add it to your TBR list: HERE
PRE-ORDER HERE!
EXCERPT
He needed to tread carefully. Letting her know how he felt at the start of their tentative relationship wouldn’t be wise. He was already skating on thin ice with her. One wrong move and she’d shove him out of her life.
He couldn’t let that happen.
Getting out bed, he looked around the room for his clothes, realizing he left them in the bathroom. Well, they slept together with him only in his boxers, it shouldn’t be too weird for him to walk out there in only that.
Opening the door, he headed down the short hallway, his nose picking up the scent of bacon as he neared the bathroom. Oh, a woman after his heart, for sure. Making him breakfast.
He peeked inside the bathroom, his clothes nowhere in sight. Well, shit. He swore he left them in here.
Having no choice, he walked into the living room, finding the room empty. He could hear low music playing in the kitchen—of course, a peppy Christmas tune—and a sweet voice singing along with it.
He had decided he wanted all in with her. That meant he wanted her for the rest of his life. She’d have to get used to him walking around the place with only boxers on. Puffing up his chest, flexing a bit, because hey, he could make himself look good, he ventured into the kitchen.
“Good morning.”
A tiny shriek sounded across the way, as Chasity jumped in front of the stove, the spatula popping up out of the pan and a few eggs flying to the floor.
He grinned. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
She placed a hand to her chest, small laughter escaping. “Totally didn’t startle me.”
A brow rose. “No? Not even a tiny bit.” He glanced down at the floor, his grin widening. “So, your eggs like to hop out of the pan like that all the time?”
“It’s just the way I make eggs.”
This woman couldn’t get any more adorable if she tried. Her hair was looped up behind her head in a messy bun. She wore a pair of black drawstring pants with her nightgown still on, but a light tan sweater dressed over it. Her cheeks were starting to blush a rosy red. He sort of loved it when she blushed by something he did or said. It made him want to elicit more of that out of her.
He edged closer to her, his smile growing as he did. Her own sweet smile started to emerge as the pinkish hue laced across her cheeks spread down her neck.
“I seem to have lost my clothes.” He chuckled along with her as he planted his hands on her waist.
“That is a tragedy,” she said, biting the bottom of her lip as her eyes trailed downward.
(Copyright © 2020 Amanda Siegrist)
October 17, 2020
Flash Fiction Friday - birds...vikings
Happy Friday, lovelies! So sorry I missed last week. We’re moving next month, and I’ve been getting ready for it. Lots of packing going on and trying to get the house put together to sell. But I managed to write this week’s flash! Hope you enjoy it!
Writing prompt ~ birds (Provided by Melissa) vikings (provided by Jane Blythe) Scene #10
Rory could still feel his heart pounding against his chest. Could Brooke feel it, too? Did she fully understand how truly terrified he had been when he heard her scream? He hadn’t lied. He had never felt such fear in his life. Not even the time when he and Reese came upon an armed robbery in progress, a gun centered on his best friend while he tried to talk to the drunken, sad newly divorced man down from robbing a liquor store. Yeah, not that guy’s best day. Nor for him and Reese. It had been terrifying, sending all his wits and bravery to the forefront.
But this.
That moment he heard her scream.
A thousand times worse.
With Reese, he knew his enemy. He saw the problem standing in front of him. A guy with a gun, clearly unhinged.
This, with Brooke, was a mystery. And okay, he was a detective, mysteries were sort of his thing. But he didn’t particularly like mysteries. At least, not when it involved someone he cared about. He didn’t care what anyone would say or think. He cared about Brooke, even knowing her less than a day.
Shit.
How in the hell did that happen? How did this spunky, sassy, outrageously gorgeous funny woman get under his skin so easily?
Well, whatever. Not something he had the time ponder at the moment. No. He had to figure out who scared the shit out of Brooke by knocking on her door, then entered her house to do—well, that was the million dollar question, wasn’t it? To do what? Hurt her? Scare her? Steal from her?
He pressed her closer, kissing her softly. One, because he wanted to stop the slight trembles he felt coating her body after telling her someone had been in her house. Two, because he needed to stop his own terror from running rampant through his veins. He still couldn’t get his heartbeat to settle down.
This was insane, the way he felt. But he was going to do what he normally did in any given situation. Roll with it. Because when it came to intense situations, odd ones, or even slightly crazy ones, the best course of action was to always go with the flow and figure the problems out afterwards. Overthinking, overanalyzing, and scrutinizing a situation did nothing but give him a headache. That’s what Reese was for. Reese did the overthinking and overanalyzing. He did the impulsive things.
Maybe he should call him.
Then he immediately discredited the idea. He had to get his entire wits—his racing heart—back to normal before he called his partner. The last thing he wanted was Reese to give him shit in front of Brooke. It was bad enough he had done it without her around.
Hating it, but knowing he had to, he broke the kiss, then smiled when she produced an adorable pouty face. Shit. He would’ve never in a million years thought a woman making a pouty face would be adorable. But on Brooke, oh so damn adorable. It made him want to lean in for another kiss. And another. And another until he forgot about those condoms they needed and showed her just how serious he was about her.
Because that was another thing about him. When he made a decision, he made it quick and decisive, and he didn’t budge from it. He decided Brooke was his.
“We need to talk about this.”
She nodded, her eyes widening some. “I’m clean. I haven’t even had sex in a while. A long while. Okay, fine, I confess, it’s been over a year.” Then she looked away, a blush rising on her cheeks. “I can’t believe I just said that.”
Rory couldn’t help but chuckle. She blurted out the most random things at the oddest times. He enjoyed it because most of the time it was truth and honesty spilling out and he coveted those two traits like a kid on Halloween protecting their bucket of candy.
He gently tugged on her chin to look at him. “Not the conversation I meant, but I’m clean, too. It’s been…” He paused, trying to think. After Delilah—bitch from hell—he had sworn off women, which had included sex. “Five months.”
Brooke tilted her head as a sweet smile graced her face. “Are you just saying that to be nice?”
“One thing you’ll always get with me is honesty.” He kissed her lightly, as if sealing his honesty with a signature kiss. “Just as I expect the same thing.”
Which he had no doubt he’d get with her.
Before this conversation could completely derailed, he tightened his hands around her waist and tried to keep his smile, but failed.
“I meant, we need to talk about who might’ve been in your house.”
Brooke shrugged, yet he felt the slight shiver coat her body.
“My first thought is it has to do with your boss. Any mutual enemies?”
Her eyes bulged. “God, no.”
“None? Not even rival competitors?”
“I work at an advertising company. Our rivals don’t get that vicious.”
Rory’s lips split into a grin, especially when she rolled her eyes as if he had said the world’s dumbest thing. “Anyone can get vicious.”
Another tremble shifted his way. Shit. He hadn’t meant to frighten her with his words, even if they were true.
“Your company has a lot of clients. Perhaps another agency wanted one of your clients. Even the slightest thing could set someone off.”
Brooke shrugged again. “Honestly, I can’t think of anyone. We’ve been working with a few new clients, but there haven’t been any concerns that I’m aware of.”
“Like who?”
She tilted her head, a gesture he found she liked to do when she liked to ponder something.
“A company that sells bird seed. My boss hated working with them. His latest slogan he sent them was ‘Feed the birds, feed the beauty.’ Which I tried to tell him didn’t have much umph or make much sense, but he never listened to me. Then there’s the company that sells hats. They’re kind of weird looking hats. Covers your ears, but there not made for warmth. More like a style statement.” Brooke grimaced as if she’d never be caught dead wearing one. “It’s hard to explain without seeing one. Anyway, his bright idea for that was ‘Be bold. Be awesome. Be like the vikings.’ They definitely don’t look like a viking hat. Then there’s—”
He hated to cut her off, but he was getting the picture fairly well. Instead of getting angry or annoyed at him, something his past girlfriends would have done, she pressed her lips harder against his finger he had placed over her mouth to shut her up.
“You just said there weren’t any concerns. It sounds like your boss wasn’t doing his job. That would make for a lot of disgruntled clients.”
“Oh, he’s like that with everyone. I guess I’m just used to it. He’s terrible at his job.”
“So, how did he still have it?” He would’ve fired the asshole a long time ago, simply for the way he had treated Brooke. He almost wished the guy wasn’t dead so he could kill him himself. That bastard should’ve never put his hands on her in any way.
“Who’s the detective here? Me or you?” She giggled. “His father’s best friend owns the company. He’s like his godfather or something. He gets away with everything—or did. What’s crazy, Matthew—the owner—has no idea he was sleeping with his wife. The man was truly disgusting.”
Maybe Brooke had it right. Who was the detective here? Because after working all day on the case with Reese, they never found that juicy tidbit out. Sleeping with the bosses wife was a very nice motive to kill him. And Brooke knew. Which begged the question, who else knew?
So he asked.
His heart, which had calmed slightly, started to beat like a racehorse once more when Brooke’s eyes bulged like round saucers. Why did she look at him like not many people knew? Like this could be the reason someone tried to break into her house. To tie up all loose ends.
Well, not on his watch. And not with his woman.
♥♥♥
If you’d like to start the story at the beginning, you can find the other scenes on my website blog, or on this blog.
Writing prompt ~ birds (Provided by Melissa) vikings (provided by Jane Blythe) Scene #10
Rory could still feel his heart pounding against his chest. Could Brooke feel it, too? Did she fully understand how truly terrified he had been when he heard her scream? He hadn’t lied. He had never felt such fear in his life. Not even the time when he and Reese came upon an armed robbery in progress, a gun centered on his best friend while he tried to talk to the drunken, sad newly divorced man down from robbing a liquor store. Yeah, not that guy’s best day. Nor for him and Reese. It had been terrifying, sending all his wits and bravery to the forefront.
But this.
That moment he heard her scream.
A thousand times worse.
With Reese, he knew his enemy. He saw the problem standing in front of him. A guy with a gun, clearly unhinged.
This, with Brooke, was a mystery. And okay, he was a detective, mysteries were sort of his thing. But he didn’t particularly like mysteries. At least, not when it involved someone he cared about. He didn’t care what anyone would say or think. He cared about Brooke, even knowing her less than a day.
Shit.
How in the hell did that happen? How did this spunky, sassy, outrageously gorgeous funny woman get under his skin so easily?
Well, whatever. Not something he had the time ponder at the moment. No. He had to figure out who scared the shit out of Brooke by knocking on her door, then entered her house to do—well, that was the million dollar question, wasn’t it? To do what? Hurt her? Scare her? Steal from her?
He pressed her closer, kissing her softly. One, because he wanted to stop the slight trembles he felt coating her body after telling her someone had been in her house. Two, because he needed to stop his own terror from running rampant through his veins. He still couldn’t get his heartbeat to settle down.
This was insane, the way he felt. But he was going to do what he normally did in any given situation. Roll with it. Because when it came to intense situations, odd ones, or even slightly crazy ones, the best course of action was to always go with the flow and figure the problems out afterwards. Overthinking, overanalyzing, and scrutinizing a situation did nothing but give him a headache. That’s what Reese was for. Reese did the overthinking and overanalyzing. He did the impulsive things.
Maybe he should call him.
Then he immediately discredited the idea. He had to get his entire wits—his racing heart—back to normal before he called his partner. The last thing he wanted was Reese to give him shit in front of Brooke. It was bad enough he had done it without her around.
Hating it, but knowing he had to, he broke the kiss, then smiled when she produced an adorable pouty face. Shit. He would’ve never in a million years thought a woman making a pouty face would be adorable. But on Brooke, oh so damn adorable. It made him want to lean in for another kiss. And another. And another until he forgot about those condoms they needed and showed her just how serious he was about her.
Because that was another thing about him. When he made a decision, he made it quick and decisive, and he didn’t budge from it. He decided Brooke was his.
“We need to talk about this.”
She nodded, her eyes widening some. “I’m clean. I haven’t even had sex in a while. A long while. Okay, fine, I confess, it’s been over a year.” Then she looked away, a blush rising on her cheeks. “I can’t believe I just said that.”
Rory couldn’t help but chuckle. She blurted out the most random things at the oddest times. He enjoyed it because most of the time it was truth and honesty spilling out and he coveted those two traits like a kid on Halloween protecting their bucket of candy.
He gently tugged on her chin to look at him. “Not the conversation I meant, but I’m clean, too. It’s been…” He paused, trying to think. After Delilah—bitch from hell—he had sworn off women, which had included sex. “Five months.”
Brooke tilted her head as a sweet smile graced her face. “Are you just saying that to be nice?”
“One thing you’ll always get with me is honesty.” He kissed her lightly, as if sealing his honesty with a signature kiss. “Just as I expect the same thing.”
Which he had no doubt he’d get with her.
Before this conversation could completely derailed, he tightened his hands around her waist and tried to keep his smile, but failed.
“I meant, we need to talk about who might’ve been in your house.”
Brooke shrugged, yet he felt the slight shiver coat her body.
“My first thought is it has to do with your boss. Any mutual enemies?”
Her eyes bulged. “God, no.”
“None? Not even rival competitors?”
“I work at an advertising company. Our rivals don’t get that vicious.”
Rory’s lips split into a grin, especially when she rolled her eyes as if he had said the world’s dumbest thing. “Anyone can get vicious.”
Another tremble shifted his way. Shit. He hadn’t meant to frighten her with his words, even if they were true.
“Your company has a lot of clients. Perhaps another agency wanted one of your clients. Even the slightest thing could set someone off.”
Brooke shrugged again. “Honestly, I can’t think of anyone. We’ve been working with a few new clients, but there haven’t been any concerns that I’m aware of.”
“Like who?”
She tilted her head, a gesture he found she liked to do when she liked to ponder something.
“A company that sells bird seed. My boss hated working with them. His latest slogan he sent them was ‘Feed the birds, feed the beauty.’ Which I tried to tell him didn’t have much umph or make much sense, but he never listened to me. Then there’s the company that sells hats. They’re kind of weird looking hats. Covers your ears, but there not made for warmth. More like a style statement.” Brooke grimaced as if she’d never be caught dead wearing one. “It’s hard to explain without seeing one. Anyway, his bright idea for that was ‘Be bold. Be awesome. Be like the vikings.’ They definitely don’t look like a viking hat. Then there’s—”
He hated to cut her off, but he was getting the picture fairly well. Instead of getting angry or annoyed at him, something his past girlfriends would have done, she pressed her lips harder against his finger he had placed over her mouth to shut her up.
“You just said there weren’t any concerns. It sounds like your boss wasn’t doing his job. That would make for a lot of disgruntled clients.”
“Oh, he’s like that with everyone. I guess I’m just used to it. He’s terrible at his job.”
“So, how did he still have it?” He would’ve fired the asshole a long time ago, simply for the way he had treated Brooke. He almost wished the guy wasn’t dead so he could kill him himself. That bastard should’ve never put his hands on her in any way.
“Who’s the detective here? Me or you?” She giggled. “His father’s best friend owns the company. He’s like his godfather or something. He gets away with everything—or did. What’s crazy, Matthew—the owner—has no idea he was sleeping with his wife. The man was truly disgusting.”
Maybe Brooke had it right. Who was the detective here? Because after working all day on the case with Reese, they never found that juicy tidbit out. Sleeping with the bosses wife was a very nice motive to kill him. And Brooke knew. Which begged the question, who else knew?
So he asked.
His heart, which had calmed slightly, started to beat like a racehorse once more when Brooke’s eyes bulged like round saucers. Why did she look at him like not many people knew? Like this could be the reason someone tried to break into her house. To tie up all loose ends.
Well, not on his watch. And not with his woman.
♥♥♥
If you’d like to start the story at the beginning, you can find the other scenes on my website blog, or on this blog.
September 26, 2020
Flash Fiction Friday - Not again...
Happy Saturday, lovelies! Eek! This week went fast. But honestly, I swear each week has been flying by. We’re almost in October. How crazy is that? Hope you enjoy this week’s flash! Rory’s partner is fun! lol
Writing Prompt ~ Not again… (Provided by Deborah) Scene #8
Rory fiddled with the beer label on the bottle, trying to ignore Reese’s snickering. He should’ve never told him about Brooke and everything that occurred. Yeah, sure, he had to tell Reese about what she said about her boss, but everything else—should’ve kept it zipped up tightly. Reese was having way too much fun at his expense.
“How are your balls now? Should I get Tank to get you an ice pack?” Reese asked in a soft voice as if talking to a child—but of course with the snickering behind each word told him he wasn’t being serious.
Funny enough, Rory wouldn’t say no to an ice pack. His balls still had a lingering pain. Hello! Claws dug into his skin. That shit hurt.
“Are you done yet?”
Reese shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. But I’m definitely putting this in my mental box. Never going to forget it.”
“You are the worst best friend in the entire world.”
“Yet, you’d be lost without me.” Reese winked, then clinked bottles with his. “You going to drink that, or just keep playing with the damn label?”
He didn’t look at Reese. Any sort of eye contact would probably be his downfall. His partner—and yeah, his best friend of fifteen years—would see the truth.
He liked Brooke. Crazy cat lady, and although not a suspect, definitely a witness in a murder investigation.
“You could always feign some more questions and drop by her place. Get that kiss you didn’t manage to get the first time around. Just lock the cat in a dungeon or something. Far, far away from your balls.”
Rory couldn’t hold back chuckling along with Reese, even though it wouldn’t be funny if Willow sunk her claws into him again. No, thanks.
Just one more reason why Reese would always be his best friend no matter how much he wanted to hate him sometimes. Because he knew the heart of the problem without even needing to make eye contact. Damn him.
“It wouldn’t work. No, thanks.”
“Shit. Not again,” Reese muttered.
“What?” Rory looked around the small dingy bar they liked to venture to after a long day’s work. It was around the block from the precinct, sort of hidden from the main drag. One had to enter through the alleyway, so unless a person knew about the location, people passed by it. It didn’t make Rory sad because he liked it better when it wasn’t busy. Sometimes trouble did walk in, and Tank, who ran the bar, always appreciated it more when he and Reese stepped in to take care of the problem. Not that Tank couldn’t handle any problems his way—former military, he could handle anything. But he also liked to fly under the radar, so letting them step in was always on the top of Tank’s list.
Reese whacked him on the back of the head. “You’re being an idiot.”
He rubbed the back of his head, finally glancing at Reese with a menacing glare. “What the hell was that for?”
“To knock some sense into you. You always do this with women. You find a potential good one—one you really like—but instead of doing something about it, like asking her out like a man, you walk away creating issues in your head that it would never work out anyway.”
“Umm…murdered boss. Investigation. Witness. Need I say more?”
Although, Rory wouldn’t dispute anything Reese said. It was all true. But hell, he was sick of women putting him through the wringer. It was just easier to avoid them.
And she owned the demon cat from hell. That should be enough of a reason to stay as far away as possible.
“Excuses. But whatever, it’s your balls not getting tender loving care, not mine.” Then Reese took a sip of beer, looking away as if the conversation was over.
Rory laughed. Because Reese wasn’t getting any loving care to his balls either. Neither of them had dated in a while. Maybe Rory should twist the conversation around and focus on Reese’s dating life instead. See how he liked it.
Before he could snap back, his phone rang. Pulling it out of his pocket, he didn’t recognize the number, but that didn’t mean anything. He got calls all the time from people he didn’t know, usually pertaining to a case.
“This is Detective Walker.”
“I need you. I think. I don’t know actually. The doorbell went off and I checked it, but no one was there. Then Willow had the same weird feeling as me, so we went upstairs and now I’m afraid to go back down there.”
Well, it didn’t take a genius to figure out who was on the other line, even though she didn’t say hello or identify herself.
Brooke just had a way about her that made it easy to decipher who it was. Plus, he’d never forget her voice. Soft and smooth—with, unfortunately, a hint of fear.
“Is someone in the house? Did you hear anything?”
“No and no. At least, I think the first question is a no. Someone rang the doorbell, but nobody was there. That’s odd, isn’t it?”
“Yeah—”
“Okay, so you’ll come over and do a sweep of the house? Is that how you say it? Or check the perimeter? I don’t know the lingo.”
Rory had to suppress a laugh. This woman never failed to surprise him. And she loved to talk—or one could call it babbling. But she interrupted before he could say, “Yeah, but it could just be a bunch of teenagers having fun or something.”
He decided not to say it at all. She truly sounded scared.
And perhaps Reese was right—the bastard. He did want that kiss.
“Where are you upstairs? In your bedroom?”
“Yes, with the door locked.”
Perfect place to kiss.
“I’ll be right there.” He couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across his lips. “To check the perimeter and make a sweep of the house.”
He hung up after reassuring Brooke a few more times he’d be right there.
“I actually thought there might be a problem with your lady love, but with the shit-eating grin on your face, now I think Brooke needs to think about what you said and read between the lines.”
Rory stood up, shoving his phone back in his pocket. “Shut up.”
“Have fun sweeping the house and checking that perimeter,” Reese said with a double wink.
“I will, asshole.” Then Rory whacked him on the back of the head and left.
He drove fast. For two reasons. One, just in case there was an actual problem. Two, because he was dying for that kiss.
When he got to her house, everything looked fine in the driveway and her yard. Although, as he neared her front door, his gut started to churn.
The door was slightly ajar.
Brooke didn’t mention that.
♥♥♥
If you’d like to start the story at the beginning, you can find the other scenes here:
Scene 1 | Scene 2 | Scene 3 | Scene 4 | Scene 5 | Scene 6 | Scene 7
Writing Prompt ~ Not again… (Provided by Deborah) Scene #8
Rory fiddled with the beer label on the bottle, trying to ignore Reese’s snickering. He should’ve never told him about Brooke and everything that occurred. Yeah, sure, he had to tell Reese about what she said about her boss, but everything else—should’ve kept it zipped up tightly. Reese was having way too much fun at his expense.
“How are your balls now? Should I get Tank to get you an ice pack?” Reese asked in a soft voice as if talking to a child—but of course with the snickering behind each word told him he wasn’t being serious.
Funny enough, Rory wouldn’t say no to an ice pack. His balls still had a lingering pain. Hello! Claws dug into his skin. That shit hurt.
“Are you done yet?”
Reese shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. But I’m definitely putting this in my mental box. Never going to forget it.”
“You are the worst best friend in the entire world.”
“Yet, you’d be lost without me.” Reese winked, then clinked bottles with his. “You going to drink that, or just keep playing with the damn label?”
He didn’t look at Reese. Any sort of eye contact would probably be his downfall. His partner—and yeah, his best friend of fifteen years—would see the truth.
He liked Brooke. Crazy cat lady, and although not a suspect, definitely a witness in a murder investigation.
“You could always feign some more questions and drop by her place. Get that kiss you didn’t manage to get the first time around. Just lock the cat in a dungeon or something. Far, far away from your balls.”
Rory couldn’t hold back chuckling along with Reese, even though it wouldn’t be funny if Willow sunk her claws into him again. No, thanks.
Just one more reason why Reese would always be his best friend no matter how much he wanted to hate him sometimes. Because he knew the heart of the problem without even needing to make eye contact. Damn him.
“It wouldn’t work. No, thanks.”
“Shit. Not again,” Reese muttered.
“What?” Rory looked around the small dingy bar they liked to venture to after a long day’s work. It was around the block from the precinct, sort of hidden from the main drag. One had to enter through the alleyway, so unless a person knew about the location, people passed by it. It didn’t make Rory sad because he liked it better when it wasn’t busy. Sometimes trouble did walk in, and Tank, who ran the bar, always appreciated it more when he and Reese stepped in to take care of the problem. Not that Tank couldn’t handle any problems his way—former military, he could handle anything. But he also liked to fly under the radar, so letting them step in was always on the top of Tank’s list.
Reese whacked him on the back of the head. “You’re being an idiot.”
He rubbed the back of his head, finally glancing at Reese with a menacing glare. “What the hell was that for?”
“To knock some sense into you. You always do this with women. You find a potential good one—one you really like—but instead of doing something about it, like asking her out like a man, you walk away creating issues in your head that it would never work out anyway.”
“Umm…murdered boss. Investigation. Witness. Need I say more?”
Although, Rory wouldn’t dispute anything Reese said. It was all true. But hell, he was sick of women putting him through the wringer. It was just easier to avoid them.
And she owned the demon cat from hell. That should be enough of a reason to stay as far away as possible.
“Excuses. But whatever, it’s your balls not getting tender loving care, not mine.” Then Reese took a sip of beer, looking away as if the conversation was over.
Rory laughed. Because Reese wasn’t getting any loving care to his balls either. Neither of them had dated in a while. Maybe Rory should twist the conversation around and focus on Reese’s dating life instead. See how he liked it.
Before he could snap back, his phone rang. Pulling it out of his pocket, he didn’t recognize the number, but that didn’t mean anything. He got calls all the time from people he didn’t know, usually pertaining to a case.
“This is Detective Walker.”
“I need you. I think. I don’t know actually. The doorbell went off and I checked it, but no one was there. Then Willow had the same weird feeling as me, so we went upstairs and now I’m afraid to go back down there.”
Well, it didn’t take a genius to figure out who was on the other line, even though she didn’t say hello or identify herself.
Brooke just had a way about her that made it easy to decipher who it was. Plus, he’d never forget her voice. Soft and smooth—with, unfortunately, a hint of fear.
“Is someone in the house? Did you hear anything?”
“No and no. At least, I think the first question is a no. Someone rang the doorbell, but nobody was there. That’s odd, isn’t it?”
“Yeah—”
“Okay, so you’ll come over and do a sweep of the house? Is that how you say it? Or check the perimeter? I don’t know the lingo.”
Rory had to suppress a laugh. This woman never failed to surprise him. And she loved to talk—or one could call it babbling. But she interrupted before he could say, “Yeah, but it could just be a bunch of teenagers having fun or something.”
He decided not to say it at all. She truly sounded scared.
And perhaps Reese was right—the bastard. He did want that kiss.
“Where are you upstairs? In your bedroom?”
“Yes, with the door locked.”
Perfect place to kiss.
“I’ll be right there.” He couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across his lips. “To check the perimeter and make a sweep of the house.”
He hung up after reassuring Brooke a few more times he’d be right there.
“I actually thought there might be a problem with your lady love, but with the shit-eating grin on your face, now I think Brooke needs to think about what you said and read between the lines.”
Rory stood up, shoving his phone back in his pocket. “Shut up.”
“Have fun sweeping the house and checking that perimeter,” Reese said with a double wink.
“I will, asshole.” Then Rory whacked him on the back of the head and left.
He drove fast. For two reasons. One, just in case there was an actual problem. Two, because he was dying for that kiss.
When he got to her house, everything looked fine in the driveway and her yard. Although, as he neared her front door, his gut started to churn.
The door was slightly ajar.
Brooke didn’t mention that.
♥♥♥
If you’d like to start the story at the beginning, you can find the other scenes here:
Scene 1 | Scene 2 | Scene 3 | Scene 4 | Scene 5 | Scene 6 | Scene 7
September 20, 2020
Flash Fiction Friday - On second thought
Happy Sunday, lovelies! Sorry for the delay in this week's flash! I hope you had a fabulous weekend! I’m pretty excited for tomorrow. It’s my birthday, and I can’t wait! Enjoy this week’s flash!
Writing Prompt ~ On second thought. (Provided by Lisa) Scene #7
Brooke curled under the blanket, petting Willow immediately as she jumped up on the couch and took a spot right on her lap above the blanket. She had decided to sit down on the couch for a small moment, just to collect her thoughts. Now she’d be here a while because she hated shoving off Willow. She’d rather sit here for an hour than push Willow off her lap. Plus, when she petted Willow, she purred, and the melodic sound always put Brooke at ease, especially when she was stressed.
And the day she had, stress didn’t even begin to describe how she felt.
Since the moment the detective left hours ago, her mind had been circling with thought after thought.
Disgusting memories of her boss. How she wasn’t really sad he was dead. Which made her feel like a terrible person, even though her boss had been a true nightmare and not worthy of her guilt.
Of course, enticing thoughts of Detective Walker and how depressing it was he didn’t get the chance to kiss her.
Her hand paused petting Willow. All her fault she didn’t get to taste his decadent lips. Stopping didn’t sway Willow. She nudged her hand, indicating she wanted more rubs along the stretch of her back. She loved little rubs under her neck, on top of her head, and down her back, but she wasn’t a fan of her belly. Brooke made sure to stay clear of that area.
She rubbed vigorously under her chin, laughing. “You silly kitty. You should apologize for ruining the moment. I bet he was a fantastic kisser.”
Willow didn’t respond other than to nudge her hand again to keep going, her purr loud and soothing.
“Yeah, on second thought…” Brooke shook her head. “No good would come from kissing that man. I’m not even sure I liked him. He could be a bit abrasive and in-your-face, you know.”
Another gentle prod to her hand was the only answer she got, which she took to mean Willow agreed with her.
She continued to sit there on her couch, petting Willow, her mind going in a million different directions, knowing at some point she’d have to get up and make supper. She just didn’t have the energy. After everything that happened today, she honestly didn’t have the energy for much. Not even going into work tomorrow.
How terrible would it be if she called in sick again? Would they think she had something to do with her boss’s murder?
She sat up straight, which jolted Willow out of her lap.
Did they already think she had something to do with it? She called out today—unwittingly not knowing her boss had been found murdered. They could think she did it on purpose, to avoid the situation.
Leaning slowly against the couch, she tried to dispel the silly notion. But couldn’t. She knew the detective had even thought of her as a potential suspect. Why wouldn’t her co-workers think the same thing? She had left last night upset. Although she had tried to hold her emotions in, she was positive people got the drift she didn’t leave happy.
Then she called out of work.
Oh, dear.
Not good at all.
She stood up, grabbing her phone from the coffee table. And continued to stand there, unsure of how to proceed. Who did she call? And what would she say?
I didn’t kill him. I swear.
That just sounded dumb. And slightly guilty, like she was trying too hard to hide the truth.
This was ridiculous. She was acting ridiculous. No one thought she killed her boss. He was a jackass to everyone. There were so many possible suspects.
With that thought—not exactly firmly planted in her mind—she decided now was a good time to make supper. She slid the phone into her pocket. Although, she didn’t think she’d have an appetite for much, so a light salad sounded nice.
Brooke took her time grabbing the ingredients: romaine lettuce, cut up carrots, a boiled egg sliced up, a toss of sunflower seeds, all topped with caesar dressing. Yum! Her mouth salivated as her bowl practically overflowed with everything.
Her fork was nearly to her mouth for the first wonderful bite when her doorbell went off.
“I hope it’s not that detective again.”
Yet, as she walked toward the front door, she knew she just uttered a lie. A part of hoped it was him. She wanted that kiss still, no matter how much she shouldn’t.
When she looked through the peephole, she didn’t see anyone. Opening the door, her brows pleated as she looked around the porch and her front yard. No vehicle sat parked in her driveway. No person—or animal, not that she thought an animal would push the doorbell—was anywhere in sight.
Odd.
Closing the door, she turned around and jumped.
Willow sat in the middle of the hallway, staring up at her.
Meow.
Brooke looked down the hallway that led to the kitchen, the hairs suddenly standing up on her arms.
Then she looked at Willow, who had stood up.
Meow.
“You’re right. It’s weird the doorbell went off and no one’s out there. What should we do?”
Willow walked up and rubbed against her leg. The same leg that held her phone.
It probably wasn’t the smartest idea, but she had the strangest feeling something was about to happen. And not in a good way. Heading upstairs, the fastest she had ever done, she went straight for her room, shutting the door as soon as Willow came inside as well. Which just further confirmed her suspicions something was wrong. Well, okay, maybe she was overreacting a little bit because Willow followed her around the house most of the time. Such a pushy cat, never respecting boundaries.
But she always liked to be safer than sorry. Something her dad had loved to say to her as a child growing up.
Pulling out her phone, she found Detective Walker’s number. Because, yeah, she totally saved his number the minute he left. So pathetic.
Then she hit dial.
♥♥♥
If you’d like to start the story at the beginning, you can find the other scenes here:
Scene 1 | Scene 2 | Scene 3 | Scene 4 | Scene 5 | Scene 6
Writing Prompt ~ On second thought. (Provided by Lisa) Scene #7
Brooke curled under the blanket, petting Willow immediately as she jumped up on the couch and took a spot right on her lap above the blanket. She had decided to sit down on the couch for a small moment, just to collect her thoughts. Now she’d be here a while because she hated shoving off Willow. She’d rather sit here for an hour than push Willow off her lap. Plus, when she petted Willow, she purred, and the melodic sound always put Brooke at ease, especially when she was stressed.
And the day she had, stress didn’t even begin to describe how she felt.
Since the moment the detective left hours ago, her mind had been circling with thought after thought.
Disgusting memories of her boss. How she wasn’t really sad he was dead. Which made her feel like a terrible person, even though her boss had been a true nightmare and not worthy of her guilt.
Of course, enticing thoughts of Detective Walker and how depressing it was he didn’t get the chance to kiss her.
Her hand paused petting Willow. All her fault she didn’t get to taste his decadent lips. Stopping didn’t sway Willow. She nudged her hand, indicating she wanted more rubs along the stretch of her back. She loved little rubs under her neck, on top of her head, and down her back, but she wasn’t a fan of her belly. Brooke made sure to stay clear of that area.
She rubbed vigorously under her chin, laughing. “You silly kitty. You should apologize for ruining the moment. I bet he was a fantastic kisser.”
Willow didn’t respond other than to nudge her hand again to keep going, her purr loud and soothing.
“Yeah, on second thought…” Brooke shook her head. “No good would come from kissing that man. I’m not even sure I liked him. He could be a bit abrasive and in-your-face, you know.”
Another gentle prod to her hand was the only answer she got, which she took to mean Willow agreed with her.
She continued to sit there on her couch, petting Willow, her mind going in a million different directions, knowing at some point she’d have to get up and make supper. She just didn’t have the energy. After everything that happened today, she honestly didn’t have the energy for much. Not even going into work tomorrow.
How terrible would it be if she called in sick again? Would they think she had something to do with her boss’s murder?
She sat up straight, which jolted Willow out of her lap.
Did they already think she had something to do with it? She called out today—unwittingly not knowing her boss had been found murdered. They could think she did it on purpose, to avoid the situation.
Leaning slowly against the couch, she tried to dispel the silly notion. But couldn’t. She knew the detective had even thought of her as a potential suspect. Why wouldn’t her co-workers think the same thing? She had left last night upset. Although she had tried to hold her emotions in, she was positive people got the drift she didn’t leave happy.
Then she called out of work.
Oh, dear.
Not good at all.
She stood up, grabbing her phone from the coffee table. And continued to stand there, unsure of how to proceed. Who did she call? And what would she say?
I didn’t kill him. I swear.
That just sounded dumb. And slightly guilty, like she was trying too hard to hide the truth.
This was ridiculous. She was acting ridiculous. No one thought she killed her boss. He was a jackass to everyone. There were so many possible suspects.
With that thought—not exactly firmly planted in her mind—she decided now was a good time to make supper. She slid the phone into her pocket. Although, she didn’t think she’d have an appetite for much, so a light salad sounded nice.
Brooke took her time grabbing the ingredients: romaine lettuce, cut up carrots, a boiled egg sliced up, a toss of sunflower seeds, all topped with caesar dressing. Yum! Her mouth salivated as her bowl practically overflowed with everything.
Her fork was nearly to her mouth for the first wonderful bite when her doorbell went off.
“I hope it’s not that detective again.”
Yet, as she walked toward the front door, she knew she just uttered a lie. A part of hoped it was him. She wanted that kiss still, no matter how much she shouldn’t.
When she looked through the peephole, she didn’t see anyone. Opening the door, her brows pleated as she looked around the porch and her front yard. No vehicle sat parked in her driveway. No person—or animal, not that she thought an animal would push the doorbell—was anywhere in sight.
Odd.
Closing the door, she turned around and jumped.
Willow sat in the middle of the hallway, staring up at her.
Meow.
Brooke looked down the hallway that led to the kitchen, the hairs suddenly standing up on her arms.
Then she looked at Willow, who had stood up.
Meow.
“You’re right. It’s weird the doorbell went off and no one’s out there. What should we do?”
Willow walked up and rubbed against her leg. The same leg that held her phone.
It probably wasn’t the smartest idea, but she had the strangest feeling something was about to happen. And not in a good way. Heading upstairs, the fastest she had ever done, she went straight for her room, shutting the door as soon as Willow came inside as well. Which just further confirmed her suspicions something was wrong. Well, okay, maybe she was overreacting a little bit because Willow followed her around the house most of the time. Such a pushy cat, never respecting boundaries.
But she always liked to be safer than sorry. Something her dad had loved to say to her as a child growing up.
Pulling out her phone, she found Detective Walker’s number. Because, yeah, she totally saved his number the minute he left. So pathetic.
Then she hit dial.
♥♥♥
If you’d like to start the story at the beginning, you can find the other scenes here:
Scene 1 | Scene 2 | Scene 3 | Scene 4 | Scene 5 | Scene 6
September 11, 2020
Flash Fiction Friday - That cat has to go.
Happy Friday, lovelies. Today is always a sad day, remembering the events that happened on September 11. Make sure you take a moment to remember those we lost over almost 20 years ago. I can’t even believe it’s been that long. Sometimes it feels like yesterday. Hug your family, be grateful, especially about the little things. You never know what might happen.
I hope you have a good day, and enjoy this week’s prompt!
Writing Prompt ~ That cat has to go. (Provided by Melissa) Scene #6
He imagined the face he was making right now wasn’t pretty. But neither was the pain. That damn cat…
What did it have against him? He thought he was nice enough a few minutes ago. Telling her he knew Brooke didn’t have anything to do with the murder.
Rory blew out a deep breath, his eyes closed as he held his hands over his crotch. Yeah, not a pretty sight at all, but hell, he needed to protect his crown jewels. He couldn’t risk another sneak attack. He got the message loud and clear.
No kissing.
But damn… He still really wanted to.
“Detective…” Brooke whispered. “You okay?”
Nope. He was not okay. He couldn’t even find his voice. One, because he wanted to shout nasty, vulgar words at a cat. Two, because the pain hadn’t subsided yet.
Sure, getting hit in the balls was painful. Like getting the wind knocked right out of you.
But claws attaching to—and sinking in—that was another pain entirely. It honestly had no words.
“Should I get some ice?” Brooke’s voice was still low and soft, as if talking to a toddler verging on the start of a massive tantrum. “What do you need?”
Well, for all the pain he was enduring, he needed that kiss. A kiss he shouldn’t even want.
“That cat has to go,” he croaked. Then he cracked open his eyes, finding Brooke’s concerned gaze. “Or I can go. But we can’t talk with the cat in the vicinity anymore.”
Brooke nodded, biting her bottom lip.
Yet, she didn’t indicate what her head nod meant. Yes, the cat would be banished? God, yes, he hoped so. Or, yes, he should go? Not the answer he wanted, but it would probably be the wiser one.
Rory shifted on the couch, wincing, yet the pain was starting to ebb away. Slightly.
“Willow…” Brooke smiled, as if that would lessen whatever horrible thing she was about to say. Rory had no doubt he wouldn’t like what she was about to say. “She doesn’t listen very well. She has a mind of her own.”
“She’s a cat.”
Pick her up and put her in another room and lock the door. Seemed simple enough to him.
Brooke frowned.
Rory didn’t like the way her brows dipped down and her smile disappeared. He couldn’t figure out why she suddenly frowned either—or why it bothered him so much.
“She’s not just a cat.”
He chuckled, regretting the decision immediately when Brooke’s frown worsened.
“She’s family. And I could ask her nicely to go to another room, but I won’t just put her in another room.”
It didn’t take detective skills to read between the lines.
“So, in other words, you can’t pick her up because she’ll attack you like she attacked my balls.”
“Well, I can pick her up,” Brooke averted her gaze, “But it’s not always a pretty sight.”
“I imagine my balls aren’t either at the moment.”
That garnered a delightful laugh out of Brooke. Shit. He’d keep making fun of himself if he got to hear more of that sweet sound.
What was this woman doing to him?
Putting him under a spell, for sure. He never acted this way with a woman.
She made him lose his mind. Which was what he had been trying to say before the demon spawn cat nearly eviscerated his balls. It was probably a good thing he never spoke those words. Getting any closer to this woman—beautiful, tempting woman—would not be good.
“I should go.”
With that decision firmly planted, he stood up. A sharp pain rattled up his spine, then slowly withered away until only a dull ache remained.
That damn, damn cat.
“Of course.” Brooke stood up as well. “Was there anything else I can help you with?”
Case wise, he didn’t think so. With the information she had given him—brief as it may be—he had a good start to work with. He imagined her boss had many enemies that would want him dead, especially if he had such grabby hands.
Personal wise, she could help him in so many ways.
But he wasn’t looking for a woman in his life. And definitely not one with a murderous cat that was considered family.
“I’ll drop by if there’s anything else I need. If you think of anything else, give me a call.” He grabbed a card from his wallet, and set it on the coffee table.
No need to invite trouble by possibly making even the slightest contact. One touch and he’d lose his mind and kiss her, risking the wrath of Willow.
No, thanks.
“Thank you for your time, Brooke.”
Then he walked out of the room, hating himself for how abrupt that sounded.
What a jackass.
Willow stood by the door as he approached it.
“I’m leaving. You got your way, demon spawn.”
Meow.
Rory didn’t stick around to hear more. He whipped open the door and left, feeling like a fool.
Letting a dumb cat run him out of the house. How ridiculous. He’d never live it down if his partner found out.
♥♥♥
If you’d like to start the story at the beginning, you can find the other scenes here:
Scene 1 | Scene 2 | Scene 3 | Scene 4 | Scene 5
I hope you have a good day, and enjoy this week’s prompt!
Writing Prompt ~ That cat has to go. (Provided by Melissa) Scene #6
He imagined the face he was making right now wasn’t pretty. But neither was the pain. That damn cat…
What did it have against him? He thought he was nice enough a few minutes ago. Telling her he knew Brooke didn’t have anything to do with the murder.
Rory blew out a deep breath, his eyes closed as he held his hands over his crotch. Yeah, not a pretty sight at all, but hell, he needed to protect his crown jewels. He couldn’t risk another sneak attack. He got the message loud and clear.
No kissing.
But damn… He still really wanted to.
“Detective…” Brooke whispered. “You okay?”
Nope. He was not okay. He couldn’t even find his voice. One, because he wanted to shout nasty, vulgar words at a cat. Two, because the pain hadn’t subsided yet.
Sure, getting hit in the balls was painful. Like getting the wind knocked right out of you.
But claws attaching to—and sinking in—that was another pain entirely. It honestly had no words.
“Should I get some ice?” Brooke’s voice was still low and soft, as if talking to a toddler verging on the start of a massive tantrum. “What do you need?”
Well, for all the pain he was enduring, he needed that kiss. A kiss he shouldn’t even want.
“That cat has to go,” he croaked. Then he cracked open his eyes, finding Brooke’s concerned gaze. “Or I can go. But we can’t talk with the cat in the vicinity anymore.”
Brooke nodded, biting her bottom lip.
Yet, she didn’t indicate what her head nod meant. Yes, the cat would be banished? God, yes, he hoped so. Or, yes, he should go? Not the answer he wanted, but it would probably be the wiser one.
Rory shifted on the couch, wincing, yet the pain was starting to ebb away. Slightly.
“Willow…” Brooke smiled, as if that would lessen whatever horrible thing she was about to say. Rory had no doubt he wouldn’t like what she was about to say. “She doesn’t listen very well. She has a mind of her own.”
“She’s a cat.”
Pick her up and put her in another room and lock the door. Seemed simple enough to him.
Brooke frowned.
Rory didn’t like the way her brows dipped down and her smile disappeared. He couldn’t figure out why she suddenly frowned either—or why it bothered him so much.
“She’s not just a cat.”
He chuckled, regretting the decision immediately when Brooke’s frown worsened.
“She’s family. And I could ask her nicely to go to another room, but I won’t just put her in another room.”
It didn’t take detective skills to read between the lines.
“So, in other words, you can’t pick her up because she’ll attack you like she attacked my balls.”
“Well, I can pick her up,” Brooke averted her gaze, “But it’s not always a pretty sight.”
“I imagine my balls aren’t either at the moment.”
That garnered a delightful laugh out of Brooke. Shit. He’d keep making fun of himself if he got to hear more of that sweet sound.
What was this woman doing to him?
Putting him under a spell, for sure. He never acted this way with a woman.
She made him lose his mind. Which was what he had been trying to say before the demon spawn cat nearly eviscerated his balls. It was probably a good thing he never spoke those words. Getting any closer to this woman—beautiful, tempting woman—would not be good.
“I should go.”
With that decision firmly planted, he stood up. A sharp pain rattled up his spine, then slowly withered away until only a dull ache remained.
That damn, damn cat.
“Of course.” Brooke stood up as well. “Was there anything else I can help you with?”
Case wise, he didn’t think so. With the information she had given him—brief as it may be—he had a good start to work with. He imagined her boss had many enemies that would want him dead, especially if he had such grabby hands.
Personal wise, she could help him in so many ways.
But he wasn’t looking for a woman in his life. And definitely not one with a murderous cat that was considered family.
“I’ll drop by if there’s anything else I need. If you think of anything else, give me a call.” He grabbed a card from his wallet, and set it on the coffee table.
No need to invite trouble by possibly making even the slightest contact. One touch and he’d lose his mind and kiss her, risking the wrath of Willow.
No, thanks.
“Thank you for your time, Brooke.”
Then he walked out of the room, hating himself for how abrupt that sounded.
What a jackass.
Willow stood by the door as he approached it.
“I’m leaving. You got your way, demon spawn.”
Meow.
Rory didn’t stick around to hear more. He whipped open the door and left, feeling like a fool.
Letting a dumb cat run him out of the house. How ridiculous. He’d never live it down if his partner found out.
♥♥♥
If you’d like to start the story at the beginning, you can find the other scenes here:
Scene 1 | Scene 2 | Scene 3 | Scene 4 | Scene 5
September 4, 2020
Flash Fiction Friday - Mmm...
Happy Friday, lovelies! I can totally see these two getting their own book. But when is the question. I have a few more books to write before I could even focus on them. So, lucky you, I’ll be doing quite a few more scenes with them! They are so much fun!
Writing Prompt ~ Mmm… (Provided by Doreen) Scene #5
O. M. G. Could he feel her shaky hands? Because her nerves were riled so high, she wanted to puke. And she only ever threw up when she was near sushi. The smell, the sight—ugh—even the thought of sushi made her insides gurgle with unease.
That’s how she felt right now with her hand up Detective Walker’s pants.
Well, not literally. She’d have to drag her hand further up to really be in his pants. Much, much further up.
“Brooke?”
“Mmm…” She shook her head, realizing how that came out. Then looked up at him. “Hmm? What is it?”
He eyed her funnily, a sexy-as-sin grin on his face, as if he found her humorous. Unfortunately, she didn’t think in the good way. No man ever looked at her with hunger in his eyes. She totally had to be misinterpreting his expression.
“I said I wanted to know everything.” His brow rose. Not cockishly. Geez, was that even a word? It sounded like a word. She was going with it was a word, and she’d use it at work one day just to prove it. But his brow arched in a way that said he would wait all day if she so choose to keep him waiting.
“About?”
His brow inched up a little more.
Duh! Right. Her dead, murdered boss and his now not so grabby hands.
“Right. My boss. Umm…yeah. He was a jerk of the highest order and…” And she shouldn’t have said she’d talk about her boss. Her eyes snapped back to his pants to finish the last few loops she needed to complete to get as far away from the yummy temptation sitting in front of her.
She hated her boss. She honestly had nothing nice to say about him. The last thing she needed was this detective even pondering the idea she killed him. She would not do well in jail. Orange looked terrible on her. Made her look like a frumpy pumpkin, no matter the style of shirt or dress she tried on.
“And…”
For heaven’s sake. No man should be devilishly handsome and have a voice that melted like butter when he spoke.
She stitched the last stitch, looped and tied a knot and then grabbed the scissors from her sewing box, snipping the thread as if she had been born to sew. She hesitated to remove her hand from his pants, but knew nothing good would come from this man being so close to her. And remaining in her house. He had to leave. Now.
“And I’m all done.”
Her hand slid out of his pants, shaking. Steeling her nerves, she tossed the scissors and needle in the box, and was about to stand up and move as far away from him as she could when a hand to her cheek stopped her cold.
“Look at me.”
In his silky smooth voice, it sounded like a soft caress to kindly do as he bid. But she knew it had been far from a request. It had been a demand.
She slowly tilted her gaze his way. Nothing but patience echoed back. Although she had felt a standoffish behavior when he first introduced himself, she felt nothing of the sort now.
“It’s okay. I promise.” His hand drifted away from her cheek—she missed his touch immediately—and he patted the spot next to him. “Sit by me.”
This time she heard more of a request rather than a demand, which had her obeying a little faster.
Her butt plopped down next to him with her eyes still glued to his. She was afraid to look away and she wasn’t even sure why. Something crackled between them. An odd sort of tension she wasn’t used to feeling.
“Let’s not start at the beginning. Let’s just start with yesterday. What happened?”
She swallowed, hating to relive any part of it. Hadn’t she already told him what happened? Sort of. He had grabby hands. What more did he want?
“My boss is between girlfriends. He thinks when he’s available, it’s okay to hit on any woman within a one foot radius. Unfortunately, I’m in that radius a lot, as his secretary. He’s normally usually just crude with his words, but this time he put…he touched my butt. Slapped it.” She licked her lips, hoping to occupy her mouth with something other than more talking. That should be enough to satisfy him.
His eyes zeroed in on the action, an intensity sizzling in his depths.
She stopped licking her lips.
He inhaled heavily and didn’t respond right away.
“What happened after that?” His jaw slightly clenched as he asked.
“Well,” she rolled her eyes upward staring at the ceiling for a moment. “I sort of reacted by…you know…slapping him back.” Her eyes bulged. “On the cheek. In anger. Of course. Not on his ass.”
The fierce look on his face disappeared as a sensual smile popped up. “Good for you. Did you report it?”
She swallowed again, hating her weakness. “No. Look, I didn’t kill him. He was one of the worst human beings I’ve ever met, but I didn’t kill him. I can’t even touch raw meat. Like, cut it or anything. Gross. There’s no way I could kill someone.”
He chuckled. “So, do you even eat meat?”
“Yeah.” She didn’t elaborate as she didn’t want to confess her methods because he’d probably think her even more insane than he probably already did.
“There’s something about you, Brooke. I don’t know what it is. You make me…” He started to lean closer, as if he wanted to kiss her.
Oh, yes, please. She wouldn’t say no to a kiss, even though it would be a terrible idea.
“I make you, what?”
His lips inched closer. “You make me—”
“Shit!”
Brooke winced. Willow had jumped on his lap, digging her claws in. Right on the spot every man coveted.
♥♥♥
If you’d like to start the story at the beginning, you can find the other scenes here:
Scene 1 | Scene 2 | Scene 3 | Scene 4
Writing Prompt ~ Mmm… (Provided by Doreen) Scene #5
O. M. G. Could he feel her shaky hands? Because her nerves were riled so high, she wanted to puke. And she only ever threw up when she was near sushi. The smell, the sight—ugh—even the thought of sushi made her insides gurgle with unease.
That’s how she felt right now with her hand up Detective Walker’s pants.
Well, not literally. She’d have to drag her hand further up to really be in his pants. Much, much further up.
“Brooke?”
“Mmm…” She shook her head, realizing how that came out. Then looked up at him. “Hmm? What is it?”
He eyed her funnily, a sexy-as-sin grin on his face, as if he found her humorous. Unfortunately, she didn’t think in the good way. No man ever looked at her with hunger in his eyes. She totally had to be misinterpreting his expression.
“I said I wanted to know everything.” His brow rose. Not cockishly. Geez, was that even a word? It sounded like a word. She was going with it was a word, and she’d use it at work one day just to prove it. But his brow arched in a way that said he would wait all day if she so choose to keep him waiting.
“About?”
His brow inched up a little more.
Duh! Right. Her dead, murdered boss and his now not so grabby hands.
“Right. My boss. Umm…yeah. He was a jerk of the highest order and…” And she shouldn’t have said she’d talk about her boss. Her eyes snapped back to his pants to finish the last few loops she needed to complete to get as far away from the yummy temptation sitting in front of her.
She hated her boss. She honestly had nothing nice to say about him. The last thing she needed was this detective even pondering the idea she killed him. She would not do well in jail. Orange looked terrible on her. Made her look like a frumpy pumpkin, no matter the style of shirt or dress she tried on.
“And…”
For heaven’s sake. No man should be devilishly handsome and have a voice that melted like butter when he spoke.
She stitched the last stitch, looped and tied a knot and then grabbed the scissors from her sewing box, snipping the thread as if she had been born to sew. She hesitated to remove her hand from his pants, but knew nothing good would come from this man being so close to her. And remaining in her house. He had to leave. Now.
“And I’m all done.”
Her hand slid out of his pants, shaking. Steeling her nerves, she tossed the scissors and needle in the box, and was about to stand up and move as far away from him as she could when a hand to her cheek stopped her cold.
“Look at me.”
In his silky smooth voice, it sounded like a soft caress to kindly do as he bid. But she knew it had been far from a request. It had been a demand.
She slowly tilted her gaze his way. Nothing but patience echoed back. Although she had felt a standoffish behavior when he first introduced himself, she felt nothing of the sort now.
“It’s okay. I promise.” His hand drifted away from her cheek—she missed his touch immediately—and he patted the spot next to him. “Sit by me.”
This time she heard more of a request rather than a demand, which had her obeying a little faster.
Her butt plopped down next to him with her eyes still glued to his. She was afraid to look away and she wasn’t even sure why. Something crackled between them. An odd sort of tension she wasn’t used to feeling.
“Let’s not start at the beginning. Let’s just start with yesterday. What happened?”
She swallowed, hating to relive any part of it. Hadn’t she already told him what happened? Sort of. He had grabby hands. What more did he want?
“My boss is between girlfriends. He thinks when he’s available, it’s okay to hit on any woman within a one foot radius. Unfortunately, I’m in that radius a lot, as his secretary. He’s normally usually just crude with his words, but this time he put…he touched my butt. Slapped it.” She licked her lips, hoping to occupy her mouth with something other than more talking. That should be enough to satisfy him.
His eyes zeroed in on the action, an intensity sizzling in his depths.
She stopped licking her lips.
He inhaled heavily and didn’t respond right away.
“What happened after that?” His jaw slightly clenched as he asked.
“Well,” she rolled her eyes upward staring at the ceiling for a moment. “I sort of reacted by…you know…slapping him back.” Her eyes bulged. “On the cheek. In anger. Of course. Not on his ass.”
The fierce look on his face disappeared as a sensual smile popped up. “Good for you. Did you report it?”
She swallowed again, hating her weakness. “No. Look, I didn’t kill him. He was one of the worst human beings I’ve ever met, but I didn’t kill him. I can’t even touch raw meat. Like, cut it or anything. Gross. There’s no way I could kill someone.”
He chuckled. “So, do you even eat meat?”
“Yeah.” She didn’t elaborate as she didn’t want to confess her methods because he’d probably think her even more insane than he probably already did.
“There’s something about you, Brooke. I don’t know what it is. You make me…” He started to lean closer, as if he wanted to kiss her.
Oh, yes, please. She wouldn’t say no to a kiss, even though it would be a terrible idea.
“I make you, what?”
His lips inched closer. “You make me—”
“Shit!”
Brooke winced. Willow had jumped on his lap, digging her claws in. Right on the spot every man coveted.
♥♥♥
If you’d like to start the story at the beginning, you can find the other scenes here:
Scene 1 | Scene 2 | Scene 3 | Scene 4
August 28, 2020
Happy Flash Fiction!
Happy Friday, lovelies! Hope you had a great week. I almost didn’t write my flash because it was my daughter’s birthday yesterday and I am just exhausted. But, I love writing my flash fiction, and it keeps me at least writing once a week. So I forced myself to do it! lol I’m so glad I did. I honestly adore these two. Enjoy!
Writing Prompt ~ Seriously. (Provided by Krys) Scene #4
Shit. He hadn’t had this much fun in a long time. Especially interviewing a potential suspect—now witness. There was no way this woman killed her boss.
The cat?
Hell, yes. That demon spawn holy terror definitely could’ve bludgeoned her boss to death.
Maybe he was as crazy as Brooke for even thinking such a thing.
And for suggesting he take his pants off. He was not taking his pants off.
She bit her bottom lip, her eyes round. A mixture of shock and contemplation, as if really considering his outlandish question.
He had been joking.
Sort of.
She intrigued him. Kept him on his toes. And oddly enough, he found that very attractive. It’d been a long time since he’d been with a woman. After his ex—who had been border-line stalker—he had given up on the dating scene. Too much hassle.
“Brooke, you don—”
“Okay. I’ll answer your questions if you let me fix the rip.”
Whoa. He honestly hadn’t expected that.
“Seriously?”
“Yep!” Then she smiled brightly. “Be right back. Have a seat in the living room.”
He didn’t follow her as she walked—more like sprinted—out of the kitchen. But he hesitated before making his way to the living room where he sat down.
What the hell was he doing?
He should be following her, making sure she wasn’t going for some sort of weapon and offing him like she could’ve offed her boss.
But he had already concluded—his gut screamed it loudly—that she hadn’t murdered her boss. Which was why his heart didn’t stutter with trepidation that she was getting a weapon, but more along the lines of what would happen when she walked into the room.
Was he really going to take his pants off in front of a woman he barely knew?
Shit. If his partner knew he was even following her directions, he would never hear the end of it. It’d be something he’d put in his stupid mental box for safe keeping where he could pull it out at any time for shits and giggles. He hated when Reese said shit like that to him. “Putting this in my mental box. Never going to forget it.” He always wanted to punch him in the face when he said it, and in that nauseating sly voice with a damn smirk on his lips.
Meow.
Rory flinched as Willow jumped on the coffee table in front of him, and then sat down. And stared. Hard.
“Shoo! I don’t like cats, and I certainly don’t like you.” He even braved waving his hands at her, but she didn’t even flinch, not like he had at her sudden intrusion.
Yep. Round one to Willow. Damn, aggravating cat.
Meow.
“Yeah, yeah, I heard your alibi for Brooke the first time. Got it. She didn’t do it.”
Willow’s tail moved gracefully back and forth, then she laid down and stretched her body, her paws dangling in his direction.
“Okay. I should just leave my card on this table and go. I’m talking to a dumb cat, who doesn’t respect personal space.” He leaned closer. “You don’t. I asked you to move.”
She moved her paws a little, as if tempting him to touch and play with her.
He shook his head as he leaned back in the couch.
“Here we go,” Brooke said with a chipper voice as she walked into the room.
He sat up straight and knew right away his opportunity was lost. He should’ve left when he had the chance. Because the tender, yet terrified smile on her face was hard to look away from. The woman mesmerized him with the littlest things and he couldn’t figure out why.
“Look, Brooke, I don—”
Then she pushed the coffee table slightly, which made Willow meow and jump up from her spot and saunter away. Thank God for small miracles. But then Brooke continued to surprise him when she set a small box full of sewing supplies on the table and grabbed the side of his pants.
“Don’t move. I don’t want to knick you.”
Then her hand slid up his pants as she grabbed a needle already threaded from the box.
She paused and looked up at him. He couldn’t tear his eyes away, or say anything. Her hand was cold against his skin. He could feel a slight tremble. Honestly, he wasn’t sure if it was coming from her—or him.
He watched as her throat moved as she swallowed hard. Yep, he felt the same way. The air felt electrified. Like one small movement and everything would explode—in the most enticing way.
Then the moment shattered when she averted her gaze and started sewing.
“So, ask away? What do you want to know about my grabby hands boss?”
Hmm. Now, one point to Brooke. She said she’d sew his pants while he asked questions. Yet, she hadn’t mentioned the part where he had to take his pants off.
“Let’s start at the beginning. I want to know everything.”
He had no pressing urge to leave anymore. She was barely touching him, just her cold hand brushing against his skin now and again, but it was enough to put him in a trance and keep his ass plastered in his seat until the end of time.
♥♥♥
If you’d like to start the story at the beginning, you can find the other scenes here:
Scene 1 | Scene 2 | Scene 3
Writing Prompt ~ Seriously. (Provided by Krys) Scene #4
Shit. He hadn’t had this much fun in a long time. Especially interviewing a potential suspect—now witness. There was no way this woman killed her boss.
The cat?
Hell, yes. That demon spawn holy terror definitely could’ve bludgeoned her boss to death.
Maybe he was as crazy as Brooke for even thinking such a thing.
And for suggesting he take his pants off. He was not taking his pants off.
She bit her bottom lip, her eyes round. A mixture of shock and contemplation, as if really considering his outlandish question.
He had been joking.
Sort of.
She intrigued him. Kept him on his toes. And oddly enough, he found that very attractive. It’d been a long time since he’d been with a woman. After his ex—who had been border-line stalker—he had given up on the dating scene. Too much hassle.
“Brooke, you don—”
“Okay. I’ll answer your questions if you let me fix the rip.”
Whoa. He honestly hadn’t expected that.
“Seriously?”
“Yep!” Then she smiled brightly. “Be right back. Have a seat in the living room.”
He didn’t follow her as she walked—more like sprinted—out of the kitchen. But he hesitated before making his way to the living room where he sat down.
What the hell was he doing?
He should be following her, making sure she wasn’t going for some sort of weapon and offing him like she could’ve offed her boss.
But he had already concluded—his gut screamed it loudly—that she hadn’t murdered her boss. Which was why his heart didn’t stutter with trepidation that she was getting a weapon, but more along the lines of what would happen when she walked into the room.
Was he really going to take his pants off in front of a woman he barely knew?
Shit. If his partner knew he was even following her directions, he would never hear the end of it. It’d be something he’d put in his stupid mental box for safe keeping where he could pull it out at any time for shits and giggles. He hated when Reese said shit like that to him. “Putting this in my mental box. Never going to forget it.” He always wanted to punch him in the face when he said it, and in that nauseating sly voice with a damn smirk on his lips.
Meow.
Rory flinched as Willow jumped on the coffee table in front of him, and then sat down. And stared. Hard.
“Shoo! I don’t like cats, and I certainly don’t like you.” He even braved waving his hands at her, but she didn’t even flinch, not like he had at her sudden intrusion.
Yep. Round one to Willow. Damn, aggravating cat.
Meow.
“Yeah, yeah, I heard your alibi for Brooke the first time. Got it. She didn’t do it.”
Willow’s tail moved gracefully back and forth, then she laid down and stretched her body, her paws dangling in his direction.
“Okay. I should just leave my card on this table and go. I’m talking to a dumb cat, who doesn’t respect personal space.” He leaned closer. “You don’t. I asked you to move.”
She moved her paws a little, as if tempting him to touch and play with her.
He shook his head as he leaned back in the couch.
“Here we go,” Brooke said with a chipper voice as she walked into the room.
He sat up straight and knew right away his opportunity was lost. He should’ve left when he had the chance. Because the tender, yet terrified smile on her face was hard to look away from. The woman mesmerized him with the littlest things and he couldn’t figure out why.
“Look, Brooke, I don—”
Then she pushed the coffee table slightly, which made Willow meow and jump up from her spot and saunter away. Thank God for small miracles. But then Brooke continued to surprise him when she set a small box full of sewing supplies on the table and grabbed the side of his pants.
“Don’t move. I don’t want to knick you.”
Then her hand slid up his pants as she grabbed a needle already threaded from the box.
She paused and looked up at him. He couldn’t tear his eyes away, or say anything. Her hand was cold against his skin. He could feel a slight tremble. Honestly, he wasn’t sure if it was coming from her—or him.
He watched as her throat moved as she swallowed hard. Yep, he felt the same way. The air felt electrified. Like one small movement and everything would explode—in the most enticing way.
Then the moment shattered when she averted her gaze and started sewing.
“So, ask away? What do you want to know about my grabby hands boss?”
Hmm. Now, one point to Brooke. She said she’d sew his pants while he asked questions. Yet, she hadn’t mentioned the part where he had to take his pants off.
“Let’s start at the beginning. I want to know everything.”
He had no pressing urge to leave anymore. She was barely touching him, just her cold hand brushing against his skin now and again, but it was enough to put him in a trance and keep his ass plastered in his seat until the end of time.
♥♥♥
If you’d like to start the story at the beginning, you can find the other scenes here:
Scene 1 | Scene 2 | Scene 3
August 21, 2020
Flash Fiction Friday - Your cat attacked me.
Happy Friday, lovelies! Eek! This storyline is turning out to be so much fun! I am loving Brooke and her impulsiveness and not stopping whatever comes out of her mouth! Hope you enjoy this week’s flash!
Writing Prompt ~ Your cat attacked me. (Provided by Lisa) Scene #3
Brooke snatched the doughnut, not even caring she told herself to stay away from the bag the rest of the day. And she even jogged to make up for scarfing the ones previously.
But she didn’t care.
That nasty detective was asking questions, looking at her funny, and making her nerves skyrocket. It was a terrible habit, but she ate when she was stressed. Or threw on the most sappiest, saddest movie she could find and balled her eyes out—which she couldn’t do in the moment with that terrible detective in her house. Not the best way to relieve her stress, but it made her feel better to think she was crying over the movie and not her sad, pitiful life.
A throat cleared.
She looked up from the bag, her hand hidden inside.
Damn. She hadn’t even had a chance to grab a doughnut and stuff it down her throat before he came in.
“Ms. Duncan—”
“Brooke is fine. No need for formalities.” It reminded her of her aunt that she never got along with. No, thanks. Didn’t need that reminder at a time like this.
Then she drew two doughnuts out and held her hand toward him. “Doughnut?”
He stepped closer, his brows puckered, as if he might actually take a doughnut.
Until Willow screeched, jumped on his leg, dug her claws in, and then raced around the kitchen before stopping by her feet.
“Shit. Damn cat.” Detective Walker rubbed his leg, then groaned. “Your cat attacked me.” His irritate gaze met hers. “She ripped my pants.”
Brooke leaned over the island counter a bit and grimaced at the small tear in his nice black pants.
Whoopsies. Well, it’s not like she had control over Willow. Sure, she bought Willow, gave her a home, but that cat never listened to her. Willow lived in her world, and expected everyone to follow her rules.
She didn’t know what to say. So, she brought a doughnut to her mouth and demolished it in one bite.
Meow.
Brooke looked down at Willow, arched a brow—silently begging her to knock it off—then shot her gaze back to the detective.
Still chewing a bit of the doughnut, she said, “There’s your alibi. Willow’s always straightforward in her communication.”
A slow, seductive—the man had the most delectable lips to look at—smile appeared. “I can’t tell if you’re just plain crazy or scared about something.”
Whoa! Her mind veered completely off course there. Why was she thinking about his lips in any manner? And her? Crazy? Only on Tuesdays because it was garbage day and she had a weird thing about touching the garbage can.
She shivered just thinking about it.
“Do you know something,” he paused, stepping closer to the counter. “You can tell me anything, Brooke.”
She knew nothing. Shock was still coursing through her veins her asshole, jerk-off boss was dead. Sure, she hated the guy, but she would never wish anyone dead no matter how terrible of a person they were.
“Doughnut?” She held out her hand again with the remaining doughnut still sitting there. The powdered sugar was a bit melted and one side was crushed. She might’ve been squeezing her hand, especially when he moved closer again to the counter.
“No, thanks.” He smiled. A full-blown smile that had her squishing the doughnut in her hand and grabbing the counter with her free hand to keep herself upright.
Talk about knocking her off her feet. The man’s smile lit up the room and enhanced his already handsome features.
“Tell me about your last interaction with your boss.”
Despite his smile, her insides gurgled with unease. She did not want to talk about anything. Definitely nothing about her boss. She had no idea who murdered him, but it wasn’t her.
“I should fix your pants. That was so rude of Willow. Take them off, I’ll patch it up.”
Low laughter echoed between them as his lips split into a charming grin. “I can honestly say I’ve never met anyone who surprises me every time they speak.”
Oh, dear.
Her and stress…yeah, it didn’t mix well at all.
She brought her hand filled with the crushed doughnut to her mouth and chomped down on all the pieces. Even licked her hand to get all the crumbs, making sure each piece disappeared. Very unladylike. She could even hear her aunt’s nasally voice in ear, berating her for such insolent actions.
Just one of the many reasons she didn’t date either.
Look up the word awkward, and you’d find a picture of her in all its glory.
“If I take my pants off…for you to fix the rip,” he said with a wink, “will you answer my questions?”
Oh, dear, dear, dear.
What had she gotten herself into?
♥♥♥
If you’d like to start the story at the beginning, you can find the other scenes here:
Scene 1 | Scene 2
Writing Prompt ~ Your cat attacked me. (Provided by Lisa) Scene #3
Brooke snatched the doughnut, not even caring she told herself to stay away from the bag the rest of the day. And she even jogged to make up for scarfing the ones previously.
But she didn’t care.
That nasty detective was asking questions, looking at her funny, and making her nerves skyrocket. It was a terrible habit, but she ate when she was stressed. Or threw on the most sappiest, saddest movie she could find and balled her eyes out—which she couldn’t do in the moment with that terrible detective in her house. Not the best way to relieve her stress, but it made her feel better to think she was crying over the movie and not her sad, pitiful life.
A throat cleared.
She looked up from the bag, her hand hidden inside.
Damn. She hadn’t even had a chance to grab a doughnut and stuff it down her throat before he came in.
“Ms. Duncan—”
“Brooke is fine. No need for formalities.” It reminded her of her aunt that she never got along with. No, thanks. Didn’t need that reminder at a time like this.
Then she drew two doughnuts out and held her hand toward him. “Doughnut?”
He stepped closer, his brows puckered, as if he might actually take a doughnut.
Until Willow screeched, jumped on his leg, dug her claws in, and then raced around the kitchen before stopping by her feet.
“Shit. Damn cat.” Detective Walker rubbed his leg, then groaned. “Your cat attacked me.” His irritate gaze met hers. “She ripped my pants.”
Brooke leaned over the island counter a bit and grimaced at the small tear in his nice black pants.
Whoopsies. Well, it’s not like she had control over Willow. Sure, she bought Willow, gave her a home, but that cat never listened to her. Willow lived in her world, and expected everyone to follow her rules.
She didn’t know what to say. So, she brought a doughnut to her mouth and demolished it in one bite.
Meow.
Brooke looked down at Willow, arched a brow—silently begging her to knock it off—then shot her gaze back to the detective.
Still chewing a bit of the doughnut, she said, “There’s your alibi. Willow’s always straightforward in her communication.”
A slow, seductive—the man had the most delectable lips to look at—smile appeared. “I can’t tell if you’re just plain crazy or scared about something.”
Whoa! Her mind veered completely off course there. Why was she thinking about his lips in any manner? And her? Crazy? Only on Tuesdays because it was garbage day and she had a weird thing about touching the garbage can.
She shivered just thinking about it.
“Do you know something,” he paused, stepping closer to the counter. “You can tell me anything, Brooke.”
She knew nothing. Shock was still coursing through her veins her asshole, jerk-off boss was dead. Sure, she hated the guy, but she would never wish anyone dead no matter how terrible of a person they were.
“Doughnut?” She held out her hand again with the remaining doughnut still sitting there. The powdered sugar was a bit melted and one side was crushed. She might’ve been squeezing her hand, especially when he moved closer again to the counter.
“No, thanks.” He smiled. A full-blown smile that had her squishing the doughnut in her hand and grabbing the counter with her free hand to keep herself upright.
Talk about knocking her off her feet. The man’s smile lit up the room and enhanced his already handsome features.
“Tell me about your last interaction with your boss.”
Despite his smile, her insides gurgled with unease. She did not want to talk about anything. Definitely nothing about her boss. She had no idea who murdered him, but it wasn’t her.
“I should fix your pants. That was so rude of Willow. Take them off, I’ll patch it up.”
Low laughter echoed between them as his lips split into a charming grin. “I can honestly say I’ve never met anyone who surprises me every time they speak.”
Oh, dear.
Her and stress…yeah, it didn’t mix well at all.
She brought her hand filled with the crushed doughnut to her mouth and chomped down on all the pieces. Even licked her hand to get all the crumbs, making sure each piece disappeared. Very unladylike. She could even hear her aunt’s nasally voice in ear, berating her for such insolent actions.
Just one of the many reasons she didn’t date either.
Look up the word awkward, and you’d find a picture of her in all its glory.
“If I take my pants off…for you to fix the rip,” he said with a wink, “will you answer my questions?”
Oh, dear, dear, dear.
What had she gotten herself into?
♥♥♥
If you’d like to start the story at the beginning, you can find the other scenes here:
Scene 1 | Scene 2
