Ivy Adams's Blog
November 27, 2011
Around the World In 80 Kisses: Blog Tour and Contest
80 Days, 80 Blogs, Too Many Prizes To Count!
Want to a chance to win fabulous prize packs and a Kindle Fire? Then pack your bags and grab your passport cause we’re going on tour--blog tour, that is, to celebrate the debut of the young adult novel The International Kissing Club by Ivy Adams coming January 3rd.
Find out more at http://tracy-deebs.blogspot.com/
Want to a chance to win fabulous prize packs and a Kindle Fire? Then pack your bags and grab your passport cause we’re going on tour--blog tour, that is, to celebrate the debut of the young adult novel The International Kissing Club by Ivy Adams coming January 3rd.
Find out more at http://tracy-deebs.blogspot.com/
November 17, 2011
Meet the Boys of IKC - Tanner
Tanner Colt: local football god and all around good ol' boy. Izzy has known him for years and they've never gotten along. Plus, he dates Germaine Stewart, the queen bitch of Paris High. But with all of Izzy's friends studying abroad, Tanner turns out to be the one bright spot of the semester. He gets her a job working at his parent's farm, which is better than working at Dairy Queen, even if she has to learn to drive a tractor. Tanner just might be Izzy's one friend in left in Paris. But could he be more?
Izzy looked down at Tanner, only to find him climbing into the tractor with her.
“Oh, do you need to sit here?”
“No. You’re good.” He reached across her. She plastered herself back against the seat, but there was barely enough room and his shoulder brushed against her chest. “Here’s the other end of the seat belt.”
She stared blankly at him as he straightened and handed her the buckle. When was he going to get out of the cab? She swallowed hard, then took the canvas belt he dangled in front of her. “Safety first,” she said faintly.
“Don’t worry. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
“What about you?” She didn’t glance over her shoulder as she asked the question, already keenly aware of how close he was.
Tanner stood just behind her, wedged into between her seat and the roll bar. Despite the cramped quarters, he managed to stretch out, filling every extra centimeter of space. He voice dropped a notch, to a husky murmur that had melted hearts all over Paris High. “Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing.”
Good thing one of them did.
He pointed to the right side of the steering wheel. “Ignition is right there. You’ll want to turn the key counterclockwise for a few seconds first, to let it warm up. Then clockwise. Just like starting a car.”
She followed his instructions, trying not to notice how good Tanner smelled. Fresh and clean. Like he bathed in catnip for girls. Most of the football players at her house either smelled like sweaty locker room floor or like they’d drenched themselves in cologne. Or worse, some combination of the two. But not Tanner. He smelled like clean soap and line-dried clothes.
She drew in a deep breath and—
“What was that?” he asked.
All she could do was stare blankly in reply.
“You seemed like you were about to say something.”
“Oh.” Shit. What was she supposed to say? No, I was just smelling you? “Is that long enough?” she asked instead, looking back to meet his eyes.
He hesitated. Like he could read her thoughts or something. Then he shook his head. “Sure. Go ahead and start it up.”
She cranked the key in the ignition and the beast hummed to life.
“From here on out”––He leaned even closer to be heard over of the roar––“it’s just like driving your standard.”
She settled her foot onto the clutch. The pedal felt huge. Spongier. This wasn’t like driving her standard. It seemed bigger. More dangerous.
She pressed down hard and felt the gears line up. The gearshift was directly in front of her seat, right between her legs. Just as she reached down to settle her hand over it, Tanner leaned in and put his hand on top of hers. He had one arm resting across the back of her seat and the other practically draped across her left thigh.
“Here’s first.” He moved both their hands together as he shifted through the gears. “Here’s second. Third, forth. And here’s reverse.” This one was down and to the far right, so that his knuckles brushed against the inside of her denim-clad right thigh. “You feel that?”
Was he joking? She swallowed hard. “Pardon?”
“The reverse is a little tricky on this old girl.” He gave the gearshift another wiggle. “You’ve got to work to get it in.”
She jerked her hand out from under his, moving so fast her foot slipped, so she popped the clutch and killed the engine. “I think I’ve got it.”
He leaned back; a slow smile broke across his face. “Looks like you do.”
She narrowed her gaze to a glare.
“You want to try it again?” he asked, that smug grin of his never leaving his face.
Her heart was pounding and her hands sweaty. What the hell was going on? This was Tanner Colt. Tanner! He was not supposed to make her feel this strange mixture of...
But her mind shied away from admitting she felt anything. This was all just standard I’m-a-football-god charm. He wasn’t flirting with her. He probably didn’t even realize he was doing it. Which should have made her feel better, but it didn’t at all.
Izzy looked down at Tanner, only to find him climbing into the tractor with her.
“Oh, do you need to sit here?”
“No. You’re good.” He reached across her. She plastered herself back against the seat, but there was barely enough room and his shoulder brushed against her chest. “Here’s the other end of the seat belt.”
She stared blankly at him as he straightened and handed her the buckle. When was he going to get out of the cab? She swallowed hard, then took the canvas belt he dangled in front of her. “Safety first,” she said faintly.
“Don’t worry. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
“What about you?” She didn’t glance over her shoulder as she asked the question, already keenly aware of how close he was.
Tanner stood just behind her, wedged into between her seat and the roll bar. Despite the cramped quarters, he managed to stretch out, filling every extra centimeter of space. He voice dropped a notch, to a husky murmur that had melted hearts all over Paris High. “Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing.”
Good thing one of them did.
He pointed to the right side of the steering wheel. “Ignition is right there. You’ll want to turn the key counterclockwise for a few seconds first, to let it warm up. Then clockwise. Just like starting a car.”
She followed his instructions, trying not to notice how good Tanner smelled. Fresh and clean. Like he bathed in catnip for girls. Most of the football players at her house either smelled like sweaty locker room floor or like they’d drenched themselves in cologne. Or worse, some combination of the two. But not Tanner. He smelled like clean soap and line-dried clothes.
She drew in a deep breath and—
“What was that?” he asked.
All she could do was stare blankly in reply.
“You seemed like you were about to say something.”
“Oh.” Shit. What was she supposed to say? No, I was just smelling you? “Is that long enough?” she asked instead, looking back to meet his eyes.
He hesitated. Like he could read her thoughts or something. Then he shook his head. “Sure. Go ahead and start it up.”
She cranked the key in the ignition and the beast hummed to life.
“From here on out”––He leaned even closer to be heard over of the roar––“it’s just like driving your standard.”
She settled her foot onto the clutch. The pedal felt huge. Spongier. This wasn’t like driving her standard. It seemed bigger. More dangerous.
She pressed down hard and felt the gears line up. The gearshift was directly in front of her seat, right between her legs. Just as she reached down to settle her hand over it, Tanner leaned in and put his hand on top of hers. He had one arm resting across the back of her seat and the other practically draped across her left thigh.
“Here’s first.” He moved both their hands together as he shifted through the gears. “Here’s second. Third, forth. And here’s reverse.” This one was down and to the far right, so that his knuckles brushed against the inside of her denim-clad right thigh. “You feel that?”
Was he joking? She swallowed hard. “Pardon?”
“The reverse is a little tricky on this old girl.” He gave the gearshift another wiggle. “You’ve got to work to get it in.”
She jerked her hand out from under his, moving so fast her foot slipped, so she popped the clutch and killed the engine. “I think I’ve got it.”
He leaned back; a slow smile broke across his face. “Looks like you do.”
She narrowed her gaze to a glare.
“You want to try it again?” he asked, that smug grin of his never leaving his face.
Her heart was pounding and her hands sweaty. What the hell was going on? This was Tanner Colt. Tanner! He was not supposed to make her feel this strange mixture of...
But her mind shied away from admitting she felt anything. This was all just standard I’m-a-football-god charm. He wasn’t flirting with her. He probably didn’t even realize he was doing it. Which should have made her feel better, but it didn’t at all.
November 15, 2011
Meet the Boys of the IKC: Lucas
Lucas McCann: charming, golden surfer boy with a heart-melting dimple - he's any girl's dream. So what's a girl like Cassidy Barlow to do when falling in love is the absolute worst thing that can happen?
(Shellee's note: I loosely based Lucas on Australian surfer Julian Wilson--that's him on the left and below.)
"So, let me get this straight: you came all the way to Australia to kiss guys?" Lucas gave her a sidelong glance.
Cassidy came back to the conversation at hand. She heard the incredulity in his voice and was glad it was dark, because pink was not a good color on her, and right now she was covered in a huge blush head to toe. "I told you it was stupid."
Why had she told him anything about the IKC at all? She blamed that damn dimple--it was like Kryptonite; she was powerless against it. He could charm anything out of her when that little divot made an appearance.
He slouched a little in his seat. "So, how many points do you have so far?" For the first time since she'd met him, Lucas didn't sound so surfer-Zen-go-lucky.
"Me? Oh, well...you see...actually..." she fiddled with the zipper on her sweater as she practically glowed red. She should make up some number. What did it matter? He'd never know. God, if he were playing this game, he would probably have twice the points she did in just the time it took to drive over here.
"Tell me. It's a lot, right?"
She sighed. This was so embarrassing. "Three. I have three points."
"So...you've kissed three guys since you've been here," he said, his tone deflated. "Are you still seeing them, the other guys?"
What? No. Wait...what was that? If she was better at reading guys, she'd say he sounded pouty and a little bit jealous.
She'd never had a guy be jealous over her before. Cassidy didn't know how to take this development at first, but then she considered it. It was way sexy.
The idea that he didn't like the thought of her kissing other guys gave her off-court confidence a supercharged injection. She scooted toward him and in gesture a complete one-eighty from her usual reserved self, she did something she'd been dying to do since that day at the airport: she touched his dimple with the tip of her finger.
Cassidy let it linger there before trailing it down his cheek to his chin to turn his head toward her.
"No. The rules of the International Kissing Club state that I get three points for an amazing, earth-stopping epic kiss," she said with all the matter-of-fact seriousness she could muster.
It took a moment for what she was saying to sink in, but then a grin broke out across Lucas's bronzed face, crooked and just a little cocky. Her insided turned molten. Oh. God. If he kissed her again now she wouldn't be much more than a puddle of mush on the vinyl seat.
"Epic, yeah?" His hand stole around the back of her neck and he nudged her nose with his. "I can live with that," he whispered against her lips. Cassidy closed her eyes and melted.
The International Kissing Club was Piper's Best. Idea. Ever.
(Shellee's note: I loosely based Lucas on Australian surfer Julian Wilson--that's him on the left and below.)
"So, let me get this straight: you came all the way to Australia to kiss guys?" Lucas gave her a sidelong glance.
Cassidy came back to the conversation at hand. She heard the incredulity in his voice and was glad it was dark, because pink was not a good color on her, and right now she was covered in a huge blush head to toe. "I told you it was stupid."
Why had she told him anything about the IKC at all? She blamed that damn dimple--it was like Kryptonite; she was powerless against it. He could charm anything out of her when that little divot made an appearance.
He slouched a little in his seat. "So, how many points do you have so far?" For the first time since she'd met him, Lucas didn't sound so surfer-Zen-go-lucky.
"Me? Oh, well...you see...actually..." she fiddled with the zipper on her sweater as she practically glowed red. She should make up some number. What did it matter? He'd never know. God, if he were playing this game, he would probably have twice the points she did in just the time it took to drive over here.
"Tell me. It's a lot, right?"
She sighed. This was so embarrassing. "Three. I have three points."
"So...you've kissed three guys since you've been here," he said, his tone deflated. "Are you still seeing them, the other guys?"
What? No. Wait...what was that? If she was better at reading guys, she'd say he sounded pouty and a little bit jealous.
She'd never had a guy be jealous over her before. Cassidy didn't know how to take this development at first, but then she considered it. It was way sexy.
The idea that he didn't like the thought of her kissing other guys gave her off-court confidence a supercharged injection. She scooted toward him and in gesture a complete one-eighty from her usual reserved self, she did something she'd been dying to do since that day at the airport: she touched his dimple with the tip of her finger.
Cassidy let it linger there before trailing it down his cheek to his chin to turn his head toward her.
"No. The rules of the International Kissing Club state that I get three points for an amazing, earth-stopping epic kiss," she said with all the matter-of-fact seriousness she could muster.
It took a moment for what she was saying to sink in, but then a grin broke out across Lucas's bronzed face, crooked and just a little cocky. Her insided turned molten. Oh. God. If he kissed her again now she wouldn't be much more than a puddle of mush on the vinyl seat.
"Epic, yeah?" His hand stole around the back of her neck and he nudged her nose with his. "I can live with that," he whispered against her lips. Cassidy closed her eyes and melted.
The International Kissing Club was Piper's Best. Idea. Ever.
November 14, 2011
Meet the Boys of IKC - Sebastian
So, you've met the girls of the International Kissing Club-- now it's time to meet their guys ;) We're starting off today with the guy I wrote, the tall, dark and just a little bit broody, Sebastian.
Name: Sebastian
Age: 19
Nationality: French, of course ;)
Occupation: Art student at the Sorbonne/Sculptor
For a second, Sebastian only stared at her, a puzzled look on his face. Just when she was starting to regret her honesty-- what guy liked thinking a girl was interested in kissing him because of a competition?-- he threw back his head and laughed. And laughed. And laughed.
He laughed so hard and long that she stiffened, a little offended. But he reached for her hand and finally managed to get himself under control. "You Americans ... always competing. Always wanting to have more, more, more. Don't you realize that the best things in lif are about quality, not quantity?"
She nearly swallowed her tongue at the sizzle in his eyes, in his voice, and for the first time since this whole wild adventure had begun, Piper couldn't help wondering if he was right. "What's wrong with both?" she asked softly.
"Nothing But don't you know, just like in art, you ned to master one technique before you move on to the next?" He entwined his long, calloused fingers with her own and Piper couldn't believe how right it felt to be standing there, letting him hold her hand.
"So tell me, Piper," Sebastian said after a moment. "If I kiss you right now, will that be enough? Or will you kiss me back and then go to a club and kiss some other guy tomorrow?"
She couldn't breate, couldn't think. Could brely stand upright as heat streaked along ever nerve ending she had. "We could-- we could try it." Was that really her voice, that high-pitched squeak that practically broke the sound barrier?
"Oh, cherie, we're going to do a lot more than try." His hands trembled a little as they cupped her face, which surprised her even as it made her intensely happy. And then he kissed her and it was more amazing, more delicious, more real than any and every kiss that had come before it.
Name: Sebastian
Age: 19
Nationality: French, of course ;)
Occupation: Art student at the Sorbonne/Sculptor
For a second, Sebastian only stared at her, a puzzled look on his face. Just when she was starting to regret her honesty-- what guy liked thinking a girl was interested in kissing him because of a competition?-- he threw back his head and laughed. And laughed. And laughed.
He laughed so hard and long that she stiffened, a little offended. But he reached for her hand and finally managed to get himself under control. "You Americans ... always competing. Always wanting to have more, more, more. Don't you realize that the best things in lif are about quality, not quantity?"
She nearly swallowed her tongue at the sizzle in his eyes, in his voice, and for the first time since this whole wild adventure had begun, Piper couldn't help wondering if he was right. "What's wrong with both?" she asked softly.
"Nothing But don't you know, just like in art, you ned to master one technique before you move on to the next?" He entwined his long, calloused fingers with her own and Piper couldn't believe how right it felt to be standing there, letting him hold her hand.
"So tell me, Piper," Sebastian said after a moment. "If I kiss you right now, will that be enough? Or will you kiss me back and then go to a club and kiss some other guy tomorrow?"
She couldn't breate, couldn't think. Could brely stand upright as heat streaked along ever nerve ending she had. "We could-- we could try it." Was that really her voice, that high-pitched squeak that practically broke the sound barrier?
"Oh, cherie, we're going to do a lot more than try." His hands trembled a little as they cupped her face, which surprised her even as it made her intensely happy. And then he kissed her and it was more amazing, more delicious, more real than any and every kiss that had come before it.
November 1, 2011
Meet Mei: Resident Brain and Guitar-Playing Badass of the IKC
"Sorry, but I put my trust in Sir Isaac Newton and a little thing called gravity. There's no way you're going to talk me into getting on that thing."
Full Name: Mei Jones
Age: 16
Sign: Gemini
International Destination: China, which is one really, really, really long flight away from Paris, TX
Favorite Guitarist: Eric Clapton and Jack White
Favorite Color: Black, which is actually all the colors. Unless you’re talking about light, then it’s white that is made up of the entire color spectrum. Or … never mind. Black. My favorite color is black.
Favorite Food: At this point, anything edible. But I do have a soft spot for Wasabi ice cream.
Favorite Nail Polish: Crimson and Clover, after the Joan Jett song (she’s another kick-butt guitarist, btw)
Favorite Sport: Does Academic Decathlon count?
Full Name: Mei Jones
Age: 16
Sign: Gemini
International Destination: China, which is one really, really, really long flight away from Paris, TX
Favorite Guitarist: Eric Clapton and Jack White
Favorite Color: Black, which is actually all the colors. Unless you’re talking about light, then it’s white that is made up of the entire color spectrum. Or … never mind. Black. My favorite color is black.
Favorite Food: At this point, anything edible. But I do have a soft spot for Wasabi ice cream.
Favorite Nail Polish: Crimson and Clover, after the Joan Jett song (she’s another kick-butt guitarist, btw)
Favorite Sport: Does Academic Decathlon count?
October 26, 2011
Meet Izzy: The one stuck at home
"Why was it that she spent most of her time being Invisabel Isabel–the girl no one noticed–but whenever she was doing something embarrassing, the most popular guy in school was there to witness it?"
Full name: Isabel O'Reilly, but only Tanner Colt calls her Isabel and he only does it to annoy her
Nickname: Izzy.
Age: sixteen
Sun sign: Taurus – You have amazing persistence and follow through, plus tons of energy. You'll stick to your guns, even if you're being provoked, tempted or ridiculed. This is a blessing and a curse.
What are you passionate about? Saving the planet! My next car is going to be a Nissan Leaf. You know, environmentalism is not just about–
Okaaay, next question ... You have a boyfriend right? Yep. His name is River. We met at the farmer's market in Sherman about a year ago. He's going off to college this year in Lubbock. It makes more sense to end it now, rather than try to do the long distance thing, but we'll see...
Who's your celebrity crush? Ian Somerhalder. Not just is he hot, but he's also passionate about the environment.
What's your favorite food? Tofu Pad Thai ... but I'll eat anything vegetarian.
Do you have any siblings? My older brother Linc, who is the high school quarterback, which makes for lots of family fun, since my father is also the football coach. And I have a younger brother, Shane, who is the most amazing pianist. He's truly gifted.
Most embarrassing moment? When I tried out for the football team my ninth grade year. My father laughed me off the field.
What's your deepest secret? Sometimes I think of myself as Invisabel Isabel. At home, my older brother is the football star and my younger brother is the piano prodigy. I get over looked. And my friends are the best, don't get me wrong. But their stars all shine a little brighter than mine, you know? It's easy for me to get overlooked. But at least I have River. He really gets me.
Full name: Isabel O'Reilly, but only Tanner Colt calls her Isabel and he only does it to annoy her
Nickname: Izzy.
Age: sixteen
Sun sign: Taurus – You have amazing persistence and follow through, plus tons of energy. You'll stick to your guns, even if you're being provoked, tempted or ridiculed. This is a blessing and a curse.
What are you passionate about? Saving the planet! My next car is going to be a Nissan Leaf. You know, environmentalism is not just about–
Okaaay, next question ... You have a boyfriend right? Yep. His name is River. We met at the farmer's market in Sherman about a year ago. He's going off to college this year in Lubbock. It makes more sense to end it now, rather than try to do the long distance thing, but we'll see...
Who's your celebrity crush? Ian Somerhalder. Not just is he hot, but he's also passionate about the environment.
What's your favorite food? Tofu Pad Thai ... but I'll eat anything vegetarian.
Do you have any siblings? My older brother Linc, who is the high school quarterback, which makes for lots of family fun, since my father is also the football coach. And I have a younger brother, Shane, who is the most amazing pianist. He's truly gifted.
Most embarrassing moment? When I tried out for the football team my ninth grade year. My father laughed me off the field.
What's your deepest secret? Sometimes I think of myself as Invisabel Isabel. At home, my older brother is the football star and my younger brother is the piano prodigy. I get over looked. And my friends are the best, don't get me wrong. But their stars all shine a little brighter than mine, you know? It's easy for me to get overlooked. But at least I have River. He really gets me.
October 11, 2011
Meet Cassidy: Loyal Friend and All-around Badass
"For the rest of the time she was here, she decided, she would be a different girl--she would be 'Vacation Cassidy," complete with a new positive attitude. Open to new experiences and emotions. She would be more like...Piper, only with less theatrics and a better tan."
Cassidy Michelle Barlow
Age: 16 (going on 32)
Nickname(s): Cass, American Girl (but that's personal)
Sun Sign: Scorpio - Determination is another of your key characteristics. People can see you as insensitive to others' needs, even obsessive, because you push forward so single-mindedly. There are no half-measures in your life--in friendship, love, family life or work.
Who is your celebrity crush? David Beckham, of course
What is your favorite color? teal
What word describes you best? fierce, loyal
What is your favorite food? I'm not picky as long as it's tasty
If you were on an island, who would you want to be with? My mom--the Barlows against the world!
Last movie you watched? The Princess Bride (for the bazillionth time, thanks, Piper)
What book are you reading now? Oh, crap. Do we have a paper due for English?
What is your favorite subject in school? Basketball
How many pairs of shoes do you currently own? three (kicks, Vans, flips. Why would I need more?)
October 4, 2011
Meet Piper - Ringleader of the International Kissing Club
“Before this, I was only an online joke, but now I’m an after-school special. My only hope is that they don’t hire Lindsay Lohan to play me in the movie.”
Full name: Piper Douglas
Written by: Tracy Deebs
Age: Almost Seventeen
Sign: Leo
International Destination: Paris, France
Favorite Color: Bright, electric blue (the same color as the streaks in my hair, of course)
Favorite Food: Chocolate croissants straight from the patisserie around the corner
Favorite Sport: Shopping, of course. Oh, and girl's basketball, because that's what my BFF Cass plays
Last Movie You Watched: The Princess Bride, because it’s the best!
Favorite Lip Gloss: MAC's Lipglass because it keeps your lips soft and shiny, even after a kiss or three ;)
What book are you reading now? The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo
Favorite Kind of Kiss: French of course!
Favorite Tourist Attraction: I Lourve the Lourve … Sorry. Inside joke ;)
Favorite Facebook Page: Besides ours? The Black Keys. I saw them live in Paris and they were amazing!The International Kissing Club
Full name: Piper Douglas
Written by: Tracy Deebs
Age: Almost Seventeen
Sign: Leo
International Destination: Paris, France
Favorite Color: Bright, electric blue (the same color as the streaks in my hair, of course)
Favorite Food: Chocolate croissants straight from the patisserie around the corner
Favorite Sport: Shopping, of course. Oh, and girl's basketball, because that's what my BFF Cass plays
Last Movie You Watched: The Princess Bride, because it’s the best!
Favorite Lip Gloss: MAC's Lipglass because it keeps your lips soft and shiny, even after a kiss or three ;)
What book are you reading now? The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo
Favorite Kind of Kiss: French of course!
Favorite Tourist Attraction: I Lourve the Lourve … Sorry. Inside joke ;)
Favorite Facebook Page: Besides ours? The Black Keys. I saw them live in Paris and they were amazing!The International Kissing Club
September 3, 2011
IKC: Only 4 Months To Go!!
Four months from today The International Kissing Club hits the shelves at a bookstore near you. Yay!! An excerpt while we wait:
At last Cassidy staggered off the plane, her legs barely able to function properly. She had the urgent need to pee. After going through customs she found a restroom and saw herself in a mirror for the first time since leaving North America.
Holy crap!
Stale, recirculated airplane air, confined space, sleep deprivation and crossing an ocean obviously did not do wonders for one’s appearance. Not that she usually cared about that kind of thing, but come on. She looked like a creature straight out of the movie Zombieland: red-eyed, pale skin, and with a decidedly funky aura. And her hair…even under the best circumstances her hair was about as easy to tame as a horde of flesh-hungry zombies.
With a groan she splashed water on her face, wrestled her hair into a braid and popped three Altoids into her mouth. It wasn’t much, but until she had her luggage it was the best she could do. She only hoped Ms. Gatwick would be understanding enough to take her straight home and to a hot shower.
Cassidy joined the thousands of people navigating the ginormous airport’s maze of corridors. She didn’t know what she’d expected, but most of the people looked and dressed just like Americans. Well, maybe not Americans from Paris, Texas, but big melting-pot cities like Dallas or Houston, for sure.
She got to baggage claim to find the hundreds of bags from her flight already circulating around the turnstile. She cringed when she spied her own from a hundred feet away. Unfortunately, there was no mistaking the 1970’s guacamole-colored Samsonite suitcase she’d had to borrow from her Memaw. To make it worse her Papa had strapped two bright red and yellow bungee cords around it to be sure no one would “poke around” in her stuff. It looked like a rejected pinata from a Cinco de Mayo festival.
She slunk to a spot in back where the fewest people stood before claiming it, then walked towards the exit area where loved ones and other stood waiting for arriving passengers.
With nothing more to go on than the description from Mrs. Gatwick's e-mail, Cassidy scanned the crowd looking for an elderly female holding a sign with her name on it. When she didn't find anyone, she flipped open her phone to make sure there wasn't anything saying Mrs. Gatwick would be late. Then she decided to open Facebook to check the IKC page and let the girls know she'd arrived somewhat intact.
While she was posting, someone bumped into her and she glanced up from her phone. She caught a glimpse of her name scrawled across a white piece of paper. However, the person holding it was neither old nor a lady.
Oh. God.
Those were the only words that formed in her mind when she saw him. Tall and tanned, in a clean, white tee, frayed cargo shorts and flip-flops, with golden streaks in his tousled, sun-bleached hair setting off deep-set hazel eyes to perfection, the guy looked like summer at the beach.
Their eyes met and he started walking toward her.
“Are you Cassidy?” he asked in a rumbly, Aussie accent.
“Y-yes,” she managed to croak.
He smiled, a wide, eye-crinkling grin punctuated by a gorgeous little dimple on his left cheek. “I’m Lucas.”
At last Cassidy staggered off the plane, her legs barely able to function properly. She had the urgent need to pee. After going through customs she found a restroom and saw herself in a mirror for the first time since leaving North America.
Holy crap!
Stale, recirculated airplane air, confined space, sleep deprivation and crossing an ocean obviously did not do wonders for one’s appearance. Not that she usually cared about that kind of thing, but come on. She looked like a creature straight out of the movie Zombieland: red-eyed, pale skin, and with a decidedly funky aura. And her hair…even under the best circumstances her hair was about as easy to tame as a horde of flesh-hungry zombies.
With a groan she splashed water on her face, wrestled her hair into a braid and popped three Altoids into her mouth. It wasn’t much, but until she had her luggage it was the best she could do. She only hoped Ms. Gatwick would be understanding enough to take her straight home and to a hot shower.
Cassidy joined the thousands of people navigating the ginormous airport’s maze of corridors. She didn’t know what she’d expected, but most of the people looked and dressed just like Americans. Well, maybe not Americans from Paris, Texas, but big melting-pot cities like Dallas or Houston, for sure.
She got to baggage claim to find the hundreds of bags from her flight already circulating around the turnstile. She cringed when she spied her own from a hundred feet away. Unfortunately, there was no mistaking the 1970’s guacamole-colored Samsonite suitcase she’d had to borrow from her Memaw. To make it worse her Papa had strapped two bright red and yellow bungee cords around it to be sure no one would “poke around” in her stuff. It looked like a rejected pinata from a Cinco de Mayo festival.
She slunk to a spot in back where the fewest people stood before claiming it, then walked towards the exit area where loved ones and other stood waiting for arriving passengers.
With nothing more to go on than the description from Mrs. Gatwick's e-mail, Cassidy scanned the crowd looking for an elderly female holding a sign with her name on it. When she didn't find anyone, she flipped open her phone to make sure there wasn't anything saying Mrs. Gatwick would be late. Then she decided to open Facebook to check the IKC page and let the girls know she'd arrived somewhat intact.
While she was posting, someone bumped into her and she glanced up from her phone. She caught a glimpse of her name scrawled across a white piece of paper. However, the person holding it was neither old nor a lady.
Oh. God.
Those were the only words that formed in her mind when she saw him. Tall and tanned, in a clean, white tee, frayed cargo shorts and flip-flops, with golden streaks in his tousled, sun-bleached hair setting off deep-set hazel eyes to perfection, the guy looked like summer at the beach.
Their eyes met and he started walking toward her.
“Are you Cassidy?” he asked in a rumbly, Aussie accent.
“Y-yes,” she managed to croak.
He smiled, a wide, eye-crinkling grin punctuated by a gorgeous little dimple on his left cheek. “I’m Lucas.”
