by Scott, D. D.
What worried me was that I had the distinct feeling that although Roman and I no longer kept secrets from each other, there were bigger secrets being kept from us about R’s world. And those secrets could be more dangerous yet.
Neither of us spoke on the two hour drive through the rainforest path to the lodge.
We didn’t have to.
By now, we were too in sync to not know what the other was thinking, feeling and stewing about.
As Grams had told me, Mel Fisher liked to say, “Today’s the day”.
But what if that was true, but your days were still numbered?
And just what the hell was Vesuvius?
THE END
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
D. D. Scott is an Amazon and Barnes & Noble Top 100 Bestselling Romantic Comedy and Humorous Mystery Author. She’s a Writer’s Go-To-Gal for Muse Therapy, plus the #1 Amazon Bestselling Author of Muse Therapy: Unleashing Your Inner Sybil and the co-founder of The WG2E – The Writer’s Guide to E-Publishing - your destination site for Everything E-Publishing, and founder of The RG2E – The Reader’s Guide to Epublishing – the destination site for all-things Ereading. You can get all the scoop on her, her books, her Muse Therapy Online Classes and Live Workshops, plus juicy tidbits too from D. D. Scott-ville http://ddscottville.blogspot.com .
Full Bio:
D. D. Scott’s bestselling romantic comedies are all about sexy, sassy, smart, career-driven women and the men who complete them. They’re a bit chick lit with a gone-country twist…and now a humorous mystery, comedic caper twist too. Her Bootscootin’ Books - think Sex and The City meets Urban Cowboy – debuted August 2010, on Amazon’s Kindle, Barnes & Noble’s Nook and at Smashwords, with BOOTSCOOTIN’ BLAHNIKS, followed by STOMPIN’ ON STETSONS and BUCKLES ME BABY. Now, The Bootscootin’ Characters are gettin’ “cozy”…as in Comedic Caper cozy, with the release of THUG GUARD and LIP GLOCK, Books One and Two of her new, Cozy Cash Mysteries, featuring all of your fave Bootscootin’ characters plus tons of quirky new characters too.
She’s a two-time Amazon Movers & Shakers List Author (making it all the way to #2 on that prestigious list) and has been both a featured author and her books have been top picks – including one of the Top 10 Books for Mother’s Day 2010 - for such superfab Ereader-centric Blogs as Ereader News Today (ENT), Kindle Nation Daily, Cheap e-Reads, Pixel of Ink, The Frugal eReader, Indie Books List, Only Romance, and Bargain eBooks. Her blog posts on the Indie Epub World have been picked-up by fantabulous blogs like Bufo Calvin’s I Love My Kindle. She can be spotted all-week long on her one-million-hits-per-month grog The WG2E, a writer’s destination site for all-things-Epublishing. She often can also be found hangin’ on both the Kindle and Nook Boards, her new site The RG2E, a reader’s destination site for all-things Ereading, and has an active blog of her own on her website at http://ddscottville.blogspot.com .
Also a Writer’s Go-to-Gal for Muse Therapy and now the Amazon #1 Bestselling Author of MUSE THERAPY: UNLEASHING YOUR INNER SYBIL, D. D. debuted her Muse Therapy Online Classes in 2009 and her Live Workshops in 2010. Thanks to the fabulous endorsement of Stephen Windwalker’s Kindle Nation Daily, there’s a ton more fun and fascinating MUSE THERAPY adventures in development.
D. D.’s first two short stories - The Mom Squad Mini-Mayhem Mysteries – FLUID FULFILLMENT and LICENSED FOR LOVE – released in October 2011, and a D. D. Scott Special Edition Ebook Boxed Set followed in December 2011, which included all three Bootscootin’ Books plus the first two Cozy Cash Mysteries. Her brand new series THE STUCK WITH A SERIES will release in March 2012, with STUCK WITH A SCHMUCK and STUCK WITH A STIFF, along with a total of 14 additional releases throughout 2012.
Declaring 2011 to be “The Year of the E-Book & Cross-Pollination”, D. D. co-founded and launched The Writer’s Guide to E-Publishing (http://thewritersguidetoepublishing.com), your destination site for Everything E-Publishing. Whatever you want to know and/or cuss and discuss about E-publishing, it’s right there at The WG2E waiting for you!
And declaring 2012 “The Year of the Reader”, she founded The RG2E – The Reader’s Guide to Epublishing – a sister site to The WG2E, which will launch February 1, 2012 and be “the” new destination site for the Best in Ereading.
When she’s not writing, she’s busy luuuvin’ on her real-life hero “Sweet Man” and their beloved shelter-rescued dog Buckley and his new playmate Siggy the Affenpinscher.
For updates on her books, her sexy, sassy, smart neurotic writer’s life blog, and for a schedule of her appearances and Muse Therapy Sessions, visit her website http://ddscottville.blogspot.com .
SNEAK PEEK EXCERPT OF…
STUCK WITH A SCHMUCK
(The Prequel to STUCK WITH A STIFF, Book One of the Stuck with a Series)
Chapter One
“The right shoe can change your life…just ask Cinderella.”
That’s what the Bitchy Sign in the airport’s gift shop had said. And no, I didn’t buy the damn thing.
Why not?
Because not all of us go totally Cinderella and marry our own prince.
Okay, yes. My cousin, Zoey Witherspoon, did.
But there are plenty of us who end up with frogs. Frogs that never become princes no matter how many times you kiss ‘em.
Hell, at this point, I might just take another frog. That sure beats my current reality, which is a big nothing, zero, nada, as in no man in sight.
‘Course now that I’m about to be at the cruising altitude of 35,000 feet, if I saw a man outside my first-class cabin window, he would not be my choice of a dating prospect. Whatever he was doin’ out there couldn’t be good.
Realizing just how far that little sign had sent me over the edge of my barely-there sanity really scared the hell out of me. When would I ever get myself put back together again?
I fought with the coarse blanket I’d retrieved from the overhead compartment. These miniscule scraps of fabric were never big enough to cover my long limbs. Luckily, I’d grown used to the discomforts and irritations of travel and always brought along my own pashmina scarf. I’m a total Linus, desperately in need of my blanky.
While struggling with the blanket and my scarf, I managed to tip over my tote bag, which was way too big to fit nicely underneath the seat in front of me. Out flew one of my old business cards.
I thought I’d tossed out every last one of those bastards months ago.
What the hell?
It must have been hiding in one of the interior pockets.
After retrieving the card, I couldn’t seem to quit staring at the fancy metallic embossed letters. I stared so long my eyes began to water.
“Aldredge & Aldredge” the card read.
Hmph. No need for that second Aldredge now. And yes. That Aldredge was my total nightmare of a frog.
“Excuse me, Mrs. Aldredge, is there anything I can do for you before departure? Perhaps a cocktail?”
Thankfully or unthankfully, depending on how you chose to look at it, my self-pity party was interrupted by the annoyingly kind but canned concern of a flight attendant. The talking mannequin bore a nameplate identifying her as Allison.
Flashes of rage heated my cheeks. Somehow though, I managed to contain my deep desire to strangle the shit out of Allison’s way-too-perky affront.
“That would be Ms. Aldredge. And no thank you.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
Allison, attendant extraordinaire, who looked like she should be on that once hot, now cancelled television show Pan Am – a beehive of an upsweep hairdo included - glanced at her manifest.
What was that about?
Did she think I didn’t know for sure that I was now single?
“Let me know if you change your mind and would like a drink.”
I nodded and buried my head in my hands, trying to shake off the horror.
And yes, sound reasoning to the rescue, I was fully aware that Allison had no way of knowing the significance of her error. But in my book, it was a damn
big one. And I wasn’t about to let it slip by without correcting the offending party.
I closed my eyes and settled back into the cushions of my reclined seat. The long hours I’d spent reworking an overdue manuscript had left me drained.
“Ms. Aldredge.” Allison poked me in the arm with her bone-cold pointer finger. “You must put your seat in the upright position for takeoff.”
I swore I heard the bitch place emphasis on the ‘Ms’. But without further comment, I repositioned my seat. I had bigger battles brewing and didn’t need to start a new one with Pan Am Barbie.
The sound of the jet’s engines roaring to life mercifully brought an end to my flight attendant’s honey-tongued torture. Thank the powers that be she had a cabin to prepare and no additional time to mess with me.
I leaned against the window and watched LaGuardia’s runway disappear.
Before the plane could have been off the air traffic controllers’ radar, I was fast asleep.
Chapter Two
“If Indianapolis is your home, welcome back. If you’re just visiting, then we hope you enjoy your stay.”
Until the wheels touched down and Allison’s annoying voice echoed throughout the plane, nothing had broken through my dream fog.
I sure wish I was here for a short-term visit, but fate had dealt me a different hand.
Once we’d taxied into our gate and Allison gave her final set of instructions, I stood up and cracked my head on the overhead bin.
“Perfect way to begin my journey,” I muttered to myself while checking the bin to make sure nothing had fallen out of my laptop bag. I’d left the damn thing unzipped. And since “idiot” was now my middle name, that was par for the course.
On my way to retrieve my baggage, I spotted the blessed Starbuck’s mermaid and privately praised sweet serendipity.
Perhaps all hope for me was not lost. I could sure use a black eye. The single shot of espresso included in my normal red eye just wasn’t going to cut it today.
Noticing the juice bar next to the Starbucks, I had to laugh. If my cousin Zoey had been with me, we’d be going there too for one of her horrendous all-things-green wheat grass shots.
I, on the other hand, don’t like much of anything good for me. Including men. I had a knack for choosing losers across the board. Except in one particular area of expertise, where I’d had nothing but winners. Big-time winners.
Seeing a combination newsstand and bookstore conveniently located on the opposite side of Starbuck’s, I couldn’t pass it up. It just wasn’t in my nature to walk past a bookstore, even though I did all my reading on a Kindle.
For that matter, my world as of late seemed to revolve around all-things-Kindle and Ereaders in general. Most of the freelance editing I’d contracted was for many of today’s hottest Indie Epub superstars.
Now that I was freelancing and getting paid well for preparing manuscripts to become Ebooks, browsing these little shops seemed like taking a stroll through the past. A past my Ex refused to let go of. Yep, he was on the TradiPub Titanic. I…had sailed on. He was going to sink along with all The Big Six publishers. I wasn’t.
In fact, I would be the perfect subject for some New York Times piece on the Epublishing World. If newspapers like The Times, firmly entrenched in the world of The Big Six - who spend major bucks advertising with them - gave a shit about reality.
Setting my carry-on bag between my feet, I freed my hands to explore the storefront racks and shelves. I focused my attention first, as I always did when beginning my perusal of a new store, on the Bestseller display. Like a child seeing his or her artwork proudly displayed on the refrigerator, I smiled triumphantly.
Four of my authors anchored down the second, third, sixth and seventh slots. Not bad for a once senior, then executive, now totally on her own freelance editor.
Luckily for me, my authors were selling Ebooks by the cyber truckload. They were out of contract and had no interest in continuing to be screwed by The Big Six. They were all going Indie Epub all the way, meaning I hadn’t lost a single client and stood to gain a gazillion new ones.
I pulled up the handle of my suitcase and headed for the rental car area.
The fact that the second place author, Nicky Blane, had survived getting his last book published was not only a miracle for him but for me as well. If I’d spent one more session with him, one of us would have ended up on Death Row and the other would be buried several feet beneath the earth’s surface.
It really wouldn’t have mattered which of us received which fate, as we both would have volunteered to suffer either as long as it was at the expense of the other.
Labeling our relationship as love-hate is much too generous. There’s no love. And way too much hate.
We’re no Castle and Beckett.
Our books are the same kind of police procedural crime thrillers of that dynamic Nielsen-ratings duo, but we don’t have the made-for-TV attraction of Fillion and Katic, which is what makes that show work.
To be honest, I’m still not sure what makes Nicky Blane and I work so well together. But we have ten bestselling books that say we do…at least on paper and in e-sales.
Nicky Blane is the biggest asshole I know. In fact, I’m certain Webster had him in mind when stating the definition. And every thesaurus would be accurate using ‘Nick’ as an alternative for the word ‘asshole’.
Trying to cool off my attitude and cool down my coffee, I blew through the hole in the lid another time then sighed. What I wouldn’t give to be back in Manhattan. What I wouldn’t give to…
What?!
Not see Nicky waving at me like a suave pig from the Hertz desk. Maybe I should stop and grab an apple at the fruit stand that separated us.
Wanting to get the pain over with as soon as possible, I took a deep breath and quickened my pace to the rental car center.
Forcing a tight smile, I rolled my suitcase up and over Nicky’s foot. Oops. So yeah, I guess I wanted to inflict some pain too.
Seeing him flinch, I relaxed a bit.
Checkmate, Asshole.
But after surmising from the desk clerk that Nicky was my ride and not a rental, Nicky’s discomfort from my luggage wheel connecting with his dorsum couldn’t have come close to matching my displeasure at having to be his passenger.
The jack-ass had cancelled my reservation. And since Hertz was out of cars, I had no choice but to accept a ride from Nicky.
“Ahhh, Nicky. If I’d known I had to see you this soon, I would have had a least one drink on my flight.”
Maybe Pan Am Barbie was smarter than I’d given her credit for. After all, she had tried to convince me to have a cocktail.
“Better wipe that shitty grin off your face, Ms. Allwitch…I mean Ms. Aldredge. For a minute there, I thought you were actually glad to see me.” Nicky grabbed my carry-on as well as the rest of my luggage from the carousel then pointed me toward the exit doors.
“Not in this life-time, Nicky,” I said and sidestepped his reach to put more distance between us.
“It’s Nick, God damn it! My name is Nick. Not Nicky.” He moved past me and into the revolving door that spit him out toward the parking garages.
“Not according to your book covers,” I said struggling to keep up with him.
“That was your idea, Allwitch. Not mine.” He glared at me while we scrambled to make an elevator before the door slid shut.
As the door closed with him in and me out, he hollered, “Third floor. Take the next elevator or use the stairs.”
“Asshole”, I said, not giving a damn that the priest standing behind me heard it.
I stomped up the stairs.
Out of breath by the time I reached the last landing, I looked up and saw Nicky tapping his foot and studying his watch.
“Don’t you even think…about goin’ there,” I huffed and puffed, resenting the fact that he was the big bad wolf to my now aching little piggies.
I mean, really, who hustles up multiple flights of stairs in
brand new Louboutins?
Chapter Three
“All I was gonna say was Happy Valentine’s Day, Allwitch,” Nicky said, so sweet and innocent-like I wanted to kick him in the shin.
Except I couldn’t kick him ‘cause my feet hurt too damn bad. I couldn’t wait to get into my Ugg boots.
“Bite me,” I said and stomped past him.
“Uhm, my car’s this way.”
I stopped mid stomp and turned back to face him as heat flushed my cheeks and the sweat on my forehead became glue for my bangs. Although, I was sure those issues were left over from my impromptu cardio workout.
“I knew that. I just needed some extra space.”
“Right. Sure you did. What? Are you gifted with more than word magic now? You also know where cars that you’ve never seen are parked?”
“You’re such an asshole.”
“So you’ve said.”
And then he did the worst thing he could do…
He laughed at me.
“Leave it to me to get stuck with a schmuck on Cupid’s Big Day,” I said.
Noticing he flinched a bit at that, I almost felt bad.
“A schmuck? Really? Ouch.”
He still opened the car door for me, so I had to give him a few points back for that.
“Okay. Maybe schmuck was a little harsh. It’s not like you’re a total oaf. Some would actually argue you’re brilliant.”
“Now that sounds much more like me.”
“See? There you go. Right back to Schmuck-ville. When your ego gets the best of you with those shitty remarks, I can’t stand it.”