No, it’s not a real request like I’m going to ask you for a favor or anything like that. That’s just my clever way to let you know about my new book… ‘Undeniable Request.’ I suppose most normal authors write a book and then have a cover made and then send it off to be edited and then start promoting it. That’s not quite how I operate. I don’t start talking about a book until it’s done. I can’t handle the pressure of people asking, “When is this going to be finished?”
I don’t work well under stress. So I like to wait until the book is 75% done, make a few covers, stare at the screen in disgust, wish I had a degree in graphic design, and then play with font for roughly five hours until my head pounds and my eyes burn. Then I wait until the book is totally finished and I type “THE END.”
What comes next is my least favorite part of all: marketing and promotion. People can’t buy my book if they don’t know it exists, right? Unfortunately. I can honestly say I’m no good at this step at all. Usually I try to advertise anywhere that’s free, get discouraged, give up, and go write the next book. I’m not savvy with that process at all.
Since you just happen to be signed up for my blog and newsletter, this is an easy way to share my new release with you. Are you ready for the unveiling of my latest masterpiece? Prepare to be wowed and amazed….
Fed up with her love life after yet another disastrous blind date, Miranda Edwards turns to the internet for comfort. Much to her surprise, she’s greeted with a random friend request from an extremely handsome stranger.
This mystery man instantly asks for a favor that captures Miranda’s attention: watch him do an explicit web performance and give an honest opinion of the show.
The mild-mannered nurse takes him up on the offer in a moment of temporary insanity. Instead of the bland strip tease she’s expecting, Michelangelo impresses her with charm, wit, and sexuality.
To the dismay of her friends and family, Miranda finds herself falling for this fantasy man who soon becomes very real. How much can one life spiral out of control after the simple act of accepting an undeniable request?
Author’s Note: This full-length comedy romance features several steamy webcam performances including those involving birthday cake, a shower scene, a superhero, and a couple more surprises that I won’t spoil for you. There are also quite a few endearing side characters such as a pair of spunky nursing home residents who aren’t afraid to speak their minds, a buxom blonde yoga instructor, and a couple villains for good measure. This tale contains no cheating, no cliffhangers, and it is produced with NON-GMO ingredients. What more could you ask for? One-click this story and let the adventure begin…
If you’re part of the Kindle Unlimited program, you can read my book for free, otherwise it’s priced at $2.99. This is a full length novel at roughly 73,000 words.
In case I haven’t fully captured your attention, I’m going to do something new. Here is the first chapter of the book to get you excited enough to one-click!
I slammed the door to my apartment with an audible sigh of disgust and instantly regretted it. The neighbors probably didn’t appreciate my loud temper tantrum and I couldn’t blame them. After all, it was not their fault that I just came home from the ‘date of doom’ as I decided to call it.
My high heels got kicked off on the welcome rug and I immediately stomped into the kitchen to pour myself a glass of wine. Lord knows I wasn’t allowed to have any on my date since I was given strict instructions to ‘keep it under fifteen bucks if you wouldn’t mind, honey.’ Of all the nerve. Like Connor had the right to tell me what I could or couldn’t order?
Don’t get me wrong, I’m the farthest thing from a primadonna that you would ever imagine. It’s just that I don’t really like when people try to enforce rules on me, especially on the first date. I tend to get bucky and belligerent and do the exact opposite of what I’m told. I’m really not sure where this feisty side came from, but maybe it’s twenty-nine years of putting up with too much bullshit and finally deciding that I’d had enough.
The glass of merlot went down way too smoothly and I put the bottle in the fridge before it tempted me to finish the whole thing off. Yes, it was Saturday night and I was home at the late, late hour of eight o’clock, but it would do me no good to have a hangover and pounding headache the next morning. Might as well get into my most comfortable pair of sweatpants and see what movie called out to me from Netflix.
But first…I should probably take off my favorite peach colored dress and hang it back up nicely so it doesn’t wrinkle. Since it was only worn for two hours, I didn’t even have time to break a sweat and dirty it up.
On the way to my closet, I paused to look at myself in the full length mirror that hung on the back of my bedroom door. Medium length dark blonde hair, average figure, handful of boobs, kind of short in height, inquisitive blue eyes, nice eyebrows, decent smile. Nothing spectacular that would stand out in a crowd, yet pretty far away from Quasimodo on the looks spectrum.
“You’re not a total hideous cow,” I told myself. “Why don’t you have better luck with the opposite sex?”
If I had the answer to that question, I’d be a lot happier right now. Maybe I need some insight from a friend.
Flopping down on my bed and grabbing the cordless phone, I dialed someone who could definitely lift my spirits.
“Miranda Edwards…why the fuck are you calling me at eight o’clock on a Saturday night?” she answered on the first ring, instantly irritated. “What was wrong with this one?”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I replied, massaging my temples in an effort to stave off the throbbing that threatened to burst out at any moment. Whether it was from drinking too much wine or from the stress of a bad evening, I was very prone to headaches.
“Wait…are you still on the date? Don’t tell me you actually like this guy and he has a chance of being the one that finally melts your frosty heart? Did Colton break down your walls and manage to see the wonderful person underneath all that sarcasm and wit? Are you calling me from the bathroom to let me know that you’ll be going home with him tonight for some earth-shattering sexy times?”
“First of all, his name was Connor. Second…” I trailed off, unsure as to which of his character flaws I should mention because there were so many to choose from.
“What’s ‘second’ and why did you use past tense when talking about his name? His name was Connor. Is it not still Connor? Did he change his name or is he no longer among the living? Did you stab him in the throat with your dessert fork? You’re being very vague here.”
“Ah, Erika, I don’t even know where to start.” If I didn’t plead my case correctly, then the woman would lecture me about how picky I was being and how I had no hope of ever getting married. I already knew all this. She didn’t need to tell me that thirty was fast approaching and I was nowhere close to finding a love match. If love was an island, I was swimming in shark infested water approximately five hundred miles away from shore.
“Start at the beginning and don’t leave any details out,” she said with a sigh that was part annoyance and part enthusiasm. I knew my best friend wanted me to end up with my happily ever after, but I also think she really enjoyed my woeful tales of love gone wrong.
“I should have known better than to go out with my mom’s hairdresser’s nephew, but I’m never one to pass up an opportunity. You never know where ‘Mr. Right’ may be lurking just waiting for me to discover him.”
“Hold on, I got a call-waiting beep. I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere,” she ordered.
Where was I going to go? Did my walk-in closet turn into some sort of Narnia where I could sneak off and find magical adventures? It would certainly be nice if that were the case. Just for the heck of it, I peeked in and looked around. Nope. Still full of clothes and no lions or witches or sexy half naked men.
I slipped off the dress and threw on a white t-shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants. That was much better. Now I could flop back down on my bed and tell the story in comfort. I think there was some crazy piece of my soul that enjoyed the re-telling of the bad dates. It amused Erika and made me feel like I got something out of the night. I mean, who didn’t love a great story? At the very least, I knew some of the ladies at work tomorrow would get a nice laugh out of my evening. I could always take a negative and put a positive spin on it. Lemons into lemonade and all that jazz.
“Okay, I’m back. It was Evan. Go on with your story, please,” she urged.
“Did you want to talk to him? I can tell you about my date later,” I suggested. Evan was a giant douche bag, but Erika was ‘madly in love’ with him anyway. I honestly gave up trying to convince her to dump him, because she was blinded by his charm and handsome good looks.
“No, he couldn’t talk right now. The call was just a brief check-in to let me know that he arrived safely at his hotel and I shouldn’t worry about him.”
Evan traveled a lot on business. Sometimes business turned to pleasure. Evan’s pleasure.
“Is he in a new city, or somewhere he’s been before?” I asked hesitantly. Although he vehemently denies it, I think Evan has a girl in every port.
“He’s in Minneapolis. It’s a week of meetings and then he comes back to Des Moines next Friday. You know his business involves traveling to other branch offices. I can’t force him to quit his job. We all have to pay the bills somehow.”
I guess I should look on the bright side and appreciate the fact that Erika has a stable boyfriend who supports himself and doesn’t borrow money from her. I’m also relieved that they’ve only been dating for ten months and haven’t moved in together or anything. She still has time to cut ties and move on if that’s what she chooses one day.
“Besides, it’s usually Chicago where he has the problems with his…um…friends,” she explained, mistaking my silence for judgment against her boyfriend. “But he got down on his knees and promised that he would never see either one of them again. It was a random hook-up with the girl in the bar bathroom and he doesn’t even know her name. Evan looked me right in the eye and told me that it was only a blow job and nothing more. I believe him.”
“I know you do, Erika. You don’t have to justify yourself to me.”
Yes, Evan had a casual encounter with a skank he met when he was drunk in a bar two months ago, but that’s not what bothered me. Well it did, but not as much as the second incident that happened less than a month later when he met up with a ‘friend’ from the Chicago office and she also managed to somehow find her mouth attached to Evan’s cock. He swore up and down to Erika that he was drunk and the friend came on to him and he wasn’t strong enough to resist. She fell for his sob story hook, line, and sinker. I would have kicked his sorry ass to the curb after the first time, but it’s not my life…it’s hers.
“I really don’t want to talk about all that right now, Randi, let’s move on to your story.”
“I’m back to ‘Randi’ now, am I?” I teased playfully, trying to lighten the mood. “When you picked up the phone, I got the full ‘Miranda Edwards’ treatment. Am I out of the time-out corner now, mom?”
In my personal opinion, the name ‘Miranda Edwards’ sounds like some high powered executive in a fancy windowed corner office of a high rise building. She does leverage buyouts and makes billion dollar deals with the snap of her fingers. Minions run in fear and men fall at her feet. That name does not fit me one damn bit. I very much prefer to be simple ‘Randi’ and blend in amongst the commoners.
“Yeah, you’re back to being ‘Randi’ because I’m about to get a juicy story. So hurry the hell up and tell it, will you? I’m not getting any younger here.”
I let out a deep breath and leaned back, letting the many pillows stacked against the headboard cushion my weary body.
“It’s been a long night,” I admitted, deciding where to begin my story.
“You’re such an over-exaggerator!” she argued. “You were gone a whole two hours!”
“Dude! Let me tell it, okay? Maybe I like to embellish for entertainment value!”
After she stopped laughing, I dove right in with a giant smile on my face.
“Once upon a time there was a beautiful woman named Randi who got set up on a date with her mom’s hairdresser’s nephew. The evil troll’s name was Connor. Ahem…he’s not dead, so his name is still Connor, but that’s beside the point.”
“I have a feeling it’s going to take you two hours to tell a five minute story, am I right?”
“No interrupting,” I admonished before continuing. “Connor arrived precisely on time, which is always a bonus. You know that I can’t stand tardiness. Anyway, he looked very attractive wearing a nice pair of black dress pants and a purple button down shirt. I also can’t stand a sloppy appearance on a first date. Remember that guy who wore the shirt full of holes and the stained jeans? Nightmare!”
“You really do have extra bad luck when it comes to men, you know that?”
“I’m well aware, thank you very much. It actually all went downhill after we got in his car. I asked him what he had planned for the date, but he didn’t really hear me because the radio was cranked up to ‘deafening.’ Once the song was over, he turned down the volume long enough to tell me that our destination was a surprise and then returned the music to ‘ear-splitting.’ Let me explain that it was classical music like Beethoven or some crap, and not head-banger music that would require maximum bass.”
“Poor taste in tune is not a deal-breaker, Randi.”
“Is the story over? I think not. So we pull up to a restaurant after making no small talk at all since I could barely hear myself think over the radio. Much to my surprise, it’s a sushi place. As you know, I have a very touchy stomach and I don’t eat raw fish. Instead of complaining, because this is a first date and I want to make a good impression, I went with it and didn’t protest. I figured they’d have something simple on the menu. Connor smelled really good and I was digging his cologne, so I cut him some slack.”
“How kind of you.”
“Thanks. I thought so too. So we go into the restaurant and he starts off the small talk by telling me that his ex loved this place and they ate there all the time. Really? I’m glad it’s so highly recommended and that he’s a regular customer, but the first thing you say to me is to talk about your ex? Awkward.”
“How long have they been broken up?”
“Obviously that’s one of the first things I asked. Turns out it’s not just an ex-girlfriend. It’s his ex-wife. I actually shouldn’t use that term since they’re not legally divorced. Merely separated as of three months ago. He’s living in their basement while he tries to get his life sorted out.”
“Ouch. Still living with the soon-to-be ex-wife? That’s definitely a strike in the negative column.”
“Absolutely. Connor then proceeds to inform me that he’s low on cash since he’s saving up to move out of the basement and his wife is still making him pay all the bills. I was instructed not to order anything over fifteen dollars. Since I don’t like sushi anyway, that wasn’t too hard. I got a plate of white rice for twelve bucks. I knew damn well that a glass of wine would have put me over budget, so I settled with water and looked at my watch every five minutes hoping time would speed by and I could end this disaster.”
I paused to come up for air, but Erika was laughing too hard to hear what I might have said anyway, had I still been talking.
“It’s not over, dude. There’s more!”
“Ooh, getting to the good part. Carry on, please!”
“He proceeded to talk about his job, his wife, his dead insect collection, and what turns him on in the bedroom. Not a single thing that came out of the man’s mouth appealed to me in the slightest.”
“Dead insect collection?”
“Yeah. He finds dead stuff like butterflies, moths, and crickets. Then he neatly pins them in shadow boxes and hangs them on the wall.”
“Wow. You’ve hit a new low.”
“No, Erika. It gets better. I’m surprised you asked about the dead bugs instead of his fetish preferences. But let me tell you about those. Connor likes to be dominated. Nothing gets him erect, his word and not mine, the way it does when the woman puts a diaper on him and tends to his needs. But Connor isn’t well-behaved in the bedroom, my friend. Nope. Not at all. He has a naughty streak and needs to be spanked. Hard. So fiercely that he gets a hand print on his bum cheeks. Again, his words and not mine.”
“Holy shit, Randi! Where do you find these guys?”
“I think I was a murderer in a previous life and this is some sort of Karmic intervention to punish me now. Or maybe I had a lot of sex in my last incarnation and I’m doomed to go without while in this body? It’s hard to say.”
After a five minute debate about past life regression and other spiritual things, we ended the conversation and I was faced with a tough decision.
Should I hit up the fresh pint of caramel lover’s ice cream or go with a good old bag of greasy potato chips? Eenie, meenie, miney, moe. Probably if I dipped the chips into the ice cream that would be gross, wouldn’t it?
Might as well go online and check emails. I had no time to get caught up with messages after work since I wasted an hour of my life getting all dolled up for Mr. Married with Bugs. Or should I call him Sexy Diaper Man? The list of possibilities was truly endless.
No matter. I could lose myself on Friendbook for a few hours and catch up with people that I never spoke with in real life.
Forcing myself out of bed long enough to grab my laptop, I then resumed my position in pillow heaven and cracked my knuckles. The internet never failed to entertain me. Let’s see what I missed since I last logged in twenty-four hours ago.
Hmm…six messages, thirty-eight notifications and two friend requests.
While I did have four hundred and nineteen friends, not an anti-social hermit by any means, it was somewhat odd to have two friend requests in one day. Hello, Miss Popular.
Let’s see who they’re from.
One is from my mom’s hairdresser. No doubt she assumes I was wowed and amazed by her tantalizing nephew and she’s ready to add me to the family. No thanks.
Moving right along…who’s next?
What the hell?
If that didn’t scream ‘fake name,’ then I don’t know what does!
Let’s check out Mr. Davinci’s profile.
Ooh. Well, I’ll be dipped in shit. The man is H-O-T. I have to give him credit for that. Those abs are a real work of art. That must be how he came up with the name.
Too bad he’s sitting spread out on a bed with his shirt off and his legs wide open in a come-hither pose. Also too bad he’s wearing jeans. From the bulge in those Levis, it’s plainly apparent that he has quite the package.
For some reason I’m no stranger to friend requests from buxom ladies with their tits hanging out and giant puffy lips pouting sexily right into the camera. They’re always wearing barely there bikinis and have names like Crystal and Danika and Alexandria. Also a given? Their profile will have a link to a sketchy website where I can ‘watch sexy girl live on webcam with pert nipples guaranteed!’ I mean, I suppose that’s nice. I certainly don’t want to see sagging nipples, right?
Anyway, after having no shortage of spammy skanky girl requests, it’s definitely a breath of fresh air to see a sexy guy for a change.
Should I do it?
I mean, really, what’s the worst that can happen?
I’ll accept his request and get directed to a sketchy website that will steal all my personal information and ruin my credit.
Go ahead. It’s not like I have great credit anyway.
I’m doing it.
I’m moving my finger over to the button.
Last chance to stop me…
FRIEND REQUEST ACCEPTED.
END OF EXCERPT FROM CHAPTER ONE
Thank you so much for giving me the opportunity to entertain you with my newest creation.
Have a lovely weekend!
Til next time….