I hope this newsletter finds you healthy and enjoying the first few days of autumn. I am not healthy because a few co-workers decided to come to work and share their toxic cold germs. Therefore life currently finds me moaning on the couch with a fever of 99.5 while my husband is left to wonder why he married such a total whiner baby.
I can’t help it. Hypochondria runs in my family. It’s hereditary.
But I digress.
The sole purpose of today’s correspondence is to tell you about my newest literary creation.
Yeah, baby. You read that correctly! I’ve put my nose to the grindstone and slaved away on a new story. Obviously you have questions about this project, so I will be happy answer them for you!
Q: What did you come up with now?
A: My new book is a full length novel (97,000 words) titled ‘The Reluctant Gigolo.’
Q: Ooh, sounds interesting. What is it about? You got a blurb? Sell it to me, girl!
A: I do indeed have a blurb. Actually the blurb came to me one night at roughly three in the morning, so I jumped out of bed and wrote it down. When I need to figure stuff out, I let it simmer in my brain for a while and hope something good pops up when I least expect it. Here’s the blurb:
It’s been said that love sneaks up on you when it’s least expected.
Whoever came up with that phrase was spot on in my case. After being stood up by a blind date, I accidentally met the man of my dreams.
The only issue?
He’s a former male escort… an ex-gigolo… a retired prostitute… a… well… you get the picture.
Complicating matters is my socially awkward best friend and partner in crime, my overprotective obnoxious brother who does not approve of my budding relationship, and a few other major players that do their part to stir the pot.
With the deck stacked against us, what’s it going to take to find my happily ever after?
This story is a full length 97,000 word comedy romance intended to make you swoon, crack a smile, and dive right into the lives of my fictional characters.
Q: And where did you get the idea for this crazy story?
A: Not a damn thing was on television, so I flicked aimlessly through the channels until stumbling upon old episodes of the Showtime series ‘Gigolos.’ Naturally my husband walked into the room and gave me a disapproving glance. He thinks I watch absolute shit about 90% of the time. About all we’re compatible with for television programs are those house hunter shows and Bill Maher on HBO. Otherwise, I’m addicted to all the 90 Day Fiance shows and he likes the ‘Alien Encounter’ or FBI conspiracy or history channel war shows.
But I digress. Was I going somewhere with all this? Sorry. I’m still running a slight fever, so you should be glad I can string together words that are making sense right now.
Anyway, I watched the Gigolo show and thought, “What happens after they retire? What comes next?” My new story is my version of the answer to that.
Q: You got a cover for this book?
A: Hells yeah, and I did it all by myself!
Q: You got a buy link or is this sucker gonna magically show up on my kindle?
A: The book is on Amazon for $2.99 to buy or you can read it for FREE if you’re part of the kindle unlimited program. Here are the links:
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07Y2LJTF6 (United States)
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07Y2LJTF6 (United Kingdom)
If you live in a country that’s not one of these (Italy? Mexico?) then I apologize for not including your link.
Q: I’m not totally convinced that I should be spending three of my hard-earned dollars on your word vomit. Can you share an excerpt, please?
A: Sure! But only because you asked nicely…
[this is from chapter one when my main lady walks into a diner to meet her blind date…]
I pulled out my phone to check the text and, speak of the devil, there was a message from my best friend Carla.
“How’s the date? Is he cute? Do I have to rescue you? Is he creepy or hot as fuck? Are you still alive or has he lured you back to his dungeon? Take a picture of him for me… you know… like be stealthy about it.”
I rolled my eyes while plopping into a nearby booth and began typing a reply.
“He’s not here yet. It’s only ten after eight, so I’m just chilling at the restaurant while I wait.”
“How old is this jerk-off? A gentleman never makes a lady wait. You’re thirty-five. Your eggs are drying up. You don’t have time for this shit!”
Really? Carla lives with her mother in the same house she grew up in, along with a menagerie of three birds, two cats, and a flatulent rabbit named ‘Gomer.’ If anyone’s body parts are drying up from lack of use, it’s hers.
“Thanks for the pep talk. Maybe he hit traffic?”
“He can’t call? His phone ran out of battery? I’d cut and run. You never should have agreed to this date in the first place. It’s a bad idea to mix business and pleasure.”
The sound of the bell jingling as someone walked into the restaurant instantly drew my attention away from the text screen. Since I was seated facing the door, I had a great view as the man entered and promptly took the very first booth by the entrance, which happened to be right next to mine.
The newcomer tossed a briefcase on the table, slid into the seat with his back to the door, and waved to the waitress.
“Hi, Rosie. I’ll have the usual, but add a strong cup of coffee and keep them coming. I’m studying for an important exam.”
I stared at the guy while sizing him up. He was dressed in black pants, white button down shirt slightly rolled up at the wrists to expose tan skin, black glasses that gave him a nerdy professor look, and topped off with a red baseball cap tightly perched atop his head. He appeared to be in his mid to late thirties, so I was curious as to what exam he might be taking.
Nothing about him screamed, “I am Rudy, your date,” but I decided to ask anyway.
“Um… excuse me, sir, but your name wouldn’t be ‘Rudy’ by chance, would it?” I asked shyly, half hiding my face behind the large plastic menu.
The man turned his attention on me and quickly shook his head.
“No. You have me confused with someone else,” he insisted coldly, pulling the hat down in an effort to conceal his identity as though part of the witness protection program. “A lot of people mistake me for other people. I look familiar.”
Huh? Who mistakes people for other people? Well, one random stranger sharing an elevator ride once told me I looked like Chelsea Clinton, but I don’t consider that a compliment. The lady meant that I reminded her of the frizzy-haired girl who hadn’t yet transformed from an awkward adolescent into a polished adult. My large ski slope nose didn’t help matters in the slightest.
But I digress.
“I didn’t mean that you looked familiar,” I explained patiently, somehow feeling the need to elaborate. “I’m supposed to meet someone here and I don’t know what he looks like.”
“It’s not me.”
“Yeah, I figured that out, thanks. You’re not wearing tan pants, a blue blazer, or holding a rose.”
This confession suddenly piqued his interest, because the man’s lip turned up in amusement.
“Don’t tell me… a blind date? You met on a matchmaker app and hope to fall in love at first sight?”
“No,” I sighed, glancing at the time on my phone and realizing Rudy was now fifteen minutes late. “It was a set up. A co-worker of my client. I think love at first sight is out of the question at this point. I can’t handle tardiness.”
“Let me give you a little bit of advice,” he offered. “Any man that invites you to a dive like this and then doesn’t have the decency to show up on time… he’s not a great catch by any means.”
“How did you know he’s the one that picked the place?”
“I come here all the time and I’ve never seen you before. You would have chosen a place that you’re familiar with for a first meeting.”
Wow. He was rather intuitive.
Not willing to admit that I felt like a complete loser or that I’d potentially been stood up, I sullenly examined the menu. The night wasn’t getting any younger and my stomach was growling.
Another ten minutes passed, no word from Rudy, four texts from Carla, and the situation was beginning to bother me. It didn’t help matters when the mysterious stranger’s food arrived smelling like Heaven on a plate. He saw me ogling a particularly long French fry on the way to his mouth, and shook his head at me.
“What time was Mr. Right supposed to show up?”
“What time is it now?”
“Almost eight thirty.”
“What are the excuses he keeps texting you?” he asked, obviously hearing all the dings from Carla’s messages and assuming they were from my missing date.
“That’s not him. It’s my best friend checking up on me.”
“Why do you keep frowning at the phone instead of replying to her? Good friends that genuinely care are hard to find.”
“Why do you keep spying on my business?” I retorted, surprised that he was paying any attention to the pitiful lady that had been abandoned by her date.
“Because I would like to eat my meal in peace without looking up to see you drooling over my food,” he admitted suavely, raising an eyebrow as though daring me to deny that’s exactly what I was doing. “Rosie, can you please come over here and take her order? Her date isn’t going to show up and the poor thing is about to starve to death.”
——————–END OF EXCERPT—————-
Q: Well, you definitely have me intrigued. Anything else we should know?
A: Nope, I think that about covers it. I made some graphic teasers last week before I was stricken ill with my cold. You want to see those?
That’s all we have for today, folks. Have a wonderful day and STAY HEALTHY! Til next time….