Tuesday Tales is a weekly blog featuring diverse authors who post excerpts from their WIPs based on word and picture prompts. Today’s prompt is ruthless, and the snippet is from a work in progress temporarily called by the heroine’s name, Shale. Please visit the other fabulous authors at Tuesday Tales.
Shale flipped the ‘gone to lunch’ sign and clicked the latch to lock the door. She stepped out onto the sidewalk, momentarily blinded by the noonday sun that glared off the old courthouse windows. She squeezed her eyes closed and wriggled her nose to hold back a sneeze. Making her way around the corner, past the array of offices and shops, she crossed the street and headed toward her sister’s travel agency.
Justine, a transplant from Long Island, had a stack of papers in one hand and a coffee cup proclaiming ‘Woo Hoo It’s Friday’ in the other. “Good morning, Shale. How goes it?”
“Not too shabby.”
“You can go on in, but take this cup of coffee to her, would you?” Justine positioned the mug and popped a k cup into the machine on the side bar. A stream of Black Death spewed out–Rowena’s favorite brew. “Would you like a cup?”
“Yes, but not the kind that will make my chin grow hair. Something a little more mellow. I’ll make it, Justine.”
“Right. I didn’t get enough splenda in it last time, did I?”
Shale grinned, yanking another mug from the tray. “I do like it a little sweet, especially in the afternoon.”
Moments later she entered Rowena’s inner office carrying two cups of coffee. “Here you go, sis, courtesy of your intrepid receptionist.”
Rowena glanced up from the mound of paperwork she’d apparently been studying. “Ah, you’re a lifesaver, but I thought we were going to lunch.”
“We are. I knew you wouldn’t be quite ready, Ms. I have to dot my i’s and cross my t’s or the zombie apocalypse will ensue.”
Rowena laughed, a deep throated sound that bounced pleasantly off the light green walls of her office. “You know me too well.” She shoved the paperwork aside. “Actually if I never see another cruise report it will be too soon.”
“Then tell me you found out something about our Mr. Zarek.”
A furrow appeared between Rowena’s brows. “I did. You’re not going to like it though.”
“I can take it. Is he an international jewel thief or a bank robber or something?”
Shale tilted her head. “Worse? What, for goddess sake?”
“He’s from an old European family whose line supposedly traces back before Charlemagne. He’s as rich as Croesus, and as ruthless as they come.”
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Cheers & Happy Reading!
Flossie Benton Rogers, Conjuring the Magic with Paranormal Fantasy Romance