Tuesday Tales: Writing Fussy

Welcome to Tuesday Tales, a weekly blog featuring diverse authors posting excerpts from their works in progress based on word and picture prompts. I’m pleased you stopped by today. This week’s word prompt is fussy. My snippet is from Silver Angel, a Wytchfae prequel to Lord of Fire. Enjoy the other authors of Tuesday Tales.

The doorman shook his head. “Don’t that beat all? The blamed tabby must be living her ninth. One minute, fussy like I curdled her cream and the next, fat and sassy purring her whiskers off. She takes right to you, Mr. Silver. She don’t like me.”

Lucien’s eyes narrowed. “I expect she objects to umbrellas being flung at her, Grady.”

The older man’s cheeks reddened. “Well, as for that, she’s been a plague all afternoon. I was just trying to run her off.” He pointed to a sign at the far end of the building. “No animals allowed in the hotel, you know. I could get canned real fast.”

Scowling, the drummer Stalk rounded the corner of the hotel at a trot. “Silver! I’ve been looking all over for you. It’s less than an hour until curtain. I was starting to wonder if Barlow was right about you being a no show tonight.”

“You’d both be wrong.” Lucien eased down the sidewalk out of Grady’s hearing, Stalk moving with him.

“What’s with the cat, bro?”

“I need to get her to my room without anyone seeing me.”

Stalk’s mouth wiggled into a curly q. “For God’s sake, why?”

“No time to explain. As you said, curtain’s in an hour.” He flipped a cluster of keys to his friend. “Would you mind getting the extra canvas bag from the van– on the QT?” He nodded toward the side of the building. “Come the back way. I’ll be around the corner.”

Stalk shrugged. “Sure. Whatever, man.”

Grady had his eyes peeled on him as he ambled away with the cat, scratching her head in pretended nonchalance. He doubted he’d follow him.

A few minutes later he placed a protesting tabby into the bag, securing it under his arm unzipped. He couldn’t offer an explanation with Stalk standing there. As for the blue sparks shooting from her eyes, he’d ignore those for now. “Hey, Stalk. One more thing. Have a steak sent up to my room.”

“A steak. Now?”

Walking toward the side door, he spoke over his shoulder. “Yes, pronto. And don’t worry. I won’t be late for the first set.”

Once he got into the room he would just have time to get her settled. White fluff ball Angel hated fish and loved steak. Did orange tabby Angel have the same preference?

I hope you enjoyed the snippet based on the word prompt fussy. Thanks for stopping by. Read the other winning excerpts at Tuesday Tales.

Cheers & Happy Reading!

Flossie Benton Rogers, Conjuring the Magic in Romance

All rights reserved, copyright @ 2019 Flossie Benton Rogers 

 

 

By Flossie Benton Rogers

Paranormal romance author who loves to shake the edges of reality.

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