Welcome to Wordy Wednesday! Share an excerpt fewer than 500 words from your family friendly book in the comments below. Be sure to include the title and one buy link. Then go spread the word about this post so even more people will find it.
Happy reading (and writing)!!
Here's an excerpt from Ten Million Reasons, http://amzn.to/2kgLsfb
“So, Aunt Gen, you honestly didn’t know who he was?” When Genevieve shook her head, he said, “You’ve got to look him up online. His family grew up around here. Old money. Maybe back to Jamestown. Lots and lots of old money.” She raised her left eyebrow, and Max shook his head and laughed at her. “I know. Money doesn’t make the man. Blah, blah, blah.” After a second he asked, “So, was this supposed to be a date or a business meeting today? You never said.”
Right as Genevieve opened her mouth to tell her nephew it most decidedly was not a date, Richard’s voice came from behind her, “A date, of course. How many business meetings have you been to that include pizza and ice cream? Business meetings have boring foods like salad and steak and desserts you can set on fire because people are busy trying to impress each other.”
Is he out of his mind? Of course he is. Genevieve watched Max and said, “Not a word, you hear me?”
“Not a word about what?” Richard asked.
“Oh, come on, Aunt Gen. If I go to school tomorrow and tell people my aunt is dating the Richard Blakely, do you know how much my stock will go up?”
“Not a word. I mean it.” Max rolled his eyes, let out a loud, over-exaggerated sigh, and threw himself into the kind of relaxed slump that no one but a teenager could master. “Max…”
“Alright, alright, but if you make it to a third date, all bets are off.”
Genevieve shook her head in mock despair, her red curls gamboling with the movement. Then she looked over at Richard and did a double-take, “Since when do men eat girlie ice cream?”
Richard spied his colorful cone and asked, “Girlie ice cream?”
Max tried to warn him, “Don’t argue with her. Trust me. Let her lecture you and get it out of her system. Eat the ice cream as fast as you can. If she can’t see it anymore, she’ll get over it quicker.”
Richard inspected her, slowly took a bite of his cone, and said, “Did you just insult my ice cream?” Then, putting on a hideous fake western accent, he added, “Them’s fightin’ words, don’cha know?”
Max tried to hide his laughter as Genevieve, face dead-pan and voice matter-of-fact, said, “Only girls eat fruity ice cream.”
Richard eyed her ice cream cone and said, “You’re a girl, and I don’t see any fruit in your cone.”
“No man! You never say that,” Max said in sympathy.
“I, Mr. Blakely, Esquire,” Genevieve wound up, “am not a girl. I, Mr. Blakely,” she said his name with added emphasis, “am a woman of sophisticated tastes. You, on the other hand,” she waved her hand dismissively, “are eating girlie ice cream.”