Recently, I’ve been working on something that is a little different from what I usually write. Chasing Ginger is a BBW romantic comedy, as well as book one of The Misfits Series. I am eager to share this snippet with you. In the post, I’ve included some character pictures (Colin Egglesfield is the closest celebrity image I can compare Lance to, so just deal with his hotness…LOL).
Anyway, let’s bring on the romance, right? 😉
Here is the teaser:
A scream tore out of her as someone snagged at her hair, and she yanked away. The pull on her scalp was nothing compared to the panic she felt now. She doubled her efforts as she raced down the sidewalk, her feet pounding in her matching green heels.
Please, please, God. I’ll never use a dating site again if you just get me out of this right now.
A hand shot out, grabbing her arm, and she screamed again.
“Sweetheart, come on,” a male voice coaxed. “There’s no time.”
The voice was soothing. Ginger instantly calmed and found she was led up a set of brief stairs into a large building. Inside, she backed away from the glass a little, breathing a sigh of relief as she saw the group of men pass by.
By now, she could barely breathe and her forehead, upper chest and lower back were sweaty. Her feet and legs ached. She felt like she did at the gym, exhausted, practically passed out, draped over the handlebars of the treadmill. Her breaths hitched in her chest. And she really wasn’t kidding about the boob pain. She winced, passed a hand over her face, and then turned to confront the new threat.
He was a looker, for sure, with dark, spiky hair and really nice blue eyes. He had handsome features and somewhat full lips that were made to be kissed. Get ahold of yourself, Ginger. The man wore a gray business suit. He’d obviously just come from work. And Jesus, he was tall and muscled.
His eyes widened as he took in her appearance.
“Not you too,” she moaned. But hell, for all she knew, maybe he’d never seen a perspiring green marshmallow before.
“Are you all right? Why were those men chasing you?”
She nodded and managed, “I don’t know.”
Because she didn’t. They hadn’t warned that InstaSin would be like this. And it was only day one. Extreme sexiness? Check, if the response she’d received was any indication. Grounds for a restraining order? Nope. They certainly hadn’t covered that in the description of the drug.
“Well, you’re safe now. I think they’re gone.”
His eyes were kind, she decided. And he didn’t look like he was sizing her up for a kink room or a coffin at all. Maybe InstaSin wasn’t supposed to work on every male. Duh, Ginger. If that was the case, there would really be a problem. Thank God. She could breathe a little better now.
“Thank you for the rescue,” she offered.
He smiled. “Anytime. Are you sure you’re okay?”
She nodded. “I think so. I…I mean, yeah. I’m good.”
“Honey, I’d be surprised if you were okay after that.”
“A little shaken at first.”
She detected a slight twang in his speech, and realized he was the consummate Southern gentleman. As the image of her as a Southern belle, trussed up in one of those huge, ruffled gowns, came to mind, she burst out laughing. Then she sobered as she caught his frown. “Ah…uh, sorry. Private joke.”
“I wish I knew the punchline.”
She couldn’t contain a smile, and knew she was blushing. The redhead’s curse. God, he was just too damned cute. Like one of those hot movie stars she couldn’t help fanning herself over. Maybe Henry Cavill? There was one fine man. And Chris Pratt wasn’t too bad either, at least in a rugged space cowboy kind of way. She cleared her throat.
“Right. I should let you get on with the rest of your evening.”
Yeah. First stop? Visiting her doctor friend, Laura Preston, whom she knew would still be at work this late. She wanted her take on that red pill. “I really appreciate your help. And you’re right. I should go.” She began to push open the swinging door.
She tensed, then slowly turned back, measuring his steady gaze. He certainly didn’t look crazed, like those other men had been. “Yes?”
“Will you let me drive you home?”
“Oh. I…I’m not going home.”
“Then to the destination where you’re heading. Look, after what happened, I’m really worried about you. It’s not safe to be alone. And even if you insist, I’d rather make sure you got there in one piece.”
“Well, I suppose that would be all right.”
He nodded. “We can go out the back exit.” He reached in his suit pocket and used his cell phone. “Yeah, Frank? Pull the car in the parking garage, will you? We have a guest.” He nodded. “Thank you. See you in a few.” Then he pressed a button and shoved the phone back in his pocket.
Her eyebrows rose. Car? Guest? The man was speaking a different language. Maybe he’d just been talking to security or his valet, for all she knew.
“Come.” He offered his hand once more, this time waiting on her.
She glanced at it, considering. Geez, she was about to accept an offer from a complete stranger. This was what people warned you against. What if he was secretly a serial killer, or was a closet Dom or something? She shuddered. No way would she ever let someone Fifty Shades her to death.
“You can call me Lance. I promise you can trust me…ah, I don’t know your name, Miss.”
She nodded. “Maybe it’s better that way.”
A look of disappointment crossed his face. At least, that’s what she thought it was. “Very well. I respect your wishes. I’d still like to see you safely to your destination.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
She took his hand then, knowing full well she was putting her life in his hands. But, there was something about him that made her trust him completely. It was his eyes, she thought. Everything in that gaze was genuine, full of concern for her circumstances. His grasp was firm, yet not harmful as he tugged her down the corridor to an elevator, pressing the button.
She glanced at him warily and he offered a reassuring smile.
“It’s all right. We’re just going down to the garage, where my driver is.”
“Oh.” She glanced at the elevator. It was a shiny gold, maybe made of brass or gold-plated. It couldn’t be real gold, right? But, it was still fancy. And he had a driver. How odd. Maybe he was an important man? She glanced down at his reddish brown dress shoes. Damn, were they Italian leather? More to cover the silence than anything, she ventured, “A driver, hmm? You must be special.” When the elevator dinged, they climbed in separately and she waited while he pressed ‘B’. The doors closed and the car shifted.
The man named Lance shook his head. “No, not really. I have my own company, nothing more.”
“So humble,” she murmured. “You realize that’s no small thing.”
“Perhaps. I try not to flaunt it as some people do.”
“That’s admirable really. I work for the owner of a company.” When she realized how stupid that sounded, she laughed and found herself blushing once more. “So foolish. I meant that I’m his assistant.” Little more than a secretary really, she didn’t add.
“Oh, well, that is important. A CEO is nothing without his assistant.”
She glanced away, nodding.
“That’s not what you want to do, though, is it?”
Ginger looked back at him. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“I can see it in your eyes. You respect your boss, but he probably doesn’t treat you well or you’d be more content.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to press.”
“No, he’s, ah…a good man.”
“But, you want more than that position?”
She shrugged. “I always wanted to sing.”
Ginger didn’t answer.
“Why didn’t you?”
She shook her head. It wasn’t like she was going to tell him her dark truths, even though her shortcomings were obvious.
“Well, maybe it’s possible now,” he commented as if she hadn’t ignored his question.
“I wish that it was more than anything,” she murmured.
“Do you really?”
She avoided his gaze, pinning her eyes to the floor. It was marked in a black and white Harlequin pattern. God, she thought. It was pure marble. This really was a ritzy building. She hadn’t even paid much attention to where she’d ended up. He really was lowering himself to help her out.