The latest book that I’m working on just had to have a fantastic meet cute, because meet cutes can tell us a little more about the characters, especially if they make the damsel in distress feel like she’s meeting a knight in shining armor, or an Armani suit. LOL
Enjoy the excerpt below from my soon to be released book:
I stand there and watch as he jacks up the car and starts to loosen the lug nuts on the wheels. The muscles in his arm flex as he works. If I hadn’t sworn off men, I’d be flirting with him right now. Instead, I’m feeling rather awkward. He got out of a fancy SUV and has a driver.
Who has a driver? Rich people. Rich people have drivers. And they date supermodels.
I stare down at him. His dark, tousled hair lays in waves. It’s a huge contrast to his steel gray eyes that hide beneath thick dark lashes. I’m rather jealous of those dark lashes. My blonde ones require a lot of mascara to make my eyes pop.
“How long have you been on the side of the road?” He asks between grunts.
His question snaps me back into reality and out of my lusty daydreaming. “Long enough for me to realize that I had no clue what I was doing?”
He looks up at me and smiles. Dimples appear on both sides of his mouth, and I swear I feel my panties start to dampen. “I guess it was a good thing that I happened along. I wouldn’t want you to be late for your date.”
I tilt my head sideways and look at him. “What?”
He reaches up and wipes away some sweat from his forehead with his arm, and then gestures at me. “Your outfit.”
I look down and shake my head. “No. Just meeting a friend of mine at Sam’s for food and drinks. She told me to dress up.” So I can meet guys, like you. “We like to make girl’s night feel special since we work different shifts.” I don’t know why I hide the purpose behind tonight, but I don’t think telling a stranger that this is all because I’m a loser that my boyfriend just dumped for another girl this week.
I watch as his eyes travel the length of my body. “Well, you look nice.”
Nice? I tried to tell Sara. Even a stranger doesn’t think I’m date worthy.
“Thanks,” I say tight lipped.
He finishes up the tire and loads the flat one into the trunk of my car. “Make sure that you get a new one soon. And don’t drive over 55. Those spares aren’t made for going too fast. At least the spare is on the back.”
“Thank you. Do I owe you anything—”
He holds up his hand and says, “Nothing. It’s my good deed for the day. I can’t leave a beautiful woman stranded on the side of the road. My mother would disown me.”
Did he just call me beautiful? Fuck me! Literally! Please, sir, fuck me!
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