I've sent my Lumberjack book off to the editor. The weenie dog book is chugging along nicely. And I have about 7 other WIPs I'm working on. Paranormal, a mystery, Christmas story, etc etc. So, I had to make a decision. What to work on next?
It's hard to figure out what the next big trend will be in romance. Or anything for that matter. Who could have guessed that a poorly written vanilla BDSM book with an a-hole hero and a dim wit heroine would be a huge sensation? Or a sparkly vampire? Or a wizard? What will be the next big thing?
To be honest, I couldn't care less. And I never have. I have always been attracted to the stuff that is outside of the box. The stuff that is a little bit different, wacky, unusual, quirky. Something that is NOT the big trend, but rather....bucks the trend.
Well, I have no idea if hairy, beardy lumberjacks will become a big trend, but I sure do love them. And that's just fine with me.
I had a character in my head, and he's old, he's curmudgeonly, and he falls in love unexpectedly. He's a great character. And I decided, even though "Old People In Love" is not exactly a hot trend in romance (haaaaaaa!), I'm writing the damned thing.
So, without further ado, here's the beginning of OLD PEOPLE IN LOVE - A GERIATRIC LOVE STORY by Penny Watson.....
The Old Coot
“I would like to reiterate that I think this is a horrible idea. Awful. What the hell were we thinking?” Karen let out a long-suffering sigh and glared at her husband.
John attempted to toss his empty beer bottle into the recycling bin. He missed. It rolled across the warped kitchen floor and stopped a couple of inches from the door.
“You’re over-reacting, Karen. It’s not that big a deal. Your mom can handle my dad for a few days. We’ll be there Wednesday. How bad could it be?”
Karen leaned over to collect the errant bottle. She whipped it side-arm across the kitchen. It sailed right under the counter and banked off the back of the bin. John was impressed. But then again, he was often impressed by Karen. The woman could cook like a pro, balance the checkbook, and blow him till his eyes crossed. She was a good wife. Great even. But she worried about her mom. And although he wouldn’t admit it, she might have a good reason to at the moment.
“Your dad is a son-of-a-bitch. He has no social skills, hates visitors, and is down-right combative when anyone tries to tell him what to do.” She planted a hand on her denim-covered hip and took a deep breath to control her anger. Her breasts, plump and ripe, rose and fell under John’s watchful eyes. “My mom is polite to a fault, wants to please everyone, and gives advice like Dear Freakin’ Abby. Those two are going to kill each other after spending five days together. I should have booked a room for my mom at the inn in South Hardin.”
John pushed himself off the island and sauntered over to Karen. He planted his arms on either side of her lush hips and smiled. “Honey. We tried to get her a room. It was booked because of the holiday. There’s nothing we can do. Your mom and my dad will manage to survive five days together, and everything will be fine.” Secretly, he was thinking Mrs. Shackel might end up sleeping in her car after twenty four hours. Maybe twelve. His dad was tough. John shrugged and lowered his face to his wife’s cleavage. “Nice view.”
Karen giggled. “Don’t try to distract me, you horn dog.”
He rubbed his face back and forth and then howled mournfully.
Karen grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked up his head.
“Ow! Take it easy, hon.” Well, hell. She had that goofy look in her eye. He could probably squeeze in a quick BJ before the game started.
“I can’t believe we got a burst pipe this week. Thank God Joey can repair it tomorrow. Hopefully my mom will make the best of it.” She kissed his forehead. It was sappy, but he loved it when she did that. “I guess my mom will stay busy cooking Thanksgiving dinner. We’ll probably have a seventy two course meal by the time we get there.”
He laughed. “Yeah. With my dad’s head on a platter.”
Karen laughed, too. “With an apple stuffed in his mouth.”
“And a cigarette hanging out the side.”
“My mom makes really good apple stuffing.” Karen bit her lip. She was still nervous, he could tell. He slid down to the floor and kissed her puss right through the front of her jeans.
“How ‘bout I stuff you, sweet thing?”
Karen shook her head. “You have a way with words, John.”
He missed half of the first quarter.
Hope everyone has a great day,