Well, right now just the print version of this book is available, but hopefully by September 20th all versions of this book will be available through Amazon, Smashwords, ibooks and Barnes and Noble. Make sure you check out her website for further information, but right now Ann has been kind enough to share an excerpt with us from You're Busting My Nuptials, and also one from her current work in progress. It's a sweet romance with some steamy sex. Enjoy! ~The Vixen
Blurb
You are invited to a Wedding! After almost five years, widow and single mother, Tizzy Donovan finally met the man of her dreams in Texas Ranger Ridge Cooper. But when he fails to show up for their wedding, she’s determined to find out why.
Enlisting the help of first cousin Jinx Monroe, and best friends, Rayann Tatum and Synola Harper, it’s not long until they’re dealing with clowns, yard gnomes, a missing stripper, and a Baptist deacon.
After a car chase and gun fight, head-strong Tizzy is more committed than ever to claim her happily-ever-after. All she needs is a séance with an old witch and a little help from Positive Jesus.
Excerpt from You're Busting My Nuptials
A Hunter’s Moon hung high in the sky and lit up the night. The temperature hovered in the low forties, but the thirty-five mile per hour wind created a chill-factor much colder. Tizzy wished she’d grabbed a coat before she left the house. The backless dress proved to be a poor selection as far as comfort was concerned.
Thanks to a text from Jinx, Tizzy knew exactly where Ridge was parked on Lide. Not that she would have any trouble locating the old Chevy. But, at least she wouldn’t have to drive up and down the street looking for him and risk him seeing her first. Once she parked, she sat in her car for a few minutes and watched Ridge. There wasn’t much activity. The cold wind was keeping the Johns at home and the girls off the street.
Tizzy checked the blond wig in her mirror and decided the time was right to make her move. She was almost to his window when Ridge noticed her. He rolled it down and she leaned in. “Hey cowboy, need a date?”
“Jesus, Tizzy. Do you ever listen to anything I say?”
“The name’s Velvet and are you sure you don’t want some company?”
“Cut the crap. What are you doing here? I thought we agreed. Made compromises.”
“If we’re going to have a long conversation, may I please get inside? I have a full nipple alert,” she said, sticking out her chest, displaying the warning.
Ridge gulped for air. “No. You need to leave and we’ll talk about this when I get home.”
“Okay, if that’s the way you want it.” She straightened to her full height, started to leave but stopped and leaned into the window again. “Just one more question. Would you be less mad if you knew I wasn’t wearing any panties?”
“Jesus Christ,” he said, running his hand across his forehead. “Get in the back seat.”
Tizzy opened the door, slid in, and kicked out of her shoes. “Start the car and turn on the heater. I’m freezing.”
Ridge complied, then spoke into his walkie-talkie. “Bubba, I’m gonna be off air for a while. I’ll let you know when I’m back on again.”
“Roger that,” Bubba said.
Ridge stepped out of the driver's seat, slammed the door and slid in next to Tizzy. “I knew you’d give in,” she said, undoing his belt. “Velvet always gets her man.”
“How did you know where I was?”
“Just another example of my investigative skills.” She rubbed her face in the hollow of his neck and breathed him in. “God, I want you so much,” she whispered and unzipped his pants.
He lifted his hips. She tugged his pants down, and stroked him. A low moan came from deep in his throat. “Velvet is gonna make you feel so good,” she cooed.
“Why the hell are you calling yourself Velvet?”
“It’s my stage name. Just play along,” she said, dropping character for a moment.
“Well, Velvet, are you getting warmer now?”
“Warm and wet,” she said, guiding his hand up her skirt.
“Jesus."
“You got a condom, baby?”
Ridge jerked his head away from her neck. “You’re kidding, right?”
“No. if you’re gonna bareback, it’s extra.”
“Bareback?”
“Yeah. No condom, it’s extra.”
“Fine,” he said, moving in for a kiss.
She backed away. “No kissing.”
“Are you shittin’ me?”
“If you want to kiss me on my mouth, it’s extra.”
“Money’s no object. My wife is rich,” he said, taking her lips and hanging on to the kiss.
Tizzy giggled into his mouth.
When their lips parted, he asked, “Any more rules I need to know about?”
“Yeah. I don’t do kink. No threesomes, no backdoor, no bondage. Got it?” She narrowed her eyes. “Why are you laughing?”
“Darlin’, you’re on a street known for hookers, in the back seat of a Chevy, calling yourself Velvet, wearing a blond wig and no panties. I think you may be in denial about the kinky part.”
Excerpt from Tell Me A Secret
The library door swung wide and Jace Sloan strutted in with the confidence of a peacock, leaving a trail of pheromones to settle on every peahen in the room. A wave of whispers circulated, each female transfixed, mystified, and mesmerized by his imaginary plumage. All but Maggie Fielding.
She strummed her fingers and felt the beginning of a headache twisting behind her green eyes. The meeting was scheduled for six p.m., and it was almost six-thirty. Just what she expected. Jace was irresponsible and undependable. An egotistical college jock interested in only football and girls.
Maggie pushed a lock of unruly auburn hair behind her ear, slid her glasses up on her nose and decided to look on the bright side. Given his reputation, he’d never stick with tutoring and she’d be off the hook. Fine with her. Helping a self-centered pretty boy pass anatomy was the last thing she wanted to do.
Jace appeared to shift into slow motion, his stride lyrical, like he was shuffling to a soulful beat. Maggie surveyed his approach. She knew why air-head bimbos found him irresistible: ruggedly handsome, chiseled jaw, body of an athlete, teeth like a string of pearls, and a small paper-thin scar on his chin. What was there not to swoon over?
“Maggie?” he smiled. “I’m sorry I’m late. My truck had a flat.”
She motioned for him to take a seat and glanced at her watch. “Since you’re late, I’ll briefly go over the technique we might use. I don’t really have the time for much more. I have my own studying to do.”
He took the seat across from her, reached over and placed his hand on hers. “Thank you.”
She pulled her hand away. Forget it, slick. You can’t charm me. “I’ve been thinking about the best way I can help you. Do you know what a mnemonic is?”
“No, I’m sorry, I don’t.”
“You probably do. You just don’t know the word for it. It’s when you take the first letter of something you’re trying to remember and make up a sentence to help jog your memory. For instance, to name the cranial bones, we’d use, Old People From Texas Eat Spiders. Old would be occipital, People would be parietal, From would be frontal, and so on. Get it?”
Jace smiled again. “Yeah, I get it.”
“Do you think that method would help you? If you do, that’s what we’ll use."
Before he could answer, a curvaceous blonde, with more boobs than brains, wearing a halter top slightly larger than a babies bib, approached. She leaned down, placed her palms flat on the table, and provided Jace a clear view as a gold chain with the number ten-and-a-half escaped from between her bulging breasts and dangled in mid-air. She handed Jace a note and whispered ‘call me.’
Instantly, Maggie thought how horrifying it would be if every girl was forced to wear her numeric rating, realizing hers would be a four, at best.
Jace put the note in his pocket, as if nothing had happened. “I think that method would be helpful,” he said.
“Okay then, that’s what we’ll do. I’ve typed these out for you.” She passed him a stack of index cards. “Study them on your own and I’ll quiz you next Monday.”
He stuck them in his shirt pocket just as a second girl came to the table and gave Maggie a look that asked what’s he doing with you?
“Hello,Carla,” Jace said.
“I thought you were going to call me, Jace.”
“Sorry, Carla, I’ve been busy. You know, practice, studying,” he said, gesturing toward Maggie.
God, what’s with all these girls and their double-d-dumplings? Maggie unconsciously rounded her shoulders trying to disappear into her B-cups.
Jace smiled at Carla and politely got rid of her, then Maggie regained his attention. She gathered her books and papers, put them in her backpack and looked at her watch. “That’s all I have time for tonight. Try to be on time next Monday and we’ll get more done.”
Jace stood. “Look, I’m sorry I was late. It wasn’t intentional and I’ll try not to let it happen again. Would you like me to walk you to your car?”
Maggie rummaged around in her purse and pulled out a piece of paper then wrote on it. “I understand. But just in case you have another flat, here’s my phone number. I’d appreciate a call.” Maggie slung her bag over her shoulder. “And no, I don’t need you to walk me to my car, but thanks.”
Jace took the note and stuck it in his pocket. “No problem.”
“See you next Monday,” she said, and walked away.
****
At nine fifteen, Maggie dropped her backpack onto the floor, walked into the kitchen, took a bottle of water from the fridge, and downed half of it in one gulp.
Her roommate Sarah Henderson stood in the doorway. “So, what did you think of Jace?”
“Not much.”
Sarah raised her eyebrows. “Whataya mean?”
“I mean, I wasn’t surprised. He was thirty minutes late. Claimed he had a flat tire, but I’d be willing to bet he was with a girl.” Maggie pulled the band from her pony tail and threaded her fingers through the long strands. “I admit he’s gorgeous. As a matter of fact, I think he’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.”
Maggie stared into empty space and spoke in a far off voice. “He’s like a box of candy and every girl in the place wanted a piece.” She snapped from her trance.
“ It was pathetic.”
Sarah rested her hands on her hips. “You know, Maggie, just because your mother made bad choices, doesn’t mean every man in the world is a jerk. Jace is actually a nice guy.” She shifted her weight and crossed her arms over her chest. “If you’d keep an open mind, you might like him.”
Maggie walked past her into the living room and plopped down on the sofa. “He’s not my type.”
Sarah broke into a full laugh. She walked over and sat down next to her roommate. “My God, Maggie, you’ve only dated three guys in your entire life. I’m not sure you know what your type is, or if you even have a type.”
Maggie frowned at her. “I should have said I’m not his type.”
“So what kind of woman do you think he likes?”
“From the looks of the girls who came over to talk to him tonight, I’d say ready and willing, with parents who paid for boob jobs.”
Sarah crossed her legs Indian style. “Sam tells me Jace has never had a long term relationship. He dates or should I say sleeps with a girl a few times and then he’s done with her. Now that I think about it, even though he’s nice, I’d have to say he’s somewhat of a man-whore. Are the distractions gonna be a problem with the study sessions?”
Maggie finished off the water, screwed the lid back on, and started to peel the label. “Not for long. While I waited for him tonight, I made a decision. I’ll meet with him three times, then call it quits. That should satisfy Dr. Adams. I only agreed to try tutoring Jace. I made it clear if I didn’t like it or I didn’t feel Jace was interested in applying himself, I’d end it.” Maggie wadded a piece of the label into a small ball and rolled it between her fingers. “I can already tell. Jace Sloan is going to be a total waste of my time.”
Where to find Ann and her books
About the Author
Creator of the White-Trash-Face-Lift, halter tops, and beer-bling bracelets, Ann Everett is a fourth generation Texan and award winning author.
Ann grew up in rural small town Brownsboro, which is where her Tizzy/Ridge trilogy takes place. When she was a young girl, she couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to live anywhere but Brownsboro. It’s just a spot in the road, but will always be near and dear to her heart.
For many years, Ann enjoyed doing stand-up comedy for businesses, corporations, and non-profit organizations.
Ann writes laugh-out-loud romance mysteries, with the perfect combination of Southern Sass and Texas Twang.
She lives on a small lake in Northeast Texas with her “current” husband of 45 years, where she’s busy adding to her line of White-Trash beauty and fashion, as well as working on a cookbook and her third novel.
Special update! If you leave a comment on this post you will automatically get an entry in a contest to receive an Amazon gift card from Ann. If you stop by on her next stops in her tour of our sister blogs and leave more comments, you can get more chances to win that gift card. So tell us what you think! ~The Vixen
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