Read Online Stockings and Suspenders by 10 Author Anthology - Free Book Online
Authors: 10 Author Anthology
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wipers into high gear as snow flakes pelted her
windshield.
“Well, you are the expert on smut.”
Her sister's voice got all snooty. “Please don't mention your writing in front
of Jackson's family."
“One of my smutty books happens to be
on the current New York Times bestseller list,” Minerva said, stifling a laugh
as she thought about her brother-in-law's uptight family and how they would
react when they opened their signed copies of her latest erotic romance. She
might not have a man to bring home for the holidays, but she now had a six
figure three book contract and a nice ebook backlist bringing in steady royalty
checks. Not a bad trade off if she did say so herself.
Her sister kept right on yacking until
Minerva finally said, “It's really coming down out there. I'd better focus on
my driving.”
She clicked disconnect on her iPhone
before Meagan could get in a final warning to drive safely or behave in front
of company. Sometimes it was really hard to believe the two of them were
related. They might had shared a womb and been split from the same egg, but the
two of them were about as different as identical twins could possible get.
No lie, the snow really was starting
to pile up and even on the sunniest of days her stomach always knotted up while
driving through the Pigeon River Gorge. The curvy twenty some mile stretch of
I-40 had been blasted through a mountain and was notorious for rock slides.
There were no exits, nothing but flimsy looking barrier walls on one side of
the road and a river on the other.
Minerva squinted to see through the
snow flakes cursing herself for stopping in Knoxville the day before. Like
she'd needed to throw herself that little pity party. She shouldn't have gotten
that hotel room. It would have been just as easy to have gone on to Asheville and drink that six pack of Smirnoff Ice from the comfort of her sister's guest
room.
The car skidded on what must have been
a patch of black ice and the bag of books she'd gotten the day before crashed
to the floorboard. Her heart raced almost as bad has it had when she'd seen a
whole stack of her books sitting in a used bookstore the day before.
“Well, that pretty much sums up my
whole career careening out of control,” she said after taking a breath and
tightening her grip on the steering wheel.
Marvey, her olde English Bulldog
snorted from the backseat.
“I'm sorry, Mar Mar,” she said. “I
guess my driving is getting as bad as my writing. Or lack thereof.”
She'd never been at a loss for words
when she'd had to sneak in writing time between pouring drinks and ringing up
vibrators. Minerva had never wasted time staring at a blank screen when she'd
been rushing back and forth between working those two other jobs. Maybe it was
time to call Hustler Hollywood and see about putting in some part time hours.
It wasn't like she'd been setting the world afire busting out another best
seller. Sometimes she seriously wondered if she even had another story left in
her.
She took a sip of Diet Coke to try to
clear her head. The way the snow was coming down she should be watching the
road instead of letting her mind wander.
About fifty miles down I-40 to Newport and the sky had darkened; the ground already white. She took a quick sip of Diet
Coke and decided to keep driving. Another sixty or so miles to go and they
would be.
Minerva thought back to standing in
that used book store yesterday staring down a whole shelf of her books. She'd
bought a gently worn copy of Bleeding Hearts and paid with cash to keep the
clerk from seeing her matching name on her MasterCard. Then she'd checked into
a local Knoxville motel and read the entire book from cover to cover in an
alcohol induced haze that made it hard to believe she'd been the one to even
write the best selling book.
Just as her mind started meandering to
an even darker place the car skidded on what must have been another patch of
black ice. In a panic she slammed on the breaks. Wrong
windshield.
“Well, you are the expert on smut.”
Her sister's voice got all snooty. “Please don't mention your writing in front
of Jackson's family."
“One of my smutty books happens to be
on the current New York Times bestseller list,” Minerva said, stifling a laugh
as she thought about her brother-in-law's uptight family and how they would
react when they opened their signed copies of her latest erotic romance. She
might not have a man to bring home for the holidays, but she now had a six
figure three book contract and a nice ebook backlist bringing in steady royalty
checks. Not a bad trade off if she did say so herself.
Her sister kept right on yacking until
Minerva finally said, “It's really coming down out there. I'd better focus on
my driving.”
She clicked disconnect on her iPhone
before Meagan could get in a final warning to drive safely or behave in front
of company. Sometimes it was really hard to believe the two of them were
related. They might had shared a womb and been split from the same egg, but the
two of them were about as different as identical twins could possible get.
No lie, the snow really was starting
to pile up and even on the sunniest of days her stomach always knotted up while
driving through the Pigeon River Gorge. The curvy twenty some mile stretch of
I-40 had been blasted through a mountain and was notorious for rock slides.
There were no exits, nothing but flimsy looking barrier walls on one side of
the road and a river on the other.
Minerva squinted to see through the
snow flakes cursing herself for stopping in Knoxville the day before. Like
she'd needed to throw herself that little pity party. She shouldn't have gotten
that hotel room. It would have been just as easy to have gone on to Asheville and drink that six pack of Smirnoff Ice from the comfort of her sister's guest
room.
The car skidded on what must have been
a patch of black ice and the bag of books she'd gotten the day before crashed
to the floorboard. Her heart raced almost as bad has it had when she'd seen a
whole stack of her books sitting in a used bookstore the day before.
“Well, that pretty much sums up my
whole career careening out of control,” she said after taking a breath and
tightening her grip on the steering wheel.
Marvey, her olde English Bulldog
snorted from the backseat.
“I'm sorry, Mar Mar,” she said. “I
guess my driving is getting as bad as my writing. Or lack thereof.”
She'd never been at a loss for words
when she'd had to sneak in writing time between pouring drinks and ringing up
vibrators. Minerva had never wasted time staring at a blank screen when she'd
been rushing back and forth between working those two other jobs. Maybe it was
time to call Hustler Hollywood and see about putting in some part time hours.
It wasn't like she'd been setting the world afire busting out another best
seller. Sometimes she seriously wondered if she even had another story left in
her.
She took a sip of Diet Coke to try to
clear her head. The way the snow was coming down she should be watching the
road instead of letting her mind wander.
About fifty miles down I-40 to Newport and the sky had darkened; the ground already white. She took a quick sip of Diet
Coke and decided to keep driving. Another sixty or so miles to go and they
would be.
Minerva thought back to standing in
that used book store yesterday staring down a whole shelf of her books. She'd
bought a gently worn copy of Bleeding Hearts and paid with cash to keep the
clerk from seeing her matching name on her MasterCard. Then she'd checked into
a local Knoxville motel and read the entire book from cover to cover in an
alcohol induced haze that made it hard to believe she'd been the one to even
write the best selling book.
Just as her mind started meandering to
an even darker place the car skidded on what must have been another patch of
black ice. In a panic she slammed on the breaks. Wrong
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