Fifty Shades of… Chicken?
You’ve gotta see this:
COVER REVEAL!!
My latest book will hit the digital world on August 12, 2013 and this time, I’m able to share some pre-release teasers! The links aren’t alive for pre-orders yet, but rest assured, I will let you know when they are!
“Real-estate tycoon Mitchell Granger has a problem. In order to secure a lucrative deal with an eccentric client, he told the teeny white lie that he was engaged…and now he needs to prove it. Even worse? The only name that came to mind was Sabrina Becker, the girl he was never good enough for growing up, and who still lives near his family ranch.
Sabrina doesn’t mind posing as Mitch’s fake fiancée—no, she doesn’t mind at all. One, she’ll make him pay with new construction for her business. And two, Sabrina’s got a plan to exact revenge on her first love, the boy who left her and Three River Ranch behind. She’ll pretend so well, he’ll fall in love with her…and then he’ll get a taste of what true heartbreak feels like.
But as Mitch sheds his corporate skin and picks up his dusty jeans and cowboy hat, will both his and Sabrina’s grand plans get derailed by love?”
More “Some Days You Shouldn’t Talk”
- At June 24, 2013
- By Roxanne Snopek
- In Roxanne Writes On
- 2
So, Pik is having a bad day. You know the kind. (In the words of Nicole Kidman’s dead soldier-husband in The Others, “Sometimes I bleed…”) And my Pik is not one to suffer in silence. I don’t know where that comes from. Must be her dad’s side. Anyway, this morning, she’s moaning about the various hardships in her life.
Pik: “I can’t predict the weather! Too hot for pants. Too cold for shorts.”
Me: “How about capris?” I’m very helpful that way.
“I’m too bloated!” she wailed. “I can’t get into them!!”
I’m feeling a touch smug, reveling in the crone-zone, glad to be done with that business. But still sympathetic, of course. Of course!
“Plus,” she added, “I’m out of my favorite tampons! Now I have to use the gross cardboard kind!”
Me: “Please. That’s the only kind I ever used.”
Pik: “Well, Mom, come on. You are a little… looser… than me.”
The image of a flag, flapping in a brisk breeze, pops into my mind. Poof. Sympathy gone.
“I meant,” I said, “that’s what I used… when I was your age.”
Pik: “Oh.”
Conversation over. Have a Happy Period. Suckah!