Excerpt Monday

Read about excerpt monday HERE


This is just a small excerpt from the first draft of the novel I'm working on. It's listd as a YA, but it's more of a teen read. I know it needs editing and parring down, but the power went out for 7 hours last night, so all the editing I was working on was lost.

-------

“Mom, I’m home!”

Ivy's mother stepped out of her bedroom, attempting to fasten the clasp of a chunky turquoise necklace around her neck. “Good, I was hoping you’d get here early,” Angela Rossini said – or make that Angela Curtis, as her mother had reverted to her maiden name Ivy’s freshman year of college, after a motivational seminar on reestablishing one’s identity after a divorce. She had declared that she had every right to be there when Ivy had gently pointed out that she and Arman, Ivy’s father, had settled the divorce eleven years before.

Angela’s hazel-brown eyes took in the stuffed duffel bag Ivy dragged behind her, and an amused smile tugged at her lips. “Ah, let me guess,” she cleared her throat dramatically and adopted the tone she assumed that all twenty-somethings used these days, “‘Mom, can I, like, do some laundry while I’m here?’”

Ivy laughed. “Why, of course you can, my only daughter, since I know those evil people at the apartment complex make you pay a whole dollar fifty a load. Those capitalistic pigs! I say we break out the placards and march down there, right now, to begin a full-fledge protest.”

“Ah, my daughter, the smart ass. How I’ve missed you.”

“I learned from the best,” Ivy confirmed, walking forward and giving her mother peck on the cheek. “You look really nice,” she commented. Her mother was wearing an airy cobalt blue skirt with a white, V-Neck sweater that wrapped around her slender waist, revealing just enough of her flat tummy to display the beaded hoop in her belly button. A slender chain threaded through the hoop rode low on her hips. Back in high school, Ivy had been absolutely mortified by the way her mother had dressed, since it was so different from all the other mothers; now, she admired her mother’s taste in vintage clothing, and had adopted a similar style herself. “New outfit?”

“This old thing?”

Ivy smirked knowingly. Her mother was an even worse liar than she was, and that was saying a lot.

“Darn it! Could you get this clasp for me? My hands are greasy from the perfume oil.”

Ivy reached for the necklace and stepped behind her, smoothing her short brown layered hair to the side and working on the clasp. It took a few tries, as her mother’s hands had left it all slippery, but she finally managed on the third try.

“Thank you,” Angela said gratefully, adjusting the necklace so it fell down her cleavage just so.

She followed her mother through the dining room, en route to the kitchen. She eyed the table, seeing it was already set up, decorated with Angela’s favorite tribal dish set and a tea-rose centerpiece. She drew up short as she noticed something unexpected. “Who’s the fourth place setting for?”

“Oh, his son has just moved to town and will be joining us, as well.”

“Oh, he has a son. And what is his name, again?” The truth was she had yet to hear it a first time. Her mother had been keeping the identity of her boyfriend strangely secret, refusing even to tell Ivy the slightest detail, with the exception of saying “He makes my toes curl.” She had claimed she hadn’t wanted to jinx the relationship, but Ivy couldn’t figure out what the big deal was with giving her a name.

Angela’s eyes widened as she glanced at her watch. “Oh, dear, is it already six forty-five? I need to get my dinner finished.”

Ivy arched an eyebrow as her mother beat a hasty retreat for the kitchen. What was really going on here? she wondered. Leaning in the door jamb, she crossed her legs at the ankles and studied her mother as she fussed at the center island.

“Unconventional” was the term most often used when one described Angela Curtis. The words “scattered” and “strange” tended to be used quite often, too. Ivy preferred the term “eccentric.”

Angela was truly a study in contrasts. She considered herself an environmentalist, yet she drove a gas-guzzling Dodge pick-up and was the proprietor of a small business that sold a myriad of plastic-based novelties. She considered herself a pacifist, yet she had been arrested on no less than six occasions for acts of violence and disturbing the peace. She considered herself a feminist, having lectured Ivy her entire life on being independent and not compromising herself for a man, yet every time she got involved with someone new, she took on the personality of a submissive, domesticated woman reminiscent of the fifties, who wanted to impress her man with her culinary skills.

This wasn’t the first time Ivy had attended dinner with one of her mom’s new boyfriends. In fact, she had attended so many of these dinners that she was able to decode the status of the relationship by checking out what her mother put on the menu.

Speaking of which…

Tip-toeing to the stove, she pulled down the oven door to find her mother’s four-cheese lasagna warming inside. “Oh, you really like him,” she commented, grinning when her mother shot her a dry look. She then removed the lid off the large kettle boiling on the top burner and peered inside – ah, her grandmother’s original Cioppino recipe. “And it’s getting serious,” she added, sounding impressed.

“Ivy,” her mother chided, a touch of exasperated laughter in her voice, “Stop sniffing around my kitchen and give me a hand. They’re going to be here any minute.”

“And what could be behind door number three?” Ivy sang, stepping to the fridge to find the most incriminating piece of evidence. Her eyes widened as she found a chocolate cream pie (a sign she and her boyfriend had already been intimate) and tiramisu (a sign that she was working on her seduction routine) sitting on the top shelf. She blinked in rapid succession, completely flummoxed.

Her eyes shot to her mother’s face. Angela was suddenly very preoccupied with chopping the vegetables for the salad. She couldn’t believe it! Her mother was trying to pull a fast one on her. “Oh, I get it! The sex is so mind-blowing that you can’t wait for more!” she concluded, confident that must be it.

“Ivy Marie Rossini!”

Ivy giggled and batted her eyelashes innocently. “What?”

“Must you discuss my sex life so…casually?”

Ivy snorted. “Why shouldn’t I? You’re the one who always taught me to be open about sex. And it’s not my fault that your cooking always reflects the height of intimacy with your latest beau – which, in this case, looks pretty damn high.”

“Oh, you think you’re so wise. Would you believe me if I told you that Nathan and I haven’t been intimate yet?”

“No,” Ivy scoffed. And then… “Aha! Nathan!” she cried out, centering on the accidental admission. “Nathan-who? Do I know him?”

“Uhh, I’m not sure,” her mother murmured vaguely. “Possibly.”

“Let’s see…” Ivy said, tapping the side of her cheek as she tried to think of any Nathans she knew. “Well, there’s Nathan Collier, provost of the college, but he’s married and in his sixties.” She couldn’t help raising her eyebrows questioningly.

Angela looked non-plussed by the tacit inquiry.

Waving her hands, Ivy turned her eyes upward again. “Okay, okay, I didn’t think so. Hmm…” Tap-tap-tap. She searched her mind for any other Nathan she knew and finally exhaled in frustration. “Well, I think I’ve hit a dead end.”

Relief shown on her mother’s attractive face, and Ivy wondered at the implications of that. Was it someone she wouldn’t approve of?

“Hey, if you’re not going to help, don’t you think you should go start some laundry?”

“Right. Probably a good idea,” Ivy replied, walking back to the living room and dragging her duffle bag to the rear of the house, where her mother’s utility room was. She started a load of whites and was crossing back to the kitchen when the doorbell rang. “I’ll get it!” she called.

Pulling down her frontier-style top, she opened the door to reveal only Sheriff Breckenridge standing there. “Oh, no, what did she do now?” she asked warily.

“I’m sorry?” the lean man asked, his gray eyes blinking in confusion.

“Look, whatever she did, could you be nice and come back and arrest her later? We’re about to sit down for dinner.”

“Ah…um…” He cleared his throat uncomfortably, and that’s when Ivy noticed the bottle of wine in one hand and a bouquet of tulips in the other.

“Oh,” she gasped, her eyes going the size of saucers. “Oh!”

Sheriff Breckenridge? Nathan Breckenridge? No way! No freaking way!

She pasted a smile on her face. “Uh, could you just give me…one second?” She closed the door without waiting for an answer, then practically screamed, “Mom!”

Angela came rushing from the kitchen, a look of concern on her face. “What is it, honey? Is everything okay?”

“The sheriff?” she demanded in disbelief. “You’re dating the sheriff?”

Her mother took a deep breath and sighed despairingly. “I was afraid you’d react like this. Oh, no, did you leave him on the doorstep?”

“This is unbelievable!” Ivy ranted, ignoring her mother’s question. “What happened to him being a tight-ass hick pig, who had all the compassion and personality of saran wrap?”

“Ivy, lower your voice, for heaven’s sake.”

Ivy rubbed her face with her hands. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she moaned. “How many times has this man thrown you in jail?”

“Things change, Ivy. It’s all in the past.” She placed her hands on the door knob and hissed, “Now, stop sulking like a bratty child and smile. I like Nathan very much, so I want you to be polite and respectful, or I’ll ask you to leave. Do I make myself clear?”

“I guess.” she sighed sulkily. Then, off her mother’s warning look, she forced a smile.

Angela ran a hand through her hair, and then opened the door with great flourish. “Nathan!” she said excitedly. “I’m so sorry about that.”

“Not a problem,” the sheriff assured her, then lifted the wine and flowers. “Oh, I brought you these.”

“Oh, Nathan!” Angela gushed, her voice lowering flirtatiously, “That was so sweet of you. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied, leaning in to give her a quick kiss.

Angela laughed breathily and gestured forward. “Come in, please. Where’s your boy?”

The sheriff entered and closed the door behind him, his nervous eyes darting to Ivy. “He had to work a little later than anticipated. He should be here soon, though. He wanted to run home and clean up before dinner.”

“So, he got the job, then?” Angela asked, clapping her hands together in delight. “I’m so glad.”

The sheriff tipped his head in Ivy’s direction. “Hello, Ivy.”

“Hello,” she repeated, seeing her mother sending her a look of warning out of the corner of her eye. “Oh, I’m sorry about that. I was just a little…” Shocked. Disgusted. Revolted. “surprised,” she finally settled on.





Here are other snippets given by other authors participating in Excerpt Monday - all of varying genres and ratings:

Mel Berthier, Urban Fantasy (PG 13)

Bria Quinlan, Rom Com (PG)

Bryn Donovan, Paranormal  (PG)

MG Braden, Contemporary Romance (PG 13)

Babette James, Fantasy Romance (PG 13)

Cynthia Justlin, Contemporary Romance (PG 13)

Kaige, Historical Romance (PG  13)

Adelle Laundan, Contemporary Romance (PG 13)

Jeannie Lin, Historical Romance (PG 13)

RF Long, Paranormal (PG 13)

Crista McHugh, Paranormal  (PG 13)

Bria Quinlan, Rom Com (PG)

Dara Sorensen, Paranormal (PG)

Evie Byrne, Historical Romance (R)

Grace Draven, Fantasy Romance (R)

Cate Hart, YA- Paranormal  (R)

Aithne Jarretta, Paranormal (R)

Inez Kelley, Contemporary Romantic Comedy (R)

Aislinn Kerry, Paranormal (R)

Kim Knox, Erotic-  Sci-fi Suspense (R)

Cherrie Lynn, Erotic-  Contemporary Romance (R)

Alina Morgan, Urban Fantasy (R)

Stephanie Adkins, Erotic-  Supsense (NC 17)

Ella Drake, Sci-Fi Romance (NC 17)

Annie Nicholas, Sci-Fi Romance (NC 17)

Kirsten Saell, Erotic – Fantasy (NC 17)