WestofMars

I want to meet this amazing woman, writer and friend. It wouldn’t hurt to swap some “insider” stories either.

Now, since the north is having such a heatwave, and we have air conditioning, come on down..and bring books.

Now get to work with Trevor and those boys. Can’t wait until your book is published.

Well… I got to meet the one and only… WestofMars. And what a pleasure it was to meet her. She is such a friendly woman. She’s also a great person to swap books with, lots of fun. ;-D I first met WOM as SM (SpikesMom) though Bookrelay. Throughout the last year an a half, I’ve had the pleasure of chatting with her on the forums there knowing that she was only a bit away. Finally, I did get to meet her. It was such a great time, and thanks you WOM for welcoming me to your side of PA. ;-D LOL, I hope I get to see you again!

“Come, children,” Camis called to the brood. “It’s time to take a walk.”

She ignored the groans, the protests of lost shoes, and the insistence that stopping in the bathroom beforehand would be a waste of time, and herded the kids out the door and down the street. There was a park nearby, the kind of park that was a big grassy area. No gym equipment. Just nature.

At first, the kids tried to escape, even the little one in his sling. But then, when Camis found them a caterpillar, nature took over.

She found a nice tree to sit against as she took the baby out of his sling. They played together until, with one big yawn, he fell asleep on her shoulder.

Camis looked at her watch. They’d been outside for two hours now, entranced by squirrels and leaves and grass and caterpillars. “Kids, it’s time to go home. Aren’t you hungry?”

“No,” they told her. “We’ve been eating caterpillars!”

Shauney dropped her menu—the big heavy kind that looked like a fancy, leather-bound book—onto the table with a crash that broke the fine porcelain bread plate and upset her water goblet.

There he stood. Right there. Ten feet away, no more.

Black motorcycle boots, skintight jeans, a deep red shirt that had been left unbuttoned to reveal a scrawny, hairless chest. The hair on his head more than made up for it, though: dirt brown and boringly straight, it reached his waist.

“Trevor Wolff…” Shauney breathed, wondering how she could get his attention and if he’d choose HER for his evening companion. Who cared if her husband sat at the table across from her and was reaching with a linen napkin to wipe away her drool? That was Trevor Wolff, and this was the only chance she’d ever get at him.

She was going for it.

The bell was barely audible through the insulation of Thomas Hardy books, but Sanddanz was able to hear it. She answered the door promptly, reaching up to stop the pile of books that were set to cascade down on my head if I was yet another salesperson. Sanddanz could never understand why people wanted to sell her things other than books. Books are a lifeblood; why can’t people get that straight and take their golf club memberships elsewhere?