Last Thursday, I enjoyed being hosted on Heroes and Heartbreakers with a fun post about technology in literature. It was tweeted and FB to the masses but not put on the blog…so if you’ve missed it, please take a look. I reviewed a couple of books and discussed my latest very briefly. Had some very nice comments.
Have a great day!
Here’s a link:
Want to read a short excerpt of Text Me? Here ya go…
Abby’s phone signaled a text message from the depths of her purse, lodged under the
sales area. She reached behind the ornate filigreed wood of the counter and pulled the
phone up to view the message.
She broke up, idiot. Tickets shit idea.
“What is it?” Caroline asked.
Abby shook her head. “Someone apparently has the wrong number.” She held up the
screen for her to read.
“So, it’s a text message, not that Justchat app? Jesus, Abby, you need to cut back on
the social media.”
“I know, I know. Yes, it’s a text message.”
Caroline squinted at the display. “Oh! Poor guy. He should have bought her flowers.”
Abby grinned. “Yeah, flowers from us. Wait! He still could.”
Caroline flipped a light switch near the door. “Do you even know who that is?”
“No, but judging by the area code, he’s local.” She held the phone up and tapped in a
Sorry. U should have bought flowers.
She hovered a finger over the send button, hesitant to deceive the poor guy.
Caroline pressed a finger over hers and the message was gone, sent over the airwaves
to a poor schmuck that needed to make good with his girl.
Right. What was I thinking? Listened to u, so obviously I wasn’t. Guess I’m still a little
chapped about the work thing.
Caroline peered over Abby’s shoulder then yanked the phone away and tapped in a
response before handing it back.
Har Har. Still could. New flower shop on main by PD
Abby punched Caroline on the arm and grabbed her purse. “You’re shameless.” She
dropped the phone into it and pushed Caroline toward the door. “Let’s get out of here.
We’ve got a big day ahead tomorrow, and I really need a shower.”
Caroline pinched her nose. “You are a little ripe. Have you told your family about the
store opening? Are they coming?”
“I sent them one of the flyers we mailed out. They know, but they don’t usually have
time for these shindigs.”
Abby had managed to hide the disappointment all day, but if they stayed much longer,
she was sure to break down. The pain in her leg from her encounter with Ruckus served
to muffle the more intense pain in her ego. None of her family had called with well
wishes. Not one out of the six. Her new business—her new world—meant nothing to
them. They were probably all still mad at her for quitting.
Her purse beeped several times on the drive home, but she ignored it. She should stop
pretending with this guy. It was cruel. Whoever he thought she was, she needed to set
him straight when she got out of the car.
But there were three more messages. Reading through them, her stomach clenched.
What’s a PD?
U have to go to games with me. She probably hated Astros. Should have seen it
The real pisser. I made reservs at 8 for Sotby’s. U know how hard to get? Screw her,
I’m going. Wanna go?
Uh-oh. Now what? Abby wiped her thumb across the screen, as if to clear the
message, or perhaps clarify it. Should she answer? He was going to expect someone to
show up. It would be unconscionable not to set the poor guy straight. He’d sit there alone at that nice, expensive restaurant, the restaurant she’d never been to and probably never would because she couldn’t afford it. She had no boyfriend to buy her tickets and take her there.
She’d regret her next step … but she took it anyway.
PD = Police Department. Sure. Meet you there.
She had lost her mind.