There was a fabulous live chat on the FaceBook Author Page on Friday 13th. Perfect, right?
I read aloud T’was the Night After Christmas, 2022. It is still up at the author page, and please remember to like the page and follow me there for the latest news, like release dates, new shinies, and videos. https://www.facebook.com/official.faith.hunter/
I’m sorry, by the way, that the print on this blog is gray on white. I know it’s hard to read. The system did an update and offered me LOTS of new features. And took away or hid my ability to change font color to black. Progress? Not. (Grumbles)
But for now — Here’s a Snippet from the New Shiny
She shrugged and poured his coffee. Crossed the room. Put the mug in his hand. Leaned her hip against the island on that side. Closer to him. Where she could keep an eye on him. “They either pick their names or are honored with them. I have Grizz, Raccoon, Pretty Thang, Peewee, Boots, and Peg.”
“And Pretty Thang is?” He sipped.
“A man whore. He has magic. Women fall at his feet and his penis falls into their vaginas.”
Villetti snorted and dropped the cat when hot coffee splashed onto his hand and went up his nose.
Aurora didn’t seem insulted at being dropped and began to weave around Villetti’s legs as the cop coughed and set down his mug. He accepted a tissue from Angie and blew coffee from his nose.
“That was evil,” he said, all Italian in the words.
“That was perfect timing,” she said, still leaning on the island. She took a chance, “Like the catnip in a pocket or rubbed into your socks.”
He disposed of his tissue. He shoved his hair away from his face. “Figured that out, did you.”
“Mmmm.”
“Mind if we sit and eat? I’ve been on my feet all night and I’m all done in.”
“All done in,” Was a Southernism. She had always loved to hear him mix his languages. Ital-gish, she had called it. She wondered how many he spoke now, after the war and being a covert operative for so very long.