TO BE RELEASED:
Hello, everyone! As I have been waiting to hear some news about
Fallen Angel, I've written another story:
To Kiss a Werewolf. It was sooo fun to write. It stars a goth girl named Stella who is president of the PAA (Paranormal Addicts Anonymous), and Damien, the most popular jock in school, who turns into a werewolf at night.
I want to take a moment to explain
why I decided to write this story. At first the book was going to be more of a satire on the "werewolf romance" wave. The more I wrote, the more it became a romantic comedy. So it pokes fun at these sexy beasts and their admirers, but not in an absurd way (well, sometimes); it's more endearing.
To Kiss a Werewolf is written from both Stella's POV and Damien's POV, so we can follow their journeys simultaneously, which is something I haven't done before. Both have their own interesting ways of looking at the situation.
This book just tickled my fancy so much, I had to write it.
Here's a glimpse into
Chapter One:
Damien
slid another Capernalli stuffed crust special out of the brick oven, onto a
pizza pan, and across a counter. He wiped the back of his glistening forehead
with his forearm. Five nights out of the week, it was the same routine, yet he would
be a fool to complain about it. Working at his Uncle Leo’s pizzeria, Dough-licious,
gave him extra cash and time with his friends. Then there were the girls. Not
that Damien needed the extra money, friends, or especially girls.
He
went to a refrigerator and pulled out a lump of dough, then returned to his
spot. As he mashed the stuff against the flour-powdered counter, his eyes
couldn’t help but focus on the muscles of his forearms, pumping with each push.
They were bigger than usual. It had been weeks since he went to the rec center
and lifted weights. Was he having some sort of growth spurt, or could swimming
in the surf of the ocean make that much of a difference? Either way, it was
another thing he’d be a fool to complain about.
“Hey,
brah! Wassup?!” a voice called from the front counter.
He
looked up and saw his friend Tyler. The blonde guy with a shell choker smiled
big. “Wassup!” Damien called back, purposefully not reciprocating his “brah.”
Being
new in town, about six months now, made it so Damien had to get used to some
foreign beach lingo. He was fine with Tyler, or the others, saying “Brah,” but the word could never roll off his
own tongue.
“Heading
out to the shore tonight?” Tyler asked.
“You
know it.” Damien nodded. He’d gone nearly seven days a week for all of July.
August wouldn’t be any different.
“Cool.
There will be a bonfire this time.”
“Cool,
see you there.”
When
Tyler walked away, a girl who had been standing behind him, waiting, came to
view. Silky long black hair shimmered down the sides of her face, down the
sides of her sad yet strangely beautiful eyes. A gray cardigan sweater wrapped
over… a zombie t-shirt? Zombie Fallout,
it said on a picture of a book cover.
No
one was at the register. Damien looked around, waiting a moment longer, before
coming forward.
“Uh,
can I help you?” He leaned against the counter. With satisfaction, he noticed
the girl catch a look at his bicep that bulged from under his white tee. Even
though she wasn’t his usual type, he went into auto-drive, flashing a smile at
her with perfectly straight and white teeth.
Her
eyes flitted away from him to the menu. “I, um, I don’t know.” She wiped some
hair behind an ear.
“You’re
not sure what you want?”
“I
mean, I know that I want pizza.”
“Well,
then you’ve come to the right place.” The entire menu consisted of pizzas,
besides the drinks. Uncle Leo was against salad bars.
She
cleared her throat. “Yeah, do you sell by like the slice?”
“That’s
during lunch hours only. Your first time here?” As soon as he asked that, he
knew it sounded like a come-on. This girl was different, but he couldn’t help
but feel a slight attraction, and it came out in his tone.
“Y-yes.
It’s my first time here.”
“Well,
we got the Emo—I mean, Primo Pizza,
which is my favorite.”
“I’m
not emo.”
“I
didn’t say you were.” He coughed to cover his embarrassment. What was that?
Tina’s
heels click-clacked against the concrete floor. The new and voluptuous cashier
from last semester’s biology class came back to the register. “Hey, Damien.
Thanks.” She touched his arm. “I got this.”
“Alright.”
He acknowledged her with a nod and returned to his back counter. He rolled out
some more dough and mashed it, while keeping an eye on the rest of the
transaction up front. Lately, Tina had been stealing his attention, but he
couldn’t help but wonder who that customer girl was. Had he seen her before? Maybe
had a class with her?
Tina
filled a glass with some Mr. Pibb and soon the customer girl was off with it in
hand.
“What’s
the order?” he called out.
“Just
a soda.” Tina ripped off the receipt and crinkled it.
“No
pizza?” he asked, perplexed.
“Nope!”
She threw the paper in a trash and started walking toward him, her apron tied
tightly to accentuate every curve, Dough-licious spread across her.
“Oh.”
He wiped his hands on his own apron, watching her, but his thoughts weren’t on
her and her dough-liciousness.
‘“Oh’
what?” Tina was now in front of him, her eyes twinkling.
“It’s
just that she said she wanted pizza.” His dark eyebrows furrowed at the
thought.
“So,
Damien.” She leaned on his counter-top. “I’ve been thinking…”
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