Valentine’s Day.
And my 21st birthday.
Whoop-de-doo.
Just another college day full
of classes and more homework than is humanly possible.
…until Jason, my
best-friend-since-kindergarten, shows up to take me out for the day.
Like old times: the two of us
on a wacky adventure, playing hooky from real life. With his lopsided grin and
tickets to a circus full of misfits and monsters, he introduces me to a whole
new world—one full of magic and mystery—and turns my reality upside down.
Except nothing goes as
planned, and we end up running through the city to find a missing siren before
someone brews a love potion with her blood.
Sirens and love potions,
witches and elves, and Valentine kisses. Nothing will be the same for me again.
Leaving
the house to go to school, I had schoolbooks spilling out of one hand, the
other holding my place in a Nancy Drew novel, and bunny slippers still on my
feet. My mom was a wee bit upset.
I
haven't changed much. Still always have a book (or two) in my hand or creating
stories in my head, and although I don't have any bunny slippers, I love
writing in my jammies and snuggly slipper socks.
When
I grow up (maybe a hundred years from now), I'd like to be a superhero, but for
now, saving the day, one page at a time, suits me just fine.
With
my husband TJ (my own cuddly werewolf), I home-school our three girls, who keep
us busy with art, science projects, books to read, dance classes, and walks
about the park.
LINKS TO PURCHASE OR FIND THE BOOK
Barnes and Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/playing-hooky-rita-j-webb/1114148410
LINKS TO FIND RITA WEBB ONLINE
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/ritawebb
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/ritajwebb
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/RitaJWebb
I’m left alone in the
apartment’s tiny entryway with Jason.
“Emma,” he says, stepping
closer, his head leaning down toward me. He is way too close, and I remember I’m
not dressed.
Tall with wide shoulders,
Jason is muscular from hard labor (construction and welding) and athletic
adventures (kayaking and mountain biking). The perpetual scruff movie stars
work hard to perfect shadows his jaw, and his tousled black hair kept short. He
cuts it every week because it grows too fast, like at least a half inch a day.
With the hazel green eyes and the confident grin he usually wears, he’d make
any girl swoon.
Well, any girl but me. I’d
more likely hit him upside the head with a broom than swoon over him.
“Coffee’s in the kitchen. I
need to get dressed and showered; then we can go for pastries at the bakery
around the corner.” Just off campus, there’s a scrumptious little shop, but I
never have time in the mornings. I turn back to my room but then stop. “Oh, how
do I need to dress for the day?”
“Sure.” He runs his hands
through his hair, but his eyes are too busy following my ass to pay attention
to anything I said.
“Jason.” I snap my fingers.
“Up here. What do I need to wear?”
His gaze shifts to my face,
and he grins, not even having the decency to flush. “Dress warm.”
Good. So we’re going to have
an adventure.
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