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Tuesday Truth: Maddy’s a Dork

I got my royalty check Monday and took it to the bank to deposit. The drive thru was closed so I had to go in. The young man who waited on me has helped me before. He’s always friendly, and I’ve always thought he was attractive. Tall, lean, broad-shouldered, with his dark blond hair in a messy Caesar cut. His face is handsome, but when he smiles … Knock out. Gorgeous. Drool-worthy.

Anyway, he looked at the check and casually asked if I worked for Atlantic Bridge Publishing. I said yes, I was an author.  His baby blues popped and that heart stopping grin flashed out.

“What do you write?”

I tried to look modest, like I wasn’t molesting him with my eyes. That thin white dress shirt didn’t hide the fact that he is ripped. “I write romance. Werewolf romance. it’s pretty popular with readers.”

“Really? Do you do much research for that?”

I wondered if he meant the sex scenes. I said, straight-faced, “I’ve been trying to find a werewolf to interview, but they like to stay out of the public eye.”

He laughed, and it was all I could do to not blurt out what a great cover model he’d make. Oh, and by the way, if he’d like to pretend to be a werewolf, I’d love to do some research with him.

Are you proud of me? I kept it professional. I told him to have a nice day, dropped my change and had to crawl around on the floor, picking it up with what scant remnants of dignity I could muster. Then I went around the corner to buy a pound of fudge. I earned it.

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