Sunday, February 16, 2014

Snippet Sunday by Ginger Simpson

Hi, It's Sunday and I'm reinstating my 'sharing a snippet' feature.  Having a topic helps me keep on track.  You'll notice that Rita is back sporadically...Thursday and again a couple of times next week.  She's still having lots of pain from her wrist surgery, going through painful physical therapy and hoping to get unrestricted movement back so she can get back to those flying fingers we love.  

Thanks for bearing with us during her absence.  I know I can't stop into those talented shoes and come up with all those fascinating writing topics, but I can show you how I do it.'s a sneak peek from my newest release, Ages of Time, and this little snippet is from Chastity's story...the first of three in one book…and it's published by Books We Love.  Tune in next Sunday and I'll share a little from Faith's story, or you can go to and get your own copy and not have to wait.  :)  Here's Chastity, our twenty-something heroine:

Her mind wandered. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to have a handsome, male aide to keep her organized and cater to her sexual needs? Thoughts of her imaginary assistant’s hands roving over her body increased her respirations and yanked her back to reality. Upon attempting to straighten, she realized her hair, cascading over the back of her chair, had caught on something.

“Ouch.” She squirmed and tugged until she freed herself.
Rubbing her head, Chase eyed the stacks on her desk. Enough wasted time. The last thing she needed was to be caught daydreaming. She reached for the pile of folders resting on the mahogany edge and they teetered precariously. Although she tried to catch them before they fell, the mountain cascaded to the floor in a colorful waterfall.

“Crap!” Chase chewed her bottom lip and sighed. She stretched over the desk and viewed the letterhead, pictures and reference correspondence littering the beige carpet.

“Okay dummy, if you’d taken time to organize things a little better and kept your mind on your job, you might have avoided this mess.” But then again, maybe not. Too much snow always caused an avalanche.

She walked around and stood over the mess. An unsettling face stared up at her from one of the photos on the floor. Damien Sloan, the newest applicant for the recently advertised Research Associate position. His file had been used as an example during her interview and was the very one she sought.

His smirking grin made her feel as though he peered up her skirt. She stepped to the side then realized her foolishness, but his leering expression still sent a shiver running through her body.
The warm temperature of the office overcame the chill and she shrugged off the blazer she wore. After hanging it on the coat rack, she hiked up her black sheath and dropped to her knees to gather the scattered papers. With Dr. Sloan’s disturbing snapshot tucked back inside his folder, Chase crawled from one paper to another, sorting through the rubble, and returning each piece to its own file. The task seemed to take forever, but her newfound determination kept her focused. Never again would she let her desk get so cluttered.

With everything back in order, she leaned back on her heels and heaved another sigh. As she surveyed her new office from a lower perspective, she noticed the crookedness on the wall of the certificate that signified completion of her correspondence course. She made a mental note to straighten the frame and flicked away a stray wisp of blonde hair too close to her eye. Was that an elusive sheet between the file cabinet and her desk? She inched further under the furniture and extended her arm between the metal and wood but couldn’t quite reach the paper.

Crouched, with her fanny in the air, she wedged her shoulder firmly against the desk and stretched her fingers as far as she could. “Damn, I can’t reach it!”

Her office door opened and a cool breeze crept up her dress.
“Ahem.” A deep throaty cough sounded behind her.

The shock lengthened her grasp and she succeeded in snaring the errant page, but a flush blossomed up her neck and set her cheeks ablaze. What a predicament—being caught in such an unprofessional posture.

She edged backwards, still clutching the paper, with her eyes charting the trail behind her. She focused on a pair of shiny black shoes, then sat back on her heels again and peered up into eyes as blue as a summer sky and clear as a mountain stream.

“Hell…hello there….”

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