Quirks and Kinks
Laurel Ulen Curtis
Laurel Ulen Curtis
Releasing: June 23rd, 2015
Blurb:
“It’s a new show, Quirks and Kinks. We’ve already selected a male reenactment actor to be your co-host, so
you're the last piece of the puzzle. There’s some seriously f@$%ed up sh*t out there that people are into, and
the two of you are going to be the face of it.”
“I’m going to be the face of people’s freakish fetishes?” I asked disbelievingly.
Larry
shrugged his nonchalance, shoving it directly down the throat of my panic. “Half
of it.”
That conversation was the beginning of more
than a show.
It was the beginning of mystery, friendship,
and love, and the outcome of mixing all three together with two unsuspecting
victims.
Easie Reynolds and Anderson Evans were drawn
to the same, simple thing—each other.
But, sometimes, undeniable chemistry isn’t
enough. After all, how easy is it to get know someone when they’re
constantly pretending to be someone else?
Preorder:
Amazon:
http://amzn.to/1Fgyx2F
iBooks: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/quirks-kinks/id994899160?ls=1&mt=11
iBooks: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/quirks-kinks/id994899160?ls=1&mt=11
SNEAK PEAK EXCERPT:
“I’m still not even sure what we’re doing here,” I told Ashley as I glanced around at the cheap Tex Mex
themed decor of El Loco Restaurant.
All
around us, business-suit-clad, young singles chatted and laughed, sinking
deeper into their margaritas and each other. A life untraveled stared me in the
face, but it didn’t make me feel bitter or regretful.
All I felt was stupid for being out and spending money that we didn’t have.
“You just landed a job,” she cooed before sipping delicately
from the free water.
Giving
her my undivided attention, I narrowed my cat-like blue eyes.
“Granted, it’s not a job you’re
exactly thrilled about, but it comes with money, and that’s worth celebrating a little.”
“Pff,” I huffed. “So far, all it’s
come with is a bag of muffin mix and humiliation.” Exaggeratedly, I checked my purse. “Nope, no money.”
Ashley
just shook her head. “We’re eating one dollar tacos. Peanut butter and bread are
more expensive. Relax.”
My
fingers itched for a cigarette, and astute twenty-three year old lady that she
was, Ashley didn’t miss it.
“Besides, if we’re going to get on the money discussion you’re going to have to take a closer look at some of your
other expensive habits.”
Ashley
had been trying to talk me into quitting for years, and I knew my lungs would
thank me if I somehow managed to follow through. But for as desirable as it
sounded, I just…couldn’t. It wasn’t so much the addiction and the work
it would take to kick a years-in-the-making habit. It was that smoking had
become my emotional crutch. My timeout in any moment of need and my excuse to
busy myself with something other than being a bitch. I was scared of the chasm
I’d fall into, the unclimbable hill I’d create with my auger-like anxiety.
My
sister didn’t know any of that. No one did.
“I smoke for my career.”
Her
eyes practically rolled all the way out of her head. “This ought to be good.”
“You know this industry is
unbelievably vapid, and vapid means skinny. Smoking keeps me that way.”
She
shook her head in disdain.
“And it’s cheaper than a gym membership.”
“Global warming, anyone?” she called dramatically. “You’re argument is balancing on some pretty
thin ice.”
“Shut up.”
Suddenly,
warmth wafted up into my face as our waiter shoved the toasty basket of
complimentary chips into the center of our table. My eyes drifted naturally
from the basket to the hand holding it, where a large, oval, heavy metal ring
sat in blazing contrast to the tan expanse of his long ring finger, up the line
of his muscular—deliciously veiny—forearm, to the cuff of his rolled up black sleeve. On a
runaway mission of their own, my eyes wouldn’t stop, eating up the expanse of his bicep in an instant,
stutter-stepping up the corded column of his slender throat, and landing on one
of the most attractive male mugs I’ve
ever seen.
A
mixing bowl of ethnicity, his naturally tanned skin and dark features stood in
stark contrast with the minty green of his eyes. Directly on me and smirking,
they were mesmerizing.
And
mocking.
Ashley
spoke, as I’d apparently lost all of my normal
snarky ability.
“Thanks.”
A
small glance from me to her preceded his polite answer. “You’re welcome.”
She
smiled her prettiest smile, the one that infused her entire being from chest to
eyes, and the corner of his mouth notched higher in response.
A
foreign heaviness settled in my chest as I watched, and its completely
unwelcome presence nearly made me sick.
He
turned to leave slowly, one last lingering look in my direction making my
nerves ratchet up to an eleven.
Fuck.
I did not like to be rattled. Confident words were my modus operandi,
but a good earthquake could wreck even the strongest of routines. My table at
El Loco, tonight—this guy—was the epicenter.
The
man in question had just earned himself automatic placement on my shit list.
Straight,
white, top teeth just barely teased the plump pillow of his bottom lip. It was
unintentional, completely innocent, and hot as Jesus’ sauna.
Shit
list position confirmed.
“You’re, like, really attractive,” Ashley noted, evidently drunk on her
water and speaking via a direct link to my brain.
His
chuckle was like a full body vibrator, skating through the nerves on every inch
of my skin. One long-fingered hand shot straight to his neck, rubbing the
uneasiness of Ashley’s compliment out quickly.
“Thanks.”
“Are you an actor?” she continued. “You’ve got to be, right?”
LA.
Every attractive person you meet must be in the business.
I
would have laughed at Ashley’s assumption and how ridiculous it
was if I hadn’t been thinking the same thing.
He
looked slightly bashful, but fought straight through the discomfort and
answered her frankly. “Uh, yeah. I mean, I’m trying anyway. I’m not
particularly successful.”
Distracted
by my reaction to him and his honesty, I didn’t run a pre-check on anything coming out of my mouth. Not
that I normally had the best filter. “So
you’re another one of those actors,
waiting tables to pay the bills and pass the time?”
He
bristled, and rightfully so. But he did it with an otherworldly calm, meeting
my eyes directly and speaking in a soft, polite—if only slightly teasing—voice.
“One of those? Oh. No. Waiting tables
is my dream. I just act to fit in.”
My
cheeks felt hot with embarrassment and shame, and the glint in his eyes told me
that he saw it.
Sometimes
I hated that my default setting was bitch. Such a dominant trait was hard to
overturn. “Okay, so maybe that was a little
rude.”
One
corner of his mouth—the smug one—rose just slightly. “It’s a distinct possibility.”
Silence
hung between us, but while my time was spent avoiding eye contact, his was
spent calculating his next blow.
“I guess you must be something really
impressive then?”
“Huh?” My wandering eyes shot to his with
the focus of a heat-seeking missile.
“Well, you obviously aren’t on the waiting tables slash acting track that the rest of
us losers are.”
“Um—”
“I mean, you must do something that
really matters, right? Educating orphaned kids. Curing Cancer. Coming up with
the way to end all of the world’s unrest.” Attractive arms crossed over an
equally nice chest. “Am I right?”
For
as confident as I usually was, and as many comebacks as I normally had, I
couldn’t think of one single thing to say.
Unfortunately,
my sister wasn’t suffering from a similar problem.
“Hah! She’s an actor too. But she’s too busy to wait tables.”
“Working?” he asked, one manly eyebrow cocking
in time with his question. If I wasn’t
mistaken, he actually looked impressed for a minute.
I
was ready to leave right then, but Ashley, being the one of us with a
conscience, had a knack for ruining a good thing.
“Oh. No. She’s just too busy being her. You know, cutting people like
you down in her spare time.”
She looked away,
bopped to the music in the background. “But, she doesn’t do
it on purpose. She was born this way. Cold, dead heart and all. I guess that’s why people like me still love her.”
I
tried not to let her words hurt. After all, if I were describing myself, I
probably would have chosen the exact same words, and because I knew her so
well, I knew she was just trying to make a joke and bail me out of a situation
of my own making.
And
yet, I still couldn’t stop the smile from slipping and
sliding its way off of my face.
It
only took a few seconds to recover, but when I looked back up at the waiter, he
was looking at me differently. Assessing.
Uncomfortable
was too cushy a word for what I was feeling. Bombs exploded and sprayed
shrapnel, the sharp edges of his scrutiny digging into the flesh of my muscle
and making it twitch just beneath the not-protective-enough layer of my skin.
About Laurel Ulen Curtis
Laurel Ulen Curtis is a 27 year old mother of
one. She lives with her husband and son (and cat and two fish!) in New Jersey,
but grew up all over the United States. She graduated from Rutgers University
in 2009 with a Bachelor of Science in Meteorology, and puts that to almost no
use other than forecasting for her friends! She has a passion for her family,
laughing, and reading and writing Romance novels.
Twitter: https://twitter.com/LUCurtisAuthor
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6912103.Laurel_Ulen_Curtis?from_search=true
