Sexy Bad Boss – New Release!

 


Title: Sexy Bad Boss (Sexy bad Series #3) 
Authors: Misti Murphy & Tami Lund 
Genre: Contemporary Romance 
Cover Designer: Booming Covers 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
James Frost is all work and no play. He’s made billions as the CEO of Frost, Inc. He can broker a deal between two pissed off Irishmen and the devil, and still walk away with a smile and not a wrinkle in his Armani suit. As his assistant, I’m faced with his dashing presence every day.
 
Can you blame a gal for having a crush?
 
So when he asks me to help him find his perfect woman, I throw myself at him. Only James Frost would never mix business with pleasure. He’s never looked at me in that way. I’m so mortified, I quit on the spot.
 
But a freak accident leaves him with a few broken bones and amnesia, and me with a dilemma. I’m playing nursemaid, at his beck and call, until my two weeks’ notice is up. And that raise I never thought I would get from him might be on the table after all. But how far am I willing to go before my pride demands I cut bait and move back home to London?
 
 
 
 
 
 
 




 
 
 
 
 
(Sexy Bad Series #1) 
 
 
 
(Sexy Bad Series #2) 


Amazon US

 
 
 
Misti Murphy & Tami Lund They live on opposite sides of the world, but an eighteen-hour time difference doesn’t stop these two obsessed authors. They write, they debate over storylines, they thoroughly enjoy the process of gazing at hot men while trying to come up with cover ideas, they fall in and out of love with their characters, and at the end of the day (which day is anybody’s guess), they create sexy bad books for your reading pleasure.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 

 

 

A Well Paired Novel by Marianne Rice

Hey, it’s Tami Lund here, posting on an off-day. But it’s worth it! You see, I’m helping a friend celebrate the release of her latest book.

And it’s about wine. Well, it’s romance, of course, but the series is called Well Paired, and how totally irresistible is that??

Oh yeah, and it released on my birthday (which was last week!).

So you can see why I had to share, right?

Anyway, here are the deets, and an excerpt to whet your appetite… 

Book Title: At First Blush

At First Blush - Marianne Rice

Series: A Well Paired Novel
Genre: Romantic Women’s Fiction
Date of release: 1/23/2018

 

Book Blurb:

Alexis Le Blanc enjoys her simple life in Crystal Cove, Maine. After taking a chance on romance and getting rejected, she has given up on love. Now she devotes all her time to running her family’s winery, Coastal Vines. She wants to keep it small and traditional, but her parents have other ideas—hence why they hire some big-shot marketing executive from Napa Valley to rev up business.

When Benito Martelli shows up in her family’s tasting room, she’s more than stunned to discover he’s the man who wined and dined her the night before. Alexis is beyond peeved at his deception in trying to get into her good graces for the sake of making money on her winery. At first, she wants nothing to do with him or his big business ideas, but she’s pleasantly surprised when they come to a compromise, and even more surprised when she gives in to the sparks between them.

Unfortunately, things don’t go quite as planned and Alexis is faced with complications she never could have predicted. Promises and secrets unravel, and she must decide if love and wine are as well paired as she hoped.

 

Marianne Rice Head Shot

 

Marianne Rice writes contemporary romantic fiction set in small New England towns. She loves high heels, reading romance, scarfing down dark chocolate, gulping wine, and Chris Hemsworth. Oh, and her husband and three children. You can follow her all over social media, and keep up to tabs with her latest releases on her website: www.mariannerice.com

AUTHOR LINKS:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/mariannericeauthor/

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Marianne-Rice/e/B00SICUIRM

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/mariannericeauthor/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/mariannericeaut

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/MarianneRice

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/mariannericeaut

Bookbu: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/marianne-rice

Book + Main: https://bookandmainbites.com/search?q=Marianne%20Rice

Website: http://www.mariannerice.com

AFB Promo Pic

EXCERPT:

“You want brutal honesty?”

“That would be nice. For once.”

Ben grabbed the collar of her jacket and jerked her toward him, their faces inches apart. “I want you. In my bed. Underneath me. On top of me. But I also don’t want to hurt you. I’m letting you go because I don’t want to be a selfish bastard. There are things you don’t know…”

“I seem to go for selfish bastards so…” She licked her lips, hoping for one more kiss. Hoping he’d ask her to stay. Hoping he’d let her go.

“You’re too…special.”

“I’m not special.” Alexis lowered her eyes and shook her head. More lies to get her into bed. Only he didn’t want her in his bed. Her mind raced searching for answers, yet she didn’t even know the questions. It was all too much.

The way her heart raced when he was near. The way her legs trembled when his dimple appeared as if just for her. The way her mind went dizzy with longing when his stunning eyes were so intently focused on her.

“See, and then you do that vulnerable thing and I just want to…”

A spark ignited inside. She was not weak. “I’m not vulnerable.” She lifted her gaze to his and studied the intensity in his eyes, the seriousness in his jaw.

“I like that you are, and that you think you aren’t.”

“I think I should go.” She was smart enough and strong enough to walk away before she’d get emotionally attached and have her heart broken.

“I’ll follow you home.”

“When was the last time you drove in the snow?” Ben didn’t reply, his gaze still on her lips. “I didn’t think so. I don’t want to have to haul your ass out of a ditch so stay here. Play on your laptop. Style your hair. Go be sexy. Whatever it is you do at night.”

Alexis frowned when she pulled away from him so easily, and let herself out, driving home in silence and confusion.

Leaving her hot and horny and alone on a cold night, Ben was right about one thing. He was a total selfish bastard.

Ready to read?? 

Amazon: http://smarturl.it/s58mzq

iBooks: http://smarturl.it/zeb6r0

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/at-first-blush-3

B&N:https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/at-first-blush-marianne-rice/1127779053;jsessionid=311F147D27BCAF936FDEDA7C95276577.prodny_store02-atgap03?ean=2940155053996

 

 

 

So you want to write a book?

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So you want to write a book?

Yes? Write the book.

No? Yes, you do. Go write the book.

Have you finished writing the book?

Yes? Start editing.

No? What are you waiting for? Take a 15 minute Facebook break, then concentrate on writing the book.

Have you finished editing?

Yes? No, you haven’t. Edit again.

No? Take 15 minute break. Pin on Pinterest. Then finish editing.

Have you finished editing the book?

Yes? No, you’re not. Call your friends, at least three, and have them read over a copy of it.

No? Take a 15 minute break and check out where you might want to submit your book once it’s finished, either to an agent, directly to a publisher, or online as an ebook.  This will help inspire you. Then get back to editing. Then have your friends read over a copy of it.

Your friends finished editing the book, and you’ve finished putting the changes you agree with into your manuscript?

Yes? Edit again. You’ll thank yourself later. Take out unnecessary words, and read it out loud. You’ll catch a lot of errors this way.

No? What are you waiting for? This book is not going to publish itself. Go edit the damn book.

I wrote it, edited it, had my friends proofread and revise, added the changes I agreed with. I’ve re-edited. I’ve revised. I’ve proofread. I think it’s ready to go.

Yes? No, it’s not. Edit it just one more time.

No? You’re right. Edit one more time.

I have looked at my book so many times I’m starting to hate my characters. I never want to see the name _______________ ever again. I’m sick of it and I’m done.

Yes? Congratulations. You’re done.

No? Yes, you are sick of it. You’re done.

***

About the author:

Christine Cacciatore is a multi-published author who lives—and loves—to write. Together with her sister, Jennifer Starkman, she has published the magical novels Baylyn, Bewitched and Cat, Charmed, with the third book Elise, Evermore coming out soon. On her own, she has written Noah Cane’s Candy, a sassy holiday short romance and Knew You’d Come, a spicy paranormal romance novella. Also, Chris ventured into the Kindle Worlds Mary O’Reilly paranormal series and has written Trouble Lake and Grave Injury. They’re the perfect books to curl up with any time of year but especially Halloween…because they’re chock full of ghosts!

Chris is a member of the In Print Professional Writer’s Group in Rockford, IL and the Chicago Writer’s Association. In her spare time, Chris enjoys writing, reading, and coloring in her grandchildren’s coloring books with the good crayons. Chris is married to a devastatingly handsome man she met on eHarmony, has three children and a gigantic black dog who helps her pack lunches in the morning. She also has four of the most beautiful, intelligent grandchildren in the world, and their antics keep her in stitches.

The Nose Knows Nothing

I had to wait a while before I could write about our New Year’s Eve celebration. Not because I drank so much that I was still hung over. Not because I had so much fun that I am only now sending out thank you notes and finishing up my photo books.

No, it’s so I could get a solid hold on what reality I was living that weekend and when I told you, I wanted to get it exactly right.

My husband had a nosebleed in the middle of December. He suffered in silence, as it started in the middle of the night and all evidence of it was gone by the morning. It was no more than a footnote over our morning coffee.

That weekend he had another. I raised an eyebrow and have to wash a load of towels.

Still, only two nosebleeds. Not a huge deal but certainly strange because I haven’t seen a nosebleed from him since his sinus surgery five years ago, which will live on in infamy. Because I will never forget what a nightmare it was and I want to ensure he doesn’t either.

Christmas Eve comes, and my husband’s schnozzle decides it has had enough of its quiet lifestyle and erupts like a volcano. This one has my attention. It’s everywhere, it’s never-ending, and most importantly, it’s getting our clean, ready-for-company house all dirty. Time to deploy the big girl panties.

We finish cleaning for the party and I wash my hands eleven times (get it? Eleven? Nosebleeds?) and our Christmas Eve celebration continues.

That night, we agree he has to talk to his doctor after the holidays about the nosebleeds. My Own Darling drives almost 3000 miles a month for work and does NOT want to get that type of nosebleed while driving.

I boil water and run a vaporizer until our walls are dripping so I can put moisture in the air. He not only has been dealing with the nosebleeds but also got the same illness* I had and has been coughing up a lung for the past two nights. It’s the dreaded man cold and I mentally gird my loins. He visits a quick care and gets some Tessalon Pearls. He mentions the nosebleeds but they’re not concerned since he’s not having one right then.

The moist air doesn’t help. That Saturday I hear him skittering down the hall to the bathroom and I just know it’s another geyser. A half hour doesn’t seem like a very long time normally but when he’s losing what looks like a gallon of blood, it’s an eternity. We’re getting to be experts at managing them but definitely not happy about it. Plans to call the doctor have been moved out of “maybe” into talks of Immediate Care instead, but it stops and doesn’t come back. Talks stall.

New Years’ Eve dawns and over morning coffee, Joe decides to celebrate early by having a party in his nose, with lots of streamers. It’s made worse because he’s coughing so much but finally this one stops too. I suggest a quick care visit but it’s vetoed. The nosebleed stops…

…only to start up again around seven that night and this time, we don’t even need to discuss it before piling into the car to go to the ER. We can’t get it stopped.

They put a sexy plastic ring on his nose that pinches his nostrils shut but that doesn’t work. He graduates to level two; a nurse fashions another one out of two tongue depressors which does the trick but pinches his nose so tightly that he feels like he’s choking. He is, actually, because since he can’t breathe through his nose, he’s got to breathe through his mouth but guess what’s starting to clog his airway? Our friend, the helpful blood clot, trying valiantly to stop the nosebleed.

I’m going to pause here to confide that Joe doesn’t do well with swallowing vitamins in the morning. One multivitamin and he’s choking and gagging on it and can barely get it down. The sounds he makes are unlike anything heard in nature, and they’re coupled with his bare foot pounding the kitchen floor as if that will help. I’m pretty sure our neighbors hear this morning routine. It cracks me up because I’m evil like that but at least I know he’s taking his vitamins.

There are four ER nurses in the room with us now, all telling my darling Pookie Pants to stay calm but when Joe feels the gigantic choking blob in the back of his throat, despite the instructions, he most certainly does not stay calm.

To my untrained eye, it appears our room has become the site of a horrible butchering but boy howdy, does that gets us ushered immediately and with all due haste into an exam room. I realize that I’m going to have to burn my clothes and Joe’s, but at least I know where all the antibacterial gel is in the emergency room.

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pacing and bleeding.

 

Long story short, we were there four hours. For three of those hours, Joe’s nose was pinched shut and he still felt as if he were suffocating. He paced. He griped. He paced. He complained. He fretted. He bled. However, all his bloodwork is fine and the doctor finally comes in and numbs his offending nostril so she can insert this long tampon cigarette-looking thing into his nose. Once inserted, she is able to pump air into it and it conforms into the shape of his nose voila, end of nosebleed. He’s much happier and we get to leave. However, by this time it’s 10:30 p.m. and I don’t feel like cooking but we stop at two different places and nothing’s open. Because it’s New Year’s Eve.

I am so crabby. Sulky. I’m starving and at 10:45 p.m. I heat up beef for sandwiches. We eat in relative silence and stonily clink glasses at midnight.

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pit of misery, indeed. but a good sport.

 

The next day is January 1, which is the day my side of the family celebrates Christmas. Joe has, up until now, said he was going to go (even with that…thing in his nose) but now he has changed his mind because he’s not “breathing” right. This brings back horrid memories and PTSD flashbacks of his deviated septum surgery. It was a truly dark week in history in the Cacciatore household.

 

Still, I go through the motions of preparing for the ninety minute trek into town. I make the jambalaya I am supposed to bring. I have all the presents I’m supposed to bring all wrapped and organized, so I go take a long bath while having a hot cup of tea. But I know what’s coming.

Joe is still not feeling well. He doesn’t want to go which is bad enough, but now, he doesn’t want me to go. He looks like a deer caught in the headlights at the thought of me leaving for the day. He is panicking with a capital P.

I will refrain from comment here because sometimes time does not heal all wounds, and I was super upset because CHRISTMAS WITH MY FAMILY and I’m about to miss it.

However, I know a panic attack when I see one, and Joe is having a big one. The look in my poor Honey’s eyes when I say I’m leaving him all day long is pure terror. I wouldn’t do this to my worst enemy; I certainly wouldn’t do it to my husband. Whom I love. It’s a three hour round trip and my husband, my true love, is convinced that he doesn’t have enough air.

NOTE: HE DOES. HE DOES HAVE ENOUGH AIR. HE REALLY, REALLY DOES. REALLY.

He just thinks he doesn’t because we can’t take out the packing from his right nostril, and his left is congested. For all of the soothing, understanding sounds I make, I don’t get why he can’t OPEN HIS MOUTH TO BREATHE LIKE EVERYONE ELSE DOES WHEN THEY HAVE A COLD.

However, see: panic attack. I get it. I stay home.

I also pout and cry that day. I am miserable because I work so hard to get just the perfect gifts, the funniest things, the most thoughtful; and I have to send my jambalaya and my gifts into Joliet with my girls. I miss seeing my brother open his “favorite child” pin, and don’t get to see his kids open presents that were on their Toys r Us wish list. I miss my sister and her kids opening carefully chosen silly mugs. I miss sitting and joking around with my other five siblings because I just don’t see them nearly enough and I like to be snarky in person, not just on Facebook.

But enough about me. I do what any good wife would do. I take my husband’s concerns seriously and hold his hand while we sit on the reclining loveseat so he can relax enough to sleep because did I forget to mention? It’s Monday afternoon, and Joe has not slept in about five days between his terrible cough and the inability to breath. He hasn’t slept, like, at all. He can’t fall asleep because he’s certain that the second he does, he’s going to stop breathing altogether. (Guess who else hasn’t slept? Me.)

I think of all the soothing things I can do to calm the panic attack he’s having. I give him ONE of my TWO XANAX which as anyone knows is a terrible second only to missing Christmas. I pour him a lavender scented bath and put on soothing music which helps for approximately seven seconds. He’s back to panic mode before he’s even dried off and has his jammies on.

I find my blog on his deviated septum surgery, reread it, and cannot believe the similarities between then and now. Folks, this is a nightmare.

EXCEPT IT GETS SO MUCH WORSE.

Monday at bedtime, the most horrible night of all, I put on an ocean waves soundtrack, hoping that it will soothe his panic and allow him (and me) to sleep. Joe sleeps for ten minutes at a time. He wakes me up because he’s convinced there are subliminal messages in the ocean waves so I have to turn it off. I warn caution him that I have to work on Tuesday and that if he doesn’t let me sleep, I won’t be able to function. I make him swear he’s going to let me sleep. He goes out onto the couch.

He lets me have approximately two hours of sleep before he shakes me awake. “I’m not sure how I should be breathing.” It’s 1:30 a.m. and we’re both exhausted and one of us is very angry. He won’t take a shot of liquor to help him sleep. The Xanax has done nothing. He’s pacing like a caged animal so I wrestle him down and force feed him a double dose of Nyquil, which has absolutely no effect. As a matter of fact, it seems to wind him up even more.

The rest of the night is ghastly. We’re both hallucinating from lack of sleep. The only thing keeping us going is the fact that we’re going to the doctor’s in the morning so to get the packing out.

Tuesday morning, after a refreshing three hour rest, I dress for work, (I think?) shove him in the car and drive to his doctor’s office where we park our butts.

When the doctor finally is able to see him, he prescribed more cough syrup with codeine, and then—blessedly—Doctor takes out the packing. (look away if you’re squeamish, but gawd, I didn’t think he’d EVER finish pulling that thing out of Joe’s nose. It was about the size of a rolling pin and about as big around.)

The effect on my husband is galvanizing. It’s as if someone literally has flipped a switch. His color comes back almost immediately and he’s showing more clarity than I’ve seen in a week. I take him back home to drop him off because although he’s going to take a sick day so that he can sleep, I myself cannot call in sick. I am so tired I can barely see straight. I mainline coffee on the way to work.

Five hours later, I’m uneasy because I haven’t heard from him despite a few texts and a quick voicemail. Has he had another nosebleed? Is he even now face down in the hallway bleeding out? DID HE GET BLOOD ON OUR NEW COUCH?

The last one spurs me into action and I call him again. A different man answers the phone. He sounds—dare I say—perky. Happy. “Boy, I feel so much better,” he crows. “I was able to sleep.” I repress the urge to tell him he’s had more sleep in the past few hours than I got all night. Good thing I’m at work because I’m rolling my eyes.

“I don’t feel like I’m gasping for air anymore,” he continues happily. “Of course, the doctor did say my airway was probably compromised because of my cough.” Of course he did, I think. His doctor is a man so he is a little more likely to empathize with the man cold.

But here’s what matters; there’s no more panic in his voice. While still hoarse, his voice sounds hopeful, like there’s an end to the past couple weeks of wheezing, coughing, phlegm, and let’s not forget, nosebleeds.

His optimistic tone buoys me, much to my surprise. Sounds like sleep is on the horizon for me too. My eyes well up in gratitude. I tell Joe to try to get another nap in and turn on that ocean waves soundtrack—maybe it will tell him to sweep the floor and do the dishes before I get home from work.

*Not a man cold, though. Because no one can ever be as sick as a man.

About the author:

Christine Cacciatore is a multi-published author who lives—and loves—to write. Together with her sister, Jennifer Starkman, she has published the magical novels Baylyn, Bewitched and Cat, Charmed, with the third book Elise, Evermore coming out soon. On her own, she has written Noah Cane’s Candy, a sassy holiday short romance and Knew You’d Come, a spicy paranormal romance novella. Also, Chris ventured into the Kindle Worlds Mary O’Reilly paranormal series and has written Trouble Lake and Grave Injury. They’re the perfect books to curl up with any time of year but especially Halloween…because they’re chock full of ghosts!

Chris is a member of the In Print Professional Writer’s Group in Rockford, IL and the Chicago Writer’s Association. In her spare time, Chris enjoys writing, reading, and coloring in her grandchildren’s coloring books with the good crayons. Chris is married to a devastatingly handsome man she met on eHarmony, has three children and a gigantic black dog who helps her pack lunches in the morning. She also has four of the most beautiful, intelligent grandchildren in the world, and their antics keep her in stitches.

 

Take A Bite Out Of This New Release!

It’s release day!

It’s a vampire boxed set. All new stories. Full length ones at that!

Here are a few teasers to, you know, tease you….

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That’s only a few of the vampires you’re gonna meet in this boxed set.

Ready? Here are the buy links:

iBooks https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/blood-courtesans-boxed-set-awakenings/id1295300606?mt=11&ls=1&ign-mpt=uo%3D4
Kobo https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/blood-courtesans-boxed-set-awakenings-vampire-romance
Nook https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/blood-courtesans-boxed-set-michelle-fox/1127212649;jsessionid=B56C7DE2DF60AE6833263A181BFDF950.prodny_store01-atgap08?ean=2940154953662
Amazon US http://amzn.to/2zLDRMX
Amazon Uk https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B076P323DB
Amazon AU https://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B076P323DB
Amazon CA https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B076P323DB

Enjoy!!

It’s a Sexy Bad Cover Reveal!

 

Title: Sexy Bad Boss (Sexy bad Series #3) 

Authors: Misti Murphy & Tami Lund 

Genre: Contemporary Romance 

Release Day: Jan 23rd 

Cover Designer: Booming Covers 

 

 

 

 

 

James Frost is all work and no play. He’s made billions as the CEO of Frost, Inc. He can broker a deal between two pissed off Irishmen and the devil, and still walk away with a smile and not a wrinkle in his Armani suit. As his assistant, I’m faced with his dashing presence every day.

Can you blame a gal for having a crush?

So when he asks me to help him find his perfect woman, I throw myself at him. Only James Frost would never mix business with pleasure. He’s never looked at me in that way. I’m so mortified, I quit on the spot.

But a freak accident leaves him with a few broken bones and amnesia, and me with a dilemma. I’m playing nursemaid, at his beck and call, until my two weeks’ notice is up. And that raise I never thought I would get from him might be on the table after all. But how far am I willing to go before my pride demands I cut bait and move back home to London?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Misti Murphy & Tami Lund They live on opposite sides of the world, but an eighteen-hour time difference doesn’t stop these two obsessed authors. They write, they debate over storylines, they thoroughly enjoy the process of gazing at hot men while trying to come up with cover ideas, they fall in and out of love with their characters, and at the end of the day (which day is anybody’s guess), they create sexy bad books for your reading pleasure.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Cold Sores and Dry Shampoo

image of a sick little girl stock photo by Davbid Castillo Dominici

Pretty accurate description of how I looked that day.

It began innocently enough. A minor itch. A slight twinge. A little tingle. I started to fret. But maybe it wouldn’t happen this time. After all, I had gotten through other bouts of illness without developing one—maybe this would be one of those times.

Not so much.

At work, I felt the no-mistaking-it tingle that heralded the new arrival, and a look in my compact mirror confirmed what I already knew:  I was witnessing the birth of the world’s worst cold sore.

Fever Blister. Herpes simplex. It all sounds different to the ear but in the end, they are all the same—a gigantic cootie cluster on my lower lip, half an inch from dead center.

Maybe it wasn’t so much a birth as a coming home, however. After all, the only place I ever, ever get cold sores is in that very same spot. Same lip. Every time. What skeeves me out even more is the fact that despite my OCD antibacterial hand gel application efforts, despite wiping every touchable hard surface at home and at work with antibacterial wipes, despite bathing in Lysol and gargling with bleach, I got one anyway.

Thinking back, I realized that I had seen a coworker sporting a fever blister a week or two before. The “ewww” factor has been racketed up a notch.

Typically, the day before the spot actually makes its debut there is also quite a bit of pain, especially on the unique Chris Cacciatore pain scale. I’m not saying I’m a big baby but even a hangnail will wake me up at night. Throw a cold sore at me and it’s grounds for calling in sick.

The last time I got a massive cold sore was during a…you guessed it…cold. My defenses were down; I should have seen it coming. I had felt crappy all day at work, and suddenly, my entire bottom lip looked as if a chorus line of bees had stung it. That night, the pain was so intense that I was forced to start my obituary.

The next morning, surprised to find myself still alive, I realized that due to all the tossing and turning I did the night during the world’s worst night’s sleep, I had overslept.

For those who have no time for a quick shower, it’s dry shampoo to the rescue. Or so I thought.

I had picked it up on a whim, this dry shampoo. I had overheard a conversation while sitting at McDonald’s writing one afternoon. It’s normally a great place to write because you can tune everything out except this time, when two young women were talking about their hair. The conversation was animated as they discussed hair products but came to a standstill when one told the other she washed her hair daily.

The other said back, “You’ll dry your hair out! Don’t do that, girl. Use some of that dry shampoo. You won’t believe how it perks up your hairstyle on days when you are skipping a day, or maybe you’re just too lazy to wash your hair.”

What? A new way to be stylish while still allowing me to be lazy? Sign me up. I actually found some at the store on the way home. Now, normally, I don’t take much advice from people sitting in McDonald’s but due to the above referenced illness, I’m game…and since I overslept, what better time to try it?

Getting ready for work that morning, squinting through the cloud of agony my lip was causing, I read the directions and applied the dry shampoo accordingly, then brushed it out as instructed.

This is a product that I will never, ever buy again. I have a dreadful feeling it had been moved from the Halloween section of Wal-Mart into the hair section, as it obviously was meant to be used to make white stripes in my hair for a Bride of Frankenstein costume. Despite vigorous brushing, I couldn’t brush the white out and ended up with not only white patches of hair but a very pink scalp.

Thanks, random strangers at McDonald’s, for your crappy advice. Mom’s always said “don’t eavesdrop”, and I should have listened.

It worked out in the end, however, because coworkers were too busy trying not to stare at the white streaks in my hair to even notice I had a cold sore.

***

About the author:

Christine Cacciatore is a multi-published author who lives—and loves—to write. Together with her sister, Jennifer Starkman, she has published the magical novels Baylyn, Bewitched and Cat, Charmed, with the third book Elise, Evermore coming out soon. On her own, she has written Noah Cane’s Candy, a sassy holiday short romance and Knew You’d Come, a spicy paranormal romance novella. Also, Chris ventured into the Kindle Worlds Mary O’Reilly paranormal series and has written Trouble Lake and Grave Injury. They’re the perfect books to curl up with any time of year but especially Halloween…because they’re chock full of ghosts!

Chris is a member of the In Print Professional Writer’s Group in Rockford, IL and the Chicago Writer’s Association. In her spare time, Chris enjoys writing, reading, and coloring in her grandchildren’s coloring books with the good crayons. Chris is married to a devastatingly handsome man she met on eHarmony, has three children and a gigantic black dog who helps her pack lunches in the morning. She also has four of the most beautiful, intelligent grandchildren in the world, and their antics keep her in stitches.