AUTHOR BIO
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
LINKS TO FIND RITA WEBB ONLINE
My 4 out of 5 Star Review
This novella was fun, with a sweet romance. I found myself swept away by Rita's world and rooting for the two main characters to finally get together. I also discovered something about myself: I am a novel reader. LoL. I would have loved to have read this story as a full length novel. There was so much I wanted to dive into more. Good job, Rita!
EXCERPT #1
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.
EXCERPT #2
Jason grins. “I’d never
miss your birthday. Remember last year?”
“Ugh! I thought I’d never thaw out after we went skiing in a blizzard. We were
stranded for three days in that cabin we found in the woods.”
“Aw, come on, you didn’t even get frostbite. I took care of you.”
“At least I didn’t end up with any broken limbs. That time.”
“I still can’t believe we
went snow-boarding on East Pillar Mountain Loop. That’s a tough trail, and then
you broke your arm slipping in the parking lot on the way to the truck.”
My muscles were exhausted, and carrying my board on my shoulder, I wasn’t
watching where I was going. I didn’t see the patch of ice. “Remember when you
took me spelunking?”
“I had no idea that bear was in there.”
“I can’t remember ever being that scared.”
“But it was fun! Come on. We can’t break tradition.”
EXCERPT #3
Above the entrance, a sign
reads Michael Magnificent and the Magician Magellan’s Magical Menagerie of
Malicious and Monstrous Misfits. The word Misfits
was smaller than the other words most likely because the painter almost ran out
of room. Someone got a little carried away with the alliteration.
Carrying loads of boxes
and pushing wheelbarrows, people bustle from tent to tent, and nobody pays any
attention to us.
I blink as I stare at the
sight before me and then glance at Jason.
He gives me a smile.
“Welcome to a whole new world.”
“A circus?” I make a
high-pitched noise, that is not a
squeal. Because I do not squeal.
“Calm down.” Jason rubs
his ears. “Not just any circus, Miss Acrobat.”
I’m normally not the
squealing type, but I love the
circus. As a kid, I dreamed of being an acrobat and pestered my parents until
they finally got me into gymnastics. They stopped complaining about the cost
when I got a full athletic scholarship.
“We’re a little early, but
I thought you’d like to wander around and explore with me. The animal tents are
. . . well, you’ll like it.”
“Jason, you’re the best
friend a girl could ask for.” I give him a big bear hug.
“I know.”
“And geez, humble too.”
“I know.” He grins.
Inside the closest tent,
stalls filled with white horses line the center aisle. Tack hangs along one
wall in the entry way, and stacks of hay and barrels of oats fill the other
side.
White horses with long
horns protruding from their foreheads.
“How did they glue the
horns on?” I lean in close to inspect.
“They’re real.”
I raise an eyebrow, and he
grins.
“Seriously?”
“Would I lie to you?”
“There was that time you
told me the mud pies would give me flying powers if I ate them.”
“Not my fault. I really
thought they would.”
EXCERPT #4
The door swings open, and
we step inside. Whoever was on the other side of the peephole, he’s already
gone.
Inside, a smoky haze blurs
the room, and although it isn’t even five o’clock, every table has somebody
hunkered over a bottle of beer or whiskey. A band plays Celtic music, the kind
that worms into your feet and makes them dance the jig even if you don’t know
how. The strains of the fiddle wrap around the music of the guitar, accordion,
and bagpipes and around my heart, and I can’t help but fall in love with the
sound.
Bare-chested even in this
cold weather, the four musicians (three male and one female . . . yes, even the
girl is bare-chested and jiggling nicely) dance on the small stage while still
playing instruments and singing, drunker than anybody in the room, and when I
look closely, I realize they’re not wearing brown pants but instead fur covers
their legs.
Legs that end in hooves.
Three satyrs and a
satyress.
Thank goodness for ninth
grade English lessons in Greek mythology. Most professors would likely be happy
to know that satyresses prance around just as naked as their male counterparts.
Emma smacks the back of my
head. “It’s just boobs. Even I have a pair. No reason to stare so hard. Put
your eyes back in your head.” She grabs my hand, leading me toward the bar . .
. and positions me with my back to the stage.
“But you’ve never shown me
yours. Take your shirt off, and I’ll stare at yours instead.”
“You did not just say
that.”
“Yeah, I think I did.”
“Men.” She rolls her eyes.