Stephanie Fowers loves bringing stories to life, and depending on her latest madcap ideas will do it through written word, song, and/ or film. She absolutely adores Bollywood and bonnet movies; i.e., Jane Austen. Presently, she lives in Salt Lake where she's living the life of the starving artist.
Who says Chivalry is dead?
Taken in by an Outlaw
Marian is a hard-hitting reporter … or would be if the New England Chronicle would stop assigning her puff pieces. Now she has the chance to prove herself, but it could prove her undoing—since the story of a lifetime might just be Robin King, a ruthless scoundrel, who she swore would never break her heart again.
Making New England Olde again
Together, they must overcome their differences to save their hometown from thieves and corruption. And they’d better do it before someone gets killed. As danger lurks closer, legend becomes life, and Robin’s feelings for Marian deepen as he struggles with sharing the secrets that could clear his name and ruin his sister."
Snippet:
It was the wrong move. John’s pent-up frustration burst against Robin and he threw him against the wall next to the utility room, choking him. “You ruined everything! Why did I trust you?”
Robin couldn’t breathe. His body jerked and all his pretty resolves not to fight melted in an instant. He lobbed his right fist into John’s nose. The man’s hands loosened on him as he fell back while Robin twisted, digging his elbow into John’s gut on his way out. Little John stumbled backward, barely catching himself before he tripped over the fallen mop. “Oh, you’re a tough guy now?” His meaty hand went to the mop.
Robin’s heart sunk. “Oh! C’mon!” Someone needed to tell John that this wasn’t prison.
Swinging the handle like a staff, his old friend came at him. Robin tore off his arm brace—it impeded his thumb too much. Looking around for anything to defend himself with, Robin dove into the utility room, dragging out a broom just in time to block the mop handle coming at his face. His eyes squinted at the pressure in his wrist. John wasn’t holding back—and just like that, Robin went back to his prison tricks. He lurched to the side and knocked John against the face with the broom, snapping him back.
John dropped his mop and ran at him, catching the handle to wrestle the broom from Robin’s grip. To let go would mean a severe beating, so Robin held on. When John couldn’t shake him loose, he threw Robin across the hall with it. He landed on the cement floor and slid down the hallway to the archway in the view of everyone in the courtyard. A cry met Robin’s unusual entrance. Richard was not going to be happy.
Robin held up a hand to John. “Okay, cool it. Stop. Stop!”
It didn’t make a difference.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.