too. It doesn’t matter anyway. She’s invisible to men, especially one man in particular. Evaleen is fine with that. Not everyone gets their happily ever after, that’s only for novels.
Edgar Mirmir is a Nordic god to some, a tech-savvy genius to others, and to women – he is everything they desire. His life should be perfect, and everything he has ever dreamed of… only it’s not. One woman haunts him.
When he first saw her, her electric blue eyes shone with defiance, fear, and sorrow. He
wanted to reach out to her, but she disappeared. Until one day he turned around
and there she was.
killer costume that any other Star Wars purist of the female species would love—”
Wookie courage, I turned back to find the blonde still at the counter.
surviving on only three hours of sleep before an interview for a job that I needed, action was necessary.
“Excuse me, Miss, but I believe it has been ten minutes, which is plenty of time to order your drink. Some of us don’t have the luxury of time, and were kept up by our roommate doing gymnastics in bed with her boyfriend until four
in the morning.” I gritted my teeth and shook my head trying to get back on point. “So, if you wouldn’t mind placing your order and letting the rest of us have a turn . . .”
fake and matted like Albert’s costume. His eyes were the most beautiful gray, like smoke rising from a smoldering fire. They slid over my face.
The timbre of his voice like a sonic boom under my skin. His skin, on the other hand, remained still, smooth, and my fingers, for reasons I am attributing to lack of sleep, twitched to touch any part of him.
Scottish hero William Wallace and not a sweaty sci-fi version of Sasquatch. He even painted his face blue and white.
fear in me, but no. Instead of running in terror, I did the opposite. I laid my hands on him. My fingers caressed his chest working their way down. Doing the exact thing I just lectured Albert not to do. I should have probably stopped.
pheromone that screamed sex me with your hands. Sensing quickly how firm his chest was it propelled me farther down, down to his abs. The man had a six-pack or maybe even an eight-pack; whatever pack was hiding under that brown threadbare piece of cashmere was making my heart race and lady parts start to
turn savage themselves.
Clearing my throat, I tried to salvage what little dignity I had left.
latter, so I turned my gaze to the line of customers who had their phones turned up to face me as they filmed what had been occurring. Including Albert.
as, The Woman Chest Molester.
Scottish. After all, he was dressed as William Wallace.
the window panes would rattle from the storm that swirled outside his Scottish
castle, he would whisper, “For if wee girls and boys don’t do as they’re told, the wiry fingers of the deranged chest molester will grab hold!” The kids would cower, holding their blankets to their little faces; one girl would begin to
cry as he wrapped his powerful arms gently around her tiny frame in comfort.
Elizabeth Lynx writes romantic comedy with steam. She’s a recovering comedian. Wife and mother of the male species. Believer in love & laughter. Her life consists of preventing small catastrophes and wondering if a day will exist when she doesn’t have to fold laundry.