Sunday, May 04, 2008

PIGMALION Spices It Up in the Number 3 Spot

My SPICY short story, PIGMALION, is now number 3 best seller at the Wild Rose Press!

Read a review at

Simply Romance Reviews

Kathy's Review Corner

Graduate student Levisa Harris is focused on finishing her Master’s thesis on Baltimore dialects, and she only needs one more volunteer to complete her study. After a homecoming game, she meets Sam Parker, a handsome man with an interesting accent...

But he’s not interested in being a “guinea pig.” An accounting major from the poor side of town, Sam soon finds out that his "Bawlamerese" is getting in the way of his career. Swallowing his pride, he agrees to be in Levisa’s study in exchange for free lessons. A dream job at a big accounting firm is within his reach, but only she can teach him proper speech—in four months!
Little does Levisa know that tutoring Sam will lead to passionate private lessons that take her breath away and teach her heart and body to speak the language of love.

Baltimore Metropolitan University’s football stadium thundered with the footsteps of homecoming fans rushing to get out of the torrents of a heavy late November rain. Car horns honked, and revelers shouted a drunken chorus of “BMU BEAT YOU! WILDCATS RULE!”

Levisa Harris and her best friend, Claire, crowded under the eaves, pressed back against the closed concession stands with what seemed like hundreds of other fans who peered glumly out at the rain. A post-game ambiance of hot dogs and beer, mixed with the smell of wet wool, swirled around them. Hair soaked, Levisa attempted to push her flattened copper-colored curls out of her eyes and noted Claire’s short blonde hair hadn’t fared any better.

“We look like drowned Wildcats.” Levisa glanced at the unending rain and hoped it would stop soon.

Claire looked at her friend and laughed. “Thank God for hair dryers and flat irons.” A young man jostled up against the petite blonde. “Hello, I’m standing here!” Claire shouted.

“I know,” a man wearing a nautical windbreaker said with a soft southern drawl. “We came over to offer ya’ll a lift.”

Levisa spoke without thinking. “Richmond, Virginia.”

“Beg your pardon?” A look of surprise crossed his clean-shaven face.

“You’re from Richmond, right?” Levisa noted he was attractive in an old money, preppy kind of way, but he didn’t appeal to her at all.

“Yes, but how’d you know?” He leaned in a tad too close, expelling beery breath as he spoke.

Levisa leaned away, seeking fresh air as Claire spoke up. “She’s an expert on accents.”

“Parlor tricks! Oh, this is fun!” the Virginian said. “Sam, say something.”

“Chip, we need ta go.” Sam’s deep voice held a note of irritation. “I have ta study fer my CPA exam.”

“Baltimore—Pigtown.” Levisa looked at Sam with interest, and not just because of his accent. High forehead, half-covered with a shock of black-brown hair. A long straight nose. Full lips. A small scar curved around his strong chin. She touched the scar on her own chin and wondered if he had fallen off his bicycle as a child, too. She pulled herself up short. Stop thinking about how adorable he is. Focus on the brass ring: finish the research project, graduate, and get a good job. “You’d be perfect for my Speech-Language Pathology Master’s research project.”

“I ain’t no guinea pig.” Sam pulled at Chip’s arm.

“One quick question—Sam, is it?” He turned and faced Levisa directly, towering over her, his broad shoulders and wide chest straining at his ratty sweatshirt. An image of him without his shirt, all rippling muscles, flashed into her mind. She forced herself to look directly into his deep-set, dark chocolate eyes, swallowed hard, and asked the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question. “How far do you think you’ll get with that accent in an accounting firm?”

Sam’s face flushed. “I’m really good at numbers. That’s what matters in bidness.”

He was so good-looking. But he wouldn’t be hired, much less promoted, with that accent. Why didn’t he get it? Frustrated, she heard herself blurt out, “What company wants a CEO who sounds like a hick?”

He glowered at her. “Yew callin’ me a hick?”

Claire stepped between Sam and Levisa. “Please don’t be offended. She’s saying she can help you get a better job—if you reduce that Bawlamer accent, Hon!”

“It’s not nice ta make fun of people,” Sam said and grabbed Chip’s arm. “Let’s go.”

She felt short of breath, as if she’d run up a flight of stairs, instead of standing here, arguing with this hardheaded man. “If you change your mind,” Levisa shouted after him, “come to the Speech, Language, and Hearing Clinic. It’s in the middle of campus.”

As the two men walked off, collars pulled up against the wind, Claire turned to her friend. “You know, he’s not half-bad looking.”

“Chip? The preppy? Not my type.” Levisa watched the two men climb into an old Ford Taurus and focused on the back of Sam’s head and the way his dark hair tapered down his neck.

“No, the other one. Sam. Those dreamy brown eyes, that wavy black hair. Whew!” Claire fanned her face. “I’d love to give him a few private lessons, if you know what I mean!”

“Put a lid on your id, girl!” Levisa laughed and shook her head in an attempt to dispel her own disturbing responses to Sam. “I don’t have time for a man in my life. If I don’t finish my research, I won’t graduate in spring. All I need is one more Pigtown subject for the study and I’ll be done. Too bad he’s the one that got away!”

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

NICE Blog :)