Friday, December 20, 2013

Two Thousand 3: A Comatose Memoir by F.X. Scully: Character Interview and Excerpt


 




 with Reese Clarke,  main character

 

Tell us about your family.

My family’s an interesting one. I’m an only child, so life was pretty boring growing up. I had two choices, spend hours in the kitchen with my mom or in front of the TV with my dad. 
I chose to sit on my butt and eat potato chips instead of risk being burned by a stove. I think it made my dad happy. He didn’t get the son he wanted, but he got something better. A daughter he could brag about who was willing to watch football with him. 
My mom didn’t get a kitchen diva, but she still got a diva. I didn’t mind her impromptu shopping trips, although I did draw the line at beauty pageants. I love my parents to death. They’re a bit much sometimes, but I wouldn’t trade them for the world.

What was the scariest moment of your life?

Getting hit by a car. A few months ago, I might have said being jobless, right out of college. That sucked. At times I wondered if it was all for nothing. But getting plowed over by a car definitely takes the cake.

As a child, what did you want to be when you grew up?

I wasn’t sure. Like every kid, I thought I’d try my hand at just about anything. There was a time I was determined to be the first girl in the NFL, then I thought maybe I’d just be one of the cheerleaders, but I quickly got over that part when I realized they didn’t really impact the game much. That’s when I decided, that what ever I did would have to do with football and it would have to make a difference. I didn’t even know what a sports agent was when I was a kid. But I’m glad I found my way here.  

Do you play any sports?
I love ‘em but I can’t play ‘em.

What do you do to unwind and relax?
Wine. A nice tall glass with a bubble bath. Every Saturday. You have no idea how much I look forward to the end of the week.

Who should play you in a film? 
I’d like to think I’m as cute and spunky as Mila Kunis. But I don’t know… 

What makes you happy?

Life. Being alive. Having family and friends and enjoying every day as it comes. You never know when it will be your last.

Is there a piece of advice that you have received that has really stuck with you? If so, what was it?

As my dad always says, “If you going to dream, dream big”.

 

 
 Reese Clarke is sports agent extraordinaire. With an impressive client list, she's on the fast track to becoming partner at her Seattle-based agency and is engaged to the first-round draft pick, and the agency's bread and butter, Neil Baxter.

Then everything comes crashing down.

Neil cheats on her.

She has a bitter reunion with a sexy ex.

And she gets hit by a car

All in the same damn day.

When she wakes up, twelve years in the past, she doesn't know how she got there, or how to get out. Confusion grows to pleasure, then quickly spirals to anger as Reese struggles to find her way back home. All the while being forced to relive her greatest love affairs--one ex at a time. But older and wiser Reese soon realizes she's been given a break. A chance to do things differently this time around.

An opportunity to track down the one who got away.
 
This Book is intended for readers 18+
New Adult/Adult Crossover (steamy)
 

 
I rush down the stairs and out the front door of the apartment, into the courtyard. In nothing but the ugly green towel, I get more stares than I am normally comfortable with. But I don’t care. Besides, isn’t it the crazy stuff that makes a person wake up from a dream? Walking around naked? A mouthful of gum you can’t spit out? All of your teeth falling out? Diving off a building? At this point, I’ll try anything. 
  I march down a street called Fulton and toward a cross walk. As I stand there, half-naked, cars whizzing by, I suddenly wish I’d had the sense to put on shoes. I sigh. And, yes, maybe even clothes. Even a T-shirt would have sufficed. At least, then I wouldn’t be the crazy person trying to find her way home. I swallow the sudden lump in my throat as I peer around me. 
  I love this place. Sixty degrees in the middle of February, palm trees, cute little apartment complexes. Why I’d flown all the way to the West Coast for a guy was beyond me. It was stupid. Impulsive. Classic Reese. Still, I didn’t regret it completely. Seeing Sacramento was the only thing that had ever made this trip worthwhile. Dan had obviously been an utter disappointment. But this trip changed me. It helped me visualize what I really wanted. 
Paradise.
  A siren wails at my side, startling me and causing me to lose the grip on my towel, exposing part of my boob. The tires of the car crackle along the gravel on the shoulder of the road but I don’t stop. 
I’m not breaking any laws, am I? I am still, somewhat, fully clothed.
  “Excuse me.”
  I suck in a breath, and glance through the window, as it skids down, revealing the first officer. He is round, red, and nearly bald. A large pregnant-looking belly protrudes in front of him, and he holds a newspaper in one hand and a huge coffee cup in the other. I have never understood how men like him make it to the force. Who knows? Maybe there was a time he actually looked the part.
  He wheezes a chuckle and smiles a scattered tooth smile. I hug the towel tighter. I’d prefer another five minutes with Digital Dan over this guy any day.
  The other officer bows forward, revealing himself from behind his partner’s girth. He is slim. With tanned skin, dark hair, almond shaped eyes and high cheekbones. He probably could have considered a career as an Abercrombie model.
  Cop number two raises his eyebrows. “You lost, miss?”
  I sigh, avoiding his lingering gaze and stare in the direction of my unknown destination. “Just blowing off some steam.”
  “Well, you might want to consider doing it fully clothed next time.”
  “Probably should have,” I reply, then continue walking.
  “Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to stop. Right where you are.”
  Crap. “I haven’t done anything wrong, have I?”
  “You mean besides, walkin’ around dressed in the towel?” The red-faced cop laughs.
  “I didn’t realize that was a crime,” I reply. “It’s not like I’m naked or anything.” I zero in on the cute cop but, though his face flushes pink, he doesn’t let on that I’ve gotten to him.
  “Don’t want any trouble, alright? If you don’t find some clothes, we’ll have to take you in.”
Inwardly, I roll my eyes.
  Well, what choice do I have? At least this way I’ll have some shelter until I move to my next destination. Or wake up. Whichever comes first.
I nod toward the back seat. “Do you need to cuff me? Or is that thing open?”
  He pauses. “I…well—”
  There is the distinct click of a door unlocking and the other officer winks. “Hop in.”
  My throat tightens, and I reach for the door handle. Back home this would have humiliated the hell out of me. I wouldn’t have come out of my building for weeks if I’d been carted off to the police station wrapped in nothing but linen. But I’m not in Seattle anymore. I’m not even sure I ever will be again.
  I ease into the seat, being certain to shield my private parts as best I can. As the car rolls forward, I lean my head backwards, taking in a deep breath and closing my eyes.
This is it. Officially hell. 
I’ve gone through most of life not even believing it existed. Who knew it was a mash up of one’s greatest and worst moments, clearly getting progressively worse. 
What is next? A glimpse of my dank future? Do I even have a future? Or am just I doomed to live life on a loop for the next millennium?
  The back of the car dips low then rises up with a jerk, my head smashing against the window.
  “Damn it!” My hand flies to my forehead and the towel drops into my lap. Muffling a shriek, I cross my arms over my chest, hunching forward. I peek to ensure I’m not being ogled, and freeze.
  It is quiet and dark, almost pitch black except for the faint hum of a television and the random flashes of light emitting from it. I sit up straight.
  “Hello?”
  A sweet, flowery aroma permeates the room and I hold my hand over my mouth and nose.
  I hate that smell. That much I remember. 
  Where am I? 
  It takes a few more moments to put the pieces together. First, I realize the audio isn’t coming from the TV, it is drifting toward me from a record player in a far corner. As I approach it, my gaze lingers on the spinning, wobbling vinyl and I closed my eyes again. 
  That song
  My heartbeat skips. Janis Joplin. There is only one person I know besides me who listens to Janis Joplin—religiously. It’s the same person who got me hooked. And as the image of his face floods my mind, it is accompanied by a rock in my stomach and tightness in my chest. 
  “Jayce?” His name leaves my mouth in a whisper and I let out a shaky sigh. “Are you here?”
  No answer. 
  To my right is the door to his apartment. It leads down a flight of steep narrow stairs, and back out onto the streets of a suburban neighborhood. If I leave now, walk down those stairs and out into the world, I won’t have to relive this day. I won’t have to relive him. That much I have control over. At least I think I do. Every memory before this one, except for Charlie, has led me to another the moment I walk out the door—or at least shortly after. 
  There was a very brief moment in time when I would have given anything to see Jayce again, but it is long gone. I have buried the memory of him somewhere deep inside my mind, someplace where all the dark ones go. And like all the rest—my parents’ divorce when I was ten, Lance, the months after Lance—I’ve never planned to dig it out. Ever. I am perfectly fine remembering Jayce the way I do. And most of the time, not remembering him at all.




F.X Scully spends her days advising men in tights. She loves turtles,
romance and things of the past. In the evenings, she writes smut and drama for those who love it and those who pretend they don’t. Her free time is spent taking walks in the rain, scouring thrift shops for classic pieces and sipping vintage wine.

But she has a flip side.

Though she considers them sexy, she rarely wears heels (ow!) and on most Saturdays, she can be found enjoying a pitcher of beer with friends, devouring deep dish pizza and watching college basketball…or CFL…or NFL…basically whatever’s on at that given time.

Sundays are her reading days so shhhh…DND!


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