Hi everyone and welcome to Smut for Good: Curves Rule charity blog hop!
I’m so happy to be co-organising and taking part in this fantastic blog hop. Parkinson’s UK is a cause very close to my heart, so I’m delighted to be able to do something to raise awareness and cash for this very worthy cause. If you’d like to donate, please visit this JustGiving page, where every penny will go directly to the charity. If you’d like to buy a book where all the proceeds will go to the charity, then please keep reading.
I’m sharing a snippet from my Rubenesque story, The Wrong End of the Stick, which I wrote for the anthology Coming Together: With Curves that Victoria Blisse and I co-edited. All proceeds from the book (the authors kindly donated their stories, too) go to Parkinson’s UK. So if you grab a copy of this, you’re not only donating to the charity, but you’re also getting a book full of delicious and sensual stories about curvy chicks. Once you’re done reading, don’t forget to scroll down and enter my giveaway, which is for an eBook copy of another of my Rubenesque stories, Mean Girls. Then check out the rest of the blogs on the hop – there are some seriously awesome prizes to be won.
“Can I help you?” she asked. Now she was close to him, she couldn’t help noticing that, annoying gawping habit aside, the guy was pretty cute. He had strawberry blond hair, pale skin, eyebrows and eyelashes to match, startling blue eyes and full red lips. Every time she’d seen him he’d been sitting at a table, so she had little clue about his height or physique, but his face was a damn good start. He looked about her age, too, mid-thirties. She chastised herself—she was meant to be telling him off, not lusting over him!
“W—what do you mean?” he replied, the blood draining from his face and making him even paler.
“I think you know, Mister. I’ve been attending this college on a training course for seven working days now, and on every single one of them, I’ve caught you staring at me at lunchtime. And you haven’t even been subtle about it, either. You’ve gawped openly and it’s doing my head in. Which is why I’ve come to find out exactly what your problem is, and to ask you to please pack it in.”
“Is it because I’m fat? Haven’t you ever seen a fat person before? If you haven’t, you’ve led a very sheltered life. And regardless of whether you have or not, hasn’t anyone ever told you that it’s rude to stare?” She was getting into her stride now—as much as she hated it, he’d driven her to this. She thought she’d kept the volume of her voice pretty low, but apparently not enough, because they were drawing stares from other tables nearby. But at least they had a valid reason to look—not many people could resist checking out an argument or a fight.
“F—fat?” The colour that had drained from his face came back, then heightened further and further until he began to resemble a tomato. He clutched the edge of the table so hard that his knuckles went white. “You’re not fat. Y—you’re beautiful.” He dropped his gaze to the table then, and remained resolutely silent until Bonnie spoke again, which was a good few seconds later, as what he’d said sunk in.
“Hey,” she said quietly, and, she hoped, kindly. “Look at me.” Considering the whole point of their conversation, she was aware her words were ironic, but she only had another twenty minutes before she had to be back in her class, so there was no time to waste. He looked up.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
Now head back to this page to see the rest of the blogs on the hop!
Happy Hopping, and thank you for your support!