From the Inside Flap
Arianna was still with the customer, a middle-aged woman in spandex, and from the indecision on the woman's face, it could be awhile. Quinn decided to make his way to the studio and pour a whiskey while he waited. He didn't realize anyone was in the studio until he had his hand on the knob. That's when he saw her. Much of her face was obscured by huge goggles as she clutched a blow torch and bent over a piece of metal. He studied the long, lean frame, the black braid reaching down her back as she aimed the blow torch and a bright orange-blue flame spat out, illuminating a slice of pale skin.
The woman's slim fingers mesmerized him as she worked the torch with practiced skill, making him think of sex and lots of it. Who was she? Quinn clutched the doorknob, caught between desire to go to the woman and rip off the goggles so he could see her face and the equal need to stay right there, watching.
She leaned forward further and he could make out a swell of small breast beneath the black turtleneck sweater. They'd be round breasts, firm, full. He imagined her naked, the long waist, the slim hips . . . The woman turned off the blow torch, set it on the workbench and held up the metal she'd been soldering. His gaze fell to her lips. Full. Red. Perfect.
He turned the knob just as she disappeared behind a screened panel. What would he say when she returned? I like the way you work a blow torch? Maybe he wouldn't say anything, he'd pour a drink, no two, and go for the casual, Hi, I'm Quinn, Arianna's friend.
He waited. Three minutes, five, six. Finally, he opened the door and stepped inside, expecting the mystery woman to materialize from behind the partition. When she didn't, he edged toward the screen and looked behind it. A tiny hall snaked toward a door that led to the street. The woman was gone.
About the Author
Mary should have known she'd become a writer when at age thirteen she began changing the ending to all the books she read. It took several years and a number of jobs, including registered nurse, receptionist in a swanky hair salon, accounts payable clerk, and practice manager in an OB/GYN office, for her to rediscover writing. Enter a mouse-less computer, a floppy disk, and a dream large enough to fill a zip drive. The rest of the story lives on in every book she writes.
When she's not working on her craft or following the lives of five young adult children, Mary's digging in the dirt with her flowers and herbs, cooking, reading, walking her rescue lab mix, Cooper, or, on the perfect day, riding off into the sunset with her very own hero/husband on his Ultra Limited aka Harley.
Mary has published with Kensington, Carina Press, and The Wild Rose Press.