...coming soon* to a bookstore near you.
*and by soon, I mean in this century.
It was as though Zoe had left the door open specifically for him. He chuckled to himself as he slid through her bedroom door. He approached her sleeping form and smiled. She was lovely, even as she snored lightly. He bent down and wiped a small trickle of drool, then swept her cascading hair out of her face. The thin cotton sheet revealed a silhouette of her figure.
His fingers grazed down her spine, and she murmured in her sleep, her grip around the sheet tightening. His breath warmed her skin, and his lips parted as he prepared to sprinkle kisses across her back.
That was when Zoe, in a daze, rolled from lying on her back to her stomach. His eyes shimmered at the sight of her, and he dragged his long, slender finger against her cheekbone, caressing it with a whisper of a touch. The subtle glide of his finger against her rose petal soft skin awoke her.
Zoe sat up, her eyelids fluttering as she adjusted from being asleep to awake. As her vision unclouded, she did not speak.
She screamed a bloodcurdling scream. Her shriek terrified him but not more than the American Home Run Slugger she was wielding.
He ducked as she swung.
She reared back and swung again. This time, the wooden bat connected with its target, and he flew across the room.
She leapt out of bed and strode to where he cowered on the floor. “Who the hell are you?” she snarled.
“I’m an incubus,” he growled in response.
Her eyebrows shot up in shock as she echoed, “An incubus?”
“Well, an incubus lite, I suppose,” he squeaked. “An incubus-in-training?” His voice quavered as he watched her approach him. “Um, but who are you exactly?”
“I’m Zoe Reed,” the brunette replied, “and don’t you forget it.”
So, for those of you who are unaware, I broke the Internet last weekend. Or, well, at least, bruised Facebook. I posted a pretend excerpt up of a book in an urban fantasy book fan club on Facebook. Basically, it was mocking all the Barbie doll descriptions of heroines: with their DD breasts and perfectly firm butts and sleek, blowout hair. Not a shred of fat on them, but total bad-asses. A reader commented on those types saying how they are always described with a description that includes their underwear. “I picked my red g-string up off the floor. Sure, it wasn’t my favorite, but it would do.” Authors sexualizing their heroines basically.
As a joke, I wrote up a quick antithetical passage.
And somehow, it gained traction. Like, a lot of traction. Over 1k reactions on Facebook and over 400 comments.
So, now, I have readers demanding a series, an editor, and nearly two chapters written.
Is this what it means to go viral?
Well, here’s part of the unedited version of what we’re temporarily calling “Granny Panties”.
Please let me know what you think!
Ps: Anyone know any affordable eBook cover artists who do awesome work?