Happy Superb Owl XLVI, sixers! I couldn't think of any football-themed snippets to share, but I've got plenty of New England-related ones—go Pats! So here are six sentences from one of my evil conjoined erotica-writing twin Cara McKenna's earlier novellas, Willing Victim, which features the towniest Boston hero we've yet written. (Note: if you're tempted by the writing, please read the book's content advisory before purchasing.)
She sat at the edge of the chair and soaked a wad of toilet paper with peroxide, tilting his head up to swab his latest cuts. She smeared Bactine over the deep ones, studied his eyes under the guise of scrutinizing his injuries.
“I like when you…you know, fuss over me.”
Laurel wasn’t sure what to do with this information—it was tough to write things off with Flynn as he so rarely made sentimental proclamations, and the ones he did couldn’t be blamed on alcohol. She finished swabbing the scrape, blotted his skin until none of the tiny lines offered any fresh blood.
“You’re a strange man, Michael Flynn.”
Thanks for reading! Now head here to check out all the other Six Sentence Sunday excerpts this week!