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About the author:
Mercy Ryan writes the Reverse Harem books that her alter ego who is an author of the apocalypse wishes she could. Still carrying the apocalyptic theme her first series was a combination of genre tropes coupled with secret desires many seek. To be loved unconditionally.
What inspired you to write your book?
A friend told me to read a book that was similar and I was smitten and began my own.
Here is a short sample from the book:
It took time, but I was finally starting to accept our new life and grieving a little less each day. In a trendy clothing store, I tried on clothes and blasted the portable radio that we charged yesterday, while Lyla explored a Jewelry store on the upper level. I danced in nothing but a pair of boy cut black lacy undies with a matching cami, and Barenaked Ladies blaring into the empty mall like an echo chamber. Singing at the top of my lungs and dancing with a male mannequin my voice challenged the music.
"If I had a million dollars…" I swirled around dragging the mannequin clumsily before stopping, glaring at it and slapping the misbehaving figure right across the face when one of its hands dragged across my tits. I put on an outraged expression and began to scold him about manners. "Watch it, buddy! I don't go to second base on the first date unless you buy me dinner first!" I shouted, feigning shock and indignation.
Out of nowhere, a loud, deep sounding laugh rang through the space freezing me for a moment. Slowly turning. I found myself staring into the amused faces of four men I had never seen before on the other side of the closed gate. All of them standing with arms folded, regarding me as though I'd lost my mind.
Keenly aware of my attire, I scrambled to find some clothes to cover myself. Casting angry glances at my audience while I hopped around with one leg in a pair of jeans and the other caught in the second leg refusing to untangle from the first. I stumbled, crashing into the underwear display and landing spectacularly in a heap of underwear with a pile of panties on my shoulder. The men laughed in unison. All but one, a brooding mass of a man who stood scowling at the mess that I was.