Find more from this author on:
About the author:
Abbie Zanders was born and raised in Northeastern Pennsylvania, USA. With degrees in Computer Science and Mathematics, she has worked for more than twenty-five years as a software engineer, designing and writing financial applications, though she has also held second jobs as a deli clerk, pub waitress, restaurant baker, and secretary. She has been crafting stories since elementary school, though she has only recently decided to start sharing them with others. She is a very busy wife, mother of three teenagers (including a set of identical twins). Besides being an avid reader and writer, she also loves animals (especially big dogs), classic muscle cars, and 80’s hair bands.
What inspired you to write your book?
I wanted to create a short contemporary romance for readers who love to read, but don’t have a lot of free time to do so – one with believable, likable characters and that makes you want to keep reading and feel good when you finish.
Here is a short sample from the book:
“Earth to Rissa.” Travis’ deep voice rolled through me like a wave, tugging me away from my reflections. His shortened address felt warm, intimate. No one had ever called me that before. “If you’re finished ogling me, I’m going to head back to my place.”
I felt the heat rise in my face. Yes, I had been ogling him, but I’d zoned out for the last couple of minutes. I don’t know what bothered me more – the fact that he’d caught me in the act or that I’d wasted several minutes of prime ogling time.
“I’m done,” I said casually, waving my hand in a shooing gesture. “You can go now.”
He grinned cockily. “Lasagne.”
“That’s what I want for dinner. Lasagne. With lots of meat and that chunky homemade sauce of yours.”
I blinked, looking at him blankly.
“Our deal,” he reminded me. “You get manual labor. I get food. Your roof is fixed. And I’m hungry for lasagna.”
“Right,” I nodded. I knew that. I did.
He leaned down and petted Ripper, the mongrel stray who had become my shadow. The scent of clean male sweat and heat-activated deodorant tickled my nose and I discreetly filled my lungs with it.
“I’ll be back around sundown. And Rissa?”
“Don’t stare at my ass while I’m walking away. It’s objectifying.”
I openly gaped at him, but he just winked and strutted – yes, strutted – out of my kitchen like a big male peacock.
I showed him, though. I stared at his ass the whole way.