Leaving on a jet plane throw out.

HI * WAVES*


Well I am completely giddy at this point. I am off to the Vegas in the morning to see one of my hetero life mates and her awesome man counter part. I would never have this opportunity if it wasn't for their extreme generosity, and I am humbles and blessed to call them friends.


With this I was inspired to toss out something new I have been kicking around. I want to call it a romantic comedy, but we will see where it goes. I am not organized enough to map out my projects like everyone else I know. but this one has been muddling up my thoughts for a week or so, so I may as well let the little bitch of  a muse have her way. Not title yet. Enjoy


*****




“Ladies, I’m going to break it down for you.”


“ We have all been there. That awkward moment  when you are completely thinking inappropriate thoughts about someone incredibly unavailable.  Who doesn’t. I mean, why do guys get to control the market on pervy thoughts. It’s Ludicrous. Not only do I think about sex constantly, but I have been known to make audible grunts when I see something I like. It’s not exactly ladylike, but hey, I hate double standards.”


Chuckles break out amongst the women in the auditorium as I pause for dramatic effect.  Another packed house on my fifteen city speaking tour. Who would have guessed a humorous book about my sham of a nonexistent love life would turn into such a phenomenon.  If this keeps up, I will be able to quit my day job.


“My name is Storm Jasper, and as you all have read, my life is a Shit Storm.”  


The women erupt into applause as I cleverly drop the name of my  book into my speech.  Once that dies down I go into more personal stories. The stuff I left out of my book because my hatchet wielding editor, Jennifer,  thought it was getting too long. The ladies in the audience are enthralled, and after an hour of speaking, and thirty minutes of questions I exit the venue through the rear door, hoping to avoid any fangirls that might want a deeper conversation. I appreciate my readers immensely, but after a speaking engagement, I just want to hide away and drink copious amounts of whiskey.


My phone buzzes for the umpteenth time in my pocket , so I retrieve it with an annoyed sigh. It’s Jennifer. Ugg. I hope she isn’t calling me to tell me she hates the pages I sent her this morning. I worked really hard on those damn things. I growl at my screen before swiping the little green answer key.


“He—“


“No time. I need you on a plane to Las Vegas NOW!”


I flinch a little at her demanding tone, but shrug it off. When she is not busy slicing the hell out of my written works, she is a high profile agent for the who’s who of Hollywood royalty.


“Care to elaborate?” I retort in a lazy tone that I know will annoy her.


“THERE IS A COVER MODEL CONVENTION AT THE RIO AND YOU NEED TO GET THERE AND NAIL DOWN JAX MICHAEL JEWLSON BEFORE ANYONE ELSE DOES!”


Well fuck, that changes everything.


I check my inbox when I hear the familiar ping and see she has already e-mailed the itinerary to me. I smile and bring the phone back to my ear. Poking the bear is so much fun.


“I might have a thing tonight.”


“YOU HAD BETTER GET YOUR SHIT AND GET TO THE AIRPORT STORM OR I…..”


I hang up on her and giggle. I was just messing with her, but when she is in business mode she likes to yell. That shit gives me a headache. I send her a quick text and tell her I am on my way as soon as I grab my barely unpacked bag from the room. Seconds later I get another ping to my inbox.


Awesome, love you bitch xoxo


I chuckle at the screen before hitting the elevator button for my floor. Vegas it is. How much trouble can it be to get your favorite cover model to pose for your next book. We are about to find out.

**that's it, see y'all next week

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