Can You Identify These Quotes?
LE FRANKS’ GRL FORTUNE COOKIE GAME
In celebration of my attendance at this year’s Gay Romance Literary Retreat outside of Chicago, IL -I’ve brought swag for everyone in the form of fortune cookies. Inside each cookie is a quote from one of my books. The trick is to identify which book of mine the quote belongs to. Once you have the answer you can come by my swag table, see me at the supporting author signing, or the Thursday edition of the author lounge and fill out your raffle ticket for a chance at walking away with an amazon gift card and some cool swag.
If you’d like to play along at home comment below and tell me what your favorite fortune cookie moment is. I’ll randomly select one person from all the entries left here. 8 Quotes, 8 chances to win from the comfort of your bunny slippers.
The man glowering at me as I exited the tunnel was probably Ford, and he looked nothing like I imagined.
He was tall and thin, with a rigid spine, like a piece of rebar had been fused with the bone. His features were vulpine, sharp instead of broad, the nose long and aristocratic rather than flat. His eyes a piercing jade under thick sable locks that brushed the collar of his dark shirt—hair I found myself wanting to touch.
I swallowed my tongue as I tried not to drool in front of this dark angel. He was as beautiful as a renaissance painting—his skin glowed a pearl-white, almost translucent in the low light. And not unlike the avenging angels depicted in paintings of the era, he was a man without humor.
There were no smile lines at either the corners of his mouth or eyes, and his skin, reaping the benefit of his serious nature, was unblemished and smooth. He could pass for any age within a forty-year span, though I guessed it to be on the shortside of thirty rather than close to forty, if pressed.
He had a controlled energy flowing off him that gave him a gravitas which was written into every movement he made and every look he shared, and when he turned that force in my direction, I almost burst into flames.
Softly, he condemned me. “You walk like an elephant. You will not last.” He snatched the clipboard from my hand and spun lightly, like a dancer, disappearing up the stairs.
I followed, not wanting to risk finding my own way out, not wanting to leave that first impression on his lips. Already I wanted to please him, and the fact that I didn’t weighed heavily on my heart. So I kept him in sight, kept watching the slim hips, kept following the flex of his buttocks as he climbed higher. He was a metronome of elegant seduction, and were it not for those hard, damning eyes drilling into me, I could lose myself in his motion.
Watching him, I regretted my lack of experience.
To be gay and living in New York and still a virgin at nineteen felt shameful, wasteful, juvenile.
I hated to think about the handful of “almost runs” I’d had so far, but living with my overprotective grandfather had done nothing for my love life.
He was my only family left, and until I was sure of what I wanted—or who I wanted—I wasn’t prepared to bring home a casual boyfriend and ruin his dreams for our family’s future. But I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t wish I was the kind of person who could say yes to an offer implicit in a glance or a sway of the hips, or that I hadn’t dreamed of catching the attention of a beautiful man like Ford and seeing the desire for me in his eyes.
Ford cast a single, stern, look over his shoulder.
My cheeks burned.
“We are now backstage. No words. No sounds…” Ford narrowed his eyes. “Don’t even breathe.”
With that, I followed him into the magical chaos of his world and found breathing wasn’t going to be an issue. If I thought Ford was the angel of darkness, then what I saw before me—suspended twenty feet above the stage from a single red ribbon—was the angel of light.