EXCERPT: My Lucky Charmer
Excerpt from MY LUCKY CHARMER
Copyright (c) 2006 Patrice Michelle. All rights reserved.
Ever have one of those days where nothing seems to be going right and then suddenly it all turns around? I’ve had one of those years.
My life took a turn in the right direction the day after I ditched a date with one of my co-worker’s friends. I met Mr. Too-Sexy-and-Debonair-for-Words a year ago at Sandy’s 3rd annual Halloween
party.
“Come meet Zane.” Sandy’s excited voice hit an octave I didn’t know existed as she grabbed my hand and jerked me away from an enlightening conversation about vampire costumes.
“Using cement to hold on the fake fangs? Girl…that is soooo yesterday.”
“I can’t believe you didn’t know some people have their real teeth sharpened.”
“I’m not really dressed to impress a date, Sandy.” Once again, she was trying to interfere in my love life. Lovely.
“He’s in his thirties, er, I think,” she said, ignoring my comment.
When I thought about the last guy she `introduced’ me to—not my type—a devilish smile tugged at my lips. Tonight, I wore an outfit that screamed, “Bet you want to take me out to the fanciest restaurant in town, don’t ya, fella?” I mean, who wouldn’t want to take a woman out dressed to the nines in a glamorous Halloween costume of painted-
on oversized freckles, a coat hanger holding her long, red braided pigtails straight out from either side of her head, dumpy overalls and bright red high-top tennis shoes?
Tugging me through the crowd, Sandy glanced back and grinned, “And best of all, he’s single.”
“Great. Thirties and single. Just when did my requirements for a man become so broad?” I mumbled.
Sandy stopped walking and pointed to a crowd of people.
“Are you talking about the tall guy with the sunglasses on?” I asked. Who the hell wears shades at night? Sandy tugged me onward until I stood in front of the best looking man I’d ever seen.
“Alex meet Zane. Zane, Alex.”
By the time he’d pulled off his glasses and hooked them on the vee in his shirt, my gaze traveled past his high polished knee-high black boots, over his thick, muscular thighs encased in black tight pants, up the long silver sword that hung off his trim hips, to his broad, tan chest showing through the loose ties on his white poet’s shirt. My heart raced as I took in every inch of his six feet four inch frame. My God, just where does this masterpiece end? I reached out to grab Sandy and whisper my thoughts but my hand swiped air instead. The traitor! She’d ditched me.
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ON HALLOWEEN! 
