I’ve been meaning to post a sample of my story – so here goes. Sorry if there are spacing issues. WP is giving me trouble.
Enjoy.
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Chapter One
When embarking on a cross-country road trip, there are three important things to remember:
1. Enter the correct address of your destination into a working GPS.
2. Keep your expensive purebred dog within eyesight at all times.
3. Don’t drink two large white-chocolate mochas within the first half hour of your journey.
By heeding this advice, you should arrive at your destination without any trouble.
My hands gripped the steering wheel so tight my skin turned white. “Gotta pee, gotta pee, gotta pee!” I scanned the fields and wooded surroundings for signs of life. A gas station, a rest area, anything. “Dang it, where the heck are we, Phoebe?”
My trip mate wagged her tail and looked out the passenger window. Arf, arf, arf!
“Thanks. That helps a lot. Let me punch that into the GPS and we’ll be back to civilization in no time.” I pounded the screen of the electronic instrument, and it spit out more of what it had given me all morning.
Continuer tout droit et tourner à droite à la troisième intersection.
“We’re in Indiana, you stupid machine. Would you please speak English?” Phoebe jumped onto my lap to get a better look at a few horses on my side of the road.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, dog. That’s my bladder you’re standing on!” I couldn’t take it anymore. I hadn’t peed outside in the grass since a camping trip with my parents when I was eight, but I thought it would be a bad idea to show up to our appointment with the breeder sporting a large, smelly stain on my dress.
I turned left onto a gravel road, parked the vehicle, and shut it off. “Okay, Pheebs, let me grab your leash so you can go too.” She pranced on my bladder a few more times while I reached into the back of my car. My eyeballs felt like they were floating. I pushed her over to the passenger side and clicked the retractable leash to her pink collar.
Rouler vers le nord pendant cinq kilomètres et prenez la sortie pour la Route Elm Street.
“Shut up!” I tried to turn the power off again. The screen dimmed. “Ha! Take that, you unhelpful piece of plastic!”
I’d owned the BMW for a few years, but the GPS was new. My friends told me, “You have to get one!” I didn’t see the point. I’d spent my entire life living in big cities, including Miami, Chicago, and Denver. Large cities I could handle, but out here in the middle of nowhere, a GPS was useless even when it spoke the correct language.
By that time, my white bichon frisé had spun herself into a tangled mess.
Pushing my way out of the car, I tried to scoop her up before she jumped down to the dirty gravel. Unfortunately, she leaped over my grasp, further tangling herself in the long cord, and landed on her side on the ground.
“Phoebe! Oh, look at you. You have to look your best for your date with Charles the Conqueror, and now you’re all dirty!” I wiped her off the best I could. Her bright white curly hair was dotted with small rocks and smudged with dirt. The leash had wrapped around her legs, collar tags, and even the bow I had in her hair. One leg lay pinned against her stomach, and her tail lay folded and tied to her side.
“Good gravy, dog.” There was nothing to do but unhook the leash from her collar and slowly unravel her like a knotted hunk of yarn.
After a minute of my work, I’d freed her back legs enough so she could squat and pee on the road. The retractable cord remained circled around her body in various places. I locked it in place and tossed the plastic handle to the ground beside her.
“Nice. Don’t mind me. I’ll just wait.” While she did her business, I looked around at my surroundings. We had pulled up alongside a small farm. The large mowed yard contained an old white farmhouse that had a matching garage with a slight lean to it. The red barn was equally as old, but in a cute Norman Rockwell kind of way. One of the large doors was open, and I could see various farm tools within. All around me were low, rolling hills and a mixture of huge trees, which may have been there for a century, next to patches of smaller ones.
A cool September breeze blew my hair in my eyes. I leaned on my car door, turned into the wind, and let the late-morning sun warm my face. A brief dose of UV rays wouldn’t do too much harm to my twenty-eight-year-old skin. Besides, my mom had bought expensive face lotion for me every Christmas since I was sixteen, and it hadn’t failed me yet.
I sighed and tried not to think about how much I missed my parents. A couple more months and I’d be at their place in Palm Springs for a visit. Dad had worked hard to retire at sixty-five. It had been three years since they moved, but the separation was still very difficult. I couldn’t wait to be with them again.
Leaves tumbled across the gravel road and picked up speed. A light dusting of sand sprayed my dog and me. The gentle swirling of the wind reminded me that I also needed to take advantage of our pit stop.
Phoebe had finished peeing and moved into a new squatting position to take care of other business. “Ugh, hurry up, Phoebe. I can’t hold it much longer.”
I’d left my townhome in Indianapolis three hours ago and thought I was heading in the right direction. Turned out I wasn’t. I’d stopped at a gas station and asked for directions and found out that most of my morning drive was a complete waste. The man had given me pretty thorough directions, but the road signs I was passing no longer matched the ones he had given me.
“Great,” I said to no one. There wasn’t another human in sight. “How did I get so turned around—again?”
Even though the idea of breeding Phoebe was my friend Bridget’s idea, she had refused to accompany me. I scanned the countryside. One of the farms I’d passed had a swing set.
“There has to be a town near here. If there are kids, there’s a school nearby.”
I glanced around and started second-guessing my plan to pee beside the car. I considered driving ahead a little way and sneaking into a heavily wooded area up the road. Could I bring myself to pee in the woods? My friends would be mortified.
Phoebe finished her business and gave herself a good head-to-toe shake. I stared at the thick patch of trees as she walked around, sniffing the gravel and dragging the plastic handle behind her.
A couple of birds flew by overhead, and wildflowers swayed in the breeze. A strong urge came over me to abandon the day’s plans. The surroundings were beautiful. I would’ve loved to dig my camera out of my trunk and shoot some landscapes.
The voices of my friends popped into my head. “Don’t you dare skip your appointment with the dog breeder to take pictures of cows and corn. What are you going to do with them anyway?”
Sonya and Bridget were right. I repeated their words aloud. “Candice, you are on your way to becoming a high-paid fashion photographer. You are not an ordinary Joe Schmoe with a camera taking pictures of sunsets and babies.”
Phoebe looked at me in disbelief.
“Oh hush. I don’t mind taking pictures of beautiful, super-skinny, whiny… teenagers…” I’d discovered my talent for photography quite by accident. It started shortly after high school when I attended a charity event with my parents and snowballed from there. What began as a fun hobby morphed into a career.
The wind picked up, and the air whooshed through the nearby tall grass, and my bladder bulged painfully.
I dropped the idea of taking photos of the lovely countryside as well as peeing in the woods. I might get attacked by a wood tick.
The farmhouse was my only option. I wondered how many strange women from the city arrived on their doorstep each day. I looked for signs of life, but the place appeared deserted. No one was around except a mangy dog running our way.
“Oh no.” I scrambled to pick up Phoebe, but she had already spotted the other animal. Her face lit up. I stepped on the leash to stop her escape but only ended up helping her get free.
With a few tugs, spins, and summersaults, she freed herself from the leash. I never even slowed her down.
Vous arriverez à votre destination bientôt, celle-ci sera sur votre—I slammed my car door.
“This can’t be happening.”
The dogs met each other midway on the lawn. I knew at once that the mutt was a male, and he looked happy to see Phoebe. Very happy.
“No, no, no!” My chase wasn’t bad considering I sported high-heeled boots and a bulging bladder. “Phoebe, stay! Phoebe, come!” Ignored. She completely ignored me and all that she had learned in months and months of obedience training.
The dogs assumed a playful stance, bowing to each other with their butts up in the air, tails wagging.
“Phoebe, stay away from him. You have a date with a three-time best-in-show champion!” She didn’t hear a word I said. Why would she? A smelly, dusty brute of a dog stood within two feet of her freshly groomed body. The two circled each other and ended in a butt-sniffing pose. If he hadn’t noticed she was in heat, he’d just found out. I could see jittery excitement in his eyes.
“Good Lord Almighty. No!” I got within ten feet of them before they took off running. Phoebe led the first lap around the house. Mutt Boy wasn’t trying too hard to catch her. After the second lap, he veered off and paused by the detached garage. Phoebe completed another lap before she noticed he was no longer chasing. “Phoebe, you get your little furry tush back here!” She contemplated her options: return to me and the leash or continue her game of tag with Studly. I didn’t stand a chance.
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I hope you enjoyed this sample. You can see all of the buying options by clicking HERE.
Thank you for reading.
~ Jenna
Interested in seeing what stories I have in the works? Check out my WIPs.
