Imaginatively entertaining with light humor and a quickening pace, C. L. Clark’s interesting new twist on paranormal fantasy is a book series that readers will not want to pass up.
Excerpt from “Opening the Veil”
I suppose I was more than a little distracted when my new neighbor started chatting me up and I didn’t, at first, even realize he was talking to me. I heard him talking as I was grabbing my purse and fumbling with my key fob to engage the lock and alarm, but for some reason I was sure he was chatting up someone in the car next to me. Of course, that was only until I turned and realized that he was not just standing in my way to the complex, but facing me with a questioning look on his incredibly handsome face. Literally, that was the first thing that went through my mind, “Wow, he’s like model gorgeous”. Thank heavens I didn’t say that out loud or the entire embarrassing exchange would have been mortifying on a much grander scale.
“I’m sorry,” I said, unable to stop myself from grinning, because the child-like questioning look he had was completely out of place on a face where I am certain was usually held smoldering looks on Calvin Klein underwear ads. “Were you talking to me?” I could not escape the feeling that I was coming across like a total idiot.
“Um, yeah,” he replied with sudden doubt and uncertainty; it was obvious he didn’t get that sort of response from women very often. “I was just introducing myself and, um, yeah.” He recovered quickly and slid back into what I guessed was his usual aplomb and then stuck his hand out at me.
The strangeness of my entire day accumulated at that one moment, leaving me staring at his hand hovering right in front of me for a full five seconds before it even occurred to me that he wanted to shake my hand. Feeling like the complete and utter fool that I was presenting myself to be, I slid my hand into his as I looked back into his eyes and knew that he could see the red glow warming my cheeks by the change in the grin on his face. Yeah, this he was used to from women. Could this day be any worse?!?
“Hi, I’m Scott.” He was all confidence and control now. “I just moved in beneath you and thought I’d introduce myself.”
Wait for it. . .
“You’re beneath me?” Yup, I said that. In most normal circumstances I can handle my side of a conversation. I can even sound like I’m not a complete basket case and on occasion impress the opposite sex with my witty repartee. Not this time. “Oh. Wait a minute. I didn’t mean . . .” See, normal is light years away from this day.
“No, it’s cool.” This guy was totally in his element as a languid smile melted over his face which, under different circumstances, would have had me melting at the knees. However, this time I just wanted to run for my apartment and drown myself in my bathtub. “I know what you meant.” Flash of that smile again.
I let go of his hand then, realizing too late that I had held on entirely too long. If I were made of metal, the sudden sound of my eyelids crashing together and the rest of my face scrunching up would have echoed like a massive wreck in the parking lot. Not unlike my ego at that very moment. I sighed and shook my head. There was no recovering at this point, there was only accepting defeat and removing myself with as much haste as possible.
“Wow, I’m obviously not ready for prime time. So, on that note,” I started to edge around him, “welcome to the neighborhood.” I slipped the rest of the way past him without making eye contact and made a beeline for my apartment.
No joke, I was never a more consummate airhead in all my life. I have never swooned at the sight of a guy before and certainly never right in his face like that. I was beside myself with shame and, quite frankly, sheer amazement. Mind you, it’s not like I was looking for Mr. Right or even considering the notion of jumping back into the dating pool at that particular juncture in my life. I needed to get myself better established before I risked swimming in the deep end, so it wasn’t the idea of blowing any chance I might have dreamed of having with the guy. No, it was sheer mortification at the way I lost, no, more like willfully flung, my dignity, grace, and ability to appear like a calm, cool, and collected young woman of business smack dab in that guy’s face.
When asked about where her story ideas come from, she usually smiles mischievously and remarks, “My fingers have a mind of their own.” Often found peeking under rocks, wandering through graveyards, and poking her nose into abandoned haunted houses, she has a particular love for black cats, breaking mirrors, and running with scissors.