Romance Novel Excerpt #8: On the Run from Johnny Law

Dexter McChest is on the run from the law!  Vanessa is introspective again!  Burritos! Horses with crazy names!


Check out previous chapters from my fake romance novel.

Chapter 1 - Vanessa Lonelyheart

Chapter 2 - The Scottish Cowboy of My Heart

Chapter 3 - Lovers Ridge

Chapter 4 - Cow or Never

Chapter 5 - Everybody Get (Hoe)Down

Chapter 6 - Bullocks to you, Sandra!

Chapter 7 - Two Can Play at Solitaire


THE HEART IS THE LONELIEST DUDE RANCH

EXCERPT FROM CHAPTER 8: On the Run from Johnny Law

Vanessa Lonelyheart looked out at the hills.  What in the name of Crazy Jealous Nutjob had she done?  She’d called Immigration on the man she loved.  Not only that, she’d called Immigration while microwaving a burrito.  What a heartless hungry monster she was.  Her man was on the run from the law and she was eating an illegal burrito while her man burrito was huddling out in the cold hills of Texas.  She bit into the cold middle of her non-man burrito.  It tasted like chilled irony.

What to do?  Run to him and beg his forgiveness?  Or watch him get hauled off like a criminal and finally have him out of her life?  Could she watch that and not have her heart go supernova?  Would her perfect breasts be caught in the blast?  What would Victoria’s Secret model bras after?  No. The risk to women’s comfort was too great.

No! She’d ride her horse, Pony Braxton, into the wild hills and throw herself upon him.  Break her body against him like a Chanel No. 5 smelling orchid against the waves of an angry ocean.  The windows got steamy just from her thinking about it.

Then she heard tires in the driveway.  They sounded manly and assertive but she couldn’t see the vehicle through the steamy window.  Could it be Dexter?  Would he risk his life to see her before he fled?  Would he need an angry roll in the hay? She disheveled the hell out of her hair and ripped her bodice a little.  She did a couple of jumping jacks to make herself breathless and then she ran to the door, ripping it open with all her sexy force.

It was not Dexter.  But it was interesting.

If Dexter was the cold, forbidding beauty of the moon, then this man was the warm, welcoming hotness of the sun.  His golden hair was Hollywood long and looked like a hair commercial.  If it had ever seen a split end, then the Vietnam Memorial was made of black licorice.  Her hands itched to run her fingers through it, to grab it, kiss it, suck on it like a straw.  She was so captivated by his hair she forgot to look at his face for ten seconds of hair stare time.

When she did, she was not disappointed.  His skin was tanned like a vanilla roast.  His cheekbones were like knives sheathed in suede.  He had lips that looked like two skinned pink caterpillars.  Two caterpillars that you wanted to sink your teeth into and pull on until they ripped off his hunk face.  And those caterpillars moved up and down.

“Excuse me, Miss.” he talk-whispered, “I’m Johnny Law.”

The literalness of his name sobered her up.  Could it be?  This Adonis sent from Mount Wowza was the man after her man?  How could she help him? How could she not?  Maybe she could throw him off the trail.  Maybe she could distract him with her gender specific parts.

“Vanessa Lonelyheart, I’m Marshall Johnny Law.  Former model turned Federal Marshall.  You know why I’m here.  I’m sorry and I need to borrow a horse.”

“Well, I’m coming with you.  We’ll take my appaloosas, Prance Armstrong and Usain Colt.  Let’s go find that Scottish devil.” she said in her most husky voice.

Thunder rumbled in the distance.  Uh-oh. She was wearing her most see-through shirt.

NEXT CHAPTER:  The Hills of Hot Desperation