To his surprise, instead of making a pass at him, she sauntered over to join him at the service niche. She took up an Imperial armorers’ sponge in her fingers, and began cleaning and disinfecting the blade of an épée, which showed that she knew what she was doing.A short excerpt from Knight's Fork by Rowena Cherry who, according to her publicity:
Her curled hand stroked firmly up and down the long shaft, leaving a gleaming trail of moisture where the sponge in her palm had pressed. The erotic suggestion was almost certainly deliberate.
Two could play at that.
...has played chess with a Grand Master and former President of the World Chess Federation (hence the chess-pun titles of her alien romances).As for me, I've lived on the edge of the sort of life which inspires me to note that there are at least three errors of English in the paragraph above. But that's probably why I shall be playing chess today, and Ms Cherry (not, I suspect, her maiden name) will be living a life among alien gods. Or something similar.
She has spent folly filled summers in a Spanish castle; dined on a sheikh's yacht with royalty; been seranaded (on a birthday) by a rockstar and an English nobleman; ridden in a pace car at the 1993 Indy 500; received the gold level of the Duke of Edinburgh's Award; and generally lived on the edge of the sort of life that inspires her romances about high-living alien gods.
Or maybe she will be busy at her desk, adding to her apparently Orwell-inspired oeuvre - among which are such works as Forced Mate, Mating Net and Insufficient Mating Material.
I, at least, am not making this up.
[Thanks to my brother for this.]