EXCERPTS
Copyright © 2007-2011 by Sutton Fox. All Rights Reserved.
Welcome to Book One of
the Traveling Circus series.
the Traveling Circus series.
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Excerpt LION TAMERS:
More interested in what was under his fancy shirt, she raised her eyes to
his and stepped a bit closer to him. She moved in so near, her butt was
lightly touching his thigh. He smelled warm and spicy, like hot cinnamon
rolls. Oh, mama. She licked her lips in anticipation.
Normally she didn't have much time for men in her life. Funny, considering
there were mostly just men in her life. Maybe, just maybe, there would be
a big fat exception made for this one. She wondered if he tasted as good
as he smelled. Thinking about the places she'd like to lick made her warm
and wet. She smiled
again. "What line of work would that be?"
Smelling gas, they both looked down at the same time. "Well, I-hey!" he
yelled, as gasoline poured all over his sleek leather loafers.
Mortified, Morgan dropped the gas can and jumped back as he yanked the
funnel out of the receptacle. She looked at the opening, and realized there
was nothing attached to the inlet. There was no gas tank on this side of
the truck. What the hell?
Damon.
She suddenly remembered her little brother had removed the tank on this
side at the beginning of the week because it had a small hole in it. He'd
promised to get a replacement from the junkyard or try to repair this one.
Obviously, he had forgotten. With everything that had been going on, she
hadn't remembered to ask him about it, either.
She briefly contemplated what life would be like as an only child and looked
at her knight in shining armor.
Standing on one leg, cursing a blue streak in his deep southern-fried voice
and trying to peel a soggy wet sock off of his other foot, he scowled.
She laughed.
More interested in what was under his fancy shirt, she raised her eyes to
his and stepped a bit closer to him. She moved in so near, her butt was
lightly touching his thigh. He smelled warm and spicy, like hot cinnamon
rolls. Oh, mama. She licked her lips in anticipation.
Normally she didn't have much time for men in her life. Funny, considering
there were mostly just men in her life. Maybe, just maybe, there would be
a big fat exception made for this one. She wondered if he tasted as good
as he smelled. Thinking about the places she'd like to lick made her warm
and wet. She smiled
again. "What line of work would that be?"
Smelling gas, they both looked down at the same time. "Well, I-hey!" he
yelled, as gasoline poured all over his sleek leather loafers.
Mortified, Morgan dropped the gas can and jumped back as he yanked the
funnel out of the receptacle. She looked at the opening, and realized there
was nothing attached to the inlet. There was no gas tank on this side of
the truck. What the hell?
Damon.
She suddenly remembered her little brother had removed the tank on this
side at the beginning of the week because it had a small hole in it. He'd
promised to get a replacement from the junkyard or try to repair this one.
Obviously, he had forgotten. With everything that had been going on, she
hadn't remembered to ask him about it, either.
She briefly contemplated what life would be like as an only child and looked
at her knight in shining armor.
Standing on one leg, cursing a blue streak in his deep southern-fried voice
and trying to peel a soggy wet sock off of his other foot, he scowled.
She laughed.
Welcome to Book Two of the Traveling Circus series.
A special preview of Center Ring for your reading pleasure. Just a taste of the excitement to come ...
Excerpt: Center Ring:
Thompson spoke into the silence. “I’d like Roane to start accompanying
you as soon as he can collect his things. The sooner the better, later this
evening would be ideal. Surely Rosa can have a guest room ready?”
She nearly choked on her drink. “It’s really unnecessary.” Julia ticked off
the reasons on raised fingers. “One, it’s the home stretch of the season.
Two, it’s not a good time to introduce strangers into the household.
Three, the boys have been through enough. They don’t need to wake up
to an unfamiliar face at the table. Four, I don’t have time for it. And five, if
you’d get Dana Gregory off my back, a lot of this wouldn’t be an issue.”
The last thing she needed, with only four events left in the year, was to
hold someone’s hand and be polite all the time. The timing couldn’t
possibly be worse.
“Ms. Cameron, Julia, I assure you, you won’t even know I’m there.” Roane
spoke with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
Over six feet of walking, talking testosterone wrapped in a make-me-feel-
good-all-over package. My ass. The only way she wouldn’t know he was in
the house was if someone buried her in the back yard. Unfortunately
someone apparently wanted to do just that. Damn.
Thompson spoke into the silence. “I’d like Roane to start accompanying
you as soon as he can collect his things. The sooner the better, later this
evening would be ideal. Surely Rosa can have a guest room ready?”
She nearly choked on her drink. “It’s really unnecessary.” Julia ticked off
the reasons on raised fingers. “One, it’s the home stretch of the season.
Two, it’s not a good time to introduce strangers into the household.
Three, the boys have been through enough. They don’t need to wake up
to an unfamiliar face at the table. Four, I don’t have time for it. And five, if
you’d get Dana Gregory off my back, a lot of this wouldn’t be an issue.”
The last thing she needed, with only four events left in the year, was to
hold someone’s hand and be polite all the time. The timing couldn’t
possibly be worse.
“Ms. Cameron, Julia, I assure you, you won’t even know I’m there.” Roane
spoke with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
Over six feet of walking, talking testosterone wrapped in a make-me-feel-
good-all-over package. My ass. The only way she wouldn’t know he was in
the house was if someone buried her in the back yard. Unfortunately
someone apparently wanted to do just that. Damn.
LIFE in the PITS
“I’d like to talk to your supervisor.” Maybe intimidation would work. She narrowed her eyes, propped her fists on
her hips, and gave the woman her strongest I’ll-kick-your-ass glare. “Now.”
The bitch actually had the nerve to roll her eyes.
“Puuuhlleeeeze.” Unfolding her arms, the surly assistant leaned forward, eyes intense. “He doesn’t want to talk to
you.” She picked up the clipboard resting on the desk in front of her, along with a copy of Ghosting at Holidays. The
official handbook of the only mostly dead. “Look, it’s not my fault you drove off that bridge into the water and
drowned.” She held up one hand to forestall any interruption. “I know. You dropped your cell phone while trying to
read texted directions to a Christmas party. And yes, that explains the snowberries and golden chains in your hair,
the barely there red dress, and those four-inch heeled gladiator sandals which still look hot after all these years. We
have the same conversation every Christmas Eve. The boss says you still haven’t quite learned what you need to
know. By the time you save your tenth soul, you should understand and be able to move on.”
“As the Ghost of Christmas Future, I can only show them their choices. I can’t choose for them,” she argued. “The
last three weren’t even interested in changing their ways. They didn’t even care what became of them as long as
they had plenty of money!”
Stubborn could be her middle name. Just ask Mom. Frustration made her groan. Thoughts of her mother made her
sad. They’d always had so much fun shopping and wrapping presents, preparing for her mother’s annual fête. A
former model, happily married to high profile attorney, her mother held the soiree at a different club every year.
And she hated being reminded of how she’d died. She should have just asked for directions to the party before
she left, not been so certain she knew everything. It would have kept her from fumbling around with her phone,
and she wouldn’t be here now. She’d be with her mother, and—the past was past. Going over and over it wouldn’t
change things. In her world, that was fact.
“That’s true. It’s a different world today.” Admin extraordinaire shrugged her shoulders. “So, it will take as long as it
takes.” With a disdainful sniff, Zahara disappeared. “Good luck. And Merry Christmas, Holly.” Her voice echoed eerily
through the room.
“Merry frickin’ Christmas to you, too!” she grumbled. People appearing and disappearing in a puff of smoke still
unnerved her after all these years. She didn’t think she’d ever get used to it. What was wrong with ordinary doors?
With a puff of smoke, Tinsel Wilson appeared before her. “Hey, Holly.” He gave her the once over. “How’s my
favorite brunette? Still lookin’ good after all these years.”
He reached for her and thankfully, without substance she felt nothing save a brush of cool air. Although she did
move away when his hands reached to cup her breasts. The Ghost of Christmas Present creeped her out. He had to
be almost double her age, even though he’d only passed on two years ago. Well, the age she’d died at, anyway. No
one had to know she was fast approaching forty. She didn’t look a day over twenty-seven. The age she’d been
when she’d drowned. Thankfully, there were some benefits to this gig.
“You’re up, pretty girl. I got him nice and worked up for ya.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
“It’s a man this time?” she queried. Great. Once they got a good look at her, it took at least three visions to get
them to focus on anything but sex. “Thanks, Tinsel.” With a snap of her fingers and a puff of smoke, she
vanished.
her hips, and gave the woman her strongest I’ll-kick-your-ass glare. “Now.”
The bitch actually had the nerve to roll her eyes.
“Puuuhlleeeeze.” Unfolding her arms, the surly assistant leaned forward, eyes intense. “He doesn’t want to talk to
you.” She picked up the clipboard resting on the desk in front of her, along with a copy of Ghosting at Holidays. The
official handbook of the only mostly dead. “Look, it’s not my fault you drove off that bridge into the water and
drowned.” She held up one hand to forestall any interruption. “I know. You dropped your cell phone while trying to
read texted directions to a Christmas party. And yes, that explains the snowberries and golden chains in your hair,
the barely there red dress, and those four-inch heeled gladiator sandals which still look hot after all these years. We
have the same conversation every Christmas Eve. The boss says you still haven’t quite learned what you need to
know. By the time you save your tenth soul, you should understand and be able to move on.”
“As the Ghost of Christmas Future, I can only show them their choices. I can’t choose for them,” she argued. “The
last three weren’t even interested in changing their ways. They didn’t even care what became of them as long as
they had plenty of money!”
Stubborn could be her middle name. Just ask Mom. Frustration made her groan. Thoughts of her mother made her
sad. They’d always had so much fun shopping and wrapping presents, preparing for her mother’s annual fête. A
former model, happily married to high profile attorney, her mother held the soiree at a different club every year.
And she hated being reminded of how she’d died. She should have just asked for directions to the party before
she left, not been so certain she knew everything. It would have kept her from fumbling around with her phone,
and she wouldn’t be here now. She’d be with her mother, and—the past was past. Going over and over it wouldn’t
change things. In her world, that was fact.
“That’s true. It’s a different world today.” Admin extraordinaire shrugged her shoulders. “So, it will take as long as it
takes.” With a disdainful sniff, Zahara disappeared. “Good luck. And Merry Christmas, Holly.” Her voice echoed eerily
through the room.
“Merry frickin’ Christmas to you, too!” she grumbled. People appearing and disappearing in a puff of smoke still
unnerved her after all these years. She didn’t think she’d ever get used to it. What was wrong with ordinary doors?
With a puff of smoke, Tinsel Wilson appeared before her. “Hey, Holly.” He gave her the once over. “How’s my
favorite brunette? Still lookin’ good after all these years.”
He reached for her and thankfully, without substance she felt nothing save a brush of cool air. Although she did
move away when his hands reached to cup her breasts. The Ghost of Christmas Present creeped her out. He had to
be almost double her age, even though he’d only passed on two years ago. Well, the age she’d died at, anyway. No
one had to know she was fast approaching forty. She didn’t look a day over twenty-seven. The age she’d been
when she’d drowned. Thankfully, there were some benefits to this gig.
“You’re up, pretty girl. I got him nice and worked up for ya.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
“It’s a man this time?” she queried. Great. Once they got a good look at her, it took at least three visions to get
them to focus on anything but sex. “Thanks, Tinsel.” With a snap of her fingers and a puff of smoke, she
vanished.
A special preview of Lion Tamers
for your reading pleasure. Just a
taste of the excitement to come ...
for your reading pleasure. Just a
taste of the excitement to come ...
Excerpt: Christmas Holly:
Manners be damned. One more time would be way too many. Her temper came
online just about the time her shoes became visible. Again.
“How much longer do I have to do this?” Holly Clark really wanted to slap the
woman standing behind the desk.
“As long as it takes.” Zahara, the administrative assistant responded with a stellar
you-are-a-pain-in-the-ass look.
“I’ve been doing it for twelve years!” Impatient, she worked to tamp down the
irritation which seemed to swamp her every Christmas Eve. Patience must be part
of her penitence; she just had to do her best to ignore it. Along with being named
Holly. Around the holidays, the jokes ran non-stop. Imbeciles. Like she hadn’t heard
them all already?
“I’m sorry, Holly,” the woman put emphasis on her name, like it wasn’t real or
something. “Until you’ve saved ten souls, you can’t go on. Those are the rules.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “I don’t see what you’re so upset about.
You’ve saved nine already. You only have one more to go.”
Manners be damned. One more time would be way too many. Her temper came
online just about the time her shoes became visible. Again.
“How much longer do I have to do this?” Holly Clark really wanted to slap the
woman standing behind the desk.
“As long as it takes.” Zahara, the administrative assistant responded with a stellar
you-are-a-pain-in-the-ass look.
“I’ve been doing it for twelve years!” Impatient, she worked to tamp down the
irritation which seemed to swamp her every Christmas Eve. Patience must be part
of her penitence; she just had to do her best to ignore it. Along with being named
Holly. Around the holidays, the jokes ran non-stop. Imbeciles. Like she hadn’t heard
them all already?
“I’m sorry, Holly,” the woman put emphasis on her name, like it wasn’t real or
something. “Until you’ve saved ten souls, you can’t go on. Those are the rules.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “I don’t see what you’re so upset about.
You’ve saved nine already. You only have one more to go.”
