As a kid I fancied myself a bit of a tomboy. There’s just myself and my sister in our family, no brothers. So I took it upon myself to fill the void I was positive my father had in his life due to the lack of a boy child. I built ramps to jump my bike, went on motorbike rides with him, and followed him around on weekends asking him a gazillion questions about cars and engines and stuff like that. Plus, I hated going clothes shopping with my mother and sister (l liked clothes, just not the shopping part!). All that aimless wondering through shops. Argh! I’d rather go fishing with dad.
This phase did of course end. The girliness in me could not be suppressed as I tumbled ungraciously into my teens. I grew out of it, like a lot of girls do. Unlike my heroine in Crashed. Alex is the ultimate tomboy (though she, like me, has a secret love of beautiful clothes, it’s the shopping part that gives her hives). She also loves cars, a lot, which is how she became a mechanic. A job in a male dominated industry, and she kicks ass at it! Crashed is the first book in my Axle Alley Vipers series, and is based around three women running a garage/car restoration business in Miami. Alex works alongside her two best friends’ Piper and Rusty, who also just happen to be Deacon’s little sisters’, the hero of the story. Deacon left behind the family garage years ago and chose a very different lifestyle, and spending time with him, in his world, pushes Alex way out of her tomboy comfort zone!
So a show of hands! Are there any other tomboys here, past or present?
Here’s an excerpt from Crashed and a little taste of how Alex handles those fish out of water situations:
God, she couldn’t bear to see him suffer this way. She would give anything to go back in time and give him the chance to heal the wounds between him and his old man. “So how many charities do you donate to, hotshot?”
His lips lifted on one side. “A couple.”
She turned to face him. “Huh, so you’re not hard and stingy after all.”
He laughed, dark and low. “Oh, I’m hard…”
She slapped her hand over his mouth and shot a look to the front seat. “I’m sure Martin could go the rest of his life not knowing how hard you are,” she said under her breath.
“I’m hard”—he grabbed her wrist when she tried to cover his mouth again—“on those that deserve it. Otherwise I’m a pushover.” He arched a brow, that grin getting bigger. “You have a dirty mind, Miss Franco.” And before she could pull her hand away, he placed it over the massive bulge straining the front of his very nice, very expensive trousers. “And this is what you do to me.”
Goddamn. Right now he was doing things to her as well. She squeezed the ridged flesh beneath her hand, and he sucked in a breath. “You’re such a perv.”
He barked a laugh. “My condition is completely your fault.” He pulled her hand away and held it tight in his. “Now stop trying to seduce me.”
She snorted. “I’m doing no such thing. You kind of remind me of that creepy kid at high school… What was his name again? Robert? Roger? Roger Edgar. That’s it. He spent all his time darting around corners, hiding the tent pole in his pants. Get some self-control, dude.”
He released her hand. “Creepy? Roger freaking Edgar?”
This was fun. She was actually enjoying herself. She shrugged. “You’re the one sitting there with a boner. You’ll terrify your charity guys, walking in with that thing pointing at them.” The look on his face was priceless, and unable to rein it in, she laughed her ass off. When she finally got herself somewhat together, she glanced over at him, and the remaining chuckles died a sudden death. The heat aimed her way should have turned her to ash.
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About Sherilee Gray
Sherilee Gray lives in beautiful New Zealand with her husband and their two children. When she isn’t writing, she spends her time reading, hoarding books, and eating copious amounts of chocolate.Connect with SherileeCONTEST INFO: Open to readers worldwide.
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July 13, 2015 at 2:05 am