Excerpt: Pass the Hot Stuff

Time for the excerpt of Dana Page's novel  Pass the Hot Stuff! This post is part of the tour hosted by CLP Blog Tours! Don't forget to check out the main tour page for all of the other posts! Enjoy this excerpt :)

She found her seat, naturally it was in the middle, and she stopped to try to put her carry-on bag in the overhead compartment.  She stumbled back a little, hitting the man across the aisle in the head with her butt.  “Oh, I’m so sorry.”

     “No problem,” he said.  “I can think of worse ways of getting knocked out.”  Blythe looked startled, and he laughed.  “Here, let me help you.”

     “Thank you,” she said, and looked at him for the first time.  He looked familiar.  He was very good looking and had the darkest, bedroom eyes she had ever seen.  She felt even more flustered now.  “Sorry again…for hitting you.” 

     He smiled in response.  “It was a pleasure,” he teased.

     Blythe’s face turned red; she couldn’t remember the last time she had blushed.  He started to say something else to her but had to get out of the way of the crowd rushing towards their seats like it was general admission.

     Blythe buckled her seatbelt, closed her eyes and tried to go to sleep before takeoff.  She was exhausted.  Just as she was beginning to doze, the flight attendant, trying to shove a ridiculously large bag into the overhead compartment, startled her awake from her half sleep.  She looked over to see what the racket was and noticed the same guy looking at her again.  She gave him a slight, little smile of acknowledgement and shut her eyes once more.  She wondered if he was staring with approval or disapproval.  Was her mascara smeared?  That would have been disapproval.  Was her blouse unbuttoned?  From a man, approval.  He was probably just stunned from having been hit by her big butt, she thought.

     When he wasn’t looking, she craned her head around the people separating them to get a better look at him.  He had very dark hair, the darkest brown, almost black and an olive complexion with strong features.  He opened his eyes and looked over at her.  Oh, did he see me?  

     She tried to sleep again but couldn’t.  How did she know him?  She couldn’t place him, and that’s not a face she would easily forget.  She glanced at him again.

     He stood up and was trying to step into the aisle just in time to have the food cart come rattling through.  He was going to say something to her, but it was either get back in his seat or end up road kill from a food cart.

     At that point, he threw courtesy to the wind as he tried to lean around the people between them and strike up a conversation.  But a flight attendant saw this opportunity to drape herself over the seat and introduce herself to him.  Blythe laughed.  She couldn’t hear his muffled responses, but she could hear the singsong, twittering cadence of the flight attendant.  “What’s your name?”  “What do you do?”  “Why are you going to Memphis?”  Tee hee, tee hee.

     After the flight attendant left, he attempted one more time to stand and approach her, but the pilot asked them all to remain seated.  Blythe smiled to herself.  She had enjoyed this weird little flirtation.  It gave her a rush through the middle of her stomach.  She hadn’t felt particularly attractive lately.  In fact, she couldn’t imagine a guy as attractive as that one even looking at her.  It was times like this that made her realize just how insecure she had become.

Author Bio:

Dana Page was raised in Memphis, Tennessee.  Born just down the road from Memphis in Helena, Arkansas, she considers the Mississippi River Delta her own personal inspiration. Having earned adegree in journalism from Texas A&M University, she has utilized her writing skills in varied areas - small-town politics, human interest stories and writing an entertainment column, to name a few. To support her writing habit, she has worked an odd job or two.  Don't ask her about delivering singing telegrams; some things are best forgotten.  Pass the Hot Stuff is Dana’s debut novel.

  

CLP Blog Tour: Pass the Hot Stuff

Welcome to a stop for the Pass the Hot Stuff tour hosted by CLP Blog Tours! Today I have an excerpt of the novel by Dana Page as well as a guest post from the author herself. Make sure you check out the main tour page for all the other reviews and posts for this tour!

Let's start off with the guest post! Stay tuned for the excerpt in an hour or so...can't give you all the good stuff at once! :)

Jonah Babboni Takes You on a Tour of Hot Stuff

Allow me to introduce myself.  I’m Jonah Babboni.  How do and slap it high, darlin’.  I’m one of the characters in Pass the Hot Stuff.  No, I’m not the hot stuff.  Although, when you hear me sing, you may beg to differ...you’ve never heard anything like it.  If you’re lucky, I’ll sing to you later, but first I’m gonna take you on a little tour.  Step on up into the carriage.  Our horse’s name is Shrimp Creole or French Onion Soup...something like that...or maybe I’m just hungry.  Maybe later, we’ll stop by Emeril’s and get down and dirty with that Grand Marnier Soufflé.

We’ll start on Rue Royale here in the Quarter.  If you look over to your right, there’s Brennan’s.  That’s kind of where it all started.  My good friend Blake St. Germaine and I met the other attorneys for a drink there, and that’s where he first saw Blythe.  But she’s with Bobert.  I know.  I know.  His name is Robert.  I like to razz him a little.  It’s what I do, even if he doesn’t appreciate harmless joshing.  He had his sense of humor surgically removed, you know.  Laughter makes him uncomfortable.  In fact, it makes him look downright queasy. 

Speaking of Blythe, or as I like to call her – Miss America – look to your left, the third floor balcony with all of the lush ferns and yellow flowers...that’s her place.  That’s her dog, Lady Marmalade, barking at us.  What up, Marmalade!  Gitchy, gitchy, ya, ya, da, da!  Blythe is my buddy.  She’s a little doll.  Can I confide in you?  Let’s share a moment and make some memories...  The truth is I rarely interfere in other people’s lives...  Stop laughing.  O.K., I frequently interfere, but the point here is that I really think Blythe would be much happier with Blake than Bobert.  It’s true the two of them would be too lovely to look at, like staring into the sun.  But that’s not the point.  I just don’t believe for a second that she and Bobert are a match made in heaven.  If he wouldn’t get down and dirty with the Grand Marnier Soufflé at Emeril’s the other night, I’m just not buying that he gets down and dirty with her.  Although, I’m sure he would turn up his nose at the words ‘down and dirty.’  I’m thinking associating over high tea is more his style.  Let’s put it that way.

As we head on over to Bourbon...hang on as we dodge a few liquor trucks dropping off and garbage trucks picking up from the party the night before.  See that little joint on the corner?  There’s a great blues band that plays there.  They let me sing with them when I show up, you know, on the rare occasion that I get out and about.  All right.  Stop laughing.  Maybe I’m out and about a little too much.  But one more night like we had there the other night, and I just may get my wish for Blythe and Blake to...have high tea together.  And it all started with me asking the musical question – Meet Me with Your Black Drawers On.

If my melodious serenading doesn’t get them together, then life has let me down.  The truth is Blythe must actually have a screw loose to choose the anemic Bobert over Blake.  I know she thinks Blake is too good looking, too sexy...hey, we could be describing me.  I’m only going to tell you one more time...stop laughing.  Anyway, she thinks he’s a rake, a cad...Blythe watches too many old movies.  The bottom line here is something ain’t right.  And I saw something in Memphis the other night that solidifies it.  At least, what I think I saw...

That’s why we’re heading down to the Mississippi river.  I’m meeting Tricia, Blythe’s best friend.  We’re going to solve the world’s problems over a Muffaletta.  Here she comes now.  Beautiful girl.  But she talks too much.  She’s the freakin’ Mouth of the South.  Don’t you just hate it when people won’t let you get a word in edgewise.  If anyone knows what Blythe’s problem is, Tricia does.  Stick around for the juicy details, if you want...it’s bound to be some hot stuff.