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Blurb:
Clay McDonald finds the perfect car on Craigslist and is quick to send the seller a text:
Is your penis still for sale?
AutoCorrect strikes again. Damn—he should’ve proofread. How embarrassing.
Luckily Darrell Anderson, a mechanic and the owner of the Prius, is more amused than offended, and the two men agree to meet. When they do, the attraction is instant, and a date is arranged. But a series of mishaps, misunderstandings, and misplaced assumptions sorely test the new relationship.
In a contemporary romantic comedy about the perils of technology and dating in the modern world, a text that went so wrong might just lead to something so right—but only if Clay can refrain from jumping to conclusions and give love the benefit of the doubt.
Excerpt:
“SO WHAT now?”
“Like I know,” Darrell said, frowning. He sipped his soda,
continuing to stare. “I… I’m not sure what to do with her.”
“She’s certainly not much to look at.” Bert stood next to Darrell,
his arms crossed and his nose wrinkled. “Not my type at all.”
“No argument there.” Darrell ran a hand through his hair. “And no,
not my type either. I like them more….” He rotated his hips, then thrust them
hard. “You know… rough and tumble.”
Bert uncrossed his arms to scratch his head. “She’s pretty plain.
Did you get her to stop all of those annoying noises?”
“Lord, it took forever, but yeah, I finally got them all. I don’t
know if she was worth all that work, though.” Darrell lifted his soda to take
another swig, but Bert stole the can from him. “Fucker, give me back my drink.”
Snickering, Bert held the can away from Darrell. “It’s the last
Coke! The last one. All’s that left is Dr Pepper, and ewww,
you know I hate Dr Pepper. Don’t be a bitch.”
Darrell grabbed his crotch. “Got your bitch.”
“You talk to our mother with that mouth?” Bert held the can and
took a long, slow sip of the soda, then smacked his lips when he finished.
Darrell glared as Bert drank half of the soda. “Right, like she
hasn’t heard worse out of you.”
Bert plastered on his best innocent expression. “Who, me?”
“You forget I work with you, so don’t try that crap with me. You’d
make a sailor blush.”
“Pot, meet kettle.”
“Shut up.”
“You shut up.”
Darrell groaned. Good Lord, they sounded like kids again. It was
so easy to drop back into bad habits with his brother. “The only reason you get
away with it is because you’re the baby of the family.”
“And Mom likes me more.”
Darrell thought about swatting the Coke can out of Bert’s hand,
but he’d be the one cleaning up the mess. “Whatever, man.”
“Snappy comeback there, bro.”
Mom didn’t like Bert better, but he did get away with more. That
was the truth. Bert, whose full name was actually Robert, had been a preemie,
and as such, their mom acted like he was breakable. He wasn’t… because when
they were teenagers, Darrell certainly tried to break him a time or two. The
little shit was still alive and kicking.
“Bite me,” Darrell tossed back.
Darrell was the oldest at forty-three. Next came Henry, who was
forty-one. He’d married his high school sweetheart, Missy, and moved to the
West Coast for an unbelievable job several years ago. Their two-year-old
daughter kept them busy. Finally there was Bert, who was thirty-nine, and even
though he was a preemie at birth, he was now as healthy as a horse.
“Sad.” Bert shook his head. “Just sad. That’s the best you got?
Must be getting old.”
“Uh-huh. I’ll remember that. Now, you think she needs any parts
replaced?”
“Don’t they all?” Bert quipped.
Darrell huffed. “No idea since I’m not the one into pussy. Damn,
she could probably use a good waxing too.”
Bert groaned. “Ah man, I want no part of that.”
“But….” Darrell grinned, warming up to the idea after seeing how
resistant Bert was. “Think how much better she’ll look. You’d be perfect for
the job.”
Bert rolled his eyes, huffed, then took a long swig of Coke. “This
is because I took your Coke, isn’t it? Or was it the age joke?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I hate you,” Bert whined.
Darrell smirked. Oh yeah, this was perfect revenge. Maybe next time
Bert would keep his paws off Darrell’s soda. As far as age went, Bert wasn’t that much
younger. “How much do you think we can get for her?”
Bert strolled around the shiny Classic Silver Metallic Prius. “Do
you want a good price, or do you want to get enough to cover the bill the owner
stuck you with?”
“He’s no longer the owner, and all I’m interested in is getting
enough to cover what the jackass owes me,” Darrell said.
Bert nodded. “Gotcha. Okay, let me check the Blue Book and see
what they go for. We have the title, right?”
“Yep. I slapped a lien on the car when the guy didn’t pay the
bill, refused to commit to a payment plan, and basically told me to go get
fucked. I was able to keep the car as collateral. She’s all mine, free and
clear.”
“Okay, then.” Bert rubbed his hands together as he stared at the
little compact car. “Give me a day or two to get some sort of idea what to ask
for her. Let’s try to sell her on Craigslist. What do you think about that?”
“Sounds fine.”
“Well, since you’re the boss, I’m going to put your cell phone as
the contact number. You’re going to need to keep the ugly little prissy thing
at your house.”
“Wait, why do I have to be the one to garage it?”
Darrell complained.
“Didn’t you hear the boss comment? Plus you’re the eldest. As luck
would have it, my garage is full of a bunch of crap. Remember? I’m having new
floors laid this week, so I can’t keep the Prius at my house. I don’t have time
to deal with a bunch of people wanting to check the car out while I got that going
on.”
“Oh, and I do? Okay, fine.” Darrell held up his hand to stall the
argument blossoming. “I’ll take it. Just so happens I have plenty of room in my
garage.” Then Darrell glared as he took one last look at the car. “Damn thing
has been nothing but trouble. Oh, and Bert?”
“Yeah?”
“I hate you too.” Satisfied he got the last word, he swung his arm
around Bert’s shoulders and led him out of the shop. “Come on, I’ll buy you a
beer.”
“If I have to wax that thing, that’s the least you’re
going to do, trust me.”
