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I did not blow up the Mona Lisa. Not only did I not blow up
the Mona Lisa--an old leaker of a boat whose blowing up could be construed
as a favor to the aptly named Rusty Cook--I did not blow up any part of Rusty’s
marina. My brothers will, of course, say otherwise. They had quite the laugh at
my expense over coffee at Ella’s Place.
Rusty had been on the lookout
for a boat for me. It had taken a lot of gumption and crow-eating to get to a
place where I could consider buying a boat. I needed a cheap one, because God
only knew how much money I’d be able to squeeze out of the Massachusetts Bay Commission
via the research grant proposal I’d spent three long months laboring to produce.
The head of the commission was
Ned Anderson. Ned, a brilliant shark researcher in his own right, had tumbled a
long way: to full time administrator of a bullshit state commission. Though to
hear Ned say it, it wasn’t a tumble but a reward for all the years he’d spent roughing
it on a California channel island-- an island that only had electricity every
other day-- in order to unlock the mystery of white shark feeding behavior. I
had spent five years on that island with Ned. We were married at the time.
The P-Town Queen docks on June 4!
Tempting snippet! Thanks for sharing...and I can't wait for the next one....
ReplyDeleteHere's MY SWEET SATURDAY SAMPLE
Thanks Laurel!
ReplyDeleteGreat narrator. Love the tone.
ReplyDeleteThanks Patricia
DeleteGreat opening! I especially like the opening sentence -- it draws me right in and makes me want to know more. You did a great job of sprinkling in a little back story too.
ReplyDeleteThanks Sandy! Glad you liked it.
DeleteSounds like a cute story.
ReplyDeleteThanks Joselyn
DeleteThis book is becoming more and more interesting
ReplyDelete