*~*The Mother Road by Meghan Quinn – EXCLUSIVE Excerpt*~*

                  My ass is plastered against the window as Tacy comes to a halt. Pure mortification runs through me as I lift my pants from my ankles, cover up, and scramble toward the table, where I grab my pen and click it so the pointy end is out.

                  “What the hell are you doing?” I practically scream. “We don’t pick up hitchhikers.”

                  “Might be fun,” my dad says. “Let the guy in, Paul.”

                  “No, don’t!” I yell, ready to fight, with my pen positioned in a stabbing threat.

                  My dad has lost it. I know he’s getting old and Paul’s wedding has been stressful on him, but picking up a hitchhiker? Has he lost his ever-loving mind?

                  I’m not a pessimist. I’m one of those girls who looks at a glass as half full, but I’m not naïve either. I’ve seen those psycho killer movies; I’ve read the newspaper. There are some screwed up people out there in the world just waiting to find their next victim.

                  A family in a rickety old RV wearing matching shirts and hats seems like the perfect prey to me.

                  The door handle jiggles and I pray to Jesus, Mary, and Joseph to save me in this moment, to either spare me and throw Paul into the killer’s hands or to deliver us a hitchhiker with no intentions of harvesting the skin off our skulls to eat as a treat later.

                  The door flies open and light pours in from behind a man with a backpack strapped against his back. From what I can see, he’s tall, built like a firetruck, and sporting a beard just like my dad and Paul.

                  Men and their beards.

                  “Easy there, killer. What are you going to do? Draw on me until I’m dead?”

                  I know that voice, I’ve dreamt of that voice, I’ve pictured hearing that voice over and over in my head. I’ve envisioned the deep rumble of that voice rolling over every mound of my body.

                  The man closes the door and my eyes adjust to the light. A small gasp escapes my mouth as I realize who the hitchhiker is.

                  Porter Smith.

                  Paul’s best friend and the man who broke my heart four years ago

Born in New York and raised in Southern California, Meghan has grown into a sassy, peanut butter eating, blonde haired swearing, animal hoarding lady. She is known to bust out and dance if “It’s Raining Men” starts beating through the air and heaven forbid you get a margarita in her, protect your legs because they may be humped.

Once she started commuting for an hour and twenty minutes every day to work for three years, she began to have conversations play in her head, real life, deep male voices and dainty lady coos kind of conversations. Perturbed and confused, she decided to either see a therapist about the hot and steamy voices running through her head or start writing them down. She decided to go with the cheaper option and started writing… enter her first novel, Caught Looking.

Now you can find the spicy, most definitely on the border of lunacy, kind of crazy lady residing in Colorado with the love of her life and her five, furry four legged children, hiking a trail or hiding behind shelves at grocery stores, wondering what kind of lube the nervous stranger will bring home to his wife. Oh and she loves a good boob squeeze!

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