Parajunkee's View and Alison Can Read. Each host will have their own Feature Blog and this way it’ll allow us to show off more new blogs! For more rules and how to participate, visit one of the hosts. Now for this week’s question:
Q: Give us a sneak! What are you reading? Tell us about a fun or fail scene in your current read.
A: It was tough to argue the point. But when Eve stepped to the parlor doorway, she saw Mavis had brought Trina along. If that wasn't scary enough, they'd hauled the baby out for the evening.
Most terrifying, at the moment, the infant Belle was being held by Summerset, and having her chin chucked by his skeletal fingers.
"I'm traumatized," Eve stated. "He's not supposed to smile like that. It's against the laws of man and nature."
"Don't be such a hard-ass." Roarke gave her a little poke in the ribs. "Ladies," he said in normal tones, and had the group looking over.
"Hey!" Mavis’s already glowing face brightened. “You're back! We were about to head out, but Bella wanted another Summerset smoochie."
Which, to Eve's mind, confirmed the innate oddity of babies and kids.
Mavis bounced over, sending the short, flirty skirt she wore swirling over polka-dot tights. The skirt was candy pink, the tights pink on brilliant blue. She'd gone for the blue in her hair, too, Eve noted, in a few wild streaks against silvery blond.
She grabbed one of Roarke's hands, one of Eve's, and pulled them into the room. "Leonardo had to shoot out to New L.A. for a client, so Trina and Belle and I had a total girl day. Ended it with some Summerset time. Look who's here, Belle. Look who came to see you."
With little choice Eve looked down at the baby still tucked in Summerset's arms. Most, Eve supposed, would say the kid looked like a doll. But to Eve's way of thinking, dolls were just creepy.
The fact was, the baby was a knockout—if you discounted the drool—pink, pretty, and plump. A lacy white ribbon was tied around her hair, as if she'd been wrapped like a gift. The dark blue eyes were lively, maybe a little too lively. They made Eve wonder just what went on inside the brain of a human the size of a teacup poodle.
She wore some sort of outfit with feet and a kind of sweater deal over it that may have been trimmed in actual fur. Over it all there was a bib—due, Eve supposed, to drool—that proclaimed:
MY DADDY IS ICED!
"Cute," Eve said and would have stepped back, but Roarke blocked her as he studied the baby over Eve's shoulder.
Here's a scene from Creation in Death by J.D. Robb, page 111. Oh, Belle! SO cute! What about you guys? Happy reading!