Bubbles Ablaze
Chapter One
Looking back, I guess my first mistake was to assume that a rookie reporter could pursue both a hot story and a hot sex
life. I mean, what was I thinking? One glance at a crusty old city editor and the truth is obvious: the only time sex
coexists with journalism is in a newspaper's police log. And even then, it's usually followed by the word "crime."
My experience, unfortunately, was no exception.
The evening began with me between red satin sheets in the Passion Peak Resort - one of those fancy and romantic Pocono
Mountain lovers hotels that I'd dreamt of staying in since I was a little girl.
Hunky Associated Press photographer Steve Stiletto was late, per usual. As an international photojournalist more
accustomed to dodging bullets than punching clocks, punctuality is optional in his world. Even when the option was
making love to a thirty-something, living Polish-Lithuanian Barbie named Bubbles who hadn't had sex in five months,
twenty days and four hours. And, yes, I was counting.
This time he had an acceptable excuse. The President was hitting the hustings for Pennsylvania Republicans, and
Stil ... read full excerpt from Bubbles Ablaze ebook
