How to Conjure a Man
Chapter One
"Crap." Becky Blake wiggled her ass to the right. Nope, that didn't help either.
The annoying, cactus-like object remained firmly wedged between her calves,
prodding at her butt. Shoving her hand beneath her bottom, she raked the dry
sand and grit of the desert floor in a blind search for the offending
pokey-thing. Sightless fingers encountered what felt like a stick, there. In
triumph she closed her fist around the object, yanked it free, and held it up to
the moonlight. Ah, relief.
Huh, that definitely doesn't look like a stick.
Holding it to the light of what amounted to be ten pounds of candles, she
struggled to put a name to the twisted stick-thing. She turned the warped,
flattish item over in her hands, seeking any identifying hints. Finally, two
empty eye sockets on one end clued her in. The nasty thing trying to poke her in
the general area of her hind end was a dead dried-up snake. Slapping a hand over
her mouth to suppress a scream, she tossed the nasty deceased reptile into the
void of night.
Yuck, yuck, yuck. I want a shower.
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