My name is Meghan Foster and I’m going to save you from yourself.
That is, if a certain someone doesn’t stop me…
Don’t let the pretty face fool you. I am a product of a seriously troubled past, but I’m a resilient little bugger. I’m a night shift stock replenishing machine and if by chance, you don’t think that sounds too exciting? You are sorely mistaken, my friend. This is my life. I can’t explain it. I won’t even attempt to try.
I do have certain powers of persuasion that I am more than willing to use, especially if aforementioned ‘certain someone’ doesn’t interfere.
His name is Lance and he is by far the most delicious creature I’ve ever laid eyes on. I have no idea who he is or what he wants with me, but I guess I’m about to find out the hard way..
Who says stocking shelves is boring?
Later I’m sitting on the dock, a stupid grin on my face. Carly and Herb are locked in a passionate embrace next to the dumpster, he’s licking her face. Holy crap, Herb…tone it down! He’s just so overenthusiastic, and quite frankly? She doesn’t seem to mind.
“What’s wrong? He thinks about her all the time. I think it’s sweet.” I refuse to look at Lance as he crouches next to me.
“Does she ever think about him?” That one had me thinking.
No, not exactly.
“He has a girlfriend,” Lance states in a low voice.
“No, he doesn’t,” I reply, shaking my head with confidence.
“Yes he does. Oh! And did I forget to mention his girlfriend is pregnant?”
I bite my lip. Lance doesn’t lie.
“He never talks about her. Hell, he never even thinks about her. He only ever thinks about Carly! I swear…” I whisper uncertainly.
“That’s because he’s a selfish bastard. And now…my misguided little matchmaker…you are officially…a home-wrecker. Good going, ass.”
Suddenly Carly pulls from his embrace, smacking Herb across his face with a resounding Crack! She storms away, leaving a very confused Herb holding the side of his face.
“That’ll leave a mark…”
I roll my eyes at Lance’s whispered words.
I’m biting my nails. I just wanted to do was something nice tonight. Maybe something to counteract my stunt with Monica… I just wanted to feel good about myself. Now I feel like shit.
I’m being hauled up by my arm pits. “Come on.” I can hear Lance’s voice as I’m set on my feet, and none too gently, I might add.
“Am I in trouble?” I can’t wipe the sheepish look from my face.
“Are you ever not in trouble?” He’s nudging me toward the door to the warehouse.
My feet step reluctantly. “Are you going to punish me?”
“Maybe. Come on.” Another nudge.
“I respectfully decline.”
“You don’t get a choice.”
And with that, we are standing in the “Break Room of Doom” as I like to call it now. I hope he doesn’t set me on fire. I hate it when he sets me on fire.
A little bit about Ansley
How Do I Keep My Writing Different?
My writing is different because I’m different. As in slightly weird, somewhat quirky, always looking for the humorous side of any situation. I couldn’t write a serious, dramatic book if my life depended on it. The stuff that comes out of my head and travels to my tapping fingers is mostly the product of constant inner dialogue happening simultaneously throughout the day between two people I have never met.
I love dialogue. I love chemistry between two people that want to be together but can’t for some reason. That’s not anything revolutionary but it’s how they get in those situations that makes my writing different. I tend to write the stuff I would want to read. I see the offerings right now and I really feel like there a quite a few authors writing material that utilizes a certain type of dominating male character and an insecure, unremarkable female. I like my female characters strong, flawed, but always confident. I don’t mind writing a dominating male, but he’d better not be perfect and he certainly better be able to go toe to toe with my female characters. I could write a book that capitalizes on the latest craze in semi-erotic, romance but that just isn’t me and if that means I don’t become a best seller author? So be it.
My book covers are also a product of my imagination – bright colors, somewhat quirky, definitely different than anything I see in the multitude of covers offered in the market. I’m not sure if it detracts or enhances interest in the writing itself, but it catches my eye and hopefully there are others out there that feel the same way.
I read way more than I write. As a writer, I just know that I can connect with people that are looking for the same thing I am. I just have to find them. Or rather, I need to figure out how to get them to find me. That’s the hard part!
Anlyn Hansell is a 40-something wife and mother of one residing in a small town in South-Central PA. She has a BS in Distribution, a Masters in Business and an overactive imagination to boot. Writing credits previously included all manner of extremely boring ISO documentation, a published editorial on core sand in a foundry magazine and a recurring article in her company newsletter. Not much chance for creative writing there! She began her writing career two years ago, and in that time, has completed seven full length novels. The first four novels centered around romance, but she quickly began including a mystery element to keep the pages turning. She enjoys cooking and baking and of course, indulging in the products of those pursuits. She not only loves to write, she is compelled to do so. Every morning, starting at around 3:30 am, you can find her in her living room tapping away in the dark. It truly is the best time to write! She is currently working on yet another endeavor with the sole purpose of keeping her readers up well into the night.