Hell in a Handbasket - The Journey

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A Secret Cravings Publishing
Book

Erotic Romance

Hell in a Hand Basket – The
Journey

Copyright © 2013 Damara
Blackthorne

E-book ISBN:
978-1-61885-719-4

First E-book Publication: May
2013

Cover design by Dawné
Dominique

Edited by Sue Toth

Proofread by Elaine Meyler

All cover art and logo
copyright © 2013 by Secret Cravings Publishing

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED:
This literary work may not be
reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or
photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written
permission.

All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any
resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

PUBLISHER

Secret Cravings Publishing

www.secretcravingspublishing.com

Dedication

Many thanks to
all who helped me edit and revise this story. Also, thank you to Jeff, Des,
Kelli and Jenni who offered their support and allowed me to bounce ideas off of
them as well as practice my writing skills on them. A big thank you to fellow
Author John Smith who’s inspiration helped with a few very important scenes in
the book. Thank you to my Editor Sue Hill,
who's
suggestions improved the book greatly, leading to its completion!

And I couldn't
have done this without Ariana, Dawné, and Elaine! Bless you ALL!

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HELL IN A HAND BASKET

THE JOURNEY

Damara
Blackthorne

Copyright
© 2013

Chapter One

"Can you believe this, dear? Our flight's been
grounded. I guess we're stranded at the airport." An elderly lady next to
me tried to strike up a conversation.

"Un-huh," I grunted.

I am not a big fan of flying and an even less a fan of
being stranded in an airport lobby with total strangers. Especially when I have
a deadline to meet and my
muse
went on vacation without me.
How am I supposed to write without my muse?
The bitch!

I found a seat near an enormous plate glass window,
displaying the most breathtaking view of snow-covered mountains. I hate the
cold
,
but this view was simply
gorgeous.
T
he mountains seemed to creep in
toward the airport under the snow. The trees nearby were coated in the
crystalline powder, making them look as if they had been rolled in sugar
,
sparkling and glittering
like millions of tiny lights encompassed them, turning them into a wonderland.
The sky was such a stunning blue and the clouds were starting to show hints of
yellow, fringed in orange with the barest tinges of pink. Thomas Kinkaid needed
to paint this scenery.

I tried to get situated. Toppling my coat, purse, and
laptop case onto a seat, I took the one beside it. Silly me, I left the other
seat beside me open for the elderly lady.
Duh.
Insert mental head slap here.

I slipped off my four-inch pumps with the one inch
wide heels
—
my friend
calls them my "
Fuck with me if you want to
" shoes—curled my
legs up underneath me, and then used my purse and laptop case as a makeshift
table. I opened my laptop, turned it on and opened my writing program. I tried
to pick up from where my characters had left off…"
He leaned down and
whispered in her ear. You're so beautiful. Your skin is so soft. She moaned in
answer…"

Ugh! Who can get inspiration in an airport lobby with
Grandma Moses prattlin' on in my ear? This is not supposed to be the love scene
of an elderly couple, although my next book could be. Maybe I should just stop
trying to write and ask Grandma Moses here about her sex life. I bit my bottom
lip to stop from outright laughing at the thought, but I couldn't stop the
smile on my face. Most elderly people were appalled at the notion of merely
hinting about sex in public, let alone discussing sex in full-blown detail. And
me, I worked in details!

Ha! Who needs an imaginary muse? Maybe I can get
Grandma here to discuss her sex life and some of her fantasies and she can be
my new muse.
As a sarcastic
right
echoed through my head.
I was afraid if I pounced on Grandma Moses and
started asking her for
sordid
details pertaining to sex amongst the silver hair
demographic, I would scare her off. So, I decided to take the grown-up approach
and participate in her bland conversation.
Kids, grand
kids,
where she's from, where she's headed and why.
And then,
L
ord have mercy, she pulled out the pictures. I rolled my
eyes and in the process caught a glimpse of what promised to be great
inspiration.

Over by the plate glass window stood a man who
actually rivaled the view of cotton candy clouds drifting over sugar coated
marshmallow
mountains
.