Hey folks! Today I’m happy to introduce you to April Ryder and her story Skid Marks and the Selby Slammers!
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Rock star, catwalk model, ventriloquist–April Ryder is none of these things. She is, however, a BBW housewife looking to spice up her life with her hardworking and supportive BBM (is that even a thing?) husband. April enjoys living on the beach and plans to further explore her sexy, sensual side writing romance.
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I asked April Ryder, “What is the best and most rewarding thing you find about being a writer? Want to share what you think is the worst and most frustrating thing you find about being a writer?” and here is the response.
Best/Most Rewarding: If I’m honest it’s being paid every time someone buys my books. But if I think about it more it’s reading reviews and receiving emails from fans who love the characters your created and the books you’ve written and want you to write more. That makes me feel pretty euphoric!
Worst/Most Frustrating: Honest answer again: answering questions like this. Seriously though, there is a lot of admin, button clicking and less than glamorous tasks that come with being a writer. People only think about making art and creating worlds but there is more to it than that. Especially if you want to get serious about writing and publishing. There are days when being a writer / publisher is just like being in a cubicle in an office—I used to be—and it sucks. The answers from the first question have to make up for the suckiness though. Usually it does, the rest of the time there is chocolate.
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After being dumped by her live-in boyfriend for a blonde stick insect and a job in Wellington, Hayley is tricked into trying out for the local roller derby team—the Selby Slammers. At the tryouts, hilarity ensues when she leaves her mark on not only the rink, but some of the hunky men from the inline hockey team who practice on the next rink over.
Meanwhile, Hayley attempts to pick up what’s left of her (love) life but is thwarted at every turn by three men: 1) the surprise return of her ex, 2) Jake, the hunky hockey player, and 3) continually running into Rick the ‘Dick’ who may or may not have a crazy underwear fetish!
All three seem to be conspiring against her, taking turns causing unexpected problems in her new and very hectic (love) life.
“Adam, I’m gonna kill you. Right after I’ve finished eating these pancakes—ooh maple-flavoured syrup and berry compote. But after that I’ll kill you! And then, I’ll find a time machine and kick my own butt, cause damn, am I stupid or what? Nobody answer that!” — Hayley
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I opened the door, grabbed my towel and was in the process of wrapping it around me when I realised I wasn’t alone. Unfortunately, it wasn’t Jake who stood guiltily by my clothes with my panties clenched tightly in hand.
“You’re not Jake.”
“No,” he said. The guilty look on his face disappeared, quickly replaced with the angry one I was used to. “Sorry to disappoint you.”
We glared at each other. He was better at it though, seeing as he was clothed and seemed to have more practice.
“Wh-what are you doing?” I asked, hoping for some sane, logical response as to why the man who liked to yell at me had my panties. “This is the women’s changing room.”
I blinked. After the swear-filled tirade he had given me earlier, that’s all he had to say? I snapped. I know, completely out of character for me, but he deserved it.
I marched up to him, placed my fisted hands on my hips and got all up in his face, just like he had with me in the rink. “That giant tent in your hand? That’s mine.”
I couldn’t believe what he did next. He dropped them. On the floor. Right in a puddle of water.
“Oh my god,” I breathed as we both stared at my sodden plus-sized panties.
“Sorry,” he said and bent to retrieve them.
“Well, so you should be,” I admonished.
When he didn’t get back up, I knew something was wrong. I looked down at the top of his head and frowned. This had gone beyond the Outer Limits.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“You should put a towel on,” he murmured, speaking to the ground and not up at me.
“A towel?” I asked, confused. That’s when I remembered I was naked under my towel—except my towel was missing. I slapped one hand over my still tingling lady bits and an arm across my breasts, smacking him in the side of the head in the process.
He grunted and tilted slightly before righting himself while still crouched on the floor.
For a man who just had his hands on my panties, he sure was going to great extremes to avert his eyes. Why would a man do that? Why would he only be interested in panties and not the woman who wore them?
“God you don’t wear them, do you?” I asked without thinking.
That answer was too quick.
“I was just—never mind.”
On the one hand, I was curious about what he actually wanted them for but on the other, I was still naked and he wasn’t. Not that I wanted him to join me in being naked!
“Oh god,” I groaned again.
I spied my towel on the floor behind me and retrieved it. I made sure it was wrapped around me extra tight before I made him leave.
He of course, tried to apologise again before shutting the door. “I’m sorry. It’s not what you—”
“Just get out. We’re even okay. We’re so totally even that you might owe me!” I froze, suddenly aware that I had possibly suggested that I wanted to see the other half of him—the half I hadn’t yet seen—naked. “Get out!”
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April Ryder, thank you for stopping by today!
Love & blessings to all! ❤