I’m reading Ellen Booraem’s Texting the Underworld, and the first sentence is:
Death stalked the spider, pre-algebra book in hand.
First Google image for “hand:”
“Give it to me, baby,” he said. “I’ve had enough.”
She shook her head, teasing him.
“Look,” he said. “I’ve got to get to work. I love you, lots, but a man can’t play all the time.”
That coy look, head lowered, eyes lifted almost undid him—but it was already so late that he’d have to rush to get dressed by the time his carpool arrived.
“Please, baby,” he said. “I mean it.”
She saw that he did and gracefully, almost delicately, released her treasure.
He was sorry to end the interlude…but if he left a toy within reach, she’d have it chewed to bits by the time he got home.
Hilari Bell usually writes fantasy for kids and teens, but she just got a new dog and you can see what it’s done to her brain.