By Marianne Mancusi
If Chrissie Hayward knew that morning she'd be going again in time to rescue her loopy coworker Kat, she'd have worn larger sneakers. Doubly so if she'd anticipated to fulfill her real love. in response to the mysterious gypsy, Chrissie used to be the "gentle soul who might tame an outlaw's thirst for revenge" -- aka the true Robin Hood. So how come the fellow was once any such dud? LOST...IN SHERWOOD woodland? No, Robin of Locksley was once no Prince fascinating. And the half approximately robbing the wealthy to feed the negative? He did not get the memo. actually, all of the man appeared to do used to be mope. (And he and his not-so-merry males concept Chrissie was once a boy. yes, she wasn't stacked, yet still!) still, he was once dependable and courageous and good-looking as sin. If Chrissie coudl simply get him with the software, she might correct his wagon and get those boyz'n the wooden to be heroes of the area rather than twerps in tights. merely then may well this prince of thieves develop into king of her center.
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Extra resources for A Hoboken Hipster in Sherwood Forest
Unfortunately, for all her cuteness, Flower is more the strong silent type; and if she's seen Kat she's not telling. Suddenly, as if on cue, my camera bag bursts into song. After listening to a few polyphonic bars of the Jefferson Airplane ringtone, I reach in and pull out my phone. " I say, putting the receiver to my ear. There's static on the other end of the line. Typical upstate New York reception. At least the residents’ babies won't die of cancer from living in close proximity to countless cell phone towers tike the rest of us probably will.
Man, Danny's portable GPS system sure would come in handy right about now. So would Danny himself, for that matter. He's so good with all these nature things—and at taking control when life goes all crazy. Oh, why did I have go start thinking about Danny? As always happens when my thoughts wander into the "closed for construction" part of my brain, tears start to threaten. No matter how much I try not to care, I always end up a total basket case when I think about my soon-to-be-ex husband. I always start missing the bastard with a vengeance.
Real smooth. We race through the forest, dodging trees and diving into bushes. Brambles scrape my face, my arms, and rocks stab into my bare feet, but I can barely feel them, I'm so scared. It's like I'm living The Blair Witch Project or something. I can hear the soldiers' cries as they attempt to follow. Luckily the underbrush is so thick in this part of the forest, where Robin leads, the horses seem to be having a hard time navigating through it. Otherwise we'd be so dead right now. "This way," Robin says, grabbing my arm.
A Hoboken Hipster in Sherwood Forest by Marianne Mancusi