Creative Writing Resource for Budding Authors
Candy Love
CANDY LOVE
Registration Number : 1357537
CANDY LOVE
by
Austin Girl
PROLOGUE
Rookie in a Red Raincoat
You can tell a true cowboy by the type of horse that he rides.
- Cowboy Proverb
1973. THE YEAR OF DISCO: Afro wigs, platform heels and strobe lights. I had to be different. I was still in the ‘60s with my beehive hair, cowboy boots and Wolsey tights. At twenty-eight, I was the first female rookie agent for the FBI in D.C. and let me tell you: when you’re a sassy cowgirl from West Texas who handles a Thompson Machine Gun better than her male counterparts, you can bet life at the Bureau ain’t easy.
In one day, I managed to obtain, from a semi-trailer bust, a crate of 100 extremely valuable first-edition Playboy Magazines, a raise, a pink slip, and a contract on my life. The magazines were a gift from my irresistible chauvinist boss, Jack Justice, for saving his life. The pink slip was for receiving the raise and the contract on my head was for the Playboys. But, I negotiated to get my job back, promising Jack I’d go undercover at Disco Disco Casino in Vegas and nab its owner, Cupcake, a rotten midget-mobster. I told him I’d be the slimy midget’s personal discotheque instructor without getting myself killed and tossed in a dumpster-shaped coffin. Only problem: I couldn’t dance to save my life-not then, not now. But, I’m getting ahead of myself.
(My novel is written & soon to be published)
Registration Number : 1357537
CANDY LOVE
by
Austin Girl
PROLOGUE
Rookie in a Red Raincoat
You can tell a true cowboy by the type of horse that he rides.
- Cowboy Proverb
1973. THE YEAR OF DISCO: Afro wigs, platform heels and strobe lights. I had to be different. I was still in the ‘60s with my beehive hair, cowboy boots and Wolsey tights. At twenty-eight, I was the first female rookie agent for the FBI in D.C. and let me tell you: when you’re a sassy cowgirl from West Texas who handles a Thompson Machine Gun better than her male counterparts, you can bet life at the Bureau ain’t easy.
In one day, I managed to obtain, from a semi-trailer bust, a crate of 100 extremely valuable first-edition Playboy Magazines, a raise, a pink slip, and a contract on my life. The magazines were a gift from my irresistible chauvinist boss, Jack Justice, for saving his life. The pink slip was for receiving the raise and the contract on my head was for the Playboys. But, I negotiated to get my job back, promising Jack I’d go undercover at Disco Disco Casino in Vegas and nab its owner, Cupcake, a rotten midget-mobster. I told him I’d be the slimy midget’s personal discotheque instructor without getting myself killed and tossed in a dumpster-shaped coffin. Only problem: I couldn’t dance to save my life-not then, not now. But, I’m getting ahead of myself.
(My novel is written & soon to be published)
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