Too late. “Twinkieeee…” as she grabs my forearm, clutching with those pretty silk-painted nails, so now I must slow my gait.
“Hello, Louisa,” I say, barely turning my head. She looks stressed but still stylish, always so stylish, in her smart Prada ensemble of a very short skirt and snug fitted jacket of very just-so beige. She teeters on such needle-thin high heels I wonder how she’s able to walk at all. I keep up my pace, albeit slower.
“You got my messages?” she squeaks, now in sync with my stride, “And my card?”
“Yes,” I reply, still not looking at her. She’s clamped on like the Ugly Duchess now, carrying something in her other arm. It looks like a muff.
“Well, why didn’t you answer?”
* * *
Evil Editor put down the pages and raised his eyebrows. Chick lit. Not too bad. What about the query?
...tells the story of a giant animated Hostess Twinkie with the soul of a dead princess who dumps her acquaintance Louisa (who wears her muff on her forearm), in order to take her friends Clytie and Lady Gwen, the performing seals from the aquarium, on a tour of Manhattan to find the perfect...
"What the f--?" He scanned on. "Ah!"
...should appeal to fans of Bridget Jones' Diary and Alice's Adventures in Wonderland...
Opening: Panda Rosa.....Continuation: Anon.