This isn't my blog, but one created by writer Sandra Nachlinger. Today, she is featuring my new novel, Confessions of a Predatory Lender, for Teaser Tuesday. Please take a look.

http://iousex.blogspot.com/2013/01/teaser-tuesday-confessions-of-predatory.html

And, as long as we're teasing, let me give you a teaser of my own from my book, the hilarious story of subprime lending. Sounds like an oxymoron? No way! Take a look:

It’s a Monday night and Bubba’s Place is dead. Two biker types sit at a window table, tucking into slabs of ribs and fries. They’re drinking beer from Steins. A waitress with panda bear eyes and facial piercings is refilling condiments. She turns to stare at me, wiping her ketchup-stained hands on a rag. In my double-breasted pinstripes, I’m slightly overdressed for the place. She grabs a menu and heads my way. But I wave her off and walk into the interior of the room, my heels clacking on the concrete floor.

I find Ed at the bar nursing a beer. Urgent and confidential is what his cryptic e-mail message had said, asking me to meet him at this Capitol Hill dive.

“Nice place.” I extract a tissue from my bag and flick it at the barstool next to him before I dare hoist myself up. My dry cleaner is already getting rich.

“Christy.” His grin is catawampus. His eyes are more shifty than normal. “I was worried you wouldn’t make it.”

“Sorry if I’m late but it’s not easy finding a safe parking spot in this neighborhood.” Glancing at his jeans and tee, I realize he’s taken the time to change. “I wish you’d told me about the dress code here. I would have worn my leathers.”

“Beer?” he asks.

“Preferably not touched by human hands.” I look around. The counter is damp from spilled drinks. The beer on tap is Bud. The bar is stocked with fifths of mostly cheap well brands. The waitress takes her condiment tray and disappears behind double swinging doors. There’s no one else here. It’s just Ed and me and the bikers. “Busy place,” I say. “Favorite hangout of yours?”

He grins that skewed grin.

“What’s wrong with La Belle’s? Too clean?”

“You know the place is crawling with Goode Mortgage types. I didn’t want anyone to think we’re dating.”

“Whose reputation are you protecting, yours or mine?”