Excerpt of Heart River Inn by Jocie McKade

How much humiliation could one woman take in two days? Don’t
ever, ever ponder that thought, because the Fates, they are
not only listening, they can read minds.

Trying to sneak through the thick mass of lavender and hide
out in my room, I stepped on one of the swans from the lake.
A pair of them had apparently tired of swimming in their
grand lake, and they were napping under the lavender.

A horrendous squawk blasted from one, the other one
half-flew, half-hopped out of the brush head down, beak
point out like a spear. A mass of white feathers flew up
around my face, setting off a sneezing attack.

I was on my third sneeze when something latched on to my
right butt cheek. Whirling around, I screamed, finding huge
swan attached to my ass.
“Get it off, get it off!” I yelled, twirling around trying
to knock the mean little bastard off my ass.

Angel, Max, Jared, Peter, and assorted guests began running
toward me. I was doing a white girl version of break dancing
trying to loosen the swan’s grip. The muscles in my body
were spasming when I spied a second swan running toward me.
Its head pointed straight out like a javelin as it took a
death grip on my pant leg.

Jared picked that one up and threw him toward the lake, then
wrangled the second one that was still attached to my butt.
He had to nearly break the swans neck to make him let go.
Finally, I felt its beak release the largest muscle in my
butt cheek. Jared flung him into the water with his partner
in crime.

“Are you alright?” Jared had his hands on my shoulders,
stifling a laugh. I could see it--his eyes were twitching,
his lips were trying not to curl into a smile, and he kept
clearing his throat.

This was not funny. I think my butt cheek was bleeding. Did
swans carry rabies? What if I needed stitches in my butt?

Mr. Bernard, Angel and Peter were not so polite. Peter was
sitting on the ground howling so hard with laughter that he
was holding his stomach. Angel was dabbing her eyes with a
tissue, so she wouldn’t mess up her mascara, and Max had his
hands crossed in front of him laughing.

“I thought you were going to take a swan dive there for a
minute.” Max snorted, and the crowd joined in.

“I’ll walk you to your room.” Jared offered. I pushed his
hands away, stomping off.
My butt cheek was burning. That swan had managed to latch
onto the one muscle that hurt the worst from the morning’s
workout, and chew on it.

The Fates were out to get me; the swans were out to get me,
everything was out to get me. I was a freakin’ waste as a
journalist. If I didn’t get that story tonight I was going
home, back to New York City where it was safe.