Tipping My Hat to Little Red Riding Hood
I’d like to extend a huge thanks to Rosanna for having me over. This is my second visit to her blog, and hopefully she’ll invite me here again sometime soon.
When one’s writing is inspired by a much-loved tale, there’s a certain pressure to stay true to the story. Setting my romance after a zombie apocalypse made this challenging, but below are the key elements of Little Red Riding Hood I managed to preserve. (Spoiler Alert!)
1. Scarlet “Red” Ryding wears a red hood(ie).
2. She’s little (i.e., not an inch over five feet)
3. Her quest is to return to her grandmother (I took liberties on the “why”).
4. The W.O.L.F. waylays her mid-journey.
5. (Agent) Woodsman saves her life (on more than one occasion)
Curious about how all this combines into an erotic romance? Read on for the blurb and excerpt.
Catching Red (Undead Fairy Tales Book 2)
Scarlet “Red” Ryding is on a mission. To prevent mass suicide, she must fulfill her grandmother’s evil wishes and return posthaste. With knives in hand, she dives headfirst into an abandoned hospital full of zombies. But after getting trapped within, she is forced to accept help from the world’s most dangerous predator—a man.
Covert Agent Marcus Woodsman received strict instructions against interfering in the affairs of nomads. As a spy for the Federal Military Agency, his mandate is to observe and report. But when he finds a little redhead caught in the center of a brain-eater swarm, conscience compels him to put his ax to good use. By the time he realizes this smart-ass scout comes equipped with a world of trouble, it’s too late—he would do anything to keep her safe.
As Red and her Woodsman work together to survive undead, brave a snowstorm, and bring down an evil cult, they learn to laugh, love, and fight for happiness. The second book in Tara Quan’s Undead Fairy Tales series, Catching Red is a post-apocalyptic thriller with a happily ever after.
Consolidated Buy Links: http://www.taraquan.com/catchingred
Scarlet woke to the delicious smell of charred venison and cooking fruit. The rusty feeling between her joints was gone. She rubbed her crusted eyes as she curled into a sitting position. For the first time in months, she felt energized and rested.
Her bed ended where the kitchen area began. Marcus stood in front of the wood-burning stove, his back facing her. Even with his neck bent and spine curved, his blond head grazed the low ceiling. He wrapped a thick cloth around his hand, lifted the cast-iron skillet, and turned in place. He plunked it down on the circular stone tray at the center of her small rickety table. Her first and only attempt at carpentry creaked but didn’t fall apart.
She lifted an eyebrow as she scrutinized the skillet’s contents—seared smoked venison covered with slices of dried apple. It was an interesting meal choice.
Perhaps in reaction to her quizzical expression, he turned his palms up and defended his creation. “The food store in your basement is a mess. This was all I could scrounge up.”
She frowned. “I packed and stacked everything in alphabetical order.”
His broad shoulders rose and fell. “Your system didn’t make any sense. You’ll have to explain it sometime. Either way, this beats the MREs I fed you during the snowstorm. Come on. Your breakfast is getting cold.”
She grabbed the worn quilt and wrapped it over her shoulders. She was about to lower her feet to the cold floor when she saw him shake his head.
He walked over to the foot of her bed. The length of his torso and arms easily spanned the small area separating the cottage’s sleeping and eating spaces. He leaned forward and grabbed the edge of the table with both hands. When he brought his elbows into his body, the piece of furniture with all its contents slid as if on wheels. It stopped a few inches away from the bottom edge of the mattress. He stepped around it, then pulled up the only chair, and sat.
Scooting over, she sniffed the food. The smell made her mouth water. “Why are you being so nice?”
“I’ve always been nice.” He used his knife to spear a piece of seared meat and raised it to his mouth.
Scooting over, she sniffed the food. “You only did it to get me to have sex with you.”
About the Tara Quan
Globetrotter, lover of languages, and romance author, Tara Quan has an addiction for crafting tales with a pinch of spice and a smidgen of kink. Inspired by her travels, Tara enjoys tossing her kick-ass heroines and alpha males into exotic contemporary locales, fantasy worlds, and post-apocalyptic futures. Armed with magical powers or conventional weapons, her characters are guaranteed a suspenseful and sensual ride, as well as their own happily ever after. Learn more at www.taraquan.com