Pistol Fanny’s
Hank & Delilah
Annie Rose Welch
Genre: Romantic Suspense
Release Date: July 17th, 2015
Never fall in love with a bank robber.
Especially if she’s the one who robbed your bank, took you hostage, and dumped you unconscious at the local convenience store. And definitely not if you are the assistant district attorney of Tupelo, Mississippi.
This is the advice Hank Huckleberry Rivers would have given himself, back when he was a man who vowed to always walk on the right side of the law. The same law that had seemed sacrosanct ever since the day he and his friends watched as two men were murdered right below their tree house.
Falling in love with a dangerous criminal can have life-altering consequences, though. And when the past and the present meet head-on, Hank finds himself in more trouble than he ever bargained for. He must run to save his life, daring to find answers to the questions threatening his safety and his heart, as the killer below the tree house comes after Hank—and his pistol-wielding bank robber.
It’s a simple case of love in the first degree.
Artist: Jaime Buckley
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Even so, these mystical women in heels who were robbing and donating continued to make headlines, and banks across the states had never been busier. Men were lining up, never taking such an interest in where their money was stashed, all in hopes of catching a glimpse of them.
Posters were made, memes popped up like mushrooms in a wet field online, and a comic strip was dedicated to these women. Pistollette was bigger than life, her legs spread apart, a pistol in each hand, looking down on the world. That exaggerated smile on her face, those brown blinking eyes.
Her sisters were right beside her, blowing things up, winking and playing the boom box, tap dancing by a door, flipping on counters. Close to their hairlines, a zipper, and a clear thin line that separated their two sides. The good and the bad. The zipper was the key to their true identity. And below them all were men, amplified cartoon hearts floating from their chests, stars in their eyes, and lust in their smiles.
The slogan for these women—not only do they steal your money, they collect interest on your heart.
The entire world knew who they were. Headlines read: Maybe coming to a bank near you.
Propaganda hung in alleys, on fences, above urinals, and below in underground train stations. They were up in pool halls, in dive bars, and on the walls of the swankiest clubs in New York. They had become art. Modern day sophisticate meets old lawless ruggedness. A huge billboard hung in Hollywood, showing the girls appearing out of smoke: Stealing the hearts of the rich guys, giving to the poor ones. Pistollette and her Sirens will take you by storm! They were for the good guys of the world who cared enough to figure it out.
They were elusive and mysterious, and there was a reward for any man who would dare remove any of their masks. The world was sure underneath the masquerades were the most beautiful faces any man had ever seen. No one ever tried. They were too stupefied in their presence. They were truck drivers’ and bikers’ dreams, doctors’ and lawyers’ fantasies.
The hoopla went on and on.
Excerpt 2:
Pistol grinned, trying to hide her smile but failing miserably.
“I know you’re grinning over there.” There were two grins on each side of the line now. “I wish I could’ve been there. I love me some roasted weenies. That mean ole grave keeper, he wasn’t too pleased, though. He had laid some of those real good people to rest. And he didn’t like the idea of anyone disturbing them. Oh no, he sure didn’t. He put out a wanted sign asking all kinds of people about—who done it. As they say, dead men tell no tales, but you go poking around and sometimes those that are left behind, they tell the tales.”
“Big pickins for that old grave keeper, huh?”
“Well, let’s just put it this way. He’s offering more than a dollar and a bunch of pickles.”
“See you in ten,” Pistol said.
“Woo hoo,” they went, and the call went dead.
Born and raised in New Orleans, Annie has a habit of shortening her words and telling long stories. She speaks with a southern flair and cooks with it too. At the tender age of twenty- one, she hitched up her wagons (took her first plane ride) and moved out west to the big shake (California).
Her writing career began one sleepless night when she imagined a gorgeous woman and a man with maniacal hair floating above her like lightening bugs falling from the sky. Curious about them, their story, and why they were floating around in her head, she sat down and penned (typed) her first novel, Marigny Street. A dream come true for her, she hasn't stopped writing since. She loves a damn good love story, always has, no matter what the genre. She is particularly moved by imperfect love that in its own unique way is perfect, the notion of love at first sight, soul mates, and things that are generally out of the norm.
When she's not writing she enjoys dabbling in photography and finding new, inspirational music to add to her collection. Deciding on a whim to hitch up those same wagons, Annie currently resides in Texas (where everything is bigger) with her husband, daughter, and their two peculiar dogs, Boudreaux and Tabasco (who, call her crazy, bark with an accent).
For lagniappe (a little extra), a virtual cup of café au lait and beignets, please visit Annie's website: www.annierosewelch.com
She can also be found on Facebook & Twitter.
Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorAnnieRoseWelch
Twitter: https://twitter.com/angelwriter11
Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/Annie-Rose-Welch/e/B00DQSYDTM/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1
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