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Excerpts
AVALANCHE
“Nude?”
Blake’s brows knit and she closes her eyes, mouth slightly agape. When she reopens them, Karsyn is sitting with his back against the all-white sofa in her living room. Her mind processes the image—his slicked back blonde hair and two-piece designer suit, the glazed over look in his eyes, as if he neither appreciates nor has the patience for her drama. There is Karsyn who plans B-list movie nights and shows up to Blake’s apartment in a linen shirt and chinos, never without a bottle of tasteful wine. Then there is this… Karsyn, her agent. She still thinks there’s a possibility this is all an elaborate joke.
“What… what do you mean nude, Kars?”
Karsyn sighs, blinks up at Blake. “Nude, B. Naked. Unclothed. Au natural.” He shakes his head. “Since when do you have reservations about shooting nude?”
