Black-Eyed Susan by Jennifer Armstrong
By Jennifer Armstrong
A lyrical novel a few day within the lifetime of a tender pioneer woman starting to be up at the Dakota prairie is now on hand in a Knopf Paperback version. This broadly praised and wonderfully crafted story deftly conjures up the large expanse of the yank West, the hardships confronted via pioneer households, and the powerful bonds of kinfolk and group.
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Extra info for Black-Eyed Susan
The skin was oiled, shimmering beneath drops of river spray with limbs laid open, hiding nothing. The model’s eyes were closed, the expression on her face a combination of lust and fulfillment. The sultry, open lips were parted, the tongue peeking out between perfect teeth. Her long, scarlet nails rested against the dark triangle of femininity. Lee swallowed, blushed, but turned the page. There followed more of the same. Skin and sin, she thought—exactly what one might expect of a man like Sam Brown.
She braced one elbow on the table, rested her other forearm against the edge of the table, and stroked the damp sides of her cold glass. “You know,” she mused to the ice cubes in the empty tumbler, “there are some things my pride just won’t let me do. ” “It was. But I earn enough to support myself now. ” She saw his eyes drop to the hand toying with the glass. It bore only a large oval turquoise in a sterling silver setting. ” he asked. His eyes moved higher, met hers, and her fingers stopped stroking the damp glass.
Unbidden came the seductive pictures of the magazine and with them the vision of Sam Brown’s face, his bare chest, his bare feet. She stared into her own dark eyes until her eyelids trembled, and she lowered her eyes. Her gaze moved down the long, lean neck to medium, pear-shaped breasts with dark nipples. Hesitantly she brought the brush forward and ran the back of it around the outer edge of her right breast. The cool, yellow plastic was strangely smooth and welcome against her skin. She drifted it along the hollow beneath the breast, then up to the nipple.