The Worst Romance Novel Ever Written - Plot & Excerpts
Johnny said, rolling through the light at Orange and Melrose. How? Gloria wondered. How on earth did this broken muffler with wheels get you there? She stared at what should have been her half of the dashboard. Only one vent held its position, the radio and the heater and fan switches dangling in the air. “Where’s the rest of your dashboard?” “Fell off,” Johnny said. “It’s in the trunk.” “Does the heater work? My feet are cold.” Johnny fiddled with the heater switch, and warm air bathed Gloria’s feet. “That better?” “This thing doesn’t have AC, does it?” “I just open the windows. Oh. And a few holes underneath provide some ventilation. It’s got a tiny bit of rust.” A tiny bit? If he hits any speed bumps, we’ll both fall through to the street. “Park in front of, um, Marion’s house.” Johnny parked, the Vega grumbling a full twenty seconds before shutting off with a clank.
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