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View this author's other titles LENGTH: Short Story Cover art (c) Eliza Black 2004
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Cade Ryan is an awkward, video game-playing nerd. But when he meets a beautiful, vivacious cellist, his lonely life is turned upside down. Can a single night of passion transform a nerd into a prince?
Rating: Graphic sexual content. |
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"Four Angels! The Prince Nerd is a very romantic story. It is a classic tale of the frog that turns into a prince with some very sexy scenes mixed in. Short but sweet, I found this book to be a very enjoyable read." Fallen Angel Reviews "A completely charming tale, The Nerd Prince will have readers laughing and squirming in their seats at the same time. I loved the way Cade and Shell were able to work through their differences and how they each worked at being more accepting of each other. Although when Cade first called Shell's seashell collection shells I thought their relationship was doomed from the start. Ms. Fisher is talented author and I will be reading more of her work in the future." In the Library Reviews "Four Angels! The Nerd Prince was a thoroughly enjoyable read. It is a fairly short book but filled with memorable characters and sizzling erotic action. Cade is a great hero, not the usual Alpha chest-thumping male but a "nice" guy. Shell is a perfect complement to him; she gives him what he needs: friendship and love. These two light up the pages and the story comes alive for the reader. The author pulls the reader into the story and provides a satisfying ending to the book. This was the reviewer's first exposure to Ms. Fisher's work and we hope it won't be the last." Fallen Angel Reviews "THE NERD PRINCE is a cute little story sure to please many readers who enjoy quick, sentimental journeys through new love. Who can ignore the punch of meeting the guy they might want to spend the rest of their lives with?" Amy Cunningham, Romance Reviews Today "Ellen Fisher has crafted a sensual and enchanting contemporary fairy-tale about how the love of a good woman can change a man." The Road to Romance "The Nerd Prince is a short, quick, and enjoyable story....For a book that will put a sweet smile on your face grab The Nerd Prince." Just Erotic Romance Reviews "A wonderful romance that has a heroine insecure about her looks
by Ellen Fisher
Goddamn it. There was that horrible noise again. Cade Ryan dropped the controller for his video game and stood up. Unable to focus on saving the world by killing bloodthirsty aliens, he stalked restlessly away from the television and toward the source of what he’d come to think of as That Godawful Racket. Dreadful, tuneless squawks drifted down from above him, like a celestial angelic harp choir gone insanely tone deaf. He stood there and stared at the ceiling, clenching his teeth with fury. If only Rhoda hadn’t dumped him for a newer model, he wouldn’t be stuck in this godawful apartment with paper-thin walls, listening to the sound of his next-door neighbors as they grunted atop a squeaking bedframe. Hearing a dog (in a supposedly canine-free apartment building) bark nonstop. Listening to That Godawful Racket. Now Rhoda had the house. A perfectly good house. A rather nice house, in fact. A house some people might characterize as a mansion. Considering she was the one who’d ended their marriage, he should have been the one to keep the house, but he’d been so hurt and furious he’d simply walked out. And now he had absolutely nothing but a tiny, barely furnished apartment, with only the grating, offkey sounds to keep him company. Abruptly he snapped. He’d had enough. He spun and walked with purposeful, angry steps toward his cheap stereo system … pretty much the only thing he’d bothered to buy, besides a couple of pieces of flimsily constructed furniture. He leaned over, popped a CD into it, and turned the volume knob up almost as far as it would go. Three seconds later, all hell broke loose.
Shell Anderson drew the horsehair bow across the strings of her cello, bringing forth the atonal sounds of Schnittke’s cello sonata. She loved Schnittke, although his works weren’t as pretty as the Bach Suites she’d been working on earlier. Schnittke was more of an acquired taste. Abruptly a terrible noise erupted from the apartment below her, and she broke off with a squawk. A guy had moved in below her a couple of months ago, but until today he’d been very quiet. Now it sounded like he was throwing a party for the whole block, or else trying to make himself deaf. And her as well, she thought with irritation, laying the cello carefully down on its side and placing the bow on the music stand. She really needed to practice. But it wasn’t going to happen with that noise going on. She decided to give him a few minutes. Maybe he’d turn it off. Fifteen minutes later, she couldn’t stand it any more.
Shell stood outside the door of her downstairs neighbor. Here the racket was even more horrific. Out of the wall of sound she could barely pick out a saxophone, honking and wailing. She was amazed there wasn’t an angry crowd of people in the hall, beating on his door. Then again, it was the middle of the day on a Wednesday and most people weren’t home. That was the reason she had been practicing--she didn’t want to annoy her neighbors. She knocked on the door. She wasn’t particularly surprised when he didn’t respond, since the noise was so loud he probably wouldn’t hear a bomb go off. She drew her fist back and pounded on the door as hard as she could. Moments later the door opened, flooding the hallway with an unbelievable wave of sound, and she found herself facing a nerd. There was really no other word she could think of that could describe him. He was somewhere around six feet tall, big and awkward-looking, with a mop of shaggy brownish hair, stooped shoulders, and dark eyes hidden behind thick glasses. He wore a baggy, rumpled gray sweatsuit that looked like it hadn’t been washed in a week, with a large stain of what appeared to be mustard adorning it. He said something, but she couldn’t hear him over the music. "What?" she yelled. He raised his voice. "I said, are you selling Girl Scout cookies?" She bristled. Just because she happened to be a bit on the short side and had a slim figure didn’t mean she looked like a Girl Scout. She’d pulled her black hair back in a simple ponytail, and she was wearing a pair of jeans with one of the knees fraying, but she didn’t look that young. Did she? "Could you turn it down?" she shouted. He gazed at her a moment longer through his inch-thick lenses, then lifted one shoulder in a shrug and disappeared into his apartment. A moment later, the noise stopped. But her ears were still ringing. She tried to get a surreptitious glance into the apartment through the small crack he’d left, but all she saw was a futon and a cheap end table, the kind you could buy at Wal-Mart and put together yourself. There was a beer can sitting on the floor, a Chinese takeout box on the futon, and a sloppy pile of what looked like Sports Illustrated on the end table. She was willing to bet he was a bachelor … a thought that gave her a warm rush of pleasure, for some odd reason. Her view was blocked when he reappeared at the door. "Better?" "Yes, thank you," she said, rubbing absently at her ear. "What on earth was that?" "Bird. Charlie Parker." "It was--it was--" She cast about for a way of saying "the most horrible thing I ever heard in my life" tactfully, without a whole lot of success. At last she said instead, "It was really loud." The corner of his mouth twitched up in a sardonic grin. "It’s great music, isn’t it?" "Um … it’s not exactly my style," she said honestly. "Yeah, I’ve heard your style. That squawking stuff." Shell blinked. "Excuse me?" "That racket you listen to. It’s not music, it’s Chinese water torture for the ears." Ordinarily Shell had a good sense of humor, but it flew right out the window when someone criticized her cello playing. "It’s Schnittke," she said stiffly. "And I don’t--" "Schnittke. What the hell is a Schnittke?" "A Russian twentieth-century composer," she growled. "Jesus. Can’t you listen to something normal?" Her eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. "I’m not listening to it. I’m playing it." She saw his lips part in surprise. "Oh," he said. "I’m sorry. I didn’t know." "That’s all right." He looked at her curiously. "Aren’t you a little old to be taking up an instrument?" An explosion of rage went off in Shell’s head. "Look," she said tersely, "I am a professional cellist. I am playing this Schnittke piece in two weeks with the Swift Creek Chamber Music Ensemble." "Oh, my God." He stared at her, and she thought with grim pleasure that she’d succeeded in impressing him. Then he opened his mouth again, and that illusion was shattered. "You mean it’s supposed to sound like that?" Shell made a hissing sound through her teeth. "Look, just keep down the racket, will you?" "I will if you will." "I have to practice!" she said angrily. His lips twisted in a smile. "Then I’m going to have to keep testing out my speakers." She blinked. "Are they new?" "No. I just like testing them when you make that--that noise." "Son of a--" Shell broke off, aware that she was letting him get to her. She decided to approach the subject from a different angle. "Look," she said, smiling at him, "I’m sure we can work this out. Maybe we got off on the wrong foot. I’m Shell Anderson." At the questioning tilt of his eyebrow, she added, "No, it’s not short for Michelle. Just Shell." She stuck out her hand, and after a moment’s hesitation he took it. "I’m Cade Ryan." He had a nice, low, rumbling voice that gave her goosebumps, but she did her best to ignore that. It was ridiculous to get goosebumps over a geek. "You’re new here, aren’t you?" A wary caution shuttered his eyes. "I moved in a few weeks ago." "I’ve been here for a couple of years," she said, shaking his hand enthusiastically and then dropping it. "It’s a nice building." She grinned. "Except for my cello playing, but everyone’s used to that." "I’m never going to get used to it." "Schnittke is kind of hard to listen to," she admitted. "Usually I play prettier things, like Haydn and Franck." "Unless you play jazz, I don’t think I’ll like it." "The thing is...." She looked up at him, doing her best Bambi eyes. "I really have to get my practicing done." He rolled his eyes. "How long?" "A couple more hours, maybe." "Hell. So much for my video game." "You play video games?" she said. And here he was calling her young. What was he, a teenager? "When I can hear them, yeah." He sighed as if she’d condemned him to an eternity in Purgatory. "Fine. I’ll just go out for a really long jog." She wondered why he wasn’t at work, but that wasn’t really any of her business. "Thanks," she said, and shot him a friendly grin. "I owe you one." He looked back at her without the slightest hint of a smile. "How about dinner?" She blinked. "Excuse me?" "You said you owed me one. I figured I’d go ahead and collect. How about dinner?" "Uh...." Shell hesitated. She didn’t usually go for poorly dressed, nerdy, video-game-playing guys. It was, she was perfectly aware, kind of shallow of her, but she preferred her men to be … well … attractive. "I’m kind of busy tonight," she said at last, awkwardly. His eyes were unreadable behind the thick glasses. "Fine," he said. "Maybe some other time." He turned on his heel and shut the door a little harder than necessary. She stood there for a moment, staring at the closed door, with the sinking awareness that she’d hurt his feelings.
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