As a Multiple Sclerosis patient, it has become necessary for me to reinvent myself. I have ... and continue to ... refuse to lie down and die, or in this case, follow the normally prescribed drugs and treatments that do nothing to defeat my disease. I am not only surviving by pursuing alternatives, I am thriving. I do the things specialists told me I would never be able to do. I walk and hope to one day even run regularly. I retain my cognitive and creative abilities for the pleasure of my readers. Although you may never see me on my daily walk, you are welcome to read my novel(s) and in doing so, come to ask yourself, "How can the 'out of the box' protocol she has followed, help my loved one with an autoimmune disease like Multiple Sclerosis?"

Flirting with Kisses Friday

Today we're tasteing Sam's kiss from Touched by Mercy.

Excerpt is uneditited and used by permission.

Had she heard him right? If so, she wasn't sure she wanted to. To cover her pounding heart and flushed face, Sam took to rounding up everyone for dinner, stealing glances at Allan every chance she had.

'What about my chance?' he'd said. What did he mean by that? Surely not what her heart wanted to believe? If Allan's smile were indication, that's exactly what he meant. And he'd been saying the same for several days now. Oh, she wanted to hear more. Feel more. But Samantha couldn't allow it. She couldn't allow such a wonderful man, a friend at that, to care for her. He'd only be hurt.

She couldn't betray him.

In a vain attempt to rectify the situation, Sam placed him between Delia and Gretchen during the meal. Then spent the entire dinner chiding herself for being jealous.

Allan seemed confused every time he looked her way. He probably doesn't understand you at all. Doesn't know why you're so warm and friendly then cold the next minute? How could you toy with him like that? At least, while she disappointed him, Allan found pleasure in something that evening. Quentin could cook. He not only lived through the meal, but had himself a second helping.

Walking him to the door that evening, Sam couldn't begin to control the beating of her heart. It nearly pushed its way from her chest when Allan leaned over and caught her chin. "I think I should exact that payment we spoke about," he whispered.

"What are you--?" Her question lost itself against his lips. Drowned by his sigh. Silenced by the warmth that invaded her.

He pulled away. She stared at him through glazed eyes, smiling like a dolt. He groaned softly and kissed her again. This time he pulled her into his arms and held her tightly, as though he were afraid she'd get away. His breathing sounded quite irregular when he pulled away. "I'll have to exact that payment more often." He kissed the tip of her nose. "Good evening, Miss Northam." He winked, slipped on his hat and took his leave.
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