August 28, 2012
August 26, 2012
GUEST POST w/ Jennifer Griffith
“Don’t Write What You Know”
Thank you for letting me be your guest blogger today! It’s an honor.
Do you remember those skits by Monty Python, “And Now for Something Completely Different?” You probably wanted something completely different on this blog today, so here’s a post about sumo wrestling!
Sumo. It’s gross, right? Flabby, mostly-naked guys slamming into each other at full speed?
Ah, but my friends, it is much, much more!
Sumo is the national sport of Japan. It’s of ancient origin. Only men are allowed to compete. Foreigners have been part of sumo for almost 100 years, and the current champion is foreign, as was his predecessor. There are about 1000 men who are in the pro ranks, and there are six levels that a competitor must climb through (or shove through, actually!) to get to the top tier. There are six tournaments a year, three in Tokyo, and three at other locations in Japan. The winner of a tournament receives The Emperor’s Cup, a huge silver trophy I couldn’t lift if my life depended on it.
There aren’t any weight classes, so the biggest, heaviest guys compete against everyone else in their level. It pays to put on weight! And having good balance can help a wrestler (rikishi) win, even if he’s lighter than his opponent.
The rules are simple. To win a match, a Rikishi must force his opponent out of the ring or make him touch the ground with any part of his body other than the bottom of his foot. Matches are super intense, but they only last a few seconds. The power of these giants is just incredible.
Lots of matches are available to watch online.
Some of us eat sushi at restaurants called “The Happy Sumo,” but there’s a darker side to the sport. In recent years some incidents of hazing and bout throwing have come to light, and there have been scandals that have rocked the sport and disillusioned some fans.
Now, I did live in Japan for a year and a half (LOVED it!), and I did see a sumo wrestler in a train station one time in Tokyo, but I didn’t know much about the sport until I started researching it for my newly released novel BIG IN JAPAN. It’s the story of an overweight Texan guy who’s a nobody, walked on and invisible in his job and in love, who goes to Japan and accidentally becomes the first blond sumo wrestler.
Anyhow, for this book, I didn’t follow the advice of “write what you know.” Heh heh. I’m a 5’1” girly girl mom of five who lives in the Arizona desert. (Although I do love Japan and wanted to take readers on a virtual tour of it.) Instead I followed the rule “write what you want to know.” I wanted to know more about sumo, thought it was so exotic and readers might want to know about it too.
Robert Frost said in his poem “Maple,” “Name some children some names and see what happens.” I echo that: “Pick an exotic subject for your novel, research it and see what happens.”
It could turn out to be BIG!
Jennifer Griffith is the author of four novels. BIG IN JAPAN is published by Jolly Fish Press and is available at bookstores nationwide and online. It is also available as an ebook. Find her on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/AuthorJenniferGriffith
and on Twitter, @GriffithJen.
Thank you for letting me be your guest blogger today! It’s an honor.
Do you remember those skits by Monty Python, “And Now for Something Completely Different?” You probably wanted something completely different on this blog today, so here’s a post about sumo wrestling!
Sumo. It’s gross, right? Flabby, mostly-naked guys slamming into each other at full speed?
Ah, but my friends, it is much, much more!
Sumo is the national sport of Japan. It’s of ancient origin. Only men are allowed to compete. Foreigners have been part of sumo for almost 100 years, and the current champion is foreign, as was his predecessor. There are about 1000 men who are in the pro ranks, and there are six levels that a competitor must climb through (or shove through, actually!) to get to the top tier. There are six tournaments a year, three in Tokyo, and three at other locations in Japan. The winner of a tournament receives The Emperor’s Cup, a huge silver trophy I couldn’t lift if my life depended on it.
There aren’t any weight classes, so the biggest, heaviest guys compete against everyone else in their level. It pays to put on weight! And having good balance can help a wrestler (rikishi) win, even if he’s lighter than his opponent.
The rules are simple. To win a match, a Rikishi must force his opponent out of the ring or make him touch the ground with any part of his body other than the bottom of his foot. Matches are super intense, but they only last a few seconds. The power of these giants is just incredible.
Lots of matches are available to watch online.
Some of us eat sushi at restaurants called “The Happy Sumo,” but there’s a darker side to the sport. In recent years some incidents of hazing and bout throwing have come to light, and there have been scandals that have rocked the sport and disillusioned some fans.
Now, I did live in Japan for a year and a half (LOVED it!), and I did see a sumo wrestler in a train station one time in Tokyo, but I didn’t know much about the sport until I started researching it for my newly released novel BIG IN JAPAN. It’s the story of an overweight Texan guy who’s a nobody, walked on and invisible in his job and in love, who goes to Japan and accidentally becomes the first blond sumo wrestler.
Anyhow, for this book, I didn’t follow the advice of “write what you know.” Heh heh. I’m a 5’1” girly girl mom of five who lives in the Arizona desert. (Although I do love Japan and wanted to take readers on a virtual tour of it.) Instead I followed the rule “write what you want to know.” I wanted to know more about sumo, thought it was so exotic and readers might want to know about it too.
Robert Frost said in his poem “Maple,” “Name some children some names and see what happens.” I echo that: “Pick an exotic subject for your novel, research it and see what happens.”
It could turn out to be BIG!
Jennifer Griffith is the author of four novels. BIG IN JAPAN is published by Jolly Fish Press and is available at bookstores nationwide and online. It is also available as an ebook. Find her on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/AuthorJenniferGriffith
and on Twitter, @GriffithJen.
August 24, 2012
Fight! Fight!
Excerpt from current WIP (work in progress)
"An' ya think ya can just come in 'ere and bed her?" Quinn bit off the question.
"No wonder she's so lonely in bed. 'Course you probably don't know how to satisfy her anyway."
Quinn answered Kueter with a stiff upper cut. Kueter stumbled back, caught off-guard. He regained his balance and charged. Fists landed on muscle, leaving bruises in their wake. Quinn's fist found Kueter's nose. The awful crunch of smashed cartilage signaled severe injury.
Kueter answered with a wicked blow to Quinn's eye socket, tearing flesh. Quinn advanced sending punch after punch to his opponent's soft under belly. He didn't care for the man or his implications. This was Quinn's territory. Zelda was his girl. A table crashed to the floor under the weight of grown men. Quinn was up first, but Kueter charged again, wrapping his arms around Quinn's middle and driving him back. Quinn staggered back against the bar, the solid wood bruising his back.
Tuckett stepped in, picking up the whiskey bottle Quinn had drained. Quinn saw Tuckett raise the bottle overhead out of the corner of his uninjured eye, twisting he blocked Tuckett's blow with his arm. A nasty gash spurted blood in all directions. Kueter punched Quinn hard in the left kidney. Quinn arched to the side and back in reflex. Both men continued their battle, pushing Quinn to a murderous frenzy, fighting both men at the same time.
At last the foray calmed for a moment.
"Get his carcass out of here before I kill both of ya." Quinn bellowed, chasing them to the hitching rail with his staggering steps.
Tuckett pushed Kueter up on his dun with Kueter unable to sit erect in the saddle.
Tuckett turned back to Quinn. "Next time."
"Get out." Quinn growled feeling a glimmer of victory.
Tuckett climbed on his own horse and lit out in the same direction Kueter had gone, southwest.
"An' ya think ya can just come in 'ere and bed her?" Quinn bit off the question.
"No wonder she's so lonely in bed. 'Course you probably don't know how to satisfy her anyway."
Quinn answered Kueter with a stiff upper cut. Kueter stumbled back, caught off-guard. He regained his balance and charged. Fists landed on muscle, leaving bruises in their wake. Quinn's fist found Kueter's nose. The awful crunch of smashed cartilage signaled severe injury.
Kueter answered with a wicked blow to Quinn's eye socket, tearing flesh. Quinn advanced sending punch after punch to his opponent's soft under belly. He didn't care for the man or his implications. This was Quinn's territory. Zelda was his girl. A table crashed to the floor under the weight of grown men. Quinn was up first, but Kueter charged again, wrapping his arms around Quinn's middle and driving him back. Quinn staggered back against the bar, the solid wood bruising his back.
Tuckett stepped in, picking up the whiskey bottle Quinn had drained. Quinn saw Tuckett raise the bottle overhead out of the corner of his uninjured eye, twisting he blocked Tuckett's blow with his arm. A nasty gash spurted blood in all directions. Kueter punched Quinn hard in the left kidney. Quinn arched to the side and back in reflex. Both men continued their battle, pushing Quinn to a murderous frenzy, fighting both men at the same time.
At last the foray calmed for a moment.
"Get his carcass out of here before I kill both of ya." Quinn bellowed, chasing them to the hitching rail with his staggering steps.
Tuckett pushed Kueter up on his dun with Kueter unable to sit erect in the saddle.
Tuckett turned back to Quinn. "Next time."
"Get out." Quinn growled feeling a glimmer of victory.
Tuckett climbed on his own horse and lit out in the same direction Kueter had gone, southwest.
August 20, 2012
Mysterious Monday is asking a question.
What do Dark Days have to do with Promise? They don't go together. Better yet, what Promise might Dark Days hold? Now you're asking the right question.
When thinking of Dark Days we all have our own lists. Some lists include dark, stormy days in the literal sense. Others would think of days of depression and gloom or the death of a loved one, still others would consider the days of unemployment and family turmoil. Maybe one would think of days of life changing illness or the betrayal of a spouse or friend.
I encourage you to take a moment to consider what you would consider a dark day.
Would any of the above be correct in relation to my upcoming release Dark Days of Promise? Most certainly, yes. Which one? Ah hah, one must read to find out. You've now been supplied with at least one clue to the mystery.
But what do any of these have to do with Promise? That depends entirely on the promise one is referring to. What Promise would you prefer? I like the idea that tomorrow will be better than today. For some, that may be promise enough. But for at least one of my characters there is just that promise. Wouldn't we all love to have a friends promise that tomorrow will be better than today fulfilled?
In Dark Days of Promise, Vicki, the main character is given such a promise by her closest friend in this opening scene.
Janine, my best friend and elderly neighbor, glanced at the house and back at me. "Vicki, it's going to be okay. Even the darkest of days hold a promise of good things. I'll be right here beside you."
But can an elderly friend deliver on such a promise? Read, then you decide.
Dark Days of Promise will be released for sale through Desert Breeze Publishing in September 2012. (Check counter at the right for how many days you have left to wait.)
Link to buy: http://stores.desertbreezepublishing.com/-strse-345/Dark-Days-of-Promise/Detail.bok
When thinking of Dark Days we all have our own lists. Some lists include dark, stormy days in the literal sense. Others would think of days of depression and gloom or the death of a loved one, still others would consider the days of unemployment and family turmoil. Maybe one would think of days of life changing illness or the betrayal of a spouse or friend.
I encourage you to take a moment to consider what you would consider a dark day.
Would any of the above be correct in relation to my upcoming release Dark Days of Promise? Most certainly, yes. Which one? Ah hah, one must read to find out. You've now been supplied with at least one clue to the mystery.
But what do any of these have to do with Promise? That depends entirely on the promise one is referring to. What Promise would you prefer? I like the idea that tomorrow will be better than today. For some, that may be promise enough. But for at least one of my characters there is just that promise. Wouldn't we all love to have a friends promise that tomorrow will be better than today fulfilled?
In Dark Days of Promise, Vicki, the main character is given such a promise by her closest friend in this opening scene.
Janine, my best friend and elderly neighbor, glanced at the house and back at me. "Vicki, it's going to be okay. Even the darkest of days hold a promise of good things. I'll be right here beside you."
But can an elderly friend deliver on such a promise? Read, then you decide.
Dark Days of Promise will be released for sale through Desert Breeze Publishing in September 2012. (Check counter at the right for how many days you have left to wait.)
Link to buy: http://stores.desertbreezepublishing.com/-strse-345/Dark-Days-of-Promise/Detail.bok
August 17, 2012
Working on a Series. What do you like?
Interesting... I recently started several conversations on Facebook about reading a series, mainly how do people like their series? Do you like them linked by a common place or theme, but all stand alone? Do you like a flow from one to the other, but still independent? Or do you like them so closely interwoven you have to read them all in order to get the whole story... cliffhangers and all?
August 15, 2012
Adding Tension Between Characters
Today's mini-lesson is shared by Jordan Bollinger.
The lesson is on building tension between characters. It is the gradual, yet continual, building of tension that makes for a great plot. Tension 'turns up the volume' on the story's conflict. It is this tension that your characters' are immersed in that makes them more real for the reader; and therefore, captures and pulls them into your story. And taking the reader captive is why you 'show', instead of 'tell'. However, for this lesson, I'm going to be 'telling' you about how they feel. Do Not Do This At Home!
There are two types of we have available: regular tension and sexual tension. Of course, we want a certain amount of sexual tension between our hero and heroine; and we want it to grow gradually. You want to make your reader 'beg for it' - for that sizzling first kiss, or initial more intimate encounter.
After thinking about this, I came up with several ways of creating, what we'll call 'regular tension'. If you sit and think about it for a while, I bet you can come up with some of your own. Mine are:
• Preconceptions
• Assumptions
• Conflicting ethics
• Miscommunications
Some ways of adding 'sexual tension' between characters are:
• Day dreaming
• Close physical proximity
• Having one party interact with others, or perform some physical task while the other party watches
• The use of double entendre and/or suggestive (or accidentally suggestive) conversation
Let's meet our 'soon-to be-blossoming' couple: Sarah and Mark. They are about to meet for drinks, after being setup by two friends - Danny and Grace. Mark and Danny have been friends most of their lives; and Sarah and Grace went through Catholic school together. Danny and Grace aren't a couple, just friends and co-workers.
After talking over lunch, they've decided that Mark and Sarah a perfect for each other. Grace has repeated Danny's description of Mark to Sarah verbatim, 'As a great guy!', which tells Sarah absolutely nothing about him. Which is why Sarah is looking at the steadily growing pile of discarded outfits on her bed and giving serious thought about just not going.
Of course, Grace's description of Sarah as 'having a bubbly personality' was no better. It has Danny convinced she's 'less than perfect'. And, of course he's passed this assumption on to Mark, who is considering standing Sarah up.
Isn't miscommunication wonderful? They haven't even met yet and both are nervous and having serious doubts.
Okay, now Sarah's found something she actually thinks she looks nice in, and has, perhaps after a serious lecture to herself, arrived five minutes early - because punctuality is extremely important to her. Mark arrives about ten minutes late, not concerned about at all about his tardiness. Now Sarah's waiting for an explanation, and when she eventually says something he's starting to believe he's made an awful mistake.
Clash of ideology - it's a great way to not bound.
Once they get seated and order drinks, Mark asks Sarah about herself, which is good, right? Things are smoothing themselves out . . . until Sarah tells Mark about how she and Grace met in Catholic school; and goes on to tell how she still writes to several of the sisters. Now Billy Joel's 'Only the Good Die Young' is running through his head; and he's already feeling frustrated. (Hey, guys are guys - right?)
Meanwhile, on the other side of the table, Sarah sees his fallen face and reads is as he doesn't find her attractive.
Ooh! We got both assumption and pre-conceptions with that one.
The beauty is that they all work equally as well after they've gotten to know each other and started to fall in love. You just need to think about it, and you'll come up with ways of throwing a monkey wrench into their budding romance.
And, we haven't even touched on things others might say - to them or about them; meaning for them to hear it or not. That opens up even more possibilities.
So, let's move on to 'sexual tension' and get back to our hero and heroine. Mark broke up with his last girlfriend several months ago, and has been avoiding women in general. But, he has allowed himself a little bit of fantasying, which in turn has caused a 'rise in his libido'. He finds Sarah attractive, smart (he's never liked dumb girls) and has a great laugh. Maybe this could go somewhere - if not tonight, in the future.
And, since we're all modern women, we know women can fantasize too.
There's a little dance floor and, after some encouragement, Sarah agrees to take a little turn with Mark. Both find the other's perfume/cologne very nice. They also like the way feel in each other's arms. In addition, because of the dim light, Sarah hadn't noticed how very green his eyes were, and Mark hadn't appreciated how rosy her complexion was. Their nauseousness has changed to that wonderful 'new romance' excitement.
Close physical proximity - it's a great way to 'raise' expectations!
Which, in case you haven't guessed, leads us to 'double entendres', flirty talk and careless, and sometime embarrassing, badly worded comments. Our hero and heroine have imaginations, as we discovered above. Even the most innocent of comments start the brain working. Now, you have to work on double entendres - you want them suggestive, but in a tasteful way - even if you've decided to cross over the line into erotica. After all, we're not writing porn!
Remember all those Bond movies with Sean Connery? He and Cubby Broccoli used to play a game of who could think of some little 'naughty' thing and dare the other to include it in the movie. That's where all those double entendres came from.
Here, I should also mention that you have the option of using questionable comments by others as a way of not only building tension between one or more main and secondary characters, but it adds tension between the main characters themselves. If Mark punches a drunk out because of some rude comment, it causes conflict and tension between the some-to-be lovers, as well. Embarrassment and fear are great motivators.
This leads us to the last means on my list about building tension between our hero and heroine - having one character watch the other participating in some physical activity. I think that punching a guy out counts, but you don't have to use violence. Performing some brave deed, like saving a child from an approaching car, or executing a perfect dive off the high board will work just as well.
I trust you to understand that's this is just the tip of the proverbial iceberg, but I hope it will give you something to think about.
jordanbollinger.com
jordanbollinger.blogspot.com
jordanbollinger@rocketmail.com
The lesson is on building tension between characters. It is the gradual, yet continual, building of tension that makes for a great plot. Tension 'turns up the volume' on the story's conflict. It is this tension that your characters' are immersed in that makes them more real for the reader; and therefore, captures and pulls them into your story. And taking the reader captive is why you 'show', instead of 'tell'. However, for this lesson, I'm going to be 'telling' you about how they feel. Do Not Do This At Home!
There are two types of we have available: regular tension and sexual tension. Of course, we want a certain amount of sexual tension between our hero and heroine; and we want it to grow gradually. You want to make your reader 'beg for it' - for that sizzling first kiss, or initial more intimate encounter.
After thinking about this, I came up with several ways of creating, what we'll call 'regular tension'. If you sit and think about it for a while, I bet you can come up with some of your own. Mine are:
• Preconceptions
• Assumptions
• Conflicting ethics
• Miscommunications
Some ways of adding 'sexual tension' between characters are:
• Day dreaming
• Close physical proximity
• Having one party interact with others, or perform some physical task while the other party watches
• The use of double entendre and/or suggestive (or accidentally suggestive) conversation
Let's meet our 'soon-to be-blossoming' couple: Sarah and Mark. They are about to meet for drinks, after being setup by two friends - Danny and Grace. Mark and Danny have been friends most of their lives; and Sarah and Grace went through Catholic school together. Danny and Grace aren't a couple, just friends and co-workers.
After talking over lunch, they've decided that Mark and Sarah a perfect for each other. Grace has repeated Danny's description of Mark to Sarah verbatim, 'As a great guy!', which tells Sarah absolutely nothing about him. Which is why Sarah is looking at the steadily growing pile of discarded outfits on her bed and giving serious thought about just not going.
Of course, Grace's description of Sarah as 'having a bubbly personality' was no better. It has Danny convinced she's 'less than perfect'. And, of course he's passed this assumption on to Mark, who is considering standing Sarah up.
Isn't miscommunication wonderful? They haven't even met yet and both are nervous and having serious doubts.
Okay, now Sarah's found something she actually thinks she looks nice in, and has, perhaps after a serious lecture to herself, arrived five minutes early - because punctuality is extremely important to her. Mark arrives about ten minutes late, not concerned about at all about his tardiness. Now Sarah's waiting for an explanation, and when she eventually says something he's starting to believe he's made an awful mistake.
Clash of ideology - it's a great way to not bound.
Once they get seated and order drinks, Mark asks Sarah about herself, which is good, right? Things are smoothing themselves out . . . until Sarah tells Mark about how she and Grace met in Catholic school; and goes on to tell how she still writes to several of the sisters. Now Billy Joel's 'Only the Good Die Young' is running through his head; and he's already feeling frustrated. (Hey, guys are guys - right?)
Meanwhile, on the other side of the table, Sarah sees his fallen face and reads is as he doesn't find her attractive.
Ooh! We got both assumption and pre-conceptions with that one.
The beauty is that they all work equally as well after they've gotten to know each other and started to fall in love. You just need to think about it, and you'll come up with ways of throwing a monkey wrench into their budding romance.
And, we haven't even touched on things others might say - to them or about them; meaning for them to hear it or not. That opens up even more possibilities.
So, let's move on to 'sexual tension' and get back to our hero and heroine. Mark broke up with his last girlfriend several months ago, and has been avoiding women in general. But, he has allowed himself a little bit of fantasying, which in turn has caused a 'rise in his libido'. He finds Sarah attractive, smart (he's never liked dumb girls) and has a great laugh. Maybe this could go somewhere - if not tonight, in the future.
And, since we're all modern women, we know women can fantasize too.
There's a little dance floor and, after some encouragement, Sarah agrees to take a little turn with Mark. Both find the other's perfume/cologne very nice. They also like the way feel in each other's arms. In addition, because of the dim light, Sarah hadn't noticed how very green his eyes were, and Mark hadn't appreciated how rosy her complexion was. Their nauseousness has changed to that wonderful 'new romance' excitement.
Close physical proximity - it's a great way to 'raise' expectations!
Which, in case you haven't guessed, leads us to 'double entendres', flirty talk and careless, and sometime embarrassing, badly worded comments. Our hero and heroine have imaginations, as we discovered above. Even the most innocent of comments start the brain working. Now, you have to work on double entendres - you want them suggestive, but in a tasteful way - even if you've decided to cross over the line into erotica. After all, we're not writing porn!
Remember all those Bond movies with Sean Connery? He and Cubby Broccoli used to play a game of who could think of some little 'naughty' thing and dare the other to include it in the movie. That's where all those double entendres came from.
Here, I should also mention that you have the option of using questionable comments by others as a way of not only building tension between one or more main and secondary characters, but it adds tension between the main characters themselves. If Mark punches a drunk out because of some rude comment, it causes conflict and tension between the some-to-be lovers, as well. Embarrassment and fear are great motivators.
This leads us to the last means on my list about building tension between our hero and heroine - having one character watch the other participating in some physical activity. I think that punching a guy out counts, but you don't have to use violence. Performing some brave deed, like saving a child from an approaching car, or executing a perfect dive off the high board will work just as well.
I trust you to understand that's this is just the tip of the proverbial iceberg, but I hope it will give you something to think about.
jordanbollinger.com
jordanbollinger.blogspot.com
jordanbollinger@rocketmail.com
August 13, 2012
Fight in Progress!
Disclaimer: This fight is a work in progress.
Quinn rode closer to the camp, dismounting at the firelight's ring. "Smells right inviting." He nodded at the woman and the plate of beans in her hand.
"When she ain't burnin' it or dumpin' it on ya." The old timer turned his attention to the woman. "Get the man the rest of 'em vittles."
Quinn watched her. She glanced longingly at the beans and then handed him the plate. As he took the plate he noticed that her hands were tethered. A length of rope kept her within the ring of firelight.
"Have a sit. Move woman or ya'll get no blanket tonight."
The woman eyed her captor, an inkling of hunger mixing with the loathing glare. She moved away from him as far as her tether would allow.
Quinn nodded his thanks and grudgingly took her seat on a comfortable rock. He spooned a healthy bite into his mouth. They tasted awful. What had she done to them? The old timer took his place on a ratty stool and resumed his meal, seemingly unaware of the offensive taste.
"Bet cha'r wondrun' 'bout this." The old man traced the tether in the air with his spoon.
Quinn nodded in a nonchalant manner taking a smaller bite of beans.
"Ungrateful wretch. Saved 'er life, I did. An' this 'eres the result."
"She volunteered to be your slave, did she?" Quinn knew better, but wanted to hear the old timers version of the story. Nothing made it right to tether a woman like this, especially one that seemed rather unhappy about it. If she were a cattle wrestler than it might be different.
"Jus' opposite. Old Curly saves her life an' she weren't even appreciable. Ya ever heard of that?"
"I said 'thanks'," the woman said.
Curly yanked hard on the rope causing her to fall. Quinn considered the rope, following it with his eyes to find it anchored to a large rock near Curly.
Anger boiled in Quinn's throat. You couldn't force someone to be thankful and if anything Curly had heaped the wrath of a woman on himself. He managed to hide his feelings. Could Curly be reasoned with? Was Curly the type of man to seek revenge if Quinn stepped in to ruin his plans? Would he have to outright kill Curly to set the woman free? At best, Curly had warped motives for keeping her within his grasp.
"Women," Quinn drawled. "Seems they're more trouble than they're worth. Are you a gambling man, Curly?"
"Thinking of takin' 'er off my hands, are ya?" Curly shook his head. "Not 'fore I get my poke."
"Tough time getting that poke?"
"Ain't been the time."
"So what's stopping you?" Quinn measured the man across the campfire from him, disgust growing with his every word.
"Nothun now. My belly's full. I ain't a greedy feller. Ya can 'ave a go, jus' as well. Then we know what stakes we're playin' fer."
Quinn looked around to see the woman grasping a stout branch in her hands, obviously planning to stand her ground.
"No way. Over my dead body. You want a go? I'll take your manhood first," she hissed.
"Wretch!"
Quinn stood turning to face her, the plate of beans forgotten. He spread his hands, his fingers extended. He tried to reassure her, mouthing the words, "It's okay. I won't hurt you."
Curly's shadow grew, then distorted as he skirted the fire. "Ya go fer 'er hands. I'll hog tie 'er."
Quinn's hand recoiled at the same time he spun. His knife flashed once before sinking into Old Curly's shoulder. The stout branch caught him off guard. The second swipe hit him and all went black.
====
Okay, I'm being mean, but you'll have to read the book when it's released next spring to fine out who won the fight.
Talisman Series
Criss Cross for Love
Quinn rode closer to the camp, dismounting at the firelight's ring. "Smells right inviting." He nodded at the woman and the plate of beans in her hand.
"When she ain't burnin' it or dumpin' it on ya." The old timer turned his attention to the woman. "Get the man the rest of 'em vittles."
Quinn watched her. She glanced longingly at the beans and then handed him the plate. As he took the plate he noticed that her hands were tethered. A length of rope kept her within the ring of firelight.
"Have a sit. Move woman or ya'll get no blanket tonight."
The woman eyed her captor, an inkling of hunger mixing with the loathing glare. She moved away from him as far as her tether would allow.
Quinn nodded his thanks and grudgingly took her seat on a comfortable rock. He spooned a healthy bite into his mouth. They tasted awful. What had she done to them? The old timer took his place on a ratty stool and resumed his meal, seemingly unaware of the offensive taste.
"Bet cha'r wondrun' 'bout this." The old man traced the tether in the air with his spoon.
Quinn nodded in a nonchalant manner taking a smaller bite of beans.
"Ungrateful wretch. Saved 'er life, I did. An' this 'eres the result."
"She volunteered to be your slave, did she?" Quinn knew better, but wanted to hear the old timers version of the story. Nothing made it right to tether a woman like this, especially one that seemed rather unhappy about it. If she were a cattle wrestler than it might be different.
"Jus' opposite. Old Curly saves her life an' she weren't even appreciable. Ya ever heard of that?"
"I said 'thanks'," the woman said.
Curly yanked hard on the rope causing her to fall. Quinn considered the rope, following it with his eyes to find it anchored to a large rock near Curly.
Anger boiled in Quinn's throat. You couldn't force someone to be thankful and if anything Curly had heaped the wrath of a woman on himself. He managed to hide his feelings. Could Curly be reasoned with? Was Curly the type of man to seek revenge if Quinn stepped in to ruin his plans? Would he have to outright kill Curly to set the woman free? At best, Curly had warped motives for keeping her within his grasp.
"Women," Quinn drawled. "Seems they're more trouble than they're worth. Are you a gambling man, Curly?"
"Thinking of takin' 'er off my hands, are ya?" Curly shook his head. "Not 'fore I get my poke."
"Tough time getting that poke?"
"Ain't been the time."
"So what's stopping you?" Quinn measured the man across the campfire from him, disgust growing with his every word.
"Nothun now. My belly's full. I ain't a greedy feller. Ya can 'ave a go, jus' as well. Then we know what stakes we're playin' fer."
Quinn looked around to see the woman grasping a stout branch in her hands, obviously planning to stand her ground.
"No way. Over my dead body. You want a go? I'll take your manhood first," she hissed.
"Wretch!"
Quinn stood turning to face her, the plate of beans forgotten. He spread his hands, his fingers extended. He tried to reassure her, mouthing the words, "It's okay. I won't hurt you."
Curly's shadow grew, then distorted as he skirted the fire. "Ya go fer 'er hands. I'll hog tie 'er."
Quinn's hand recoiled at the same time he spun. His knife flashed once before sinking into Old Curly's shoulder. The stout branch caught him off guard. The second swipe hit him and all went black.
====
Okay, I'm being mean, but you'll have to read the book when it's released next spring to fine out who won the fight.
Talisman Series
Criss Cross for Love
August 10, 2012
August 8, 2012
Writing Structure: The Power of Three
By Kimota (Jonathan Crossfield)
http://www.jonathancrossfield.com/blog/2...
Brought to you via Marsha Ward
http://marshaward.blogspot.com/
* An Englishman, Scotsman and Irishman go into a bar
* Ready, steady, go
* The three act structure
* The popularity of trilogies in fiction
The number three recurs again and again throughout writing. Whether it is in the choice of words to create a pleasing sentence or the wider structure beneath a script, the number three seems inescapable as a stylistic and structural choice.
How often, when writing, have you found yourself desperately trying to find another word or phrase to create a triumvirate of ideas?
There are a number of reasons why three is so stylistically satisfying when creating stories or putting words together. Here are, naturally, three of them.
1. Rhythm. Rhythm is important in good writing. Shakespeare wrote every line with a strong rhythmic beat and most writers have a sense of the rhythm of their words. Rhythm can turn a dull phrase into one that lilts and sings. Three is the smallest number that can have a rhythm. Think about it. Tap the table twice - that's not a rhythm. Tap it three times. Bingo. Rhythm isn't just the beats but also the spaces in between - you need at least two spaces, and therefore three beats, to create a distinct rhythm. How many different rhythms can you create with three taps of the table? This rhythm can help bind concepts and words together and add an additional element - timing. Think about the example I gave you in the opening paragraph: 'ready, steady, go'.
There are a number of reasons why this phrasing works and therefore became so widely used. One of those reasons is rhythm. The goal of the phrase is not just to impart information, but to do so with pinpoint timing and synchronize multiple listeners to the same moment. To do so, the listener needs to be able to anticipate and be ready for the word 'go'. The way the listener does this is by assuming the length of time between the first two words - 'ready' and 'steady' - will be the same between the second two words - 'steady' and 'go'. They are listening for the rhythm.
This is the same reason why we sometimes, playfully, stretch out that second space or change the expected rhythm, to throw them off. "Reeeeeady... steeeeady... ... ... ... ... GO!" Even if you choose the other more formal "On your marks... Get set... Go!" form, you are still using a group of three to indicate a set rhythm and help the listener prepare for the split second timing of the start of the race.
The speaking clock phone service works in exactly the same way with three beats. "On the third stroke, the time will be..." We can synchronize our clocks and watches because we can anticipate the third beat within the rhythm.
But rhythm isn't just about functionality and precision in sports. It is also about aesthetics and style. 'Ready, steady, go' is a popular recurring phrase because it also creates a pleasing rhythm within the syllables and the rhyming of 'ready' and 'steady'. You most likely choose words and phrases over others all the time based on rhythm without even realizing it. They just sound better to you. And they are - because of the power of three.
2. Beginning, middle and end
Whether talking about the three act structure or the three books in a trilogy, three instinctively feels like the right number when plotting a story. Each of the three pieces - acts or books/films - contribute to the whole by providing that beginning, middle or end. The third Bourne film is quite clearly a final end to a story, wrapping up the last threads that were set in motion in the first film and were explored and aggravated in the second. Although each film can stand alone reasonably well, they are inextricably linked in that structure of three, forming a bigger, more impressive story overall.
Bourne, The Matrix, The two Star Wars Trilogies, the Godfather movies, the X-Men trilogy and many more - all seem to fall naturally into three. No one ever suggested making The Godfather a quartet of films. In fact, such things are extremely rare. The recent fourth Indiana Jones film was in development hell for twenty years and when it came, didn't really fit stylistically or narratively with the other three in the eyes of many viewers. The fourth Alien film, Alien Resurrection, felt superfluous after the third film had taken the series full circle and ended with Ripley's death. The fourth film therefore had to find an (unconvincing) way to bring Ripley back in a story that fails to resonate with anything that had gone before. It feels out of place and is easily the weakest of all the Alien films.
You can't break the rule of three.
The recent Terminator: Salvation film isn't really the fourth film in the series, but the first of a second trilogy, quite distinct from the first three films. This is, of course, deliberate.
When plotting out a story, you wouldn't put two middles into it, would you? The second, or middle, act of a film is where the runaround happens, the overcoming of obstacles, the exploration of the problems and possible solutions. Once this is done, you can't then add in another act of obstacles and runaround because the audience is now primed for the climax and resolution. Another middle act would be surplus to requirements and would merely delay the story from reaching its destination. This is why the three act structure works - beginning, middle and end. It is also why the trilogy works. Once the second is done, the audience has read two books or seen two films creating and tangling the various plot threads. Patience would begin to wear thin should a third film or book not tie up those threads and provide a sense of completeness.
3. The pattern of three
Just as three is the smallest number needed to create a rhythm, it's also the smallest number needed for a pattern to emerge. To determine a pattern or sequence between different concepts or words, the relationship between the first and second needs to be reflected a second time between the second and third. They don't need to be the same relationship, but that variation is what creates the specific pattern. For example; in a sequence of numbers - eg; 2,4,8 - the difference between the numbers is not the same. Yet, a similarity is that each is double the previous number. That is the pattern in the sequence. You would not be able to determine a specific pattern from only seeing two of those numbers.
Let's apply that to writing. In copywriting, a popular and persuasive technique is the Socratic method, named after Socrates. This method uses three - and always three - questions that are related to each other.
* Do you feel tired, even after a good night's sleep?
* Are you not eating as well as maybe you should?
* Do you need more energy to achieve the things you need to do each day?
You need CopyWrite Multi vitamins!
Why three? Because that is the minimum required to create a list and therefore a pattern of agreement in the reader if they belong to the target audience. When he or she reads your conclusion - that you should buy my multivitamins - they are more likely to agree, having been preconditioned to do so by the previous pattern.
The pattern of three works in other ways too - particularly when the third statement or response differs from the previous two, as it needs to in creating a joke. The Englishman, Scotsman and Irishman jokes that were so common when I was growing up work because of the power of three. Yet so many joke forms revolve around three protagonists or three concepts. Typically, the first protagonist will do or say something, usually quite normal or expected. The second will also do something - not necessarily the same but equally normal or expected. The third - and this used to be the Irishman, so I apologize to any Irish reading this - would break the pattern by doing something unexpected or ridiculous - thereby creating a laugh.
The following joke is reproduced from Wikipedia's page exploring the origins of the "Englishman, an Irishman and a Scotsman" form.
An Englishman, a Scotsman, and an Irishman are all builders working on a bridge. The Englishman opens his lunch-box and says, "If I get one more tuna sandwich, I'm going to jump off this bridge." The Scotsman opens his lunch box and says, "If I get one more ham sandwich, I'm going to jump off this bridge." The Irishman then says, "If I get one more egg sandwich, I'm going to jump off this bridge." The next day, all three get the same lunch, all three jump off the bridge, and all three die. At their funeral, the Englishman's wife says, "If only I'd known he didn't like tuna." The Scotsman's wife says, "If only I'd known he didn't like ham." The Irishman's wife says, "I don't understand it. He made his own sandwiches."
The joke creates the expectation of a pattern with the first two elements (the first two wives say the same thing about their husband's sandwiches) but then surprisingly overturns that pattern in the last element (the third wife reveals the Irishman made his own). The power of three.
Four breaks the spell. So if three is the minimum number required for rhythm and for pattern, why not four, or five? Brevity. Additional elements, just like additional acts, or 'middles', are unnecessary. Your writing is out to achieve a goal. If three is the minimum number required to achieve that goal, then any other numbers aren't even worth contemplating. We instinctively know much of the above without ever thinking about it. We know a sentence feels right or a story flows well or a joke will make people laugh. Yet, I bet, when you revise your work, you'll find groups and patterns of three. I am sure there are many other examples of three in writing as well as many more reasons why three is so powerfully wired into our brains.
How many triumvirates can you come up with?
http://www.jonathancrossfield.com/blog/2...
Brought to you via Marsha Ward
http://marshaward.blogspot.com/
* An Englishman, Scotsman and Irishman go into a bar
* Ready, steady, go
* The three act structure
* The popularity of trilogies in fiction
The number three recurs again and again throughout writing. Whether it is in the choice of words to create a pleasing sentence or the wider structure beneath a script, the number three seems inescapable as a stylistic and structural choice.
How often, when writing, have you found yourself desperately trying to find another word or phrase to create a triumvirate of ideas?
There are a number of reasons why three is so stylistically satisfying when creating stories or putting words together. Here are, naturally, three of them.
1. Rhythm. Rhythm is important in good writing. Shakespeare wrote every line with a strong rhythmic beat and most writers have a sense of the rhythm of their words. Rhythm can turn a dull phrase into one that lilts and sings. Three is the smallest number that can have a rhythm. Think about it. Tap the table twice - that's not a rhythm. Tap it three times. Bingo. Rhythm isn't just the beats but also the spaces in between - you need at least two spaces, and therefore three beats, to create a distinct rhythm. How many different rhythms can you create with three taps of the table? This rhythm can help bind concepts and words together and add an additional element - timing. Think about the example I gave you in the opening paragraph: 'ready, steady, go'.
There are a number of reasons why this phrasing works and therefore became so widely used. One of those reasons is rhythm. The goal of the phrase is not just to impart information, but to do so with pinpoint timing and synchronize multiple listeners to the same moment. To do so, the listener needs to be able to anticipate and be ready for the word 'go'. The way the listener does this is by assuming the length of time between the first two words - 'ready' and 'steady' - will be the same between the second two words - 'steady' and 'go'. They are listening for the rhythm.
This is the same reason why we sometimes, playfully, stretch out that second space or change the expected rhythm, to throw them off. "Reeeeeady... steeeeady... ... ... ... ... GO!" Even if you choose the other more formal "On your marks... Get set... Go!" form, you are still using a group of three to indicate a set rhythm and help the listener prepare for the split second timing of the start of the race.
The speaking clock phone service works in exactly the same way with three beats. "On the third stroke, the time will be..." We can synchronize our clocks and watches because we can anticipate the third beat within the rhythm.
But rhythm isn't just about functionality and precision in sports. It is also about aesthetics and style. 'Ready, steady, go' is a popular recurring phrase because it also creates a pleasing rhythm within the syllables and the rhyming of 'ready' and 'steady'. You most likely choose words and phrases over others all the time based on rhythm without even realizing it. They just sound better to you. And they are - because of the power of three.
2. Beginning, middle and end
Whether talking about the three act structure or the three books in a trilogy, three instinctively feels like the right number when plotting a story. Each of the three pieces - acts or books/films - contribute to the whole by providing that beginning, middle or end. The third Bourne film is quite clearly a final end to a story, wrapping up the last threads that were set in motion in the first film and were explored and aggravated in the second. Although each film can stand alone reasonably well, they are inextricably linked in that structure of three, forming a bigger, more impressive story overall.
Bourne, The Matrix, The two Star Wars Trilogies, the Godfather movies, the X-Men trilogy and many more - all seem to fall naturally into three. No one ever suggested making The Godfather a quartet of films. In fact, such things are extremely rare. The recent fourth Indiana Jones film was in development hell for twenty years and when it came, didn't really fit stylistically or narratively with the other three in the eyes of many viewers. The fourth Alien film, Alien Resurrection, felt superfluous after the third film had taken the series full circle and ended with Ripley's death. The fourth film therefore had to find an (unconvincing) way to bring Ripley back in a story that fails to resonate with anything that had gone before. It feels out of place and is easily the weakest of all the Alien films.
You can't break the rule of three.
The recent Terminator: Salvation film isn't really the fourth film in the series, but the first of a second trilogy, quite distinct from the first three films. This is, of course, deliberate.
When plotting out a story, you wouldn't put two middles into it, would you? The second, or middle, act of a film is where the runaround happens, the overcoming of obstacles, the exploration of the problems and possible solutions. Once this is done, you can't then add in another act of obstacles and runaround because the audience is now primed for the climax and resolution. Another middle act would be surplus to requirements and would merely delay the story from reaching its destination. This is why the three act structure works - beginning, middle and end. It is also why the trilogy works. Once the second is done, the audience has read two books or seen two films creating and tangling the various plot threads. Patience would begin to wear thin should a third film or book not tie up those threads and provide a sense of completeness.
3. The pattern of three
Just as three is the smallest number needed to create a rhythm, it's also the smallest number needed for a pattern to emerge. To determine a pattern or sequence between different concepts or words, the relationship between the first and second needs to be reflected a second time between the second and third. They don't need to be the same relationship, but that variation is what creates the specific pattern. For example; in a sequence of numbers - eg; 2,4,8 - the difference between the numbers is not the same. Yet, a similarity is that each is double the previous number. That is the pattern in the sequence. You would not be able to determine a specific pattern from only seeing two of those numbers.
Let's apply that to writing. In copywriting, a popular and persuasive technique is the Socratic method, named after Socrates. This method uses three - and always three - questions that are related to each other.
* Do you feel tired, even after a good night's sleep?
* Are you not eating as well as maybe you should?
* Do you need more energy to achieve the things you need to do each day?
You need CopyWrite Multi vitamins!
Why three? Because that is the minimum required to create a list and therefore a pattern of agreement in the reader if they belong to the target audience. When he or she reads your conclusion - that you should buy my multivitamins - they are more likely to agree, having been preconditioned to do so by the previous pattern.
The pattern of three works in other ways too - particularly when the third statement or response differs from the previous two, as it needs to in creating a joke. The Englishman, Scotsman and Irishman jokes that were so common when I was growing up work because of the power of three. Yet so many joke forms revolve around three protagonists or three concepts. Typically, the first protagonist will do or say something, usually quite normal or expected. The second will also do something - not necessarily the same but equally normal or expected. The third - and this used to be the Irishman, so I apologize to any Irish reading this - would break the pattern by doing something unexpected or ridiculous - thereby creating a laugh.
The following joke is reproduced from Wikipedia's page exploring the origins of the "Englishman, an Irishman and a Scotsman" form.
An Englishman, a Scotsman, and an Irishman are all builders working on a bridge. The Englishman opens his lunch-box and says, "If I get one more tuna sandwich, I'm going to jump off this bridge." The Scotsman opens his lunch box and says, "If I get one more ham sandwich, I'm going to jump off this bridge." The Irishman then says, "If I get one more egg sandwich, I'm going to jump off this bridge." The next day, all three get the same lunch, all three jump off the bridge, and all three die. At their funeral, the Englishman's wife says, "If only I'd known he didn't like tuna." The Scotsman's wife says, "If only I'd known he didn't like ham." The Irishman's wife says, "I don't understand it. He made his own sandwiches."
The joke creates the expectation of a pattern with the first two elements (the first two wives say the same thing about their husband's sandwiches) but then surprisingly overturns that pattern in the last element (the third wife reveals the Irishman made his own). The power of three.
Four breaks the spell. So if three is the minimum number required for rhythm and for pattern, why not four, or five? Brevity. Additional elements, just like additional acts, or 'middles', are unnecessary. Your writing is out to achieve a goal. If three is the minimum number required to achieve that goal, then any other numbers aren't even worth contemplating. We instinctively know much of the above without ever thinking about it. We know a sentence feels right or a story flows well or a joke will make people laugh. Yet, I bet, when you revise your work, you'll find groups and patterns of three. I am sure there are many other examples of three in writing as well as many more reasons why three is so powerfully wired into our brains.
How many triumvirates can you come up with?
August 7, 2012
Two Amazing Announcements from MMW
Mormon Mommy Writers' Blog is hosting our second annual writing contest. Last year's contest resulted in the wonderful anthology, Totally Cliche. This year's contest promises to be even more exciting since there won't be three winners, but NINE winners since we have three categories in our contest this year. Your mission is to submit a short story, non-fiction essay, or a poem that falls under the theme of Mormon or Mommy or Writer. You do not have to be a Mormon or a mommy to enter this amazing contest. The top three stories in each category will be in MMW's next anthology book. In addition to being published, the authors of the top three winning stories in each category will recieve a free e-copy of the anthology and the following prizes:
First Place: $10 Barnes and Noble gift card
Second Place: $5 Barnes and Noble gift card
Third Place: Free Print copy of the anthology featuring their story
The deadline for the contest has been extended to August 31st. Don't delay! Go to this link for the rules and to find out more
MormonMommyWriters.com
We believe in good, clean books that uphold Christian values. To accomplish this goal, we will be providing two different services to our readers. First, we will have a list of author websites listed by genres so readers can have access to many books of their favorite genre. Second, we will have a list of books that will be rated for content. We understand this is subjective and our readers will not always agree with our rating. With that in mind we will also list if the book contains violence, sex, drugs, or offensive language. Eventually there will be a way for our readers to vote on what they believe the content rating to be as well. This will allow our audience to make informed decisions about books. Please come by and check us out.
Opportunity for Authors:
The purpose of our website is to bring readers to clean authors' websites and to create back links for each writer to up their chances of online virility. To do this, we encourage authors to do a few things. First, agree to the commitment below and add your website to our list of authors. By agreeing to this commitment, you agree to link to MormonMommyWriters.com somewhere on your website. We also encourage you to link to other author websites that are within your same genres. This will help support writers that are committed to writing books that don't glorify or make light of evil activities or things.
Next, we would like authors to put their books up on our review page under their genre. We would also like writers to give their books a rating based on our rating system. We will have an area for readers vote on the rating they think the book should have.
Getting Started:
To get started, send an email to nikki@mormonmommywriters.com with your name and pen name, email address, author website, title and summary of your books, which rating below that you would give the content of your books, and an image of the cover of each of your books. If you do so, you are agreeing to the following statement:
To be linked on MormonMommyWriters.com I agree to link to their website on my website. I also agree that any books on my website do not glorify immoral or sinful practices. Meaning that any immoral or sinful things depicted in my books are shown with the natural consequences and are not explicit in their depiction. If there is a book I feel may be questionable in that area, I will address it on my website so my readers can make informed decisions.
Ratings:
G – General Audiences
PG – Parental Guidance
PG-13 – Not suggested for children under the age of 13
PG-16 – Not suggested for children under the age of 16
AC- Adult Content better understood by ages 18 and up
R – For 18 and up containing graphic violence, language, or sexual content
X-rated – Contains excessively graphic sexual content, language, or violence
First Place: $10 Barnes and Noble gift card
Second Place: $5 Barnes and Noble gift card
Third Place: Free Print copy of the anthology featuring their story
The deadline for the contest has been extended to August 31st. Don't delay! Go to this link for the rules and to find out more
MormonMommyWriters.com
We believe in good, clean books that uphold Christian values. To accomplish this goal, we will be providing two different services to our readers. First, we will have a list of author websites listed by genres so readers can have access to many books of their favorite genre. Second, we will have a list of books that will be rated for content. We understand this is subjective and our readers will not always agree with our rating. With that in mind we will also list if the book contains violence, sex, drugs, or offensive language. Eventually there will be a way for our readers to vote on what they believe the content rating to be as well. This will allow our audience to make informed decisions about books. Please come by and check us out.
Opportunity for Authors:
The purpose of our website is to bring readers to clean authors' websites and to create back links for each writer to up their chances of online virility. To do this, we encourage authors to do a few things. First, agree to the commitment below and add your website to our list of authors. By agreeing to this commitment, you agree to link to MormonMommyWriters.com somewhere on your website. We also encourage you to link to other author websites that are within your same genres. This will help support writers that are committed to writing books that don't glorify or make light of evil activities or things.
Next, we would like authors to put their books up on our review page under their genre. We would also like writers to give their books a rating based on our rating system. We will have an area for readers vote on the rating they think the book should have.
Getting Started:
To get started, send an email to nikki@mormonmommywriters.com with your name and pen name, email address, author website, title and summary of your books, which rating below that you would give the content of your books, and an image of the cover of each of your books. If you do so, you are agreeing to the following statement:
To be linked on MormonMommyWriters.com I agree to link to their website on my website. I also agree that any books on my website do not glorify immoral or sinful practices. Meaning that any immoral or sinful things depicted in my books are shown with the natural consequences and are not explicit in their depiction. If there is a book I feel may be questionable in that area, I will address it on my website so my readers can make informed decisions.
Ratings:
G – General Audiences
PG – Parental Guidance
PG-13 – Not suggested for children under the age of 13
PG-16 – Not suggested for children under the age of 16
AC- Adult Content better understood by ages 18 and up
R – For 18 and up containing graphic violence, language, or sexual content
X-rated – Contains excessively graphic sexual content, language, or violence
August 6, 2012
Looking for Winners!
Congratulations winners! Britney and Tiffany please email me at shassidy@comcst.net with your mailing addys so that I can get your your prizes!
August 5, 2012
Nurtured In Purple
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Used by permission of author, Jude Urbanski
Elizabeth had come to this planning meeting simply because her mother harped she never did anything at church. She didn’t want to be here at all. Planning a boxed supper auction wasn’t her idea of fun even if the proceeds did go to an orphanage mission project. Orphanage.No doubt the brainchild of one of the elder Orbins.
There sits Kate with her adorable new son. Her adorable son. Not mine.
Besides Kate, Winnie Orbin, Margie Craig, Myrt Rich, Nan Holden, Ermon Upchurch and a few other ladies Elizabeth didn't know at all clustered around the table in the church basement. Of course, Mama was there. She had insisted Elizabeth come.
These ladies were the doers of Chanute Community Church. Most had attended all their lives, as their parents before them.
Well, maybe not Kate. She hadn't been here all her life. She was a foreigner. A foreigner melded to the most aristocratic of families. How had that happened? How? It shouldn't have happened.
Elizabeth took in the women, all well dressed, but she couldn’t help notice how her own Mama’s dress surpassed them all and how her rings glittered on her fingers. Mama still looked pretty good for her age.
Elizabeth absently twisted the large diamond on her own ring finger. The date was creeping closer and soon she’d be Mrs. Willard Wittenberg. Not what she had wanted, but she guessed it would do. Willard wasn’t all bad.
"Oh, Elizabeth, we’re glad Adeline brought you. We can sure use your help," Winnie Orbin said. "We’ll need several cakes and pies to auction and I wonder if you and your mother would bring your famous lemon pound cake for the auction?" She looked toward Adeline.
Adeline answered, "Winnie, we’d be glad to bring a lemon pound cake, won’t we, Elizabeth?" Her hand strayed to her silver hair, tucking in what didn’t need tucking. "It’ll be practice for us. We’re having lemon pound cake at Elizabeth’s wedding shower next week." She smiled.
Elizabeth did not feel the need to say anything.
Mama, why do you always tell everything you know?
"That’s exciting. When is the wedding, Elizabeth?" Ermon Upchurch sat beside her.
"It’s in five weeks, during Fall Break at school. I have nearly everything done, just last minute things left, you know."
"Good for you, Elizabeth," Margie said, "I’ll soon be the only unmarried one in Chanute Crossing!" She laughed.
"Margie Craig, you’re single by choice, so let’s not hear any more about it, okay? Remember Bob was single a long time before I came from St. Louis to marry him."
"Nan, we all remember your arrival and how happy it made Bob," Winnie said, "but, ladies, right now, we’d best get back to planning. Our event is less than two weeks away."
Elizabeth watched Winnie quietly, yet efficiently organize and delegate until every detail was completed. Though she hadn’t wanted to, Elizabeth said yes to working behind the boxed supper booth at the social.
Willard wouldn’t be too happy. He was hanging in there with the Men’s Bible Study, but she felt his frustration and sometimes anger with the group. Especially toward Seth, whose kindness Willard found hard to understand or accept. It made him suspicious. He wasn’t used to kindness. Never had been.
"Well, ladies, thanks for coming tonight. We got a lot accomplished, didn’t we? Call if you’ve any questions. Otherwise, I’ll see you in just over a week." Winnie folded her papers.
As Elizabeth and her mother left the church and walked toward their car, they noticed Kate struggling to get her car door opened and keep hold on her purse and her baby. She had dropped her keys.
"Hey, Kate, I’ll get those keys. Let me." Elizabeth moved toward Kate and picked up the keys that had slid almost under the car.
"Why thank you, Elizabeth. I was having trouble juggling everything. Don’t quite have all my energy back yet it seems." Kate flashed a smile. "Appreciate it."
"Oh, it’s nothing. Your little baby is nice." Elizabeth gingerly touched the baby blanket and turned to walk away.
"Yes, he is sweet, Kate. Well, good night," Adeline said, following Elizabeth.
"Well, thank you both. Tommy is a special baby."
Elizabeth set her mouth in a firm line, attempting to forget the beautiful, dark-haired little baby snuggled in the blue blanket.
So, Kate is not as well as it appears?Umm.
http://stores.desertbreezepublishing.com/-strse-305/Chanuke-Chronicles-Book-Two-cln-/Detail.bok
http://www.amazon.com/Chronicles-Chanute-Crossing-Book-ebook/dp/B008AE9T7S/ref=sr_1_2?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1339428113&sr=1-2
Review
Nurtured in Purple, Jude Urbanski's second installment of her wonderful series brings the reader back to charming Chanute Crossing. Her writing style is unique and draws you right into the storyworld. It's the skill of a gifted author who can take two rather despicable characters from the first book, Willard Wittenberg and Elizabeth Koger, and make them likable to the point of understandable-and even more surprising-lovable. She makes them relatable because of their respective backgrounds, and explores their vulnerabilities and insecurities. In spite of their personal vendettas and need for revenge, you'll find yourself still rooting for this couple because they want to do better and need one another. Theirs is a sweet and touching love story. This book is also a sentimental reunion with Seth and Kate Orbin from the first book, Joy Restored, and Ms. Urbanski's terrific "cast" of supporting characters return as well. Seth and Kate endure trials of their own, but overcome the odds and model Christian faith and forgiveness in action to a skeptical and resistant Willard and Elizabeth. Grace, redemption and love abound, and this book will leave you smiling. A bonus "romance" is also included, and oh, how sweet it is! All-around, this is a terrific read and I very highly recommend it.
August 4, 2012
Your official votes put me in a predicament!
This is looking like those miscounted votes in Florida a few years back!
No, really. Torsha Baker and her 787 Word entry have received the most votes but technically it is disqualified due to the word count. Torsha also entered her kiss in a fewer word count entry that received only one comment and no votes.
That means that the prize goes to another. (I must follow my own rules.)
Honorable Mention for the Summer's Sizzling Kiss contest goes to Tiffany Page! http://tiffanypage.wordpress.com/
Tiffany will receive a $10 Amazon Gift card.
Winner of the Summer's Sizzling Kiss Contest Booby Prize goes to Britney Gulbrandsen!
http://www.britneygulbrandsen.com/
Britney will receive a copy of Dogs, Blogs and Hobbits by Valerie Steimle.
And the winner of the Summer's Sizzling Kiss Contest for Best Sizzle is Ariell. http://muddledmindtherapy.blogspot.com
Ariell will receive a $10 Amazon Gift Certificate and an e-book, Dark Days of Promise by Shaunna Gonzales when it is released on September 21, 2012.
Congratulations to all of the winners.
Please contact me at shassidy@comcast.net to verify your email and mailing addy so that your prizes can be delivered to you.
No, really. Torsha Baker and her 787 Word entry have received the most votes but technically it is disqualified due to the word count. Torsha also entered her kiss in a fewer word count entry that received only one comment and no votes.
That means that the prize goes to another. (I must follow my own rules.)
Honorable Mention for the Summer's Sizzling Kiss contest goes to Tiffany Page! http://tiffanypage.wordpress.com/
Tiffany will receive a $10 Amazon Gift card.
Winner of the Summer's Sizzling Kiss Contest Booby Prize goes to Britney Gulbrandsen!
http://www.britneygulbrandsen.com/
Britney will receive a copy of Dogs, Blogs and Hobbits by Valerie Steimle.
And the winner of the Summer's Sizzling Kiss Contest for Best Sizzle is Ariell. http://muddledmindtherapy.blogspot.com
Ariell will receive a $10 Amazon Gift Certificate and an e-book, Dark Days of Promise by Shaunna Gonzales when it is released on September 21, 2012.
Congratulations to all of the winners.
Please contact me at shassidy@comcast.net to verify your email and mailing addy so that your prizes can be delivered to you.
August 3, 2012
Fiesty Friday with Dave Butler
He clambered down into a kneeling position between the two bunks and dug for a box of lucifers in his pocket. With a practiced twitch of the wrist, he snapped a match along the outside of the box, and it sputtered into flame—
a hard-toed boot kicked Jed Coltrane in the face, and his vision exploded into stars.
“The hell!?” he yelled, and tried to roll away.
For his trouble, another kick crashed into his ribs and he spun through the air, slamming hard into the iron door of the cabin.
Forget the knife. Jed pulled the Pinkerton’s gun from under his arm and squeezed the trigger. Zing! Zing! The odd weapon only flared slightly in the pitch black cabin, but as the bullets clanged off the room’s walls and bit their way into the furniture, they threw up sparks, enough for Jed to see a shadowy form looming up in front of him.
Damn thing didn’t seem to have legs—
zing!—
the boot, or maybe it wasn’t a boot after all, smashed Jed’s gun hand and his lost his grip on the pistol, which disappeared into the gloom.
“Damn you—” he shouted, and then a strong hand with long nails, almost like claws, grabbed his throat and threw him bodily to the floor, a knee on his chest and something cold and hard against his cheek.
He smelled lavender. And soap. Some sort of cloak fell around him, covering his chest and legs.
“Hold still, shorty, or I’ll cut out your eyeball.” The voice was so incongruously sweet that it took him a few seconds to realize that it was feminine.
Coltrane, you just got beat down by a woman.
The hand—the soft, sweet-scented hand—came away from his throat and he heard a click. A blue light sprang into being a few inches above his face, a glimmering globe held in the palm of a woman who was graceful, fierce, freckle-faced, cute as a button, and kneeling on Jed’s sternum. She wore dark goggles on her eyes and held a curving, vicious-looking knife to his face.
Not a woman, dammit. A girl. Poe’s gonna kill me.
Here is the Liahona Amazon link
http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B008EPGDWC/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B008EPGDWC&linkCode=as2&tag=rock08a-20&l=as2&o=1&a=B008EPGDWC
And here is the Liahona Smashwords link:
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/175871
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(Links below picture.)
Amazon:
http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B008NERR5Q/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B008NERR5Q&linkCode=as2&tag=rock08a-20
Smashwords:
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/206976
August 2, 2012
Dragon Clans
Hi everyone and thanks to Shaunna for hosting me to talk about my newest release, young adult fantasy 'Dragon Clans' – the second book of the Dragon series.
Dragons are cool! I love reading and writing about dragons, my favorite mythical creatures. I've been an avid fan of Anne McCaffrey and her Dragons of Pern series for years.
The dragons of the Treaty Alliance have their own communities, histories and morals. They are the indigenous intelligent species of Nuer. They work well together, but the red dragons are not part of the Alliance and are considered a dangerous enemy.
In the first book of the Dragon series, 'Dragon Flame', the human settlers are welcomed by the four dragon clans. 'Dragon Clans' relates the story of Sie, an orphan who is rescued from the sea by the leader of the red Valdra dragons. The Valdra adopt her and she agrees to help them contact the Alliance. Will she need to interact with the humans of Nuer to achieve this?
A Young Adult romance released thru Desert Breeze Publishing. "Dragon Clans" is the second volume in the Dragon series.
Plucked from the sea by a red dragon, the human woman Sie joins the Valdra Clan. Her red friends wish to join the dragon Treaty Alliance, but the other clans consider the Valdra wild and aggressive. Byron, a human friend of the Mondra Clan, works with Sie to overcome the many obstacles in their path. Will the other clans be able to forget the Valdra's past betrayals and present day destructive behavior? They believe they have succeeded but the planet has its own way of disrupting their carefully laid plans.
Publisher's Link for further information: http://stores.desertbreezepublishing.com/-strse-325/Dragon-Clans-Sue-Perkins/Detail.bok
Buy Link: http://tinyurl.com/dragonclans
Webpage: http://www.sueperkinsauthor.com/
I hope you enjoy the excerpt below and don't forget to leave a comment to be in to win an ebook of 'Dragon Clans'.
Excerpt used by permission of author.
The waves washed over the boat, swamping the small vessel. Sie huddled in the stern, her knuckles white with cold, hands clamped to the wooden sides. The hood of her cloak had blown back some time ago, allowing the rain to plaster her red hair across her face. She didn't dare raise her hand to clear her eyes, this would mean letting go of the boat. Clothes soaked with rain clung to her body, and the chill went through to her bones.
What am I doing here?
At the front of the boat her two older brothers struggled to keep them afloat. The crashing waves filled the vessel with water and with food bowls in hand they tried to bail the water back into the sea. Gorva, the eldest, yelled at her to come and help, but Sie couldn't move for fear. She knew this would mean a beating later, but surviving the present held more importance.
Ever since her parents' death her life had been miserable. The older brothers had grudgingly provided a home for appearance sake, but they didn't want her with them. A fifteen-year-old cramped their style. She hated her life in their house as a drudge. If anything went wrong they blamed her, and the rebuke often ended with a smack across the face or worse.
They'd come up with this stupid idea and dragged her along. Dragons lived on the other continent, and they were convinced there would be dragon treasure to steal.
The two idiots hadn't planned anything, the normal way for their escapades. They'd set off in a boat too small for the journey across the ocean. The food had run out after a few days, and she'd borne the brunt of their anger, catching the blame for everything. Now the storm had descended on them with the sea and rain crashing and pounding their frail craft.
Someone help us, please! We're in the middle of an ocean in a terrible storm. The boat will sink soon. Please, if you can hear me, I need your help!
Sie knew no one would hear her mental scream. If they did, who would care enough to rescue them? A clap of thunder shook the sky, followed by a lightning flash into the sea. Huge waves crashed across the boat. Her younger brother lost his grip, and Sie heard him cry out as he disappeared overboard.
"No!" Gorva lunged to the side, but his movement made the boat lurch and dip lower, curtseying to the waves. Sie grabbed the sides as the vessel overturned and threw her into the water.
Her cloak tried to keep her beneath the surface, but Sie fought against the drag and rose up for air. Nearby, the upside down boat tossed in the waves, and she swam toward it, grabbing hold of the ridge along the upturned bottom. Once secure, Sie looked round for her brothers, but could see no sign of them. The tumultuous sea and the dark clouds scudding across the sky filled her view.
I'm going to die. A sob caught in her throat as an icy cold wave blinded her. No one knows where I am, and no one will know I'm dead. I might as well let go and drown quickly. I don't want a slow, horrible death.
A small part of her refused to give up, but time passed and her strength ebbed away. Her fingers began to slip and her cold fingers tightened their grip. How much longer could she hold on?
A shadow darkened the sky.
More storm clouds. How much more are you going to throw at me Mother Nature?
A wind beat down on her, and Sie looked up. Huge red talons reached for her and plucked her from the water. The scream died in her throat as the owner of the claws curled the talons around her. The loss of her brothers, death stalking her, and now this. Darkness crowded in and unable to take anymore, Sie fainted.
Dragons are cool! I love reading and writing about dragons, my favorite mythical creatures. I've been an avid fan of Anne McCaffrey and her Dragons of Pern series for years.
The dragons of the Treaty Alliance have their own communities, histories and morals. They are the indigenous intelligent species of Nuer. They work well together, but the red dragons are not part of the Alliance and are considered a dangerous enemy.
In the first book of the Dragon series, 'Dragon Flame', the human settlers are welcomed by the four dragon clans. 'Dragon Clans' relates the story of Sie, an orphan who is rescued from the sea by the leader of the red Valdra dragons. The Valdra adopt her and she agrees to help them contact the Alliance. Will she need to interact with the humans of Nuer to achieve this?
A Young Adult romance released thru Desert Breeze Publishing. "Dragon Clans" is the second volume in the Dragon series.
Plucked from the sea by a red dragon, the human woman Sie joins the Valdra Clan. Her red friends wish to join the dragon Treaty Alliance, but the other clans consider the Valdra wild and aggressive. Byron, a human friend of the Mondra Clan, works with Sie to overcome the many obstacles in their path. Will the other clans be able to forget the Valdra's past betrayals and present day destructive behavior? They believe they have succeeded but the planet has its own way of disrupting their carefully laid plans.
Publisher's Link for further information: http://stores.desertbreezepublishing.com/-strse-325/Dragon-Clans-Sue-Perkins/Detail.bok
Buy Link: http://tinyurl.com/dragonclans
Webpage: http://www.sueperkinsauthor.com/
Excerpt used by permission of author.
The waves washed over the boat, swamping the small vessel. Sie huddled in the stern, her knuckles white with cold, hands clamped to the wooden sides. The hood of her cloak had blown back some time ago, allowing the rain to plaster her red hair across her face. She didn't dare raise her hand to clear her eyes, this would mean letting go of the boat. Clothes soaked with rain clung to her body, and the chill went through to her bones.
What am I doing here?
At the front of the boat her two older brothers struggled to keep them afloat. The crashing waves filled the vessel with water and with food bowls in hand they tried to bail the water back into the sea. Gorva, the eldest, yelled at her to come and help, but Sie couldn't move for fear. She knew this would mean a beating later, but surviving the present held more importance.
Ever since her parents' death her life had been miserable. The older brothers had grudgingly provided a home for appearance sake, but they didn't want her with them. A fifteen-year-old cramped their style. She hated her life in their house as a drudge. If anything went wrong they blamed her, and the rebuke often ended with a smack across the face or worse.
They'd come up with this stupid idea and dragged her along. Dragons lived on the other continent, and they were convinced there would be dragon treasure to steal.
The two idiots hadn't planned anything, the normal way for their escapades. They'd set off in a boat too small for the journey across the ocean. The food had run out after a few days, and she'd borne the brunt of their anger, catching the blame for everything. Now the storm had descended on them with the sea and rain crashing and pounding their frail craft.
Someone help us, please! We're in the middle of an ocean in a terrible storm. The boat will sink soon. Please, if you can hear me, I need your help!
Sie knew no one would hear her mental scream. If they did, who would care enough to rescue them? A clap of thunder shook the sky, followed by a lightning flash into the sea. Huge waves crashed across the boat. Her younger brother lost his grip, and Sie heard him cry out as he disappeared overboard.
"No!" Gorva lunged to the side, but his movement made the boat lurch and dip lower, curtseying to the waves. Sie grabbed the sides as the vessel overturned and threw her into the water.
Her cloak tried to keep her beneath the surface, but Sie fought against the drag and rose up for air. Nearby, the upside down boat tossed in the waves, and she swam toward it, grabbing hold of the ridge along the upturned bottom. Once secure, Sie looked round for her brothers, but could see no sign of them. The tumultuous sea and the dark clouds scudding across the sky filled her view.
I'm going to die. A sob caught in her throat as an icy cold wave blinded her. No one knows where I am, and no one will know I'm dead. I might as well let go and drown quickly. I don't want a slow, horrible death.
A small part of her refused to give up, but time passed and her strength ebbed away. Her fingers began to slip and her cold fingers tightened their grip. How much longer could she hold on?
A shadow darkened the sky.
More storm clouds. How much more are you going to throw at me Mother Nature?
A wind beat down on her, and Sie looked up. Huge red talons reached for her and plucked her from the water. The scream died in her throat as the owner of the claws curled the talons around her. The loss of her brothers, death stalking her, and now this. Darkness crowded in and unable to take anymore, Sie fainted.
August 1, 2012
Sizzling Kiss Contest
It may be too late to enter the contest but we want your vote! Scroll through all the entries and vote for you favorite. Right now we are looking at a shew-in so your vote does count (especially since I don't get to vote.)
July 31, 2012
Last day to enter!!
Okay you procrastinators...today is the last day to enter the Sizzling Kiss Contest. If you are a follower of this blog, please click on "Contest Entry" on the left of the screen. Doing so will allow you to read them one after the other. Rules for voting.
1) You must be a follower of this blog to vote and your vote/comment must be signed with your follower tag.
2) You may cast three votes - 1 for "Best Sizzle" 1 for "Honorable Mention" 1 for "Nice Try" or "Booby"
If the voting is unanimous, my job will be easy, but if it is not, I'll need a couple of days to figure it out since I haven't run a contest like this in the past, so please be understanding.
1) You must be a follower of this blog to vote and your vote/comment must be signed with your follower tag.
2) You may cast three votes - 1 for "Best Sizzle" 1 for "Honorable Mention" 1 for "Nice Try" or "Booby"
If the voting is unanimous, my job will be easy, but if it is not, I'll need a couple of days to figure it out since I haven't run a contest like this in the past, so please be understanding.
July 29, 2012
Voting starts today!
The contest runs through July 31st.
Voting (by readers) runs through August 2nd. You must be a follower to vote and you can only vote in each category once (that's a total of three votes!) (Scroll down for details.)
The grand prize winner will receive a romantic suspense E-book, Dark Days of Promise, by yours truly, due to be released in September. (Publisher will not allow me to send it out until the release date on September 21st.)
Voting is now through August 2nd at 12 midnight PST.
To vote, you must be a follower of this blog and your vote/comment must be signed to match your follower tag.
Click on Contest Entry on the menu to the left to read all of the entries and make a comment on the three of your choice as ---Best Sizzle (our grand Prize winner), Honorable Mention, and nice Try (or Booby).
If you read a kiss that you are sure you have read elsewhere, please let us know when and where. Keep in mind that if you have read it as a published scene, we need to check with the submitter before it can be disqualified (and you need to help in that case.) Kisses published on the authors blog will not be disqualified as publishers expect us to promote our own work.
Best Sizzle winner will receive an e-copy of Dark Days of Promise on its release date of September 21 and a $10 Amazon gift certificate (gift certificate will be sent sooner.)
Nice Try or Booby prize winner will receive a non-romantic title, Dogs, Blogs, and Hobbits: Writings from a Widow's Perspective, by Valerie Steimle.
Voting (by readers) runs through August 2nd. You must be a follower to vote and you can only vote in each category once (that's a total of three votes!) (Scroll down for details.)
The grand prize winner will receive a romantic suspense E-book, Dark Days of Promise, by yours truly, due to be released in September. (Publisher will not allow me to send it out until the release date on September 21st.)
Voting is now through August 2nd at 12 midnight PST.
To vote, you must be a follower of this blog and your vote/comment must be signed to match your follower tag.
Click on Contest Entry on the menu to the left to read all of the entries and make a comment on the three of your choice as ---Best Sizzle (our grand Prize winner), Honorable Mention, and nice Try (or Booby).
If you read a kiss that you are sure you have read elsewhere, please let us know when and where. Keep in mind that if you have read it as a published scene, we need to check with the submitter before it can be disqualified (and you need to help in that case.) Kisses published on the authors blog will not be disqualified as publishers expect us to promote our own work.
Best Sizzle winner will receive an e-copy of Dark Days of Promise on its release date of September 21 and a $10 Amazon gift certificate (gift certificate will be sent sooner.)
Nice Try or Booby prize winner will receive a non-romantic title, Dogs, Blogs, and Hobbits: Writings from a Widow's Perspective, by Valerie Steimle.
July 28, 2012
Not too late to enter The Sizzling Summer Contest
4 more days in "The Sizzling Summer Contest"
The contest runs through July 31st.
Voting (by readers) opens July 30th at 1AM PST and runs through August 2nd 12 Midnight PST. You must be a follower to vote! (Scroll down for details.)
Winners will be posted here on August 4th.
You are invited to participate in sharing your best Sizzling Kiss.
1) Submit your "Sizzling Kiss" as an attachment to shassidy@comcast.net between today and July 31. (Yes, polish that kiss.)
2) Include "Sizzling Kiss" in the subject line of your email.
3) Your entry must be between 100 and 500 words.
4 )Sign your kiss with your first name and blog link.
Limit: one entry per blog link.
Erotica will be disqualified. Published work cannot be submitted for contest.
Good news, we have more than 10 Kisses entered! The grand prize winner will receive a romantic suspense E-book, Dark Days of Promise by yours truly, due to be released in September.
Now remember, we have several examples of kisses already posted here. You are welcome to go back and read them. (Click on Sizzling Kiss on the MENU to the left.)
Remember, the dead line is July 31st. Send your submission, limited to a single scene to shassidy@comcast.net as an attachment. All entries (except those that are erotic) will be posted here for voting July 30th through August 2nd. You must be a follower of this blog to vote and your vote/comment must be signed to match your follower tag.
The contest runs through July 31st.
Voting (by readers) opens July 30th at 1AM PST and runs through August 2nd 12 Midnight PST. You must be a follower to vote! (Scroll down for details.)
Winners will be posted here on August 4th.
You are invited to participate in sharing your best Sizzling Kiss.
1) Submit your "Sizzling Kiss" as an attachment to shassidy@comcast.net between today and July 31. (Yes, polish that kiss.)
2) Include "Sizzling Kiss" in the subject line of your email.
3) Your entry must be between 100 and 500 words.
4 )Sign your kiss with your first name and blog link.
Limit: one entry per blog link.
Erotica will be disqualified. Published work cannot be submitted for contest.
Good news, we have more than 10 Kisses entered! The grand prize winner will receive a romantic suspense E-book, Dark Days of Promise by yours truly, due to be released in September.
Now remember, we have several examples of kisses already posted here. You are welcome to go back and read them. (Click on Sizzling Kiss on the MENU to the left.)
Remember, the dead line is July 31st. Send your submission, limited to a single scene to shassidy@comcast.net as an attachment. All entries (except those that are erotic) will be posted here for voting July 30th through August 2nd. You must be a follower of this blog to vote and your vote/comment must be signed to match your follower tag.
July 27, 2012
Come chat with authors! Me too!
Friday. that's today at 3pm PST or 6pm EST at
http://coffeetimeromance.com/board/calendar.php
We'll be here for hours, sharing book blurbs and just chatting so come on over!
http://coffeetimeromance.com/board/calendar.php
We'll be here for hours, sharing book blurbs and just chatting so come on over!
Sizzling Kiss Entry
(Please note: this is a second entry by an author so it is not elegible to win any prize.)
I reached up and traced the planes of his face, a face I’d seen a million times in my waking dreams. He leaned into my touch with a sigh and I knew the feeling was igniting the same burning desire in him as it was me, but I also knew he would not close the small distance to kiss me because he promised he wouldn’t, and I thought, Well, it’s a good thing I didn’t make the same promise. I kissed him.
It was full of passion and longing as all the feelings we had suppressed came bubbling to the surface. His strong arms pulled me closer, encircling me with his strength and warmth. It was different than our first kiss: Our first kiss was new and carefree. This was full of understanding and desperation, of knowing and need. It was also full of love; I loved him with every fiber of my being. I wanted him to know how much I loved him and that I would carry it with me forever.
Our souls, our bodies, were meant for each other and yet our time was limited.
He pulled away just long enough to whisper, “I love you so much.”
His lips were on mine again kissing fervently knowing we shouldn’t but at the moment not caring. I dug my nails into his back as my heart and body ached for more. He wrapped his strong hands around my waist and with one quick motion lifted me to his lap with no effort. I sat straddling him, his arms around my waist and mine around his neck. I knew I should leave before we went any further, yet I couldn’t bring myself to pull away. But eventually he did.
We sat there still intertwined breathing heavily, resting our foreheads on each other. I looked down, my hair a dark veil encircling our faces. He lifted his head and tucked my fallen hair behind my ear, letting his fingers run through it until it came down to my elbow. I watched his fingers as they traced down my arm to my hand; all the while, golden specs danced. He interlaced his fingers with mine. That’s what our souls were: interlaced—a bond, a connection that would always be there even when we let go. I felt a single tear fall down my cheek. It landed on our joined hands. He looked up with concern, then I saw understanding sweep his features along with pain, pain that mirrored mine.
“I know,” he said, slowly nodding. “I know this doesn’t change our world. Two people in love can’t change the way our society has been functioning for hundreds of years.”
“No, it can’t. We still have a duty. A purpose…”
I reached up and traced the planes of his face, a face I’d seen a million times in my waking dreams. He leaned into my touch with a sigh and I knew the feeling was igniting the same burning desire in him as it was me, but I also knew he would not close the small distance to kiss me because he promised he wouldn’t, and I thought, Well, it’s a good thing I didn’t make the same promise. I kissed him.
It was full of passion and longing as all the feelings we had suppressed came bubbling to the surface. His strong arms pulled me closer, encircling me with his strength and warmth. It was different than our first kiss: Our first kiss was new and carefree. This was full of understanding and desperation, of knowing and need. It was also full of love; I loved him with every fiber of my being. I wanted him to know how much I loved him and that I would carry it with me forever.
Our souls, our bodies, were meant for each other and yet our time was limited.
He pulled away just long enough to whisper, “I love you so much.”
His lips were on mine again kissing fervently knowing we shouldn’t but at the moment not caring. I dug my nails into his back as my heart and body ached for more. He wrapped his strong hands around my waist and with one quick motion lifted me to his lap with no effort. I sat straddling him, his arms around my waist and mine around his neck. I knew I should leave before we went any further, yet I couldn’t bring myself to pull away. But eventually he did.
We sat there still intertwined breathing heavily, resting our foreheads on each other. I looked down, my hair a dark veil encircling our faces. He lifted his head and tucked my fallen hair behind my ear, letting his fingers run through it until it came down to my elbow. I watched his fingers as they traced down my arm to my hand; all the while, golden specs danced. He interlaced his fingers with mine. That’s what our souls were: interlaced—a bond, a connection that would always be there even when we let go. I felt a single tear fall down my cheek. It landed on our joined hands. He looked up with concern, then I saw understanding sweep his features along with pain, pain that mirrored mine.
“I know,” he said, slowly nodding. “I know this doesn’t change our world. Two people in love can’t change the way our society has been functioning for hundreds of years.”
“No, it can’t. We still have a duty. A purpose…”
Sizzling Entry rewrite
I saw the sneaky humor in his eyes and took off running, knowing full well he was about to get even. He ran after me, closing the distance in one second flat. He lifted me off my feet, carrying me to the water’s edge. I knew not to let go, so I held on tight. If I was going in—so was he. Of course, I didn’t take into consideration he didn’t really care since he was already wet, so into the waves we both went. I shrieked at the cool water, trying to struggle free of his vice like grip, to no avail.
“Mateo!”
Soon we were both laughing; I couldn’t remember the last time I had such abandoned silly fun; Interesting how fearing for your life will put a damper on things like that. After a minute I stopped laughing to find him staring at me with intense eyes. I could feel without looking the energy specs dancing around us, tingling an electric heat where our skin touched. My arm was around his neck, and his around my back and under my legs as he held me in a cradled position. His fast heartbeat was in rhythm with my own.
“Keira, you have no idea what you do to me,” he said, shaking his head slightly.
“You’re right, I don’t. All I know is you’ve been treating me like a sister for the past couple months.” But the way he was gazing at me was full of passion and longing, not brotherly affection. It was the way he used to look at me and I hadn’t realized just how much I missed it until I had it back.
“I thought if I did, things would be easier—We’re not supposed to be like this,” he said quietly.
I didn’t know what he meant, perhaps it was a protector thing; not wanting to let himself become distracted with affections. I saw in his eyes that he was battling with himself. I didn’t know if he would kiss me or walk away. I held my breath, wishing with all my heart for him to stay.
He let my legs go and brought his free hand up to softly caress my cheek. I sighed. His tender touch ignited a thousand pangs of want into my stomach. Want that had been building layer upon layer over the time I’d known him. I longed for his hands on me, his lips on mine, and his eyes to always hold me with the passion I saw in them.
“I don’t know what hang-ups you’re having, but I think you want me as much as I want you.” I said with a confidence I didn’t know was there. “Tell me I’m wrong, Mateo, and I’ll walk away, tell me you don’t want me.”
He slid his hand from my cheek to tangle his fingers through my hair and lowered his mouth to just a breath away, I held my breath.
“I want you, Keira. I want you so much it hurts,” he whispered and lightly brushed his lips across mine, teasing, testing. The tingling radiated throughout my whole body. His lips pressed against mine, parting, taking the kiss a little deeper. My head spun with pleasure. The waves gently swayed us as we stood, wrapped up in each other and in the moment. The kiss became more passionate as he pressed my body to his. My hands caressed his back muscles then balled up in his shirt as the need to get closer took me over. I had been kissed many times before but never had I experienced a kiss that filled me with so much emotion that I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. I was filled with a warmth and happiness that swelled my heart. For the first time since my world was turned upside down I felt that everything would be okay, I felt home.
We pulled apart with labored breathing. I stared up in his amazing green eyes, which took me in with the look of wonder. I found myself not wanting the moment to end and was surprised by the affect a single kiss could have on me. He spoke first, breaking the silence.
“I should have kept treating you like a sister,” he said.
“What, why?” His words shocked me, and I wondered if he thought the kiss was a mistake. My heart dropped.
“Because after that,” He said pulling me even closer to him. “I won’t be able to give you up.”
I smiled, and felt weightless by the feeling his words put in my heart completely relieved he felt the same way.
“Well, that’s good, because I don’t want you to.”
“Mateo!”
Soon we were both laughing; I couldn’t remember the last time I had such abandoned silly fun; Interesting how fearing for your life will put a damper on things like that. After a minute I stopped laughing to find him staring at me with intense eyes. I could feel without looking the energy specs dancing around us, tingling an electric heat where our skin touched. My arm was around his neck, and his around my back and under my legs as he held me in a cradled position. His fast heartbeat was in rhythm with my own.
“Keira, you have no idea what you do to me,” he said, shaking his head slightly.
“You’re right, I don’t. All I know is you’ve been treating me like a sister for the past couple months.” But the way he was gazing at me was full of passion and longing, not brotherly affection. It was the way he used to look at me and I hadn’t realized just how much I missed it until I had it back.
“I thought if I did, things would be easier—We’re not supposed to be like this,” he said quietly.
I didn’t know what he meant, perhaps it was a protector thing; not wanting to let himself become distracted with affections. I saw in his eyes that he was battling with himself. I didn’t know if he would kiss me or walk away. I held my breath, wishing with all my heart for him to stay.
He let my legs go and brought his free hand up to softly caress my cheek. I sighed. His tender touch ignited a thousand pangs of want into my stomach. Want that had been building layer upon layer over the time I’d known him. I longed for his hands on me, his lips on mine, and his eyes to always hold me with the passion I saw in them.
“I don’t know what hang-ups you’re having, but I think you want me as much as I want you.” I said with a confidence I didn’t know was there. “Tell me I’m wrong, Mateo, and I’ll walk away, tell me you don’t want me.”
He slid his hand from my cheek to tangle his fingers through my hair and lowered his mouth to just a breath away, I held my breath.
“I want you, Keira. I want you so much it hurts,” he whispered and lightly brushed his lips across mine, teasing, testing. The tingling radiated throughout my whole body. His lips pressed against mine, parting, taking the kiss a little deeper. My head spun with pleasure. The waves gently swayed us as we stood, wrapped up in each other and in the moment. The kiss became more passionate as he pressed my body to his. My hands caressed his back muscles then balled up in his shirt as the need to get closer took me over. I had been kissed many times before but never had I experienced a kiss that filled me with so much emotion that I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. I was filled with a warmth and happiness that swelled my heart. For the first time since my world was turned upside down I felt that everything would be okay, I felt home.
We pulled apart with labored breathing. I stared up in his amazing green eyes, which took me in with the look of wonder. I found myself not wanting the moment to end and was surprised by the affect a single kiss could have on me. He spoke first, breaking the silence.
“I should have kept treating you like a sister,” he said.
“What, why?” His words shocked me, and I wondered if he thought the kiss was a mistake. My heart dropped.
“Because after that,” He said pulling me even closer to him. “I won’t be able to give you up.”
I smiled, and felt weightless by the feeling his words put in my heart completely relieved he felt the same way.
“Well, that’s good, because I don’t want you to.”
July 26, 2012
Sizzling Kiss Contest Entry
The most amazing thing woke me. I was dreaming I was a baby and my mother was offering me a pacifier. I felt the rubber tip against my mouth and my lips parted, and suddenly I realized there really was something touching my mouth. It was Arianne’s. I opened my eyes and she froze. She was studying me as if she wasn’t sure of my reaction. My eyes shot over to the couch where her mother had been.
“She went to bed,” she said, still looking uncertain.
“Oh.”
She settled back against the couch. “I’m sorry I startled you.”
“No—I, uh…it’s okay,” I stumbled.
“That was sneaky, finding my hand under the blanket. I was wondering when you were going to do it.”
“You were?”
She looked at me knowingly.
“You just looked so peaceful right now. So restful. I’m sorry I—”
“It’s really okay,” I said, putting my hand on her arm. “I thought your mother was over there.”
“I just wanted to know what they felt like.”
I smiled. “And?”
Her face reddened and she smiled as if she knew a secret. She looked down at my hand and covered it with her own.
“I like the way your skin feels.”
I could barely breathe, but somehow it didn’t matter. Somehow I was still sitting there, still as a stone, unable to move, with my heart still beating and air moving in and out of my lungs. She was looking at me with that gaze—that intense, penetrating stare that meant a lot more than she might have intended. I glanced at her lips. They were full and soft and I wanted to taste them again. Before I knew it she had moved close to me again and I felt the warmth of her face. I was ready for her this time. Our mouths met at first with hesitancy, in exploration. I inhaled and felt her breath, and then my hand went up to the side of her face and all of a sudden I felt like I was being pulled into a vacuum. In the suffocating heat I opened my eyes and caught a glimpse of her soft eyelids, and the warm ecstasy on her face. We were enjoying each other, and yet I still imagined her mother tiptoeing down the hallway, leaning out and watching—watching as Arianne moved closer to me, her hand against my chest, kissing me with so much energy I thought I would burst.
And then she stopped. I was practically on my back against the couch cushions, and she was leaning over me, our eyes open and our gazes locked. She looked sleepy and content. And then she laid her head against my chest and snuggled against my body. She had no idea what frenzied exclamations the rest of me was experiencing. I closed my eyes and it was all I could do to control myself. I stroked her hair and willed myself to relax.
“She went to bed,” she said, still looking uncertain.
“Oh.”
She settled back against the couch. “I’m sorry I startled you.”
“No—I, uh…it’s okay,” I stumbled.
“That was sneaky, finding my hand under the blanket. I was wondering when you were going to do it.”
“You were?”
She looked at me knowingly.
“You just looked so peaceful right now. So restful. I’m sorry I—”
“It’s really okay,” I said, putting my hand on her arm. “I thought your mother was over there.”
“I just wanted to know what they felt like.”
I smiled. “And?”
Her face reddened and she smiled as if she knew a secret. She looked down at my hand and covered it with her own.
“I like the way your skin feels.”
I could barely breathe, but somehow it didn’t matter. Somehow I was still sitting there, still as a stone, unable to move, with my heart still beating and air moving in and out of my lungs. She was looking at me with that gaze—that intense, penetrating stare that meant a lot more than she might have intended. I glanced at her lips. They were full and soft and I wanted to taste them again. Before I knew it she had moved close to me again and I felt the warmth of her face. I was ready for her this time. Our mouths met at first with hesitancy, in exploration. I inhaled and felt her breath, and then my hand went up to the side of her face and all of a sudden I felt like I was being pulled into a vacuum. In the suffocating heat I opened my eyes and caught a glimpse of her soft eyelids, and the warm ecstasy on her face. We were enjoying each other, and yet I still imagined her mother tiptoeing down the hallway, leaning out and watching—watching as Arianne moved closer to me, her hand against my chest, kissing me with so much energy I thought I would burst.
And then she stopped. I was practically on my back against the couch cushions, and she was leaning over me, our eyes open and our gazes locked. She looked sleepy and content. And then she laid her head against my chest and snuggled against my body. She had no idea what frenzied exclamations the rest of me was experiencing. I closed my eyes and it was all I could do to control myself. I stroked her hair and willed myself to relax.
July 25, 2012
Could working with the Dead be Dangerous?
http://stores.desertbreezepublishing.com/-strse-301/Keller-County-Cops-Book/Detail.bok
Suspense excerpt from Deliverance from Evil:
"Are you enjoying school, dear?" Dr. Madeline's seemingly innocuous question rattled Tessa. The therapist smiled. "I assume you must like it, since you went back voluntarily."
"Yes," Tessa finally croaked. "I'm looking forward to graduating next year."
"So you can work with the dead."
"Yes." She fixed her gaze on the gun in the doctor's hand and gulped back the urge to flee. Trying something while Dr. Madeline stared at her would be suicide.
The therapist cocked her head. "Why'd you choose mortuary science, Tessa? Why do you want to work with dead people?"
"Because the dead can't hurt me," she answered, unable to stop the flow of words. And live people, especially gun toting nuts like you and perverts like Dempsey and Stuart, have the ability to mortally wound me. She fisted her hands and glared at her captor. "It's safer that way."
"Oh, I see." The therapist made a note on her pad. "Well... I suspect that must be a residual affect from your stepfather's abuse."
"Probably so," Tessa answered, her mind whirring. This session was far from normal, but for some reason she couldn't stop answering the woman's questions. Was she that starved for attention? That desperate to be heard?
Dr. Madeline sent her a sideways glance. "Are you seeing anyone?"
"Yes. No." She shook her head. I can't say anything about Cash, especially since he's a detective. That might send the doctor into a tailspin.
The therapist lifted her brows. "Yes and no? Please... go on."
"Well..." Tessa swallowed and eyed the umbrella she'd pegged as a weapon, then jerked her gaze off it. She didn't want to give her plan away. "I-I almost went out with someone not long ago, but decided against it. I'm... I'm just too busy with school and work."
"You need to marry and settle down. Start a family."
"I'll do that later." She squirmed in her seat "Once I've finished school."
"We often think we have all the time in the world, when we really don't," Dr. Madeline said, pinning Tessa to the chaise with a bitter gaze. She lifted the gun. "Isn't that right, dear?"
"I-I guess so." Tessa went rigid. The therapist's persona had changed yet again, switching from curious doctor to angry villain in the blink of an eye. Who would she be next?
The doctor got up and paced back and forth, the pistol glinting each time she passed the window. "I've done my best to help you, Tessa."
"I-I know you have." Afraid not to give the woman affirmation, Tessa slid forward on the chaise, inch by inch, and prepared to drop her feet to the floor. "You've helped me be happy."
"Not lately." Dr. Madeline spun. "You've ignored me."
"That's not true." Tessa halted, afraid to move, not wanting to draw any more attention to herself. She had to get to that umbrella, and keeping the doctor pacing and calm was the only way. The more agitated the woman became, the more likely she'd shoot. "I readily took your call last week, when you told me you'd moved your practice here."
"You were just being nice." The therapist wagged the gun, then marched back across the room.
Tessa signed in relief and slid a little farther toward the edge of the chaise. "Wasn't your goal to rescue me from a terrible situation and help me grow up healthy and strong?"
"Of course it was," Dr. Madeline snapped, her eyes riveted to the plush carpet.
Tessa took advantage of the woman's temporary lapse to put her feet on the floor and transfer her weight to her heels. The desk was only a few feet away. If she could make a big enough leap...
The doctor whirled and shouted, "You work with dead people! How is that normal?"
"It's a job. Someone's got to do it."
"Not my Tessa." Dr. Madeline stalked toward her. "What are you doing?"
"I-I have a cramp." Tessa clutched at the back of her thigh, took a step to her right, and pushed herself to her full height. So much for subterfuge. "I need to stand up."
"Get back on the chaise," the woman cried. She raised the pistol and aimed it at Tessa. "Right now! Move."
"No!" Tessa shouted, diving for the umbrella. Her fingers hit it and sent it tumbling to the floor. She went after it.
A shot rang out...
--
Melanie Atkins
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EMILY'S NIGHTMARE--Coming August 1--Desert Breeze Publishing
DELIVERANCE FROM EVIL--Available now!--Desert Breeze Publishing
BLOOD RITE--Available now!--Whiskey Creek Press
July 24, 2012
Sizzling Kiss Contest Entry
Emma walks toward the front door, her feet brushing along the dusty concrete walkway. She focuses on staying just a step or two behind Jace. As they near the front door, he turns and looks her right in the eyes. Her abs tighten, though her stomach feels like vanilla pudding—goopy and dropping off in globs. Is he gonna to try to kiss her? She can’t let him kiss her, but why? She can’t remember.
His eyes. So blue. Blue like a perfectly calm lake at five in the morning. No. No kissing. Boys hurt girls, they always do. Avoid him just like every other guy who has tried. The scene runs through Emma’s mind, step by step, boy by boy.
• Step one: He gives that look.
• Step two: She smiles. She can’t help it.
• Step three. She stops flattering herself. He’s just playing some dumb game.
• Step four: He leans in.
• Step five: She pulls back and makes a random comment, pretending she didn’t notice the lean-in.
• Step six: Repeat as necessary.
It works every time. This time will be no different. “I had a really good time tonight,” Jace says, stepping closer to her.
“That’s just because my grandma didn’t try to figure out how we’re related. That scared the last boy off.”
He laughs and runs his fingers through his golden brown hair. Then he looks down at Emma—eyebrows raised, lips parted. Her red-stained lips pull up at the corners. And then…no lean in.
“Can I kiss you?”
Silence. This has never happened before. She thinks of what to say, how to get out of this one. Then, before she can speak, she feels his lips upon hers, soft at first then firmer. For one short second, she freezes. She tastes the subtle hint of powdered sugar from the donuts they ate on the way to her house. And then she relaxes, her lips moving against his. His arms slide across her back, pulling her closer until she can feel his chest moving in and out with each breath. Her fingers curl around bunches of his soft hair. She opens her lips, just slightly, and he nibbles on her lower lip just enough to wake her up.
Emma pushes back away from him. His eyes droop, hurt. “I…I’m sorry. I can’t…” She looks away.
He moves toward the bench by her front door and sits down. “You know, I don’t really want to go home yet. How about you tell more about your grandma?”
Her heart beats faster than normal, but she isn’t scared. She’s excited. “In a minute.” She sits down next to him, hearing nothing but the crickets and her own breathing.“How about one more kiss?”
His eyes. So blue. Blue like a perfectly calm lake at five in the morning. No. No kissing. Boys hurt girls, they always do. Avoid him just like every other guy who has tried. The scene runs through Emma’s mind, step by step, boy by boy.
• Step one: He gives that look.
• Step two: She smiles. She can’t help it.
• Step three. She stops flattering herself. He’s just playing some dumb game.
• Step four: He leans in.
• Step five: She pulls back and makes a random comment, pretending she didn’t notice the lean-in.
• Step six: Repeat as necessary.
It works every time. This time will be no different. “I had a really good time tonight,” Jace says, stepping closer to her.
“That’s just because my grandma didn’t try to figure out how we’re related. That scared the last boy off.”
He laughs and runs his fingers through his golden brown hair. Then he looks down at Emma—eyebrows raised, lips parted. Her red-stained lips pull up at the corners. And then…no lean in.
“Can I kiss you?”
Silence. This has never happened before. She thinks of what to say, how to get out of this one. Then, before she can speak, she feels his lips upon hers, soft at first then firmer. For one short second, she freezes. She tastes the subtle hint of powdered sugar from the donuts they ate on the way to her house. And then she relaxes, her lips moving against his. His arms slide across her back, pulling her closer until she can feel his chest moving in and out with each breath. Her fingers curl around bunches of his soft hair. She opens her lips, just slightly, and he nibbles on her lower lip just enough to wake her up.
Emma pushes back away from him. His eyes droop, hurt. “I…I’m sorry. I can’t…” She looks away.
He moves toward the bench by her front door and sits down. “You know, I don’t really want to go home yet. How about you tell more about your grandma?”
Her heart beats faster than normal, but she isn’t scared. She’s excited. “In a minute.” She sits down next to him, hearing nothing but the crickets and her own breathing.“How about one more kiss?”
July 23, 2012
The Sixth Key
will be released by Desert Breeze Publishing. "The Sixth Key" is a fantasy romance set in an alternate world.
Knocked down by a truck Riley wakes on another world. Her ex boyfriend Jothur has transported her there to help his people learn to shield their telepathic minds, although he doesn't tell Riley this. She dreams of two Jothurs, the blond boyfriend and a dark mysterious man. Danger threatens Riley and she flees to the Mutes. The non-psychic Mutes, led by Tynan, will be destroyed if Jothur's people learn to mind shield. Riley must use the Riddle of the Keys to learn the truth of Sacral's past and decide who to support in the battle for the future.
Publisher's Link for further information: http://stores.desertbreezepublishing.com/-strse-324/The-Sixth-Key-Sue/Detail.bok
Knocked down by a truck Riley wakes on another world. Her ex boyfriend Jothur has transported her there to help his people learn to shield their telepathic minds, although he doesn't tell Riley this. She dreams of two Jothurs, the blond boyfriend and a dark mysterious man. Danger threatens Riley and she flees to the Mutes. The non-psychic Mutes, led by Tynan, will be destroyed if Jothur's people learn to mind shield. Riley must use the Riddle of the Keys to learn the truth of Sacral's past and decide who to support in the battle for the future.
Publisher's Link for further information: http://stores.desertbreezepublishing.com/-strse-324/The-Sixth-Key-Sue/Detail.bok
July 22, 2012
(Repost) Complete Sizzling Kiss Entry
“How’s the water?”I asked as he approached.
“Warm,” he said, smoothing the hair away from his face with both hands and positioning himself gracefully onto his stomach beside me on the blanket.“You should go for a swim.It feels great.”
I said nothing.He was facing the water, his chin propped on his crossed wrists.His body, glistening in the moonlight, was beautiful and distracting.He seemed to sense I was watching him and rolled to his side to face me.A shock of dark hair had fallen into his eyes.
“You seem anxious about something.”
“I know.”We sat looking at each other.I hadn’t taken my eyes off of his body since he came out of the water, and I suddenly remembered this and looked down at my hands, clasped around my legs.“Why did you agree to come?”I ventured.
“I don’t know.I guess I just felt like it tonight.”
“Felt like what?” I asked, unable to keep from watching him again.
“Swimming, being around people… being with you.”
“With me?” I chuckled.“Since when?”
He didn’t smile, and I couldn’t read his expression.
“Since tonight,” he said, more softly.“Why not?”
He sat up, leaning back on one arm.I felt foolish for laughing.I knew he was sincere, but that didn’t make it any easier to believe.
“Do you want anything more to eat?” I asked, very quietly, reaching into the basket that separated us.He stopped my hand, moving the basket away.I knew this look, and I had wanted it from him, but now that I had it I didn’t know what to do.I felt his other hand cup the side of my face, and I sensed him moving closer to me.I closed my eyes, stiffening slightly.
“Christine,” he said.I opened my eyes again.He was much nearer, his breath warm and sweet against my face.“Do you want this?” he asked.
I remember nodding involuntarily, the muscles of my neck jerking.
“Then relax.”
Then his lips were soft against my cheek, my forehead, my eyelids, and finally my mouth.It seemed to last forever. I felt the muscles in my body begin to melt, and become limp and watery, and my free hand reached for his chest, finding the wet skin and sliding slowly around his waist.He continued to kiss me, his fingers lost in the mass of hair at the back of my neck, and as his body began to fall away I followed it without realizing.When I opened my eyes again he was lying on his back, looking up at me, grinning. I found myself hovering over him, our faces close, one hand sliding over the chest I had only been looking at moments before.I smiled back after a moment, leaning to let our mouths meet once more.
“Christine,” he said softly.“Why didn’t I do that a long time ago?”
“I forgot to tell you how good a kisser I was.”
“Warm,” he said, smoothing the hair away from his face with both hands and positioning himself gracefully onto his stomach beside me on the blanket.“You should go for a swim.It feels great.”
I said nothing.He was facing the water, his chin propped on his crossed wrists.His body, glistening in the moonlight, was beautiful and distracting.He seemed to sense I was watching him and rolled to his side to face me.A shock of dark hair had fallen into his eyes.
“You seem anxious about something.”
“I know.”We sat looking at each other.I hadn’t taken my eyes off of his body since he came out of the water, and I suddenly remembered this and looked down at my hands, clasped around my legs.“Why did you agree to come?”I ventured.
“I don’t know.I guess I just felt like it tonight.”
“Felt like what?” I asked, unable to keep from watching him again.
“Swimming, being around people… being with you.”
“With me?” I chuckled.“Since when?”
He didn’t smile, and I couldn’t read his expression.
“Since tonight,” he said, more softly.“Why not?”
He sat up, leaning back on one arm.I felt foolish for laughing.I knew he was sincere, but that didn’t make it any easier to believe.
“Do you want anything more to eat?” I asked, very quietly, reaching into the basket that separated us.He stopped my hand, moving the basket away.I knew this look, and I had wanted it from him, but now that I had it I didn’t know what to do.I felt his other hand cup the side of my face, and I sensed him moving closer to me.I closed my eyes, stiffening slightly.
“Christine,” he said.I opened my eyes again.He was much nearer, his breath warm and sweet against my face.“Do you want this?” he asked.
I remember nodding involuntarily, the muscles of my neck jerking.
“Then relax.”
Then his lips were soft against my cheek, my forehead, my eyelids, and finally my mouth.It seemed to last forever. I felt the muscles in my body begin to melt, and become limp and watery, and my free hand reached for his chest, finding the wet skin and sliding slowly around his waist.He continued to kiss me, his fingers lost in the mass of hair at the back of my neck, and as his body began to fall away I followed it without realizing.When I opened my eyes again he was lying on his back, looking up at me, grinning. I found myself hovering over him, our faces close, one hand sliding over the chest I had only been looking at moments before.I smiled back after a moment, leaning to let our mouths meet once more.
“Christine,” he said softly.“Why didn’t I do that a long time ago?”
“I forgot to tell you how good a kisser I was.”
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This wreath I just finished. For sale at $25.00. Comment if you are interested in buying or if you were looking at another of my creations! ...
