Big News

Today is the day for my big new release! In Harm's Way is being released today! I'm really excited about this.

Update

This just in. Ew... feels really exciting and it is for me. I got the publication rights back on my book Dark Days of Promise. I just needed to delete anything and everything having to do with the former publisher including the cover art so this is it, my new revised book.

Update - In Harm's Way

This is so exciting! In Harm's Way is now available for pre-order. That means that you can get it for .99 cents on your kindle for a limited time or for $2.99 paperback. I could never do this when it was part of Live, Love, Repeat but now I am able to offer it to you. The sale goes until August 2, 2016 so get it now!

Update

I just spent all day on new book covers. One for Dark Days of Promise as I have the publishing rights back and will re-release it soon. And the other book In Harm's Way has a new cover that I will share. Actually I'll share them both here when I get them approved from Amazon.

Chocolate Day

Okay so yesterday was chocolate day. For those of you who know me, I can take or leave chocolate except when Rocky Road ice cream is involved. That is when I go nuts!
So when is ice cream day? That is what I need to know.
All I'll say about my contest is, wow. As in no one is writing. I guess that is true for everyone but me. I am busy writing on my time travel novel, the second in my series. But back to my contest, if no one enters I'll have to give myself the book. Ha ha ha

Now, let's dissect my tidbit.

"What?" Trevor tried to twist so he could see. "Ow, that smarts."

"Your muscles are huge," she teased, falling backwards in a mock faint.

"I'll show you huge muscles, you tease," Trevor said, tackling her, despite the sharp pain it brought on. He tickled her, keeping her from getting away by pinning her to the ground. She writhed and wiggled to free herself then stilled, her breathing ragged.

Although much of this scene is inferred you know they are on the ground not a bed by the highlighted in red. and still further on you get a feel for the setting.

The stream trickled and gurgled, finding its downward path. Birds once silenced in the wake of the cacophony of chaos returned to their cheerful singing. A gentle breeze caressed their bodies while the sun bathed them in its warm light. Trevor kept most of his weight off her, his upper body weight held with his hands firmly planted on either side of her head.

Trevor lowered himself to one elbow while still holding a good portion of his weight with his other hand. He smiled at her, memorizing the smooth softness of her skin, the arch of her eyebrows, the mischievous smile lighting her eyes. How he wanted to claim her with more than a simple kiss.

Here, we see what he sees.

 "That's the best you can do?" He murmured, his tone gravely with desire.

"When I'm not sure, yes."

He arched his brows in response. "What aren't you sure of?"

"You." She pursed her lips.

 He caressed her cheek with his fingers. "I thought I made that clear." He brushed her lips with his hoping the light contact would cause a reaction.

She closed her eyes.

"Scared?"

She shook her head. He kissed her lightly again, allowing his warm breath to heat her skin. We get a taste of what he sees.She seductively rolled the tip of her delicate tongue over her teeth, leaving a glisten on the inner rim of her lips. His tongue gently tasted her moisture finding she tasted sweet and he wanted more. Here we find another sense as in taste. His heart beat faster, a steady rhythm accenting his kisses. Here we get a sense of what he id feeling. He lifted his lips, whispering against hers. "Look at me, Porsche. I need to know if I frighten you or if I'm too heavy on you."

She opened her eyes, at the same time answering him, "Too heavy."

He rolled, taking her with him until she lay on him. Now he could feel her every decadent and delicious curve, again we feel what he feels. appreciating how they fit  and pressed against him. Keep control. His breathing remained calm and even. She lay astride him, her forearms on his chest. "Better?"

She nodded in answer.

"Your turn. Kiss me." He wasn't entirely sure she would.

She smiled, and instead of kissing him, played with his hair, drawing her fingers across his cheek bone and to his lips. When her fingers lingered on his lips, he kissed them, taking the last between his lips with a deliberate touch of his tongue to the tender flesh under her nail.We get a good sense of what he is seeing here.

"Um, horsey. Glad I recognize that taste. It could have been worse." She giggled at his comment. "Kiss me.”

Porsche delayed her kiss, giving him time to anticipate it. Did she know how to kiss, or just flirt? Would her kiss be one or several? Soft or seductive?

He reached to move her leg and quickly rolled her onto her side. "Stop over thinking it. You've teased me with that deliciously pink tongue of yours. Give me your tongue." She merely smiled. "Give it, or I'll take it."

He didn't wait for her to play any more cat and mouse.Here we get a feel for what he is thinking. His kiss coaxed her to part her lips. He sought her tongue, inveigling a dalliance of intricacy, turning his flaming desire up a notch. Her breath caught. He pulled back.

"That," he murmured with conviction. "Is what tongues are for. I told you I would teach you. Now you've had your first lesson." He rolled away, knowing he must stop before he couldn't bring himself to. He stifled most of the groan that started deep in his loins and begged to be satisfied, hoping she didn't hear it or understand the need it conveyed. He held his side as he struggled to stand, willing his body to calm down.

You see how I used more than one of your senses to develop this scene? the best scenes use three of the five senses; sight, sound, smell, touch and taste. How many do you count in this scene?

A Steamy Tidbit from Live, Love, Repeat

"What?" Trevor tried to twist so he could see. "Ow, that smarts."

"Your muscles are huge," she teased, falling backwards in a mock faint.

"I'll show you huge muscles, you tease," Trevor said, tackling her, despite the sharp pain it brought on. He tickled her, keeping her from getting away by pinning her to the ground. She writhed and wiggled to free herself then stilled, her breathing ragged.

The stream trickled and gurgled, finding its downward path. Birds once silenced in the wake of the cacophony of chaos returned to their cheerful singing. A gentle breeze caressed their bodies while the sun bathed them in its warm light. Trevor kept most of his weight off her, his upper body weight held with his hands firmly planted on either side of her head.

Trevor lowered himself to one elbow while still holding a good portion of his weight with his other hand. He smiled at her, memorizing the smooth softness of her skin, the arch of her eyebrows, the mischievous smile lighting her eyes. How he wanted to claim her with more than a simple kiss.

 "That's the best you can do?" He murmured, his tone gravely with desire.

"When I'm not sure, yes."

He arched his brows in response. "What aren't you sure of?"

"You." She pursed her lips.

 caressed her cheek with his fingers. "I thought I made that clear." He brushed her lips with his hoping the light contact would cause a reaction.

She closed her eyes.

"Scared?"

She shook her head. He kissed her lightly again, allowing his warm breath to heat her skin. She seductively rolled the tip of her delicate tongue over her teeth, leaving a glisten on the inner rim of her lips. His tongue gently tasted her moisture finding she tasted sweet and he wanted more. His heart beat faster, a steady rhythm accenting his kisses. He lifted his lips, whispering against hers. "Look at me, Porsche. I need to know if I frighten you or if I'm too heavy on you."

She opened her eyes, at the same time answering him, "Too heavy."

He rolled, taking her with him until she lay on him. Now he could feel her every decadent and delicious curve, appreciating how they fit  and pressed against him. Keep control. His breathing remained calm and even. She lay astride him, her forearms on his chest. "Better?"

She nodded in answer.

"Your turn. Kiss me." He wasn't entirely sure she would.

She smiled, and instead of kissing him, played with his hair, drawing her fingers across his cheek bone and to his lips. When her fingers lingered on his lips, he kissed them, taking the last between his lips with a deliberate touch of his tongue to the tender flesh under her nail.

"Um, horsey. Glad I recognize that taste. It could have been worse." She giggled at his comment. "Kiss me.”

Porsche delayed her kiss, giving him time to anticipate it. Did she know how to kiss, or just flirt? Would her kiss be one or several? Soft or seductive?

He reached to move her leg and quickly rolled her onto her side. "Stop over thinking it. You've teased me with that deliciously pink tongue of yours. Give me your tongue." She merely smiled. "Give it, or I'll take it."

He didn't wait for her to play any more cat and mouse. His kiss coaxed her to part her lips. He sought her tongue, inveigling a dalliance of intricacy, turning his flaming desire up a notch. Her breath caught. He pulled back.

"That," he murmured with conviction. "Is what tongues are for. I told you I would teach you. Now you've had your first lesson." He rolled away, knowing he must stop before he couldn't bring himself to. He stifled most of the groan that started deep in his loins and begged to be satisfied, hoping she didn't hear it or understand the need it conveyed. He held his side as he struggled to stand, willing his body to calm down.

Contest is now Open!

Just announcing the contest is now open.
If you want more details on how to, come back later as in tomorrow and the next day.

Description is of Value

Let's say this is an excellent training tool for this contest.
 Excerpts from an essay by Abby Geni, author of The Lightkeepers. http://www.glimmertrain.com/bulletins/es...

 1. Know your setting well. Place is essential to any story. It defines the scope of your characters' actions—where they go, what they feel and see and hear and taste and touch, how large an effect they have on the world around them, how many people they interact with, how rich and full their lives are. Make intentional choices about your setting. Urban or rural? Beautiful or ugly? Familiar or unknown? Safe or perilous? Interesting or dull? Spacious or cramped? Bright or dark? Pleasant or off-putting? The setting defines the size and shape of the story.

 2. Once you've chosen a setting, be specific about its nature. Your setting should never seem vague or half-imagined. Some writers will draw landscape maps. Some will create a layout for the house in which their characters live. If your story takes place outdoors, be aware of the terrain, the season of the year, the foliage, the weather, the color and texture of the sky. If your story takes place indoors, be aware of the architecture, the kind of furniture, the feel of the room (stuffy, open, cozy, cluttered), the amount and quality of light, the smell of the air. This does not mean you must describe all these elements in detail, but the more aware you are of your setting, the more you will be able to capture it and integrate it into the story.

 3. Remember to use all five senses. Many writers have a "default sense" that they use reflexively when writing description. (For most of us, this is vision. A great many authors will describe what things look like and stop there.) Pay attention to what "default sense" you may use, and try to break out of the habit whenever possible. Smell, in particular, can be incredibly evocative when written well. Think about temperature, ambient sounds, the feel of the ground, the taste of the air.

 4. Description can echo and enhance the mood of a story. There's a reason so many love scenes take place in the wild crush of pouring rain. Your use of description can heighten, alter, or mirror what your characters are feeling. The same interaction will seem different if it happens in a labyrinthine mansion or a dark alley or a children's playground. If two characters are having a terrible fight, placing them in a tight, claustrophobic room will heighten the tension, while placing them in an open, breezy field will defuse it. A coming storm creates the sensation of foreboding. Heat slows the story down. A cold breeze chills the reader too. Think about how your descriptions can affect the emotion and action of the story.

 5. It is as important to describe your characters as it is to describe the setting. Physicality makes these people real to the reader. Some writers will sketch portraits of their characters. Others use traits from people they know. Some will write out a list of physical and mental attributes for each character. Make sure you know what your characters look like. Make sure that your descriptions are consistent.

 6. When describing people, stay away from hair and eye color, as well as height and weight. Many writers make the mistake of describing their characters like the people in a police blotter. Think, instead, about the way you might describe your friends. Do you know the height and weight of your friends? Do you ever think about their eye color? These features are not as interesting as other, more complex descriptors. Consider your characters' gestures, the shape of their facial features, their gait, their dimples, their scars, the way they laugh, the quality of their teeth, their stance, their fashion sense, their odor, their vocal tone, and so on.

 7. Think in terms of "telling details": details that let the reader see your characters while also revealing something about their minds. In this way, your descriptions can do double duty: giving the reader a physical picture while also showing an inner, mental trait. If a woman has unkempt, flyaway hair, that lets the reader see her, and it also reveals something about the character's sense of self and level of vanity. If a man has rimless, tinted glasses and a dry, taut mouth, that lets the reader see him, and it also reveals a lot about the character's personality.

 8. Vary the length of your sentences. If you favor long, winding, complex sentences, remember that too much of this style can overwhelm and exhaust the reader. Take a break and include shorter sentences every so often. If, on the other hand, you prefer brief, choppy, staccato sentences, remember that too much of this sort of prose can seem breathless and frantic. Take a break and include a long, dreamy sentence every now and then to calm the reader down.

9. Description can be particularly useful when writing dialogue. If your characters are conversing for a long time, they can start to seem disembodied. The reader may lose track of who's talking or forget the physical space that holds the characters. It's important to include imagery and description at regular intervals to ground the characters' voices in reality. A paragraph of description can slow down a ping-pong interaction. It can quiet an intense and heated interaction. It can give the reader a beat to take in some new information. It can add nuance and nonverbal subtlety to the characters, shading and enhancing what they're saying

 10. Each new scene in a story should have at least one paragraph of description to clarify where the characters are and who is present. This should happen fairly early in the scene. Whenever your readers are unsure about the physical logistics of the story, they will be unable to fully suspend their disbelief and dive in; they will be too busy trying to figure out what's going on. You never want your readers to be unsure about who, what, when, and where. Give us the situation right away. Tell us who is in the room. Locate your story in a distinct place and time.

 11. Too much description can bog down a story, but not enough can have the opposite effect…When it comes to description, finding the right balance will take time, space, and the clarity of mind that [may come] from editing a finished piece, not creating a new one. While you're actively writing, don't worry about whether you're using too much or too little description. Feel free to try things and make mistakes. When in doubt, write more description than you think you'll need. You can always take things out afterward.
12. All these rules—like every rule ever made about writing—should be broken when necessary.

Welcome Summer!

Happy Father's Day

Happy Father's Day to all those dads out there. May your kids find the time to spend with you!

Announcing a Prize Worthy contest.

Let's see, a few years ago I hosted a Sizzling Summer type of thing. and I'd like to do it again. I'd like to open it for all of you to tryout your writing wings so to say. That is this, I'll post a sizzling scene from my book Live, Love, Repeat as an example and open my blog for you to enter a sample of your Sizzling Writing. Let's say 1000 words should be enough of a limit. Remember that it should have a kiss or some such resolve.

 I'll even attempt to provide you with a mini-workshop on writing such scenes. (Come back next week for that mini-course.) Well actually a course on using description. Then I'll open it up for you to submit. Let's say no erotica, please keep them clean. We'll post them here for you to judge and send your friends to judge and read over the space of a few weeks, depending on how many enter.
 Then we'll have a grand prize as in a copy of Live, Love, Repeat.

Okay here's the catch: you must be a signed-up member- reader of my blog. (See the place to sign up to the right.)
Then remember the word limit (1000 words).
And the opening date is June 25th thru July 30, 2016.
We'll open the judging on the next day, July 31,2016 to you and all your friends who must be members to vote. The voting will last for 48 hours. Then I will announce the writer/reader and  ask for you address (physical or email) and ship you out a copy of Live, Love, Repeat.
Sound good? Good.

Saturday Sampler - more Live, Love, Repeat

Trevor's last expression haunted Mercedes. Should she have pressed him? Had she avoided the moment for her own comfort? Maybe to satisfy her own fears? Would that kind of moment ever happen between them again? Trevor needed to face his demons and it was her job to help him do so. She hadn't been honest and it bothered her.

Doubt filled her. She wasn't a psychologist. She wasn't trained to psychoanalyze anything, but was specialized training really necessary in Trevor’s case? Obviously Dr. Whipple didn't believe it was or he wouldn't have assigned her to Trevor's case with the strict instructions, 'Gain Trevor's trust. Only when he trusts, will he open up and he must do so to fully heal.' The moment of truth had arrived, but she had failed to have the courage to do what needed doing. It had come at an unexpected moment.

She’d followed Dr. Whipple's instructions to the best of her abilities and, in the process, fallen in love with her patient. If Dr. Whipple knew of her foible, he'd remove her from the case. She couldn't reveal her secret. She needed some time to organize the cacophony of emotions racing through her in order to congeal her thoughts and set boundaries where Trevor was concerned. She wished the past few days hadn’t happened.

Trying to distract herself, she rearranged the photos of Trevor on her laptop with the magnifier at her fingertips; she carefully compared the muscle tone. Distracted by the man rather than the muscle mass, she allowed her thoughts to linger, her hands tingling with the memory of his flesh under her hands. If only… Her imagination took her to forbidden thoughts. Feeling guilty she pulled herself away and retired. Even so, her mind refused to rest.

She had given herself over to Porsche's brand of behavior with disastrous results. A few minutes of titillating fun may have cost her her future. Oh sure, she could find jobs doing the usual therapy for patients recovering from minor accidents, but that wasn't her big dream. Dr. Whipple had shared his vision of holistic healing with physical therapy in the forefront. It had taken all of three seconds for her to recognize that his exegesis evoked a dream she had suppressed her third year at college. She wanted and needed to make a name for herself, one her parents could be proud of, one she earned without their assistance.

Her dreams for a bright career clashed with her dream of a man. Not just any man, but Trevor. Her emotions swam, sinking into a whirlpool of chaos. Her head on the pillow, the turmoil finally succumbed to sleep.

She and Porsche shared their favorite treat, perfectly roasted marshmallows. But they weren't by the campfire; they held the marshmallows in their hands roasting them in the oven. Dreams don't always make sense. She allowed the moment to linger. Porsche shoved a toasted confection in her mouth. ‘Take care of him. Heal his heart. Love him for both of us.'

The sweet farewell of the dream lingered after Mercedes woke, the early dawn of the morning beckoning to her. Mercedes took the time to call home. Ilene answered.

"I'm so glad to hear your voice."

"Mom, I miss you. How is Porsche doing?"

"It's been over three months now. Friends and neighbors have been generous and we are using your father's IRA and will even get a second mortgage on the house if necessary. Your father and I are meeting with the doctors today."

"And?" Mercedes couldn't bring herself to ask the real question. September 3rd, that had been the marker they had all, the doctors, her parents and herself, settled on. A mile marker Mercedes had thought would never arrive. Today.

"Yes." Ilene answered the question. "We'll make the final decision."

Saturday Sampler - more Live, Love, Repeat

The shower ordeal, complete with its embarrassment behind her, Mercedes scrutinized Dr. Whipple, gauging his sincerity and squaring her shoulders to defend her position. She wasn't bailing on Trevor or his care. She intended to do whatever therapy he needed to recover, just not his 'private man stuff.'

"I'm not a nurse and if you want me to build a trust between Trevor and myself, it can't happen again. Once was humorous but twice would be demoralizing for both of us."

"Then we will make some changes."

Whatever the changes were that Dr. Whipple intended to make, they couldn't come soon enough. Mercedes convinced Cedric to come to Trevor's home about the time Trevor got up to help him with his daily toilet for the next few days.

On a morning Mercedes couldn't sleep, she arose and dressed. Her reflection in the mirror showed dark circles under her eyes. Sleep consistently eluded her since that first night when Trevor had fallen and needed her help. She tied her hair up in a messy bun, put on a cool lavender top and clean yoga pants. She took a moment to collect her thoughts and strengthen her resolve to be professional. Her first item of business this morning was to check on Trevor.

She eased his bedroom door open just far enough to see him. He lay on his back, the bed sheet covering his lower torso and legs. His well-tanned chest was bare to the warmth of the open air. She stood there, transfixed. She closed her eyes long enough for her memory of the water from the shower running down his chest, swirling its delicate fingers around the trail of hair from his chest to his, well… She felt heat rush to her cheeks. …His nether regions.  Her eyes popped open as if to capture the fleeting image in the reality of the moment.

He looked so serene. Sleeping, like he was now, he didn't appear paralyzed but like a tanned god, even though in a relaxed state, his pectoral muscles appeared well defined.  A sexy gathering of chest hair decorated his chest just as it had in the shower. In the dim light of his room the hair appeared a slightly different shade from his beard. She hadn't noticed that before, she'd been too entangled in keeping her eyes off his bits. If she stepped closer, she could touch the stubble of his beard. She willed her feet to stay put, as a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. His beard wasn't all she could touch.

Don't get involved, she told herself. Her reprimand did little good. Tiny Porsche needled her incessantly about giving up what could have proven a regular private ogling session. The tiny minion even hinted at the possible fringe benefits.

Mercedes rubbed her fingernails across the tips of her thumbs wondering what it would be like to rake her fingers through his chest hair and the narrow trail of sparse hairs. Just as on that morning in the bathroom with guaranteed privacy, she looked but managed not to touch. She licked her lips, moistening them. With a sigh of longing, she stepped back, pulling the door shut just enough to block out the light from the lights in the great room.

Time to start the coffee. Scott, Trevor's new day nurse, would arrive within the next hour. She reached for a blend of roasted French vanilla and started the coffee, savoring its rich aroma.

Thank you.

I want to say thank you to all those who have served in the armed forces protecting me and mine. I could have copied and pasted some eye catching and heart warming video here but I feel the need to thank you personally. And for those who have given the ultimate sacrifice...my heart goes out to you and yours on this Memorial Day.

Saturday Sampler - more Live, Love, Repeat

Mercedes knew she owed Trevor and his care her full attention, but she couldn't keep her mind from worrying over the situation with Wayne. Word among the office staff buzzed that Whippy fired employees rather than keep troublemakers.  She'd made trouble this morning. Dr. Whipple didn't sound happy about it over the phone. She followed Trevor outside into the heat, closing the door behind her.

Things appeared different under the cabana. She hadn't noticed the change when they had talked at the fountain. A trapeze of sorts with two supports stood on either side of the lounger with a bar secured between them.

"What's this paraphernalia?"

"Cedric and I figured that since the hospital can provide a medical trapeze for a bed, they should spring for the same for the lounger. They didn't, so I had Jacob come by last evening and put this together for me," Trevor explained the poles and bar with satisfaction.

"I think he needs to learn to measure a bit better," Mercedes observed.

"Actually, he built it exactly the way I envisioned it." He had to admit the extra three feet of length on one end made the whole thing appear like a lop-sided barbell. Makeshift or not, it allowed him to wheel his chair under it and move to the lounger.

"Okay, so you can get onto the lounger by yourself?"

"Not quite. I need you to lift my feet." Trevor positioned his chair under the protruding side of the bar. The move from chair to the lounger went smoothly once Mercedes took hold of his legs and feet.

"See that? Good exercise for my upper body."

"True." Mercedes helped him settle on the lounger and began the exercises that involved moving joints several times within its full range of motion. She used an aloe lotion to massage his legs, enjoying the feel of the muscles. At first they were tight, reflecting his lack of physical activity but as she massaged, the muscles relaxed, becoming pliable to her touch. She found it easy to move from one side of the lounger, to kneeling at his feet to rest his foot on her shoulder working the muscles in his thigh.

"Relax Trevor," she coaxed, trying to watch the plants behind him rather than his expression or the way his body responded to her touch. She hoped his arousal wouldn't continue, but it did. Her tongue polished her right eyetooth while Tiny Porsche swaggered up and down Mercedes's shoulder whispering sexy innuendoes. Keeping her mind distracted became paramount.

She enjoyed doing massage, as she worked; the classes she moonlighted in came afresh to her memory, drowning Tiny Porsche's words to silence. Even the Massage theory class she'd unintentionally stumbled into niggled her thoughts, repeating the health benefits.

She would keep an eye on his muscles and watch to compare the difference, if any, between the atrophy of his lower body versus his upper body that she didn't massage and manipulate regularly. He would be her first test subject. She needed to figure out a method of measurement. The sharpness of the definition of muscles? Possibly, but she would need pictures. Her cell phone took reasonable photos. The trick would be getting him to let her take them without thinking she was drooling over him.

"Trevor? “ she began tentatively. “How would you feel about helping me with my research?"

"Depends."

"On?" Mercedes doubted he'd agree but she'd already started down this path. She really needed to think before she jumped in feet first.

Saturday Sampler - more Live. Love, Repeat

Mercedes struggled with her thoughts, of worrying about why she was here and what she’d done wrong. Her angst rose to a fevered pitch before Whippy entered his office. Had he heard her use the nickname for him that his entire staff used? Would she lose her job over it?

He smiled in greeting and thanked her for meeting with him. The meeting continued in a non-descript manner until Whippy got down to business.

"Actually, I invited you in here because I have a new case that I believe you may be uniquely qualified for. I don't usually offer jobs like this to new employees. A call to Dr. Anderson at his clinic this morning assures me you are a hard worker and dedicated. In truth he mentioned that you have a tendency to get too involved." Whippy smiled as if he approved of the very work ethic Dr. Anderson censured. "It may require long hours and quite frankly, I'm stepping out on a limb here. I'm looking at this case from a rather unorthodox view. Are you interested?"

She managed to nod, still fearing for her job.

"I'm building something unique here and hope you will become a part of it. My colleagues frown on my operating procedures but I plan to prove my methods to them. Happily their individual penchants to send me their difficult cases are exactly what I have been looking for--and continue to--hope for. They have also recommended the new graduates they refuse to hire due to the graduates' obvious zest for looking at things in new ways, such as you.”

Mercedes felt a wry smile tug at her lips. Cedric, being the only man of color in the office made a name for himself with his constant flirting, going so far as to tell the girls who refused to flirt back that their choice was purely racial. It wasn’t, and he knew it, but it gave him added ammunition to embarrass his co-workers. Of course, he took care to not press it too far or in front of clients.

"You will work at the patient's home and you, not one of the men, will be in charge. Don't let them run you. Mr. Palmer will need very personalized care." Dr. Whipple dropped his chin and opened his eyes wide, watching her reaction. "Mr. Palmer is the kind of man that measures his self-worth by his personal appearance. I'll not have him sinking further into depression due to muscle atrophy. It's your job to keep what he has retained up to this point. Massage therapy as well as physical therapy are going to be your responsibility every day, seven days a week. Do you understand?"

Mercedes nodded. She had taken the massage classes on a whim and almost neglected to include them on her resume. Now she had to admit her impetuous desire to try something new might prove valuable.

"Take the time to review all the notes you've kept from your classes as well as my journals." Dr. Whipple pulled several thin, hardbound journals from his bookshelves and handed them to her. "I don't mind telling you that, to a certain extent, both of our future careers are at stake here. I'm counting on you."

A whopping 650 words in my WIP. I'm in the middle of an argument about what to do with the loot if they find it. What would you do with the gold they will find?

#amwriting

Most of you know, but maybe some don't, I am currently working on my second book in a time travel series. Don't worry the first one isn't out yet and I won't go shopping it around until at least the second one is finished in rough draft form. But I just hung a guy in my novel. Yes, you read that right, I hung a guy for horse stealing. In the local laws defense it was his horse that was stolen and they don't have the loot he stole from the stagecoach. But all is not lost, my protagonist is on the trail of the loot. Just wanted to let you know how I'm fairing in my novel so off I go to ride to the rescue of my protagonist. Does she really need saving? Only a read will show it to you.

Saturday Sampler - more Live, Love, Repeat

Did last week snippet throw you? Want  more?

"Porsche." Porsche turned to her Grandma. "It's time, shoshkin."

"Time for what?" Porsche felt strangely calm and at peace.

"You need to decide."

"Decide what?" Porsche asked trying to understand the rush of thoughts and emotions coming at her from everywhere.

"Your time has come. You have arrived here a little early, but that too has its advantages." Sophie's thoughts peacefully showed Porsche her options. "You may stay here or you may go back."

Porsche didn't need to ask what she would be going back to. Sophie's thoughts left no room for misunderstanding. Porsche would be welcome to stay in this wonderful place for as long as she wished, or she could return to her body.

"But I'm not done." Porsche stated the facts, not to argue but in concern for those she'd left behind.

"Shoshkin, why do you believe you aren't finished?"

Dad needed someone to continue riding the horses so that they would be fit and ready for the fall hunt. Mom needed someone to help her with the house and her usual fall canning. Mercedes? Porsche had made a promise to herself that she would find a man for Mercedes to marry. In the process she had found Trevor and fallen in love. Trevor needed her. All these reasons and more flooded her mind. Someone didn't necessarily mean her; she'd merely assumed it would be her. She bowed her head with the only valid reason she could put into words.

"I haven’t said good-bye."

"Few do, my precious shoshkin.  Those who do, don't feel they've said enough or they have said it too often. Be at peace child, this is only a short interim."

Porsche wanted to argue, wishing she had learned from her mother how to make her point. Sophie smiled as though she understood and Porsche realized that Sophie could understand her thoughts and feelings, just as Porsche could understand Sophie.

"It isn't just the good-byes." Porsche pointed out. "I haven't had the chance to introduce my sister to him."

Sophie smiled, giving Porsche that motherly knowing look that said more than words could. "You're sure your reason isn't selfish? Would you really give him up if you had the choice?"

Porsche considered the question, somehow knowing that Sophie sensed her emotional ties to those she'd left behind better than she did herself.

"Honestly?" Porsche wanted to avoid the truth.

"Honestly."

"I'm not sure." Porsche didn't think she could admit the truth aloud, even if she could admit it to herself.

"Very well, since you need to be sure of your decision, you are given time to decide. Don't take too long. But I must warn you, this may be painful." Sophie showed her a quiet hospital room. Ilene sat in a chair, staring at a still form. She looked more closely and recognized her body. Ilene wiped at her tears, humming softly

Saturday Sampler - more Live, Love, Repeat

Thick and heavy darkness enshrouded Porsche. She tried to sit up. Excruciating pain burst from her neck to every extremity. She screamed in agony not knowing or caring if anyone heard her.

"Tre--" her mouth refused to form his name. Someone help me, she begged into the suffocating darkness. Terror took hold of her, cold and merciless. Indifferent to her needs. She shivered causing shattering shards of pain to dart through her. If only she could move. She tried again but her hands didn't respond to her thought to bring them to her mouth to blow warming breath on them. The chill enveloped her, sending her body into spasms of shivers and knives of pain. Stop shivering, she told herself but her body didn't obey her command. Torturing agony coursed through her. She retreated into the darkness that haunted her.

I've always wondered how someone got a ♪ to show up on what they were typing... so now I know alt key and 1 3. And all these others. Just press the ALT key and then the number on the keypad to the right.
™ is the 0153
© is the 0169
® is the 0174
° is the 0176
± is the 0177
¶ is the 0182
¾ is the 0190
× is the 0215
¢ is the 0162
¡ is the 0161
¿ is the 0191
☺ is the 1
☻ is the 2
☼ is the 15
♀ is the 12
♂ is the 11

Pretty cool huh? there are more.
♠ is the 6
♣ is the 5
♥ is the 3
♦ is the 4
♫ is the 14
√ is the 251
↑ is the 24
↓ is the 25
→is the 26
← is the 27
↕ is the 18
↔ is the 29

There are a couple more that don't work on my computer. they are:
Nary summation which is 8721
and infinity which is 8236
Try these out for yourself! You'll at least have a little fun!

Saturday Sampler - more from Live, Love, Repeat

Trevor needed to get Porsche off his mind. If he couldn't get her off of his mind, he at least had to get out of the same household. Long, hard hours of work might be the solution.

Setting up camp didn't help, especially when it came to pitching his tent. If he closed his eyes, he could almost smell her on the fabric which in turn engendered his longing to hold her. If she were to visit him here at his camp with no one around… He would make a teasing comment. She'd stick out her deliciously pink tongue. He'd be waiting and reward her with a passionate kiss. One kiss would lead to more and those kisses could easily give him reason to share his tent for something other than sleeping. She hadn't been at the hardware store when he'd returned for the tent, but he'd acted on impulse and purchased an air mattress then as well. That would take care of the unwelcome rocks.

He picked up the journal but didn't read it. Instead he verbalized his commitment. "I will move the boulder and somehow I will share my feelings with Porsche, or die trying." 

Waking from a night of troubled sleep, he stuffed a chunk of jerky in his shirt pocket and filled his canteen before climbing the slope with the new shovel and breaking bar across his shoulders. He stopped to drop the breaking bar on the ground before turning his attention to the bush nearest the stream. It would have to come out in order to get to the boulder behind it. He set the canteen in the stream allowing the cold, running water to cool the drinking water. 

Trevor relished the hours of strenuous work and the attention required keeping the branches from whipping against his arms as he dug. The rocky ground slowed his progress. He stopped for a drink, pouring a small amount over his hands and onto the ground. It occurred to him that if he dug a trench around the bush and diverted the water, it would soften the ground, and he could possibly pull the bush out with his truck.

He dug the trench with renewed energy, making a dam with shovelful after shovelful of mud and rocks, temporarily altering a portion of the stream's course. Once the stream found its new course, Trevor reclined in the nearby shade to tend it and eat his jerky. When the stream threatened to overflow its new boundaries, he thrust the shovel blade into packed dirt, loosening the temporary dam. Some water remained for the ground to absorb. 

Sample Saturday

More for Live, Love, Repeat. Enjoy!

"I'm sorry Porsche," Trevor murmured, touching her.

She shivered.

"I didn't realize, I didn't mean what I said. You've been wonderful to help me. Please reconsider."

Porsche sniffled.

"Porsche," he moved his hands to offer her his support.

"Don't touch me," she twisted away from him.

He took a big step toward her, wrapping his arms around her. She struggled against him, writhing to free herself. "I won't force you, Porsche. Go to your happy place."

"I don't want that happy place," she snarled, still struggling.

"No one will hurt you there."

"You will."

"I won't. I promise," Trevor soothed, trying to get her to stop fighting him.

"How can I trust you again?" she gasped.

"Tell me about your happy place."

"I can't," she rasped.

"Tell me so I can help you go there again." Why was she fighting him like this? It didn't make sense.

"You don't want me there. And I don't want to be there." She stood with her head down, her arms hanging limp.

"Why wouldn't I want you to go to your happy place?"

"You don't want me in your arms. You want me on horseback," she whispered.

Trevor gulped. Did she just say her happy place is in my arms? A sense of pride welled up in him. She cared enough about him to consider him safe. He'd wanted her to trust him but hadn't expected this.

"Of course…" Trevor turned her to him. He pulled her to him. He needed to man up and reassure her. "I want you here."

Cautiously, he pulled her closer to him, her nose nearly squished against him. She turned her head to accommodate his embrace.

The horses nickered in the heavy sunlight, its heat radiating off the blackened rocks marking the edge of the butte.

He kissed her brow, causing her hat to slip backwards and fall to the ground again. "I'm honored that you would, if only for a moment, consider my arms a safe place to give you strength to overcome your fears."

"It wasn't your arms that were my safe place." Stunned, he released her enough for her to slip from his arms to retrieve her hat. "The way you were holding me just reminded me of my dad. His arms have always been my safe place. I'm always safe with him, even when I'm hurt, I know he'll keep me safe."

"Oh." The previous pride her words had engendered in Trevor dropped, smashing his ego with calloused precision.

"Besides, I'm not frightened of riding anymore. You helped me back there and I thank you."

"You're welcome…" Like he was about to let her put him on the roller coaster of this conversation. Not.

"It isn't safe up there in the ravine," she stated.

"Why not?" At least she had changed the subject to a more stable topic.

"There's a nest of rattlers near there. They like to come out of their hiding places to warm themselves. By now they'll probably be hiding in the shade to normalize their temperatures and that is when they are the most dangerous. A horse stirs them up and they coil to strike."

Seriously? Rattlesnakes? He refused to let her unnerve him. "But we'll hear them rattle."

"Not always."

"So we'll skirt the ravine and I'll explore it another day." He wanted to chide her for yet another excuse, one of her many. The chicken coop, work, horses difficult to be caught, fear of riding, and now rattlesnakes. Stay calm…and in control.

"Fine, but don't call me if your horse bucks you off and you get bit by a rattler."

"I really doubt that I'll get thrown. I haven't been thrown since I was a kid and that was because the horse refused at a jump. Neither of these two has dumped me yet." He mentally scowled himself for revealing any of his past.

"You've only ridden Buck."

"Not really. I've been schooling both of these boys since your dad said I could ride them. You remember the night he asked you to go riding with me, don't you?"

Porsche's jaw dropped. "That's why…"

Victory! He let a wry smile curl the corner of his lips. "They were in the short pen, easier to catch, the farrier arrived this morning, and they are a bit easier to ride… Your dad said 'yes' if I was willing to 'do the dirty work' so to speak. I was, and I did. It wasn't too terribly dirty and it's done. Now we can continue our ride. Are you willing to?" Trevor returned to his maps, gathering them. He folded them and stuffed them back into the saddlebag. She better be willing, or he'd somehow make her.

"Yes, I will ride. Just not up there by that snake pit."

Not the answer he hoped for, but it wasn't a complete 'no'. He waited for her to mount before leading the way down the narrow path. They went slow, allowing the horses to pick their way. Leaving the trail and riding on the hillside rather than the steep trail, Trevor looked back at her. If he could get her to really enjoy the ride, would she bend her firm resolve? She acted confident in the saddle, was she?

"You feel like stretching their legs?"

"Um…" Porsche stammered.

Stay close to her and she'll give me another excuse. No way I'm taking any more of them. Trevor urged Buck into a gallop, pushing for the lone cottonwood. He overtook it before pulling Buck up. She wasn't anywhere close. He'd wait in the shade while she moseyed her way to him. Maybe she was afraid of riding or maybe she was a real good actress, but he came up here for a reason and it wasn’t to spend his day explaining his motives or coercing her.

The female was downright irritating. Sure, she wanted to be held and coddled, but only when it suited her. When it didn't suit her she had dozens of excuses. He should have seen her game from the beginning. She probably ran a daily log of why a smile in his direction would break her. Oh, I already smiled for three customers. I can't possible spare even one more for Trevor. Oh, we can't go riding today. I'm scared I'll break another nail.

Porsche came into view, keeping Duke at a stilted walk.

"What happened to you? I thought we were going to stretch their legs."

"Stretch their legs, yes. Run out of control, no."

Run out of control. Another excuse. He had full control of Buck the whole time. What was her problem? He kept himself busy with his internal dialogue and tuned in when she mentioned 'herd fever.'

"I didn't think of that. Ralph said Buck would be the difficult one and he was." Trevor had focused on getting Duke to respond to his cues. He'd succeeded but apparently all his hard work had been for not, by the sound of it.  He would like to ride Duke and learn if this was just another excuse from her. "I never even considered that Duke would follow him without regard to his rider. I'm sorry. Do you want to trade horses?"

Snippet form my WIP (work in progress)

I just have to share this. How different do you thing getting water in a water trough for horses has changed in a hundred years? Think of it. They used to pump the water, and now they just turn on a hose?

They are both the same, right?

The one in the upper photo is today's spigot that you would find in a barn yard. The lower phot is an antique. Both have handles that you lift for the water. The modern one is a lift slowly until the water comes out at the desired rate. The lower one needs to be pumped, or primed. different for a character from the 1880's to deal with don't you think? Yeah, that is what I thought too. You'll have to wait for my time travel novel to come out to see what happens!

Saturday Snippet from Live,Love,Repeat

I'm going to try to make this interesting by posting some excerpts from previous novels and my current WIP (work in progress). Let's start with an excerpt from Live,Love, Repeat which is available in the Amazon bookstore.

Trevor adjusted his goggles and jumped. He might as well have dived into liquid ice. The bone chilling water enveloped him, slicing through his flesh with numbing clarity. The painful cold caused every hair on his body to stand on end and set his teeth to chattering. His breath effectively stolen by the freezing water, he managed to fight to the surface of the pool. 

He stared at his work crew in shock, unable to think of a single cuss word.

"Cold, ain't it hombre?" Rufus, the only Mexican on the crew asked. Rufus stood a mere five feet four inches tall, with jet black hair in careless disarray, his typical work uniform of jeans and baggy tee shirt threadbare, but clean. He held Trevor's towel in a crumpled wad of disheveled terry cloth. Trevor eyed the towel, anxious to wrap himself in its warmth.

He tried to glare at each of his three employees in turn. Was his face frozen solid? His eyes seemed the only organs still responding to brain impulses. No wonder the guys refused to inspect the pools. What had he been thinking? He'd been thinking of how to get a jump on the competition and save his floundering company at the same time. The company, his legacy and inheritance upon his father's passing, or rather forty-nine percent of it. His mother, in conjunction with the stockholders, owned the other fifty-one percent.

Trevor had shown a propensity for designing pools early in his life and over the years his father had made Trevor's drawings a reality with several of the pools installed in the greater Las Vegas area. Trevor much preferred designing to installing or maintaining. Conceiving, planning and drawing were the part of the business Trevor did best. Running a crew proved his downfall last summer. If he couldn't manage these guys they might all end-up unemployed. He had to find a way to prove to himself, his mother, and the stockholders his value as more than a rich, spoiled screw up.

The outdoor temperature in the sun at this hour boasted 52°F and rising. Not bad for a brisk walk, but not the overly warm triple digits this same pool area would harbor in three month’s time. People wanted to use their pools as soon as the temperatures hit the low eighties which required inspecting and repairing the pools in cooler temperatures.

"Ready to get out Boss-man?" Brodie, the smart-aleck on the crew, crossed his arms over his chest. Not an easy feat for a guy with a chest circumference of fifty plus inches and arms to match.

Anxious to get out of this fix without losing face should have been Trevor's first concern, but survival preempted his faulty leadership skills. His gaze fell on Darin, the youngest man on the crew and Brodie's 'little' brother. Both brothers wore Under Armour and jeans for work this morning. Brodie often beat Darin's tender hearted emotions out of him whether physically or by shear intimidation of muscle and strength. Even so, Darin didn't let Trevor down this time.

"Guys," Darin hesitantly pleaded. "His lips are turning blue. Shouldn't we help him out?"

Brodie dropped his arm, his palm toward Darin as if to catch him with an underhand swing. "Not 'til he admits we aren't 'girly-men.' What do you say Trevor? Are we being 'girly-men' for refusing to jump into these unheated pools for another month or so?"

Chilled to the bone, Trevor did his best to swim toward the pool steps at the shallow end of the pool. As soon as he thought he could reach, he put his feet down to touch the bottom of the pool. Had the guys warned him the cement owned colder temperatures than the icy water he would have laughed. Now he could barely gasp in shock.

May the luck of the Irish be with you today!