The Remingtons are faced with tremendous loss. Their father is gunned down in front of them and after the smoke clears, the only thing left is their need for revenge and their desire to protect those they love.
Leaving their lover in Italy, the Remington brothers return to Missouri with a plan to lure their enemies to their familiar homestead. Once there, they meet up with Veronica Leigh, an intelligent operative who seeks more than retribution for Wilson Remington’s death.
Veronica is in Missouri to discover a life she was never meant to lead. In the process, she finds a family she’s ready to claim for her very own, but in doing so, shares in their grief and heartache before she finds her way home.
Rated PG 13:
Veronica reached for her gun and hit the small fluorescent lamp at the same time. “Good God, you scared me to death. Don’t you believe in knocking?”
His eyes held hers to a challenge. Then, his gaze lowered, settling on her breasts. She’d slipped on the first thing she found and unfortunately, Dusty probably thought she chose the selection for him since he found his way to her room.
The lavender gown dipped low, and the cut of lace outlined the shape of her breasts. The material was so thin that if she stood up he would see her nipples and her pussy.
She lowered her weapon. “Is something wrong with Kelsie?”
“No,” he said, stripping his T-shirt over his head. “Something is wrong with me.”
“I could’ve told you that when I first met you,” she teased.
He knelt down on the bed and as he did, he grabbed her calves and then her hips, flipping her over on her stomach.
“What the hell are you doing?” she asked, wiggling.
With his palm to her lower back, he replied, “I’m giving you what you deserve.” Then he raised his hand and gave her a light smack, a playful swat across her backside.
“Like hell you are,” she said, kicking once and trying to roll over again.
“Don’t get all excited. You wanted a backrub. I’m here to rub.”
She felt a tingling sensation on the back of her neck. She didn’t need her body to help out with warnings. This wasn’t a good idea.
Dusty’s hands propelled over her shoulders. The balls of his hands massaged the area below the blades, and his fingers pressed into her flesh, crawling toward her neck.
“God, that feels good,” she purred. Now, she couldn’t send him away.
“I bet.” He maneuvered his hands to her nape and then squeezed and released her shoulders.
“What did you do, take lessons from a massage therapist?”
“When are you going to learn? Honey, I don’t need lessons in anything. I’m a trained professional in everything I do.”
“Don’t tempt me,” she said, closing her eyes. God help her, his hands spun pure magic.
He stopped abruptly and straddled her hips. “Are you?”
“Hmm?” she asked dreamily. “Am I what?” Her eyes popped open and she stared at the dim light barely visible under the door.
His palms skimmed across her body, and he kneaded the skin right above her hips. “Do I tempt you?”
God, yes, he was the most enticing man she’d ever encountered in her life, but she didn’t want him to betray Kelsie, and most of all, she never wanted to do anything to hurt either of them. “You’re all right on a rainy day,” she finally admitted.
He stopped again, lowering his lips to her nape. He didn’t kiss her but instead whispered against her skin. “I’m better than all right especially during a violent storm, and you should see how I heat up those hot summer nights.”
“Damn, my sister must’ve stroked that ego a whole lot through the years.”
He snickered. “Her and a few other ladies I’ve encountered along the way.”
“Bragging?”
He gripped the sides of her waist and ran his hands up and down her sides, stopping before he clutched more than skin and bones. God help her, she’d love for him to try just so she could know what one touch from him felt like. As the guilt consumed her for wishing such a thing, she whispered, “Dusty, I think you need to go.”
“Why?”
“You know why.”
He kissed her back and smoothed his hands over her gown. “I don’t want to leave you, but you’re probably right. If I don’t go now, I’m going to do something we’ll both regret.”
“Then you should go,” she said, turning to her side so she could study his face.
“I—”
“You what?”
“I want you.” He ran his hand through his dark hair. “God help me, I can’t sleep for thinking about you. When Bob left here with you, I was so fucking angry. I wanted to kill someone, fight like hell to get you back, and I couldn’t breathe. God, Veronica, I couldn’t fucking breathe until I saw you again.”
She stared into his hooded eyes and, sure enough, saw the heavy weight of lust and guilt, a fine mixture of the pleasure he wanted and the pain having anything to do with another woman would potentially bring. “Dusty, you should leave.”
Find out more on Natalie Acres's books at Siren-Bookstrand, Click HERE
Why don't you start with telling us a little about yourself? What genre do you write in and why? I’ve been a successful freelance journalist for the past ten years, but I’ve been writing all of my life. However, it wasn’t until December of last year, that I actually had any fiction published, and that was the debut of The Bowdancer, the first book in The Bowdancer Saga. This series of books are in the fantasy romance genre but have broader themes than just whether Jan-nell, my main character, finds love. I enjoy fantasy because it allows me to create my own cultures with their own rules, lifeways, music, songs, dances, foods, spiritualities, and healing practices.
What comes first for you when you sit down to write a book? Plot or Characters? Usually, it’s characters, but I might have an idea about where I wanted a story to go.
Do you "cast" your characters using pictures or actors to help inspire you when you're writing? Not really. The characters, all except one, were fashioned as they appeared in the landscape I had created. The one exception was a hunter in the third book, Warrior Women, that will be out in November. I was trying to create different looks for the six master hunters and trackfinders of the sisterhood, and I drew upon a woman musician I had met and interviewed many years ago. She had a most unusual hair style and the way she moved on stage was much like the cat-like grace of Bekar, the hunter, that I created.
How long does it take you to finish a book from start to finish? The Bowdancer, a novella, was written several years ago and had been tweaked over time. The second book, The Wayfarer’s Road, which is a longer novella, was written early this year and it took me about a month. The third book, Warrior Women, is longer but it took about the same amount of time. The Lost Song Trilogy, which are three full-length novels took me about three months to write and another month to tweak. (It is now being read by another publisher for their print house.)
Jan-nell strained her ears to hear in the darkened barn. The rain had stopped sometime during their late-night meal so all she heard was the dripping from the trees. The horses snorted and stamped their hooves but did not seem to sense anything amiss. Yet, there was something moving outside, a shuffling in the wetness, and then—there—muffled voices and some shushing like Jan-nell had seen village children do before attempting some innocent prank. If indeed this were such a prank, it would definitely not be innocent.
Khrin had obviously heard the noises too, and shot Jan-nell a questioning look, tinged with something like fear. When Jan-nell bent to blow out the candle and reached for her staff, he stayed her hand, putting his finger to his lips and began to fumble with his cloak and tunic. Before she could figure out what he was doing, he had flung off his tunic, opened his linen shirt, and grabbed her right hand to place on his hairless chest. She tried to jerk her hand away, but he held it fast, whispering in her ear, "Trust me." Then he blew the candle out.
Just then, the latch on the stable door was lifted and the door swung open. A shaft of lantern light spilled over the backs of the horses. Razlo and another man, both well into their cups, entered and came around the first horse’s tail. Their lantern light fell on Khrin who lounged with a bent knee, looking annoyed at the men, as he caressed Jan-nell’s hand on his bare chest.
"That light is frightfully bright, gentlemen," Khrin announced.
Razlo’s drunken companion squinted beady eyes at Jan-nell and Khrin. "Ye be right, innkeeper. She be a whore." He twisted his head toward Razlo. "When be our chance?"
"I am not a whore!" Jan-nell shouted, trying to pull her hand away from Khrin, and attempting to stand.
Khrin jerked her back down. "That is true," Khrin said quietly. "She is no whore."
The beady-eyed fellow cackled. "Then she be giving it away."
"No," Khrin countered. "She has not given anything away." He held up the coin Jan-nell had given him for the meat pies. "She paid me."
This time Razlo sputtered. "Whores! The both of you! Get out of my barn!" The shout unsettled the horses and they started stamping about the stable, making Razlo and his guest step clear of the animals near the door.
Jan-nell glared at Khrin and stood. Then she addressed the two men. "And I am sure your intentions were very pure. Were you coming to bring us an extra blanket or perhaps some scraps from your kitchen?" She harrumphed as she woke Mira-nell. "We have to go now, sweeting."
"Be gone and take that child abomination with you!" Razlo bellowed, startling one of the animals, causing it to whinny and rear. It pulled at its rope tether, nearly pinning Razlo and his lantern against the wall. The beady-eyed guest fled outside, and Razlo escaped to stand at the open door, supervising their evacuation.
Being a writer, I often think about things to write about. Lately, I've had occassion to think on the writing itself, the act of organizing words into sentences, and sentences into paragraphs, and the phenomena of how all us writers came to the craft differently.
I know one such who is a dream writer. His ideas don't come to him except when his thoughts are suffocated by sleep, then, while his conscious mind is dormant, his unconscious self plays at author. When he wakes, he takes these ideas and writes them down, spinning the ideas like a loom. Sometimes he removes the gossamer fog of sleep, sometimes he doesn't. Another writer I know tends to things as they come to her. Scenes, and sentences, out of her mind and onto the page as they occur in the cinema of her mind. Later, she pieces them together in a puzzle-like tapestry. And of course I write like I write, in purposeful order with shields all around my thoughts, warding the chaos of other stories pushing in for my attention, against an hourglass draining of time.
But for every writer I know, I've met half a dozen others that wanted to be, or used to be, but they allowed something or someone in their life to discourage them. Someone told them how they did things was wrong. But, the amazing thing about writing, I've found, is that there's no wrong way to do it. There are effective methods, strategies, and techniques, trends that flow in and out of popularity, but so long as the words get on the page in an intelligible fashion, who cares how they got there? I would even say that there being so many different kinds of storytellers is why storytelling is such a wonderful method of expression.
So I write this for you, the third kind of writer: not the one that is, or the one that might have been, but the one that could be. You won't be able to please everyone, and I'm personally still on the fence about whether or not one should even try. But if it's in you to write, then don't let a small detail like thinking you're doing it wrong get in the way of that. Someone once told me that "writer's write." I spent two years at a technical college writing short stories around my class notes before I happened upon that nugget of wisdom. Hopefully, you will spend less time figuring that first lesson out. The second lesson was "get it all down before you realize it's rubbish."
But that was my second lesson. It may not be yours, which is another beautiful thing about it all. Of the two friends I mentioned, and myself, once we all learned the first rule, we branched into different directions, ultimately sizing up our own specific hurdles as wordsmiths, and attempting to leap over them. Just something to think about. But don't think about it for too long. There's an empty page out there somewhere hungry for words.
Were you an avid reader as a child? What type of books did you enjoy reading?
I was a very avid reader as a child. I can’t recall a time where I didn’t have a book around me. Tikki Tikki Tembo by Arlene Mosel was my favorite story. I also loved Where The Wild Things Are by Maurice Sendak, and Nancy Drew by Edward Stratemeyer
Tell us a bit about your latest book, and what inspired you to write such a story.
Embrace The Moment is my first series. It’s penned after my love of the military that protect us. I decided to do the Coast Guard because I’ve always loved what they stand for. Semper Paratus is my dedication to those who remain ~Always Ready~. There is a total of six members on the team. Each will have their own story and will vary on different jobs the USCG does for our nation.
How would you describe your creative process while writing this book? Was it stream-of-consciousness writing, or did you first write an outline?
It’s funny that you should ask. I’m not big on outlining but for a series there needs to be some lines plotted down. I’ve begun doing a vague outline, leaving much room for growth while accomplishing what needs to be done in the time line.
Have you ever experience weird cravings while you write? If so, what kind?
I drink a lot of coffee and crave salad. Sometimes if I’m writing a section on food, it’ll spark a…ohhhh that sounds so good right now!
What are the most challenging and the most rewarding aspects of writing?
What challenges me the most is my personal growth in writing. I’ve been at this less than one year and I feel like I’m growing in leaps and bounds. What was rewarding was becoming published for the very first time. When I got my contract I was spinning on cloud nine, but once it went up on the site, it sunk in. OMG I’m published! I hope to continue to grow and get these insane characters of mine written and written well.
What are your top 3 favorite paranormal books and movies?
Books:
Sherrilyn Kenyon’s Dark Hunter Series
Karen Marie Moaning Fever World Series
Christine Feehan Dark Series
Movies:
Underworld Series
Blood and Chocolate
The Covenant
What character (s) in any of your books is most like you?
The character who most describes me is Fatal in My Demonic series. She’s mixed culture and has been through a lot and remains strong, with a stubborn streak a mile wide, yet a forgiving nature. I’m friendly and social but I don’t wear my heart on my sleeve.
What is the most ridiculous thing that you have thought about doing to any of your characters but never did? I don’t’ write them they write themselves…but they do the most ridiculous things on their own. J Krissy likes to taunt citizens of NYC with her picture taking in their personal space.
How do you keep track of your world building? One Note!
Which authors works do you enjoy reading and do you have any other authors that you bounce ideas of? Marty Rayne, Tymber Dalton, Savannah Chase, Andrew Grey, Kate Douglas, Anne Rainey, Joey W. Hill, Kissa Starling, Sandy Sullivan, and there are hundreds more. I bounce ideas with a few friends. Marty Rayne is one of them, but I have beta readers who are great at bouncing ideas if I need it.
Where do you see the paranormal/urban fantasy genre headed? Can you see it slowing down in the near future, or do you think that the immediate future is pretty bright for it? I don’t see it slowing at all. I see it evolving into more intricate world builds much like sci fi is doing right now.
If you had to write yourself as a heroine/hero, what kind of heroine/hero would you be? What would you be named? Strong and stubborn with a heart worth fighting for. I’d be named Fatal J
If you had to write yourself as a villain, what kind of villain would you be? What would you be named? I’d be a dark witch. Call me Candalaria.
What is the strangest source of writing inspiration you’ve ever had?
A tag line off of a billboard gave me a premise.
If you were a world ruler and you were given a choice of 3 laws to enact, what would they be?
My first law: Those who lay down the law are not above the law.
My second law: Harmony between realms and worlds will be governed by a specific special few persons.
My Third Law: Taxation will be in the people’s interest, not my personal pocket.
If your muse were to talk behind your back, what secrets would he/she tell?
“This is Ryan Corban for Channel Nine news with a breaking story. At three-thirty this afternoon, a Cessna type plane crashed thirty miles off the Laguna Coast. The craft called in a mayday after being struck by debris on their starboard engine. The Coast Guard was called out and responded by deploying an eighty-seven foot schooner as well as a helicopter…one second please. We’re receiving more information from the reporter on site.”
“We’ve been informed that two of the three passengers have been located. Unfortunately they are not alive. What a traumatic night for Laguna Beach. The occupants of the Cessna plane were two teenagers and a pilot.” He put his fingers on his earpiece to receive incoming information and nodded. “Wait. I have just been informed there are no survivors. The third passenger has been found. Yes, the pilot and two teen students were killed. Confirmation has come through. Resuscitation on one of the teens has failed. Their identities at this time are withheld until family members can be notified. With Channel Nine News, this is Ryan Corban.”
* * * *
1700 Hours-USCG Sector, San Diego
Lieutenant Junior Grade Lark Maddox surveyed her team. “No cigars tonight, fellas. Remember, some we win, some we lose. Anytime a plane crashes the chances of survival decreases. Get your reports completed and get home. As always, let the local police handle the press. If anyone contacts you transfer them to the local authorities. If they prove to be crass direct them to public affairs who will deal with them tomorrow.” Her four team members were wet and appeared exhausted. She turned to the one nearest to her. “McCall, make sure you go get that cut on your head looked at.” As senior officer, Lark remained in control. Even when coping with difficult issues, she played the part well. Her face remained a stoic façade of impenetrable stone. Being the highest ranking woman on the team, she had to show she wouldn’t break, that she held the same backbone of her male counterparts.
“Done.” Petty Officer Second Class Phoenix McCall slapped the papers onto her desk.
“Dismissed,” she replied curtly and turned toward Seaman Jarius Nelson. “Seaman Nelson, please feel free to use the resources of the base. This rescue being your first loss, no one would think any less of you if you need sickbay or the base therapist. Well done for maintaining your control down there. At times, it’s not easy to do that in the face of things out of our control.” She offered him a rare smile.
“Thank you, ma’am.” He handed her his report. “But I’ll be fine, if it’s all the same.”
Lark took in the wariness of his appearance. He had proven to do well on their team. “Have a good night’s rest.” She watched him grasp the edge of his sailors cap, rolling it with shaky fingers as he walked out of the office.
Lark put her hands behind her back in a relaxed stance while waiting for her last team member to finish with his report. Numerous papers littered her desk. Approaching the piles, she riffled through and placed them in order and began, with quiet resolve, to sign each one.
Everyone processed the success or failure of a rescue in their own fashion. Not every life was saved, and to her surprise, after being assigned for two years to her current rescue team, the losses affected her less each time. She paused to wonder if that was a bad thing, the ability to distance one’s self from the harsh realities of life. Known for being a calculating cold bitch wasn’t the impression she wanted to leave people with.
Q. Were you an avid reader as a child? What type of books did you enjoy reading?
A. I did so much reading as a child. Some of it was age appropriate—but a lot of it wasn’t. My mother was an avid horror fan and I used to sneak into the upstairs bathroom, lock the door and sneak books like the entire V.C. Andrews series or anything by Stephen King. I think I was ten when I whipped through those puppies. Some of the more appropriate stuff that sticks in my mind would be A Wrinkle in Time. I read that in fifth grade and it changed my life. I couldn’t get any of my kids to read it—which made me sad. I cried openly when I read The Lion the Witch and theWardrobe, as well as The Outsiders. More recently I’d have to say Sue Monk Kidd and Augusten Burroughs, but no matter how hard I try I can’t get into Nicholas Sparks…he’s just too sappy for my taste.
Q. Tell us a bit about your latest book, and what inspired you to write such a story.
A. My latest book, Killer on the Key, is a suspense/thriller with a paranormal twist. I wouldn’t classify as paranormal in the purest sense, in fact I had one publisher tell me it wasn’t paranormal at all, but there is a hint of it in there. Ghosties and voices in your head…that sort of thing.
The story takes place on Gulf Key, which is a barrier island just outside of Sarasota, Florida. I should clarify here. It is based on one of the barrier islands that exists in that little piece of heaven. I won’t name it—but I bet anyone familiar with that area could do it in ten pages flat.
It is a story that wraps two different families, from two different generations together. One family, the Ashland’s, is battling with a curse that they believe was placed on them. The other, the Troost’s, are trying to piece themselves back together after the tragic loss of their unborn child. They come together on Gulf Key during Maggie Troost’s recuperation.
It is a thrill ride for sure. Each and every character is a very human mix of good and bad, light and dark. There are moments when you identify with someone and others where you stop and think “Oh my God, that didn’t just happen,” or “Did she just really say that?”
My inspiration was easy. Vacation. My husband took me back to the spot where we fell in love and suddenly I felt like I was standing on the edge of something big, like an electric current was in the air. The next thing I knew, I’d spit out a book.
Q. How would you describe your creative process while writing this book? Was it stream-of-consciousness writing, or did you first write an outline?
A. I really wish I’d written an outline! It was just one big pile of pages that seemed to come from nowhere. I kept thinking I would get stuck at some point and never finish, but every day I’d wake up and think, today this person will say this and then that guy will say that…It was only after my editor, Pat Evans, got a good eyeful and sent it back to me for my first round of revisions that I realized how much more I needed to do to carve out a decent story. I can’t thank her enough for being a drill sergeant—she made me dig and put in countless hours getting it ready. She told me, “It’s a good story—but you have a lot of work to do.” She scared me to death, but made the book a real, honest to goodness book.
Q. Did your book require a lot of research?
A. Some. I only write what I know, or can learn with a little effort. Fiction based on history is something I admire—from afar. A talent I do not possess.
I knew the area like the back of my hand, so that part was easy. Sure I embellished some things, like The Columbia Restaurant’s location. I put it overlooking the Bay for effect, but I used their real menu. But, there were some things I needed to research, for example, taking care of a Man of War? Got nothing on that one. Thankfully with a little research I was able to learn all about how the Mote Aquarium in California is working on a process to keep them alive in tanks. Ta da—research!
Q. If you could have any vice without repercussions, what would it be?
A. I would be able to eat whatever I want, whenever I want, and still look like I did at twenty five. No exercise required. ~sigh~
Q. What is the funniest/most embarrassing/scariest story from one of your books signings or events?
A. My first signing will be coming up on June 20th at Circle Books in St. Armands Circle (Sarasota) and I am terrified that no one will come! My publicist, Laura Lindau, is working her tail off to make sure that does not happen—but that is the scariest thing I can think of. So if you live within fifty miles—come!
Q. If you could have been the servant to any famous person in history, who would that be and why?
A. Elvis. I think I picked him because his life was so surreal. Fried Peanut Butter sandwiches and honorary FBI badges all mixed up with drugs, opulence, and incredible music? Wow. Think about the book that could have come out of that time spent!
Q. What so you see for the future of publishing and ebooks?
A. I love, love, love this question. I think (as a new writer) that this is one of those moments in history for every artist in every media. The world wide web just keeps making it easier and easier for us independents to get out there and make our mark in the world. The big publishing houses are holding on by a thread right now, and it keeps getting thinner. They no longer have this extreme strangle hold on who gets to be ‘the one.’ If you are good, and people like your work, you can reach a level of success that wasn’t possible a few years ago. The big guys are nervous, and they should be! I knew ebooks had really made it when the biggies got together and sued Amazon.com for selling books too cheaply. It there wasn’t a market—they simply wouldn’t care.
If I could make one prediction it would be this: we are the last generation that will be clinging to paper books. They are very quickly going to become treasured antiques like my big Motorola record cabinet. The next generation will be using tablets for all their reading—even schoolbooks. Like it or hate it, it is coming.
Q. Which of your characters do you love/hate/fear/pity the most and why?
A. My favorite character is Lizzie. She is a crotchety old broad! Underneath she is a giver, but she tells it like it is. No bullshit gets past Lizzie. I hope to be just like her one day… The one I pity the most is her sister Charlotte. She lost herself somewhere and never got back to where she needed to be. It’s just really sad. She clings to God, but it isn’t healthy and in the end…well read the book.
Q. Do you get along with your muse? What do you do to placate her when she refuses to inspire you?
A. My muse and I are on great terms. I think she is over the moon happy that I’m writing. She has been putting story lines in my head since I was in diapers—and I’m just now taking her seriously. I think I just heard her say “finally!”
Q. Do you have another book in the works? Would you like to tell readers about your current or future projects
A. I have several new books I’d like to talk about. The big one is Opals andRubies, due out July 1st from Wings. That story was another one that hit me out of nowhere and flew off my fingers. It had to be written. To not write it would have been a crime. It’s darker than Killer on the Key, but talk about rooting for the underdog. It deals with the question of redemption and what happens when we die. It isn’t always pretty—but I promise you it’s riveting. I sent it out for early reviews and so far everything has come back with A+ ratings.
I am also half done with Confessions of a PTA Mafia Mom, which is a tad more humorous. It is the story of Lanie Jackerson, a middle aged suburban mom, who wakes up one day and decides to take her life back—on her terms. I’m at a really good spot in the book and I can’t wait to see the end! I have one other project in the works, but I’m not ready to share it publicly yet…
Q. Have you ever experience weird cravings while you write? If so, what kind?
A. I wouldn’t say weird cravings, but I constantly nosh when I write. Not good for my rapidly spreading rear end, but I can’t say that I care much right now. I’m enjoying life too much.
Q. What is the worst, best, most embarrassing or funniest situation your writing career has put you in?
A. So far, the worst thing was when my fist book came out with some errors in it. I was horrified! I went back through everything in my galleys and realized that they weren’t in there. I contacted my publisher and they were very gracious about getting it fixed ASAP. So far I’ve only had to rebuy a couple of corrected books for people. So for my good friends and family that wanted a ‘unique’ copy—thanks for making me feel better. But I have to say even that was a good thing. It taught me to bite my tongue and work through a tough spot. Mistakes happen. How you deal with them is what matters.
Q. Where can we find you on the web?
A. Baby, I am all over this web thing! Let me count the ways…
I am running a Killer on the Key promotion with a family membership to the Mote Aquarium (and partners) as the grand prize. Details are on the ebloanbooks website. And If I could add one more little plug…if you sign up to follow my Google blog and shoot me an email message…I will send you the first three chapters of Opals and Rubies to read! I’m sending one a month through June to try to gain some loyal fans for the release in July. Don’t worry if you missed the first one, I’ll send it J
Thanks for taking the time to chat with me today.
Cheers!
E.B. Loan
Fiction from Chicago
Killer on the Key—a short excerpt
Maggie was being a brat, no doubt about it. All Chris had done was question why she wanted the dresser. It was a perfectly reasonable thing to ask. The question grated on her nerves. She felt raw. Stalking back to the cottage she grabbed her suit.
What are you doing? Why are you so mad?
She was tired of the whole damn thing. Everything in their lives had gone off the track and she wanted her half of it back. They lost a baby, it happened to people every day. She had to give birth to a child she knew would never take a breath or blink--it was hard. She did her part, now she wanted to be herself again. Maggie Shoals Troost. Interior designer. Fighter. Art lover. Independent. She wanted to want a dresser without having her husband question why. It was a dresser, she wanted it; no more no less. No deeper issue, just a simple desire.
Stripping, she threw her clothes at the wall. She was crying. And no more guilt. She was going swimming.
But you know what the doctor said.
I don't care.
The suit was still tight, but she got it on. She grabbed a towel threw on her flip flops and headed out the door. Crossing the street she avoided looking at the cottage to see if he had followed her out.
Maggie reached the sand, kicked off her shoes, and headed for the water.
My God it's hot. I forgot what the sand can be like in the middle of the day.
Running now, she could hear the waves crashing on the sand.
A few more steps Maggie, then you'll be free.
Five.
Free from what?
Four.
Everything; the nightmares, the loneliness, the agony.
Three.
You forget the most important thing.
Two.
What's that?
One.
The lies Maggie, you need to free yourself from the lies.
Shit.
Her feet hit the water and she stopped.
“Goddamn it!” she screamed at the sky, “Stop torturing me!”
She was out of control. The wind whipped her hair. The surf crashed drowning the words that raged in her ears.
You're a liar Maggie, a fake. Nothing good can ever come from you.
The world in front of her began to swim.
You are going to pass out, right here in the water.
I don't care.
You'll die here, alone on this beach, drowned in the water you were too afraid to swim in.
She wanted to die. It would serve her right. She felt herself falling. Then there were the arms. They wrapped around her pulling her from the edge. The bones felt frail, but they had amazing strength in them. She blacked out.
Things started to come into focus. Red hair. Scratch that, gray hair with red streaks hung in her face. Lizzie. The sun was still high in the sky making her facial expressions hard to read. Maggie sat up.
“I'm sorry, I...” She had no idea what to say.
Lizzie pulled her hair back into a bun and wrapped a beach towel around Maggie's shoulders. She sat crouched in front of her for a moment. Standing she held out her hand for Maggie. “We need a drink.”
“I should stop and tell Chris. He'll be worried.”
“I'll call Charlotte. She can tell Chris.”
Maggie took the older woman's hand. Lizzie pulled her to her feet with ease.
God, she's so strong.
Maggie looked at her bathing suit stretched over her puffy stomach. “Where...?”
“The Hilton, down the beach,” taking the towel from Maggie's shoulders Lizzie wrapped it around her waist like a sarong. “There, now no one will look.”
Maggie felt tears of gratitude spring up behind her lids.
Thank you Lizzie, thank you, thank you, thank you.
Okay…so I stretched this a little. Actually, yesterday was National Tell a Story Day…but work with me on this!
As a child, I enjoyed books of adventure, and then as I grew, biographies caught my attention. In High School, I was fascinated by Shakespeare (no kidding!). I loved his “thee” and “thou” words, along with lines I sometimes couldn’t figure out. But, he intrigued me enough so that in college, I took 5 or 6 Shakespeare courses as electives.
Then, I discovered romance books and was hooked. I got started reading Barbara Cartland and Georgette Heyer books, and couldn’t find enough to keep me busy. From there I went on to read contemporaries and paranormals. Life is good as long as I have a romance book to read!
Tell me a story with a good plot to hold my interest, and a blossoming romance exploding with passion. I want to “see” your story in my head, and “feel” the heroine’s emotions. I want to relate to her, no matter what her age is…or mine. Romance has no age boundaries.
Tell me a story of a hero and heroine who know each other already, or have just met. Unrequited love and the desire to have someone love you set the stage for many romance books. The chase is all part of the rocky road to love.
Tell me a story of an adversarial hero and heroine thrust upon each other because of some situation. That thin line between love and hate can be crossed, enough so that fighting ceases and lovemaking begins. Fighting a powerful attraction dissipates as passion takes control.
Tell me a story that has a “black moment”…that awful turn of events that split the hero and heroine, and their relationship appears to be doomed. Let me want to scream at them to settle their misunderstanding, mend broken hearts, and enjoy each other’s embrace once again.
Tell me a story of their first encounter/or having already met. Add what’s wedged between them to cause heartache, resolve their differences, and give me that “happily-ever-after” I want to read.
I pattern my books after these desires. I know what I want in a romance book, and use these elements in my books. In my two erotic romance books, I take the passion and lust to greater heights, adding graphic details of the hero and heroine’s journey to love.
Whatever your preference in reading…sweet, sensual, erotic, etc., romance books…choose books that tellYOU a story and transport you into the hero and heroine’s love affair!
