tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35978277614830003452024-03-28T01:43:25.623-07:00Kristy TateKristy Tate, writing a happily ever after one word and day at a time.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger888125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3597827761483000345.post-47304921104124993072024-03-27T07:26:00.000-07:002024-03-27T07:26:35.187-07:00Wednesday's Words: MAYOR. An excerpt from Small Town Shenanigans<p> Welcome to Wednesday's Words where I share a snippet from one of my stories using yesterday's word from the New York game Wordle. Yesterday's Wordle was MAYOR. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CHTNNRMF" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2700" data-original-width="1800" height="589" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6bRrfj14X9z2MTmixQCqNanbgGzO-c-lGKhM0DxPzEEZWRdBnAXIbcCdAhSiTS0qj5ySd8wrrlBM7YafgFBMgbKuH9Koofw7fuF-VjCkspNx5SOA9erpCwZkKfyA12AOoRLStq0TePV4OwmK4c-r4W0kRbbKUWowlECrWOi_sz3EkEN_Dd2LxwWICr1TD/w392-h589/Small%20Town%20shenanigans%20(1).jpg" width="392" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CHTNNRMF">FREE IN KINDLE UNLIMITED</a></p><p><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The search and rescue team had
restarted their hunt at dawn. According to Mayor Ellsworth, a tall formidable
woman who looked as if she’d descended from an African queen, Sydney’s mom and
Reagan had hired a local crop-duster so they could conduct an aerial search. It
killed me I had to be here holding Mr. Gerard’s hand when every part of me was
screaming to help find Sydney.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“You ready for this?” Mayor
Ellsworth asked. She wore a cranberry-colored pantsuit that brought out the
warm tones in her skin.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Yes, indeedy,” Mr. Gerard said.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The news van rolled up in front of
the city hall steps, and a tall, thin blonde dressed in a pair of no-nonsense
blue pants and a crisp white shirt climbed out. A pair of men head-to-toe in
black followed. The woman flicked her hair over her shoulder and studied her
reflection in a small hand mirror. One man retrieved a camera from the back of
the van while the other set up a tripod holding a light.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The mayor held open the door for Mr.
Gerard and Brit. I followed in their wake.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The blonde seemed confused by our
appearance.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Miss Miller,” Mayor Ellsworth stuck
out her hand, “I’m Inez Ellsworth, mayor of Cascadia. Let me introduce you to
Mr. Gerard, aka MaryLu Bellmont.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Miss Miller’s gaze flickered over
Brit and came rest on me.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Mayor Ellsworth pushed Mr. Gerard to
the forefront and Miss Miller’s eyes dimmed with first disbelief and then
disappointment.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Mr. Gerard,” Miss Miller said in a
valiant attempt to cover her shock. “This is a surprise.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Surprises make for good TV, right?”
Brit asked.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Excuse me, who are you?” Miss
Miller asked Brit.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“I’m his grandson.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Aw,” Miss Miller said. “Can I have
you stand over there?” She motioned at a distant step. “And who are you?” she
asked me. “Another relative?”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“My attorney,” Gerard said.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Miss Miller simpered. “I guess I
can’t get rid of you as easily.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“I would guess not,” I returned. “If
Mr. Gerard wants me, I’m here.” Even though I really wanted to be somewhere
else.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">After a few minor adjustments to the
lights and cameras, Miss Miller stuck her microphone in Mr. Gerard’s face. “I’m
Maisie Miller with Channel four news and today we’re in Cascadia, home to the
Musing saga. We have Tommy Franklin! The actor who played Camden in Musings.”
Miss Miller waved for Tommy to join her on the steps. “Tommy, does this place
bring back happy memories for you?”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Tommy preened in front of the
camera. “Why yes, Maisie, of course it does.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“How would you feel if there were
another Musings movie in the works?”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“The same as everyone else,” Tommy
said. “Thrilled.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Mr. Gerard frowned at this strange
turn in the interview, but he didn’t say anything.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“And what if I were to tell you that
the author stood beside you?”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Tommy shot me a quizzical glance.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Miss Miller put her hand on Mr.
Gerard’s arm and drew him forward. “Tommy, ladies and gentlemen, let me
introduce the real MaryLu Bellmont, Mr. Bob Gerard!”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> Mr. Gerard’s cheeks had turned an ugly shade
of red and he glowered at the camera.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Tell us Mr. Gerard, what made you
step forward now?” Miss Miller asked.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“These shenanigans have gone on long
enough. The crowds, the noise. The contest.” He made air quotes around the last
word. “Some idiots set off a smoke grenade at one of the clue sights and now a
woman’s gone missing. That should be the real news story. Not me or my silly
books.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Miss Miller ignored everything he
said. “And you contend that you have had nothing to do with the contest.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“I had nothing to do with any of
this,” Mr. Gerard growled.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“I believe the woman responsible for
setting up the contest has been arrested?”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Mayor Ellsworth leaned in. “That’s
right. She’s being detained.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“There’s a gal missing,” Mr. Gerard
said with a harrumph. “A woman who works for my publisher—”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Mayor Ellsworth stepped forward
again. “It’s unknown if her whereabouts has anything to do with Mr. Gerard.
She’s from New York,” she added, as if creatures from New York were capable of
just about anything.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“And we won’t know until we find
her!” Mr. Gerard said.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">A ripple of excitement rose from the
crowd. People turned to stare when Sydney, with her flaming red hair, wearing
some sort of lacy nightgown, came riding into town on a horse.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I bolted off the steps. The crowd
parted for me. The horse pawed the ground when Sydney pulled on the reins. I
reached for her and she slid into my arms.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I held her against my chest with one
arm and used my hand to brush the hair out of her sleepy eyes with the other.
“What happened?”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p>
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“You’ll never believe me,” she said.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p><br /></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3597827761483000345.post-65886416047851399342024-03-13T11:16:00.000-07:002024-03-13T11:16:39.498-07:00Wednesday's Word: HEAVE. An excerpt from Small Town Escape<p> <span style="background-color: white; color: #5d5d5d; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: xxx-large; text-indent: 28.8px;">Welcome to Wednesdays where I share a snippet from one of my stories using the previous day's word from the New York Times' game. WORDLE. Yesterday's WORDLE was HEAVE. </span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #5d5d5d; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: xxx-large; text-indent: 28.8px;">Here's an excerpt from <i>Small Town Escape, </i>the third book in the <i>Small Town Series.</i></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Small-Town-Escape-Romance-Suspense-ebook/dp/B0CP2XGJY8" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="690" data-original-width="460" height="610" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKaiRFX0VgXoOzOuvq6rE9_k_-3RgAL1hiPyyY2jSxrZga-7K5paBtUMf8vyJdItO28X33MG-IC7kyvLNcIMLcimaTgpAmzBFpp3HA2bmnQSHZV_2RuEXn5dCr70jhdLkyLjNoJlceb0YVL3LsAOEnbvNm7xwD_QPZ-OUH-gKv333kGWsI6DUldzExQvXW/w406-h610/0.jpg" width="406" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Small-Town-Escape-Romance-Suspense-ebook/dp/B0CP2XGJY8">NOW AVAILABLE ON AMAZON</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Small-Town-Escape-Romance-Suspense-ebook/dp/B0CP2XGJY8">FREE IN KINDLE UNLIMITED</a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">I followed the twisty road through a forest. The sun
flickered through the trees, and the limbs casting shadows on the asphalt. I
stopped and pulled over and stopped when I got to a wrought-iron gate. The name
on the adjacent mailbox read Taggart.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Are you here, Faith?” I asked.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Atticus answered with a small woof.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I debated what to do for a moment, but then decided, given
the sturdiness of the gates, there was little I could do, unless I was willing
to climb my way in.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Gates exist for a reason, and that reason is they either
want to keep people in or out. If I wanted to find Faith, somehow, I would have
to scale the gates.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I put the car back into motion and headed for town on the
two-lane road.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">More trees.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">A couple of logging trucks passed me. A man driving a bright
red tractor waved at me to drive around him. The forest gave way to a pasture
filled with horses and cows.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Ten minutes later, a thrill of excitement tingled down my
spine when I pulled up to the Dollhouse Inn. It was as creepy as Donovan had
promised.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Tucked away in a forgotten corner of town, and hidden by a
Hansel-and-Gretel-type -forest, the weathered and dilapidated house was covered
in peeling paint covered the weathered and dilapidated house. Gangly trees cast
eerie shadows across the lawn. A rusty sign hanging above the entrance
announced its the inn’s vacancy.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The classic Victorian-style house had multiple stories.
Gables and dormers interrupted the roof lines and stared off in different
directions. Gingerbread trim and scrollwork hung from the eaves. There was not
one, but two turrets. One wrap-around porch. Two balconies. Three chimneys. It
was both hideous and glorious.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I loved it.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I parked the Jeep and pressed my finger to my lips, telling
Atticus to hush. I gave him a treat for good measure. Gathering up my bag, I
shouldered it, and climbed out. The damp air smelled of pine and a neighboring
farm. My excitement mounted with every step across the fallen leaf-strewn lawn.
The porch groaned when I took the steps, and a bell jingled when I pulled open
the door.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I had found The Dollhouse Inn.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Now I just needed to find Faith.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the gloom.
Floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with dolls in all shapes and sizes lined the
walls.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">A grizzled silver-haired woman reading Edgar Allen Poe’s
‘The Tell-Tale Heart’ sat behind the desk. She looked up and gazed at me with
swimmy eyes. “May I help you?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“<i>Señorita Martinez. Reserva</i>?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">"No English?" <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I adopted my grandmother’s thick Hispanic accent. “Just a
little.” I held up my fingers in a near- pinch.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">She slid a bookmarker between the pages and put her novel on
the counter with a thud. "Well, I don't care as long as your money is
good."<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I fished out my wallet and found a hundred-dollar bill.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The woman cackled, and her eyes gleamed. “You’re a pretty
thing. I wonder what brought you out here. Guess I'll never know. I’ll give you
my favorite room, the one with the largest collection."<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Perfect.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The woman simpered and handed over the keys. “Room
14fourteen. Don’t touch any of the dolls. It has an outside entrance. Just
follow the porch around to the back."<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I hesitated, unsure how to respond.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The woman heaved out of her chair, and her knees popped.
"I guess I'll have to show you." She waddled out from behind the
desk.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I smiled, tried to look clueless, and followed her. Outside,
I breathed a little easier, appreciating the fresh air after my few minutes in
the dusty foyer. I prayed my room would be cleaner. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The woman paused at a red door, inserted a key, and pushed
it open.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The musty smell of old fabric and decaying wood greeted me.
Like the reception hall, the walls were lined with shelves upon shelves of
dolls. Some big. Some small. All of them creepy. I had to tuck my hands in my
pockets to keep from covering my nose.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The woman glowed with pride. "It's something, isn't it?
My aunt started the collection, but I added these babies from all over the
world." She stopped. "What am I saying? You can't understand
me." She pressed her hand to her chest. "My name is Phyllis."
She pronounced each word slowly and distinctly.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I mimicked her. "My—" I caught myself. “Belle.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">"It's nice to meet you, Mabel. I like a girl with an
old-fashioned name. I hope you'll be happy here."<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Should I correct her? I decided to let the slip pass.
"Gracias."<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I wandered into the room and dropped my bag on the bed.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">"Just ring if you need anything, but don’t try calling
anywhere but the front desk." Phyllis motioned to the old-fashioned phone
hunkered like a squatty toad on the bed stand before going out and pulling the
door shut behind her, leaving me alone…almost.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Most of the dolls had porcelain heads, with delicate
features and lifelike hair that seemed to shimmer in the dim light. Others were
made of stuffed fabric, their once- vibrant colors faded and worn with age. And
then there were the dolls made of plastic, their cheap material giving them a
hollow, soulless quality.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">But it was the eyes that made the dolls so unsettling.
Glassy and lifeless, they seemed to follow me, watching. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">My gaze wandered the room, taking in the high ceilings, the
crumbling molding, the ornate woodwork surrounding the windows, and the sturdy
but stained, wooden floors. The furniture was a n eclectic mishmash —–an Art -Deco
armoire, a Mid-Century dresser, a pot-bellied grandfather clock.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I nearly skipped into the bathroom, where I
found a claw-footed tub, a black and white checked tile floor, a pedestal sink,
and a small stained-glass window above the toilet. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">My imagination soared. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">How many more rooms were there? Did every room have a
private bath? How much would a place like this cost, and how could I convince
Phyllis to sell?<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Desperate to show someone my find, I went back to the car to
fetch Atticus. I knew he wouldn't be impressed, but he was glad to see me. Of
course, I hadn't mentioned the dog to Phyllis. I hoped she wouldn't care, but I
wasn't about to ask. Atticus stopped to pee on the lawn. I took the moment to
further inspect the house.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I had to renovate it. My followers would eat it up.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Atticus barked, reminding me of Tom.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I couldn't buy this place, even if it was for sale. I
couldn't renovate it, and I most certainly couldn't post pictures on my
website.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">What was I going to do?<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The answer was almost immediate, as if someone had whispered
it in my ear. <i>Find Faith.</i><o:p></o:p></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3597827761483000345.post-64643174482463764382024-03-06T11:37:00.000-08:002024-03-06T11:37:05.542-08:00Wednesday's Word: STATE. An excerpt from Irish Wishes<p> <span face=""Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">Welcome to #WednesdayWords where I share a snippet of a story using yesterday's word from the New York game, WORDLE. Yesterday's WORDLE was STATE. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg78WGtVSLhQnF20IIogIgYGZ5alpzf-oxfrN-Gfc62ShKMXxKsaV3h21JdrmVh0MDHJKSUliT48DgiNWnWkQSzvqQ0ONKHB1DAOkj6chHTPisSensJJG8orgCk3cQfBZp046eEPsJSeXzjh1Owl5WmF6Z4b_lX1xJt5BPhYncBlBMquwgIq7cQON3r3nor/s1600/Irish%20Wishes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1070" height="689" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg78WGtVSLhQnF20IIogIgYGZ5alpzf-oxfrN-Gfc62ShKMXxKsaV3h21JdrmVh0MDHJKSUliT48DgiNWnWkQSzvqQ0ONKHB1DAOkj6chHTPisSensJJG8orgCk3cQfBZp046eEPsJSeXzjh1Owl5WmF6Z4b_lX1xJt5BPhYncBlBMquwgIq7cQON3r3nor/w461-h689/Irish%20Wishes.jpg" width="461" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href=" https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07NTTDPY9">Available on Amazon</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">He
trolled past the Dublin shore, and as they moved closer to the dock, the waves
kicked up and blew saltwater into Gillian’s face. The boat gained speed as Pete
increased his efforts. He jiggled his eyebrows at her and grinned. Gillian
laughed and took in the stunning cityscape and the eclectic mixture of modern
and ancient. To their left, a fish jumped high into the air and landed with a
splash that sent a spray as crystalline as diamonds into the air. Gillian
itched for her camera, and wished she could capture the sky and river on her
blog.<o:p></o:p></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Pete,
a little sunburned, looked rugged and handsome. The brisk weather had turned
his cheeks pink, the wind tossed his honey-blond hair, and he glowed in the
midday sun.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She
looked down at the crevice where the side of the boat met the floor. An inch of
water had seeped in from somewhere. Was Pete splashing as he rowed? Maybe a
little, but not enough to explain the growing puddle on the boat’s floor.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Gillian
searched the river for the closest place to dock. She glanced around the boat.
Maybe if it’d been a proper boat there’d be compartments, nooks or crannies
holding a repair kit, maybe a flare, a first aid kit, or a whistle. She slipped
off her shoe and tugged on her bandage. She bit her lip and looked at the
distant shore again. The boat ride had lost all pleasure.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Pete
watched. “What are you doing?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Holding
the bandage in one hand, she used her other hand to try to find the source of
the leak. She felt Pete’s gaze on her back. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She
hoped the problem would be an innocent fraying of a seam, but where the side
met the bottom, a small, clean slit let in a growing stream of water. The
bandage proved useless.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Pete
stopped rowing, and without the rhythmic splashing, everything was quiet and
still. “Don’t stop!” Her voice verged on panic. “We need to go as fast as we
can before we sink.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“You
should probably take off your clothes,” he said, lifting off his own T-shirt.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“What
is it with you? I seem to be in a constant <span style="background-color: red;">state</span> of partial undress.” Gillian
tried to sound like she was joking, but the last person that had asked her to
remove her clothes had been a nurse practitioner with black chin hairs.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Despite
the breeze, sweat dotted Pete’s brow and glistened on his chest. He reached for
a coil of rope and tossed it aside to reveal a pair of orange life jackets. He
flipped a vest at Gillian.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She
felt jumpy and began to sweat.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“It’ll
be easier to swim without our clothes,” Pete said. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Or
underwear from Cleo’s Closet, she thought, slipping off her shirt, exposing the
lime green bra with hot pink flamingos. She still couldn’t believe she’d let
Flora talk her into ever setting foot in that store.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Pete
quickly looked away, but his lips quirked as he slipped on the vest and tugged
at the straps that barely fit around his chest. He kicked off his shoes and
took off his jeans, exposing a pair of boxers that resembled Spiderman’s suit.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“A
gift,” he said, catching her looking.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“From
who?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Do
you really want to have this conversation right now?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Gillian
pulled off her jeans and told herself that Pete had seen her countless times in
her swimsuit...when she’d been a kid. While she put on her vest, Pete rowed as
fast as he could to the shore.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The
water rose above her knees and then her thighs. Soon, she was treading water.
Pete swam to her right, with one arm stroking through the water while the other
held the rowboat’s rope. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She’d
grown immune to her throbbing ankle. The mild breeze had taken a mean turn and
it whipped along the surface, splashing water in her face. She kept her mouth
firmly shut to keep from swallowing the brackish water.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“We’re
almost there,” Pete lied to her in a ragged voice. She admired him for towing
the partially afloat boat. It couldn’t be easy.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She
hoped Barney would appreciate his efforts to rescue the boat. Beside her, Pete
grunted, turned, and stood up. The water reached his mid thighs. The partially
submerged Spidey undies filled with air. He gave her a tired smile and reached
out to pull her to her feet. She stood close to him for a moment, enjoying his
warmth, but then he moved toward the shore, towing the boat behind him. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Gillian
shivered and went after him. A flock of seagulls stood sentry on a crop of
black rocks, and a fence with a rusty railing guarded the bank above the strip
of shore.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Pete
turned to look at her. His hair was wet and matted, he had dried salt in his
eyebrows, and a piece of kelp was tucked behind his ear. She threw her arms
around him anyway.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">And
he kissed her.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Her
world stopped. Everything around her froze. The sights and sounds of Dublin
fell away and she sank deeper and deeper into his kiss.<o:p></o:p></span></p></div><p><br /><span face=""Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-size: 15px;"><br /></span></p><p><span face=""Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-size: 15px;"><br /></span></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3597827761483000345.post-80995618750507110092024-02-28T10:58:00.000-08:002024-02-28T10:58:14.019-08:00Wednesday's Words: Sense, an excerpt from my current work in progress<p> <span face=""Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">Welcome to #WednesdayWords where I share a snippet of a story using yesterday's word from the New York game, WORDLE. Yesterday's WORDLE was SENSE. </span></p><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpDsZRtwrA2z_HoQ3ndCmoPxu65oKCtOZpf9QfEbaJs6q7KgvOTgY5tbfZu1LDE5KZQjuD1jryB1p8UIkNqnd0GaMYXtVoh00c-GL1HDRT-TxZ1lmZyfP87kKlL6CHlEia1DTx2fhNRdN3AzGxfdsbWLcpI4EGUNk99RKxvJ8KfexSQxpof1Huarm1AGR9/s3501/image-from-rawpixel-id-3093201-jpeg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3501" data-original-width="2794" height="642" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpDsZRtwrA2z_HoQ3ndCmoPxu65oKCtOZpf9QfEbaJs6q7KgvOTgY5tbfZu1LDE5KZQjuD1jryB1p8UIkNqnd0GaMYXtVoh00c-GL1HDRT-TxZ1lmZyfP87kKlL6CHlEia1DTx2fhNRdN3AzGxfdsbWLcpI4EGUNk99RKxvJ8KfexSQxpof1Huarm1AGR9/w512-h642/image-from-rawpixel-id-3093201-jpeg.jpg" width="512" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.3in;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.3in;">Before
Bailey’s arrival and strange proposition, I’d been considering dropping in on Hillary
Hale and asking if she wanted to go riding. I had even considered taking Poncho
out to the back thirty—the property where I’d found Bailey yesterday. But now,
I wanted, maybe even needed, to be alone. Something that couldn’t happen in my
dorm or the farm. I gathered up my backpack, not sure of where to go from here.
Just two days ago on my twenty-first birthday, my parents had announced they were giving me property for a graduation present. Could I ask for property with a barn on
it? A barn that Bailey wanted to rent?</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Could
this be the windfall I was hoping for? She could rent the property, and I could
earn enough to update the farm’s online presence. Build a website. Set up a
direct mailing system. Of course, I’d run my ideas past Dad a number of times,
but he wasn’t interested.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">We’re
doing just fine, </span></i><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Dad insisted.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">And
maybe we were, but what if we could be doing great? I growled in frustration,
and Sean, overheard.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Glancing
up, Sean grinned. “Girl problems.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“No,”
I said through gritted teeth.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“So,
that girl dropping in on you.” He cocked his head at the door Bailey had passed
through. “She’s not giving you grief.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“No,”
I said, and the word came out harsh, much harsher than I had intended.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“So,
can I ask her out?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“No,”
I said with even more force, even though Sean could ask out whoever he pleased,
and Bailey, of course, was free to go out with whoever.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Just
not Sean.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Not
that I had anything against Sean. He seemed like a good enough guy. Rumor had
it, he had a job lined up with Microsoft and if Bailey hooked up with him, she
probably wouldn’t have to live in a barn with her niece and grandmother.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Why
did she want to live in a barn, anyway?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">I
puzzled over this all the way to my car. Inside my truck, I went in the
opposite direction of the Hale’s house, even though Hillary Hale was a very
pretty girl with a brilliant mind and a royal fortune. I enjoyed her company,
mostly, and whenever I needed a date to one thing or another, she was top on my
list, but Hillary Hale would not appreciate my funk nor explain why Bailey living
in a barn—my barn! should bother me. If I told her about it, she would laugh
and maybe even turn her barbs and sarcasm on Bailey. She would never
understand. I couldn’t make her understand—especially since I didn’t understand
any of it myself.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">All
I knew was someday soon that barn would belong to me and Bailey wanted to camp
out in it.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">I
revved the truck’s engine and pulled off campus, threading my way through the
congested portion of the city and out into the comparatively empty highways,
until at last I found myself in the suburbs. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Why
not go back out to the barn? I tried arguing with myself. After all, I had just
been there yesterday.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">I
began to look about and try to see things through Bailey’s eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Most
of the fields were green with spring. Pastel colors painted the horizon, and a
few tall, lank trees sprouted blossoms. Dusk brought a chilly air, and, with
the truck’s windows down, I drew in a long breaths. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Behind
a copse of old willows, age-tall and hoary with weather, their extremities just
hinting of green, as they stood knee-deep in the brook on its way to a larger
stream, I caught sight of the old barn.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Was
it habitable? I found it both regal and shabby. Substantial. I could see it
just as Bailey had seen it, and something in me responded to her longing to
live there and make it into a home. I pulled up beside the barn and got out.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">The
sun was just going down, touching the stones and turning them into a lustrous
gold. I stood in the evening air, listening and looking. I could see the romance
of it, and somehow I could see Bailey’s face as if she stood there beside him.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> She was right. It was beautiful, and it was a magic
soul that could see it and feel what a home this would make in spite of its
being nothing but a barn. Some dim memory, some faint remembrance, of a stable
long ago, and the glory of it, hovered in the back of my mind, just beyond
reach.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">I
went to the doors, practical, even if I was a dreamer. I tried the big padlock.
Who locked this up and why? Was there anything to steal? How had Bailey gotten
in? Would I be forced to break into my own barn?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">I
walked down the slope, around to the back, and found the entrance close to the
ladder; but the place was dark within the stone walls, and I peered into the
basement and took in the dirt and murk. She couldn’t live in this, could she?
She wouldn’t want to, would she?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">A
crack looked toward the setting sun. A bright needle of light sent a shaft to pierce
the inky shadows. Then I spotted a ladder. Had Bailey gone inside? And if so, if
she could do it, so could I. The <span style="color: red;">sense </span>that she was stronger tickled at the
edge of my confidence. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">I
got out my phone, flipped on the flashlight ap, and stepped into the gloom.
Holding the flash-light above my head, I surveyed my property with a frown;
then with the light in my hand, I climbed up the dusty rounds to the middle
floor.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">I
stood alone in the center of the big barn, with the blackness of the hay-loft
overhead, the darkness sliced by the flash-light and a few feebler darts from
the sinking sun. A shudder ran through me.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Why
live here?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Yet,
that same feeling that Bailey had more nerve than me forced me to walk the
length and breadth of the floor, peering into the dark corners. I climbed part
way up the ladder to the loft and sent my flash-light searching through the
dusty hay-strewn recesses.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Disgusted,
I headed down the ladder, through the dingy basement, and out into the sunset.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">The
smell of damp grass enveloped me and it felt clean and pure after the barn’s
dustiness. The charm of the place stole back
over me; and I stood and wondered about Bailey, Layla, and the Lady G. Where
were Layla’s parents? Where were Bailey’s parents? Didn’t Layla have relatives
on her father’s side? How would they feel about their granddaughter living in a
barn?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Could
I somehow make my barn habitable? What did I have to do? Because if it were in
my power to help Bailey, Layla, and this Lady G person, I wanted to do that.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">At
dinner that night I brought a few pieces of the puzzle to Dad. "Did Grandpa
Haywood ever live out on the old Glenside Road?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">"Sure!"
he said, putting down his fork. "Lived there myself when I was a kid. I
can remember rolling down a hill under a great big tree, and your Uncle Billy
pushing me into the brook that ran at the foot. We boys used to wade in that
brook, and build dams, and catch little minnows, and sail boats. It was great.
I used to like to go out and stay at the farmhouse. After your mother and I
married, we rented it out to a prepper; but his wife was a hoot, and made the best
apple turnovers for us kids—and doughnuts! The old farmhouse burned down a year
or so ago. But the barn is still standing. I can remember how proud your
grandfather was of that barn. It was finer than any barn around, and bigger. We
boys used to go up in the loft, and tumble in the hay; and once when I was a
little kid I got lost in the hay, and Billy had to dig me out. I can remember
how scared I was when I thought I might have to stay there forever, and have
nothing to eat."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">I
leaned forward and propped my forearms on the table. "You said I can have
an acre when I graduate. Would you mind if I have that old barn in my share? Can
we arrange it? The others won't care, I'm sure." </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Dad
blinked at me. "I guess that could be fixed up. Although, you haven’t
graduated yet.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“It’s
two months away.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Geez.
Time flies. Seems like you were just starting kindergarten.” Dad returned to
his steak. “See Mr. Dalrymple about it. He'll fix it up. Billy's boy got that
place up river, you know. Just see the lawyer, and it’ll be a done deal. No
reason in the world why you shouldn't have the old place if you care for it.
Not much in it for money, though, I guess. The property's way down out that
direction now."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">The conversation turned to
my plans for grad school, and I didn’t mention Bailey or my visit to the old
barn. Instead, I took Dad’s advice, and saw the family lawyer, <a name="_Hlk157078193">Mr. Dalrymple, </a>the first thing in the morning.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3597827761483000345.post-46789764365936570882024-02-26T07:38:00.000-08:002024-02-26T09:18:47.816-08:00Book-tubers: 10 Clean and Wholesome Recommendations <p> I'm fairly new to the YouTube world, but I'm loving it so far! I have five stories up (more coming every Friday.)</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/7-zSjqxziik" width="320" youtube-src-id="7-zSjqxziik"></iframe></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/zvUWxZscEw8" width="320" youtube-src-id="zvUWxZscEw8"></iframe></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/BTDtJgjyT-w" width="320" youtube-src-id="BTDtJgjyT-w"></iframe></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/xoyMYEv2gR4" width="320" youtube-src-id="xoyMYEv2gR4"></iframe></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/_-Y6XJ_npu4" width="320" youtube-src-id="_-Y6XJ_npu4"></iframe></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>Recently, I came across a Facebook post recommending clean and wholesome booktubers. I can't wait to dive into these channels!</p><p>How about you? Do you have any YouTube channels to recommend?</p><p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/@OceanaGottaReadEmAll">Oceana Gotta Read Em All</a></p><p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCmE35uJ14_vOmujzm-yrjTg">Book Lover Amanda</a></p><p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/c/booksandjams">Books and Jams</a></p><p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCS4EiInaEtYQFxBJDl19ujg">Chrissies Purple Library</a></p><p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC9Uxa0zc-pClHyZL2MvJv4w">Tales and Treats with Tay</a></p><p><a href="http://youtube.com/channel/UC5iUp0dmK92HyVxBE9bFnAw">Wandering With Stacy</a></p><p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/@wanderingwithstacy">Wandering With Stacey</a><br /></p><p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/@JaneReads">Jane Reads</a><br /></p><p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/@ChantelReadsAllDay">Chantel Reads All Day</a></p><p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/@paperbacksandponytails">Paperbacks and Pony Tails</a></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3597827761483000345.post-74463467930427562282024-02-21T07:08:00.000-08:002024-02-21T07:08:20.838-08:00Wednesday's Word: Match. An excerpt from Carly and the Christian Cowboy<p> <span face=""Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">Welcome to #WednesdayWords where I share a snippet of a story using yesterday's word from the New York game, WORDLE. Yesterday's WORDLE was MATCH. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiysWr-Duhxz9y5aps5iPLZZ09B6vFfKHN_r6sm8sIZ3fVO4RUZ5Fd3IK4LQeDqpzQsdppQD3KNUkwQ4avRLz_Vm74HYPL16t2-IwKpl9g85hd6ihk8GKqBICwZ2PeHeMfIxar_hyZt1TDYmzaVuofEImlPQqsKBLn8UwW2lvP3h-YWGUUfVZZ83vBLXPpx/s2700/Carly%20and%20the%20cowboy.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2700" data-original-width="1800" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiysWr-Duhxz9y5aps5iPLZZ09B6vFfKHN_r6sm8sIZ3fVO4RUZ5Fd3IK4LQeDqpzQsdppQD3KNUkwQ4avRLz_Vm74HYPL16t2-IwKpl9g85hd6ihk8GKqBICwZ2PeHeMfIxar_hyZt1TDYmzaVuofEImlPQqsKBLn8UwW2lvP3h-YWGUUfVZZ83vBLXPpx/w426-h640/Carly%20and%20the%20cowboy.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><br /><span face=""Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-size: 15px;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">Christian listened for Carly’s lock to
turn before heading for home. He strode across the pasture thinking about
Carly. Why would she wear contacts? She was stunning, even with those contacts
hiding the most remarkable thing about her.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">Who was he kidding? Everything about
Carly Wentworth was extraordinary. She was brilliant, beautiful, kind…<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">Christian spotted a hulking form lying
in the shadowy tall grass and his heart sank. “Hey there, Bessie,” he called
out.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">The creature didn’t stir.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">Christian crept forward and still the
animal didn’t move. He knew the cow, a brown and white Hereford, was dead even
before reaching it. It lay in a puddle of blood and its neck and gut had been
torn open. Christian pressed his fist into his mouth to keep from gagging.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">He would enlist Seth to help him clean
this up. It would have to be done tonight, so as not to attract more even
predators and endanger the rest of the herd.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">Christian glanced around, expecting to
find a pack of coyotes or the golden eyes of a mountain lion. He put his hand
on his belt, where he kept his knife. His gaze snagged on the Wentworth house
and his breath hitched.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">Should he tell Carly to stay inside?
Was it his place to warn her?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">Without even being aware of having
made a decision, he found himself striding back across the pasture. He climbed
the steps and rapped on the door.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">Carly peeked at him through the window
before opening the door. She wore a white gauzy nightgown, her hair was loose
around her shoulders, her face scrubbed clean of makeup, and she’d taken out
her contacts.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">Christian stared at her mismatched
eyes. They were as stunning as he remembered, but they widened in fear.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">Christian realized he was still
holding his knife. Hastily, he tucked it back into his belt. “There’s a
mountain lion, or maybe a bear, could be coyotes, though…” he wasn’t sounding
coherent. He took a steadying breath. “I just wanted to warn you. Make sure you
stay inside. Whatever it was, it took down and killed a Hereford.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">She probably didn’t even know what a
Hereford was.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">“A cow,” he said. “It’s dead. Just
over there.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">Her eyes grew even wider.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">“I didn’t mean to scare you, but I
thought you should know. In case you decided to go for a walk, or something.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">She smiled. “Thanks. I’ll wait for
daylight before venturing out.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">Christian’s gaze slid over her, before
shifting away, embarrassed to be caught staring at her almost see-through gown.
“That’s good. Well, goodnight.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">“Goodnight, Christian. And thank you.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p><span face=""Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">
</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">He nodded before turning away and
schlepping off the porch. An idea struck him even before he reached home.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;"><i>You can listen to me read Carly and the Christian Cowboy for FREE on YouTube.</i></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="424" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/_-Y6XJ_npu4" width="509" youtube-src-id="_-Y6XJ_npu4"></iframe></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><i><br /></i><p></p><div><span face=""Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-size: 15px;"><br /></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3597827761483000345.post-80989443489116177692024-02-14T07:29:00.000-08:002024-02-14T07:29:56.084-08:00Wednesday's Word: SCRAM, an excerpt from Small Town Escape<p> <span face=""Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-size: 15px;">Welcome to #WednesdayWords where I share a snippet of a story using yesterday's word from the New York game, WORDLE. Yesterday's WORDLE was SCRAM. I haven't used the word scram, so I went with SCRAMBLE.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipXh_f03Uk2VpFTTmc2O9waSp6uxzZFEKjekGHOpWDjqhUhjOu_oDewI7pPkkNUNaE-imTyaPpSXUXpNWUajwpY8v_EJTsok6vy6NNY6r5NcStoM_SwYqo3flzgo1bbjnBJxeZtc3a5tBtW4qni8T63Q8JOYKt9UAmytMb9otg7AKQ99N5uqfiMD1Z2AAr/s690/0.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="690" data-original-width="460" height="655" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipXh_f03Uk2VpFTTmc2O9waSp6uxzZFEKjekGHOpWDjqhUhjOu_oDewI7pPkkNUNaE-imTyaPpSXUXpNWUajwpY8v_EJTsok6vy6NNY6r5NcStoM_SwYqo3flzgo1bbjnBJxeZtc3a5tBtW4qni8T63Q8JOYKt9UAmytMb9otg7AKQ99N5uqfiMD1Z2AAr/w436-h655/0.jpg" width="436" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Small-Town-Escape-Romance-Suspense-ebook/dp/B0CP2XGJY8">AVAILABLE NOW ON AMAZON</a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">On
Saturday, the crisp morning air carried a hint of pine mingled with the
unmistakable stench of a dairy farm. We rounded a hill, and a herd of camels
came into view, contentedly grazing under the steady eye of a local farmer.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Mabel’s
uncertainty was palpable as we approached Mr. Gibbs, who greeted us with a warm
smile. "You folks here for a ride?" he asked, nodding toward the
creatures.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Mabel
shot me a glance that betrayed her nervousness. I grinned and took her hand.
"Don't worry, they're gentle."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">I
introduced Mr. Gibbs to Mabel, and he introduced us to the camels, their names
a mix of exotic and comical. We were paired with Sahara and Sultan.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Mabel
hesitated beside Sultan, but I patted his side. "He's a big softie. You'll
be fine."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Sahara,
after some urging from the farmer, dropped to his knees.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">With
a boost from Mr. Gibbs, I mounted Sahara and settled into the leather saddle.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Mabel,
however, eyed Sultan, uncertainty etched on her face. I gestured for her to
join me.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">"Climb
up here with me," I suggested, offering her a hand.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">She
wavered, but after a long moment, she took my hand, her grip tight as she
scrambled onto Sahara’s back in front of me. Once she was settled, I wrapped an
arm around her, offering a comforting smile, even though she couldn’t see my
face.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">The
farmer handed me the reins, gave us both a wink, and thumped the creature on
the flank.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">The
camel ambled off in a steady gait, rocking us back and forth.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">I
shifted so Mabel fit snugly against me. "See? Not so bad, right? I thought
you might be nervous, so I came prepared with jokes.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Jokes?”
Mabel squeaked.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Yes.”
I tightened my arms around her waist and pulled her a fraction closer. “How do
you ask camels if they want some tea?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Camels
don’t drink tea.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“They
absolutely do, and when you offer them tea, you should always ask, ‘One hump or
two?’” I paused. “It’s funnier in English, because lump and hump rhyme.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Mabel's
nervous laughter mixed with the rhythmic sounds of the camels' movements as we
set off across the pasture. Cascadia’s scenery unfolded around us—the green
hills, the distant town, and the camels grazing in the pasture.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“I
have more.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Mabel
groaned, but even though I couldn’t see her face, I felt her smile and relax a
fraction against me.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Why
do camels blend in so well with their surroundings?” I asked. I didn’t wait for
her to answer. “They use camel-flage.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">She
groaned again, but it was a happy groan.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Just
one more,” I said. “What do you call a camel that cries? A humpback wail.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“What
are those?” Mabel asked, pointing at a herd of ostriches.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“What
do you think they are?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Ostriches,
but what are they doing here?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Laying
mammoth eggs, of course.” I kicked myself for not coming prepared with ostrich
jokes—if there even were such things.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">As
the camels plodded along, Mabel gradually relaxed.. We chatted and laughed, and
Sahara’s swaying motion bumped Mabel against my chest.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Whatever
made Mr. Gibbs want to raise camels and ostriches?” Mabel asked.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“He
was stationed in the Middle East and, I guess, just fell in love with them.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Goodness,
did he have them transported from the Middle East?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“No.
There are a number of exotic animal auctions in the U.S.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“How
do you know so much?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“I’m
from a family of farmers, remember?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“That’s
right. I keep forgetting.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">I
tightened my arms around her and rested my chin on the top of her head. I loved
that she didn’t seem to see me as just one of the Haywood boys.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“You
really are too good to be true,” Mabel said.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“If
you think that, I’ve done a good job of fooling you.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“What
do you mean? You are a perfect example of Dudley Do-Right.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“No,
Mabel, I hate to disillusion you, but I’m not.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Are
you trying to tell me that you didn’t become a cop to make the world a better,
safer, happier place?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“In
part. But the horrible truth is, I became a cop to become a better, safer,
happier person.” I swallowed hard. “I had—have—an anger problem.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“I
find that really hard to believe.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Well,
it’s true. In fact, when I was younger and stupider, I got in a fight with my
best friend… We’re not friends anymore.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“All
kids fight.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“We
nearly killed each other.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“You
must have been provoked.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">I
grimaced, grateful she couldn’t see my face. “Maybe, but it didn’t warrant my
behavior. Have you ever heard of the berserkers?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Mabel
shook her head.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“When
Norse warriors turned wild, fighting in this crazy, frenzied mode, they were
called berserkers. They were fearless, super strong, and supposedly invincible
on the battlefield. Stories from sagas and old texts talk about battling warriors
going into a trance, pulling off insane combat moves unconcerned for their own
safety. But here's the thing,” I pressed a hand against my chest as if taking
an oath, “I don’t like being a berserker.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“It’s
a choice, though, right?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">I
shrugged. “Anger is addicting, and, just like any addiction, you—and by you, I
mean <i>me</i>—have to learn how to control it or it will control you. A cop
probably kept Raff and me from killing each other. I haven’t been in a fight
since.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“And
what about Raff? Where is he?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Ohio.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Ohio?”
Mabel echoed. “That’s random.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“And
far away. He’s Harmon’s brother, by the way, and also the reason I’m fluent in
Spanish. Although, we haven’t spoken in years.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“I’m
sorry.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Yeah.
It hurts to lose someone you love, but it especially hurts when you know you’re
the reason they’re lost.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Mabel
glanced around. “Do you think we’re lost now?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“No.
I’ve lived here my entire life. I could never be lost here.” Although that
might have been true physically, the more time I spent with Mabel, the more and
more lost I felt. I was falling for her. Hard.<o:p></o:p></span></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3597827761483000345.post-90370129985171709632024-02-12T07:29:00.000-08:002024-02-12T07:29:43.513-08:00Inspired by a Local News Story<p> My short story, <i>The Picnic,</i> was inspired by a local news story. Of course, I can't tell you what the story was about, because it would spoil <i>my</i> story, but you can listen to it for FREE on my YouTube Channel.</p><p>I really love this story. I love it so much that I'm submitting it to the Orange Country Romance Writers' Anthology (published this October.) But to be included in the anthology, the story needs to be about fifty pages. Currently, it's a measly fifteen.</p><p>This, of course, means <i>The Picnic </i>will grow and morph into something new, bigger, but not necessarily better. I'll post both versions on my YouTube channel, but, for now, there's just the original story.</p><p>If you enjoy it, I'd love to hear your thoughts.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="398" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/BTDtJgjyT-w" width="479" youtube-src-id="BTDtJgjyT-w"></iframe></div><br /><p><br /></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3597827761483000345.post-40273601321484256932024-02-09T07:41:00.000-08:002024-02-09T07:41:53.975-08:00Free Audio Stories<p> I started something new. It took me almost two years to buck up the courage to do this. I told myself I can't quit until I have 100 videos. Every Friday, I'm reading a story on YouTube.</p><p>Currently, there are two stories up. Carly and the Christian Cowboy and A Chance Encounter. You can listen to them <a href="https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCZr79NOkYwYNHRX2bAOXdgg">here.</a></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCZr79NOkYwYNHRX2bAOXdgg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="308" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW9uw7yuYG_Ce0U3QqN-37-J24fUP-8OMdKpDUWLGBlc6KTdfF0EAYkx-25-F50MEAPbx1KT_lyfh2wIDGITBuEfQHNbrJD5U69tMmlaH8iNfAP-wSn8XGLDzVt8BKYiIDykLvCMTOPvpDsbIrRf-9apEqg1Y-Jogk81edwIhjiWMgvnO8-07qrtuPWiB3/w548-h308/A%20Chance%20Encounter%20(1).jpg" width="548" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCZr79NOkYwYNHRX2bAOXdgg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2700" data-original-width="1800" height="694" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdXCdBPM9-RkSX-onjnvmhS1YecfQb0wfbW5Qa737cl5VUE8FH4cvcnt9GgNFO3HK-H-IZkZv-2KLwRvdLedPPBR9Y2MRYAH0hVrC3pxWXl7567666AykFZ3h3sSKmOxiQHGlNtV9vmrCXKVAGjI10d6owmcktLLN2mrTRYhyphenhyphenmwVm2JhFSuCD_uZnopzZj/w462-h694/Carly%20and%20the%20cowboy.jpg" width="462" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p><br /></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3597827761483000345.post-41658654069681485212024-02-07T12:23:00.000-08:002024-02-07T12:23:06.971-08:00Wednesday's Word: An Excerpt From Small Town Escape<p> <span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">Welcome to #WednesdayWords where I share a snippet of a story using yesterday's word from the New York game, WORDLE. Yesterday's WORDLE was WHICH.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Small-Town-Escape-Romance-Suspense-ebook/dp/B0CP2XGJY8" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2700" data-original-width="1800" height="592" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHsKBRmtrtD20Yb2TS8zRTENMFJzZa9XL-Mm4OZm3vIOlg_h3mQUZg5fczRYX-6vqaKvQsdcxVM3zIYWIIGq9DFOd-4FYiQy_hGovjv7GMRhHqEkDgsKORU5fQrd9-4jRwxcc0EnfL3I-umaBI_uImz_bpRVIqcUep3J6q9XLBo6pF_ezw5Y2JPRVIxu1D/w394-h592/small%20town%20escape.jpg" width="394" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Small-Town-Escape-Romance-Suspense-ebook/dp/B0CP2XGJY8">AVAILABLE ON AMAZON</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Later
that night, after I’d finally been able to sleep, I woke when I heard a sound.<o:p></o:p></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Tom!</span></i><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">
Had he found me?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">My
eyes snapped open. My heart pounded, and a cold shiver crept over my skin. In
the dim moonlit darkness, a creepy creaking echoed through the halls. I lay in
the corpse position, straining to catch any further sounds.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">What
had come first? The noises? Or the dreams of Tom?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">My
mind raced, imagination weaving sinister scenarios. The creaking intensified.
Outside, the wind seemed to whisper nightmares, its fingers brushing against
the windowpanes. A distant branch tapped insistently on the glass. The rhythm
sounded like an unknown code.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Was
my imagination on overdrive, or was something more menacing at play? My gaze
darted to the antique grandfather clock in the corner, its pendulum swinging
hypnotically. The rhythmic ticking that had earlier seemed like a soothing
lullaby now mimicked a heartbeat. My thoughts went back to Phyllis reading Poe
and his tell-tale heart.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Could
Phyllis be prowling about?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Every
creak of the floorboards and every sigh of the old house settling seemed
amplified, morphing into Tom’s heavy footsteps. I clenched the bedsheets until
my knuckles turned white with tension.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Why
had I come here?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">What
had I hoped to prove?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Was
this labyrinthine Victorian mansion with its ornate details a picture-perfect
backdrop for a nightmare?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Swallowing
hard, I strained my ears again, my senses attuned to the slightest noise. Was
that a faint rustling sound? A murmur of movement from somewhere beyond my
closed bedroom door? Dread pooled in my stomach, my muscles tensing like coiled
springs.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Seconds
ticked by in agonizing silence, each one a nail in the coffin of my
rationality. I mustered the courage to slide my hand toward the bedside table,
fingers inching toward my phone.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I
froze with the realization that the call could be traced back to me.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">There
had to be a landline at the front desk, right?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I
shot Atticus a quick glance. He lay snoring on his bed, chasing bunnies in his
sleep. Falling back against my pillows, I stared at the ceiling and willed my
heart to slow. It had all been a bad dream. A nightmare. Just like everything
else about Tom.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Still,
sleep eluded me. I crawled from the bed and crept across the room.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Atticus
snorted and shifted when I opened the door, but he didn’t wake.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The
door snicked closed behind me. Pale moonlight shot through the tree boughs. The
brisk night air hit my lungs. An owl winged overhead. Shivering from cold or
fright, I followed the porch to the front entrance. The night, full of shadows,
was sleeping. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">What
had I expected to find? Three cars were parked in the lot. One was my Jeep. One
must belong to Phyllis, so who drove the other car?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I
crossed my arms when a chilly breeze stirred the air. Goosebumps rose on my
arms. A sound drove my attention to the stained-glass doors.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">A
shadow darted past the window.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Someone
was skulking in the front parlor, and they had a bag in one hand. The
shattering of glass rent the air. Cursing followed.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">My
fingers flew to my lips. Was it Tom? How had he found me?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">My
first thought was to bolt to my Jeep, but I didn’t have my keys. I would have
to return to my room, <b>which</b> would wake Atticus, who could be noisy. I took a
deep breath, debating what to do.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The
back door opened and closed. Footsteps pounded along the porch.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Gulping
a deep breath, I tried the front door. It opened easily and without a sound. I
scurried to the receptionist desk, squatted behind it, and picked up the
old-fashioned phone and cradled it in my lap. With trembling hands, I dialed
911.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">While
I waited for the reassuring voice of the dispatcher, my gaze darted around the
foyer, transforming shadows into Tom-like figures.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Come
quick,” I breathed into the phone when the dispatcher finally answered.
“There’s an intruder.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The
old house seemed to hold its breath, its secrets closing in like a tightening
noose. I clung to the phone, feeling the seconds stretch like an eternity until
the distant wail of sirens cut through the night.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Relief
flooded through me when red and blue lights illuminated the front parlor,
banishing the darkness and uncertainty. I peeked through the window and watched
the police car skid to a halt.<o:p></o:p></span></p></div><p><br /><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"><br /></span></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3597827761483000345.post-7876788311845535922024-01-24T07:42:00.000-08:002024-01-24T07:42:52.574-08:00Wednesday Words: Still, an excerpt from Small Town Escape<p> On Wednesdays, I post an excerpt from one of my books that uses the previous day's word from the New York Times game, Wordle. Yesterday's Wordle was STILL.</p><p>This is an excerpt from my latest release, Small Town Escape. This book is a mash-up between the TV show <i>Shitt's Creek </i>and Nicholas Spark's novel, <i>Safe Haven. </i>Wildly different inspirations, but who can say what sparks an idea? Not me, and I'm the one who captured it.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhucO6lGh5vyiy3gIocdYq5S4a8S1pQT0KuLpb1M0-unr-ZznHxhH1Vsd3cPEQAyBgm3HdesTHJzXMe7fYJTOnoFXIdI-60JkMdqrLdRc_IU6KCvqcilLNFZPhm33P4Ct0y68VmdUaPldIrbYOGIcJIRE1yA1eL9jeBMqG6WlK1JaEIoXdJiZrrN5yF2n-l/s690/0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="690" data-original-width="460" height="606" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhucO6lGh5vyiy3gIocdYq5S4a8S1pQT0KuLpb1M0-unr-ZznHxhH1Vsd3cPEQAyBgm3HdesTHJzXMe7fYJTOnoFXIdI-60JkMdqrLdRc_IU6KCvqcilLNFZPhm33P4Ct0y68VmdUaPldIrbYOGIcJIRE1yA1eL9jeBMqG6WlK1JaEIoXdJiZrrN5yF2n-l/w403-h606/0.jpg" width="403" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">When
I spotted Kelvin Duran running, I took off after him.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Donna
Darlington toddled ahead of me, her rolling pin raised in the air. "I've
got you now, you little bugger!" Donna, who had the build of a bowling
ball, stopped to catch her breath on the corner of Olympic and Pine. Doubling
over, she put her hands on her knees and wheezed.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I
patted her on the back when I passed. "Don't worry. I'll catch him."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Jim
Henry, in his battered Chevy, braked at the intersection, missing me by a hair.
He waved. "Go get 'im, Sheriff!"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I
was a police officer, not a sheriff, but Henry knew that, so I didn't stop to
correct him. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Kelvin
dove into Cascadia Hardware.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I
pounded after him.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Stan
Jorgenson behind the counter didn’t look up from his <i>Country Gardens</i>
magazine, but his lips twitched, and he pointed a long finger toward the lumber
aisle without saying a word.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I
caught a flash of Kelvin's red sneakers rounding a stack of two-by-fours and
sprinted after him. "Those don't belong to you, Kelvin!"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">A
door banged, telling me my prey was now in the alley. Swearing, I tore through
the back room, vaulted over a stack of bagged potting soil, and burst through
the door. Outside, I looked in both directions and caught my breath. The crisp
late-autumn air filled my lungs.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Grime
and soot stained the buildings on either side, and the occasional dumpster
overflowed with garbage, filling the air with the stench of rotting food.
Puddles of murky water and discarded cigarette butts littered the ground.
Colorful murals and graffiti adorned the walls. Small doorways and staircases
leading to the buildings’ upper floors hid in the shadows. Kelvin could have
disappeared into any of them.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Where
was he? If he was hiding in the trash bins, was that punishment enough?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I
went left, heading for Pine. When I reached the sidewalk, I was rewarded by
another Kelvin sighting. I sprinted after him through Legionnaire's Park,
hurdling benches, avoiding a poodle on a leash, and past the gazebo.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Kelvin
flashed a terrified glance over his shoulder and threw the bag of doughnuts at
my head. I almost caught it, but slipped and went down on one knee, breaking my
fall with outstretched hands. Doughnuts showered around me. A dog snuffled my
hair.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">"
¡Maldito sea!"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I
looked up to find the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen staring at me with
large amber eyes. She wore a pair of jeans and a white button-up shirt that
accentuated her tanned skin. A strawberry-shaped birthmark sat just below her
jawline. She tugged her dog, some sort of terrier mix, away from the doughnuts.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Lo
siento.” She fished a poop bag out of her backpack and tossed it to me. Her
gaze sent me an apology. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I
inspected the bottom of my boot and tried to scrub it clean with the bag. When
I looked up, the woman, the dog, and Kelvin had all disappeared.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">A
cluster of crows swooped in to take care of the doughnuts.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I
headed back to the police station, angry at myself and Kelvin in equal measure,
curious about the girl, and hungry for doughnuts.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I
double-checked the bottom of my shoe before entering the station. A bell
jangled when I pushed open the door. Inside, the office looked exactly the same
as it had when I had first come here as a junior explorer. A few desks and
chairs, a filing cabinet filled the room, and a map of the town hung on the
wall. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Hudson
MacPherson, a tall, broad-shouldered man with a weathered face, sat at his
desk, reviewing a report. He had been the sheriff of Cascadia for over twenty
years, and he knew the town and its people better than anyone. Even me, and,
other than my years at college and the police academy, I had lived here for
most of my twenty-four years.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Taylor
sat at her desk across the room, typing on a keyboard. She was about ten years
my senior. Her short blonde hair matched her no-nonsense attitude. She had been
with the department for five years, but because she lived in nearby Rose Arbor,
she complained most Cascadians still treated her as an outsider.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The
phone on MacPherson's desk rang, and he answered it with a gruff
"Sheriff's office, MacPherson speaking."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I
only half-listened to the conversation, my attention drifting when it became
clear he was talking to someone about having the furnace repaired. What I
hadn’t realized when joining the force three months ago was that police work
was twenty percent helping people and eighty percent paperwork.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">When
Mac hung up the phone, Taylor approached him with her report. He glanced over
it and nodded his approval before handing it back to her. "Looks
good," he said.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She
smiled, lapping up the compliment.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Mac
glanced over at me, his gaze lingering on the grass stains on the knees of my
pants, making me grateful he couldn't see the bottoms of my shoes. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">When
I’d left the farm, I had hoped to spend less time wallowing in muck. I rubbed
my shoe on the mat under my desk. I didn’t regret opting to be a cop rather
than staying and working for the family business, but sometimes I thought about
joining a larger force, where chasing Kelvin Duran wasn’t a regular occurrence.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The
sheriff pinned me with a <i>don't argue with me</i> look. "I need you to
go out to the Dollhouse. Phyllis claims there's been another theft."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Taylor
smirked and ducked her head to hide her smile.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I
fiddled with my pencil and tapped the pile of papers on my desk. They weren’t
interesting, of course, but they seemed like a better use of my time than
visiting Phyllis’s creepy doll collection. "That's her third call this
week."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">"It's
a wonder she can even tell any of them are missing," I groused, reaching
for my keys. “There are so many.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Mac
grinned. “I hear there’s a new doll out there. One you might be interested in.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Unlikely,”
I muttered.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">MacPherson’s
and Taylor's laughter followed me out the door.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I
passed Kelvin slinking over the railroad tracks on my way out of town.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I
stopped at an intersection and waited for him to disappear into the trees
bordering the Evergreen Estates—a mobile home community filled with mostly
senior citizens and retired loggers. An uncomfortable thought crossed my mind.
What if Kelvin had been hungry?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I
shook the worry away. The school provided free breakfasts and lunches—not that
Kelvin was a model student. Still, my new concern stuck with me like an itch
begging for a scratch all the way to the Dollhouse Inn.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3597827761483000345.post-19414294633746601002024-01-10T11:57:00.000-08:002024-01-10T11:57:21.539-08:00Wednesday's Word: Liner, an Excerpt from Small Town Escape<p> I haven't post a Wednesday's Word for a while and I wanted to get back into it. Sadly, I hadn't used the word LINER in any of my books! So, I went with LINING. Here's an excerpt from <i>Small Town Escape </i>using yesterday's Wordle, LINING.</p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CP2XGJY8" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="690" data-original-width="460" height="610" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZwRzD33sYkxbpo7Vk5s-_ZzBRKqgILY6G9-oW39gxlao7yYr06er592iWyYZ4IF3wa-a84arFwNelp0P_nAtd9t05W_5R58Mc5Bfwn6Pyi3yn19A9LGTWkHb0Ncig8YxvxuU_yyXFWyBRXRwCuI2DcEaGEpOgUur9Z-gg-_5OtGSahnXl_gPeX2NHyuF9/w406-h610/0.jpg" width="406" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CP2XGJY8">AVAILABLE ON AMAZON</a></span></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.3in;">*JAMIE</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.3in;">I
sat on the couch in the inn's living room, my gaze fixed on the storm raging
beyond the windows. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and jagged streaks of
lightning illuminated the night sky, casting shadows across the room.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Bear,
nestled beside me, trembled with fear. I didn’t usually bring him with me on
calls, but knowing the thunder frightened him and that Phyllis wouldn’t
mind—and that I didn’t care if she did—today, Bear was my police dog.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The inn had changed since Mabel had arrived. I
couldn’t put my finger on why—cleaner, yes, but also…something. Maybe a host of
small somethings.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Phyllis
breezed into the room, wearing a pink-checked house dress and a pair of knubby
wool socks. “Cherise is missing! My mother bought that doll in Poland just
after the Second World War.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I
stood. “I’m so sorry, Phyllis.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Phyllis
stopped short when she spotted Bear cowering at my feet. “What’s this?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“This
is Bear. My police dog.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Aren’t
police dogs supposed to wear a vest?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Are
they?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“He’s
new.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Phyllis
scowled. “He looks like a scaredy cat.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">As
if to prove her words, thunder crashed, and Bear scuttled to hide beneath the
piano.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I
ignored him. “Did you check the security tapes?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“I
don’t know how,” Phyllis said. “That’s why I called you.” She motioned for me
to follow her into her office.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Bear
darted after us and took up a position in the corner between a filing cabinet
and a water dispenser.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">A
vintage desk cluttered with reservation ledgers dominated the room. Antique
maps hung on the walls. A wrought-iron chandelier cast a dim glow.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Phyllis
pointed at the chair in front of a computer screen. She turned on the machine,
and it whirred to life, competing with the storm’s symphony—the wind whistling
through the windows, the rain hammering the roof, and tree branches creaking.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Under
Phyllis’s direction, I navigated through the security footage, smiling whenever
Mabel and Atticus came on the screen. I could watch them all day.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Well,”
Phyllis said with a harrumph, as if she could read my thoughts. “I’ll leave you
to it. Let me know if you find anything.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Lightning
flashed and thunder boomed.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Bear
scurried to hide under the desk. He quivered and pressed against my leg. I ran
a comforting hand over the dog's dark fur, trying to soothe him. I scrolled
aimlessly, grinning every time I spotted Mabel, slowing down when she waved her
duster or pushed a vacuum.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Spying
on me?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I
jumped and resisted the urge to shut off the footage. Aiming for nonchalance, I
twisted in her direction.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Mabel,
dressed in a baggy sweatshirt and joggers with her hair tied up on her head,
looked adorable. As always.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Atticus
trotted over and nudged Bear with his nose.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Trying
to catch a thief.” I turned back to the screen as if I found it more
interesting than her—which I didn’t. “I don’t suppose you saw or heard
anything?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Mabel
tipped her head toward the window. “With all of that going on? Not likely.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“I
wonder if he came during the storm…but then there’d be footprints.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Mabel
wheeled over a second office chair and sat beside me. “What are we looking
for?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I
shrugged.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“You
don’t think Faith’s disappearance could have anything to do with dolls, do
you?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I
blinked. Such a thing hadn’t occurred to me. “I wouldn’t think so,” I said
slowly, warming to the idea. “Speaking of dolls, and toys, I was wondering if
you’d be interested in volunteering at the annual toy drive. It’s hosted every
year by the police and fire departments.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Bear
began to howl, and Atticus joined in. Together, they created a mournful and
haunting sound that echoed through the inn. It was as if the two dogs were
trying to communicate something.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I
glanced at Mabel. Her expression mirrored my own confusion.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“What
the heck?” Mabel stroked her dog. She leaned in closer, her voice raised to be
heard over the chaos. "Jamie, there's something I need to tell you."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I
leaned in closer, my gaze never leaving her face. "What is it? Is it about
Faith?" <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">But
just as she opened her mouth to speak, another burst of thunder shook the inn
and rattled the windows.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Bear
and Atticus howled even louder, their voices joining the crescendo of the
storm. Mabel’s words were lost.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The room felt charged with energy, the storm's
intensity reaching a peak. The inn's lights flickered, and for a moment, the
world seemed to blur in the flashes of lightning. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I
dropped beside Bear, who was cowering beside me, his eyes wide with fear. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">"Hey,
buddy," I whispered to Bear. "It's going to be okay." <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Bear
leaned into me.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I
stroked his fur. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Mabel
tried again, her voice firm and determined, yet the words were swept away by
the wind and rain. She looked at me, frustration in her eyes, and motioned for
me to follow her.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">We
made our way to the inn's library, a smaller, more secluded room with
bookshelves filled with dolls <b>lining </b>the walls.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Jamie,”
she began, “I’m not…”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Lightning
flashed. A crack sounded. Moments later, wood shattered and a giant tree limb
crashed through the ceiling, scattering plaster and sending a deluge of rain
and a blast of cold air into the room.<o:p></o:p></span></p><br /><p></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3597827761483000345.post-45373771547108066002024-01-08T14:04:00.000-08:002024-01-08T14:04:51.429-08:00A Review of Small Town Secrets<p> I just got this personal note. I love it when this happens! I liked it so much, I asked if I could share and was granted permission. Here it is! (Have you started the Small Town series yet? Book three is live tomorrow.)</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Small-Town-Secrets-Romance-Suspense-ebook/dp/B0CG2L97CV" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="853" height="571" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZaU7njdya0dcSc3GfqDqszfTnKvvTetUAcNdz_c7t8RsCcygBmMpvsu84stw6mOnDKc-01WIYrlnfpvTUNB5EchCCPgWd409CKaGgVKBx286YlOzk3v7yuJOOGIrY6Fx1yIv0a7ecEPRAmeCq-9dH_4mYn7XXSzBSeDO6QKoUNzqKNQtmuxsxbB2BZ2Nn/w380-h571/image.png" width="380" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Small-Town-Secrets-Romance-Suspense-ebook/dp/B0CG2L97CV">AVAILABLE ON AMAZON</a></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Hello talented lady. I found this plot hit a nerve in me due to the experiences our children have had being adopted. Sadie was told her whole life that her bio Dad was trash. That has to be wounding. Even though no one had anything good to say about him she wanted to meet him for herself. She had been indoctrinated by her Mom that all men were bad and would hurt you. Her Mom used her life experiences as the truth for everyone. Caden seemed a somewhat immature veterinarian in his crazy crush on the beautiful and talented Simone. At first I thought maybe there was going to be a better brother for Sadie as I kept reading. Caden finally showed his caring capability and maturity as their relationship grew. I liked her Mom finally finding a good man she could trust and marry. The family relationships were the most interesting to me. My favorite paragraph</span></p><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><i>Families come in all shapes and sizes, and we don't get to pick who belongs... Someone once defined family as the people who have to take you in when you have nowhere else to go, but looking at all these people who I loved, I realized there would never be anywhere I'd rather be. A house isn't a home if it isn't filled with people you love. </i></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"> </div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"> Also with as much as those two liked to smooch I am so thankful they were able to keep their clothes on. That made me happy. </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3597827761483000345.post-82490289203531862982023-12-19T16:26:00.000-08:002023-12-19T16:26:28.036-08:00Book Club Discussion Prompts about Small Town Secrets<p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #0f1111; font-family: "Amazon Ember", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px 0px 14px; padding: 0px;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;">When Sadie inherits a cottage in the middle of nowhere from a grandmother she never met, she hopes to find the father she never knew. Instead, she discovers mysterious messages that may or may not lead to her father.</span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #0f1111; font-family: "Amazon Ember", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin: -4px 0px 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;">When a storm knocks out the power and washes out the one road that can take her back to civilization, Sadie turns to her only neighbor, a man with a secret agenda of his own.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Caden knows Sadie's father, and what he knows he dislikes. Still, he's willing to help his new neighbor track down her father...for a price. What neither of them realizes is they are not only unwittingly endangering their hearts but also the people they love.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Fans of sweet suspense novels by RaeAnne Thayne, Taylor Hart, and Cami Checketts will love this heartwarming yet fast-paced Christian series featuring the Haywood family of Cascadia, Washington.</span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #0f1111; font-family: "Amazon Ember", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin: -4px 0px 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;"><br /></span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #0f1111; font-family: "Amazon Ember", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin: -4px 0px 0px; padding: 0px;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglJDEavjeqGtox8XBNN-Qf1TNf93bgTrRRyWwt8r3qYKIl-1tBEfwW7HBEf3aT6slAO0WcCjFmhQr485MVghqK4ko0Ig5nXNnO_RumrqS0JXB_4yzA3xLeWuT1quQqgyaA66eMo6u2v9ehIZQNkLdit7IAZbY4BzpI3QNL9UGtbkN6DuFzM0fW76aOfwYi/s1280/image.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="853" height="655" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglJDEavjeqGtox8XBNN-Qf1TNf93bgTrRRyWwt8r3qYKIl-1tBEfwW7HBEf3aT6slAO0WcCjFmhQr485MVghqK4ko0Ig5nXNnO_RumrqS0JXB_4yzA3xLeWuT1quQqgyaA66eMo6u2v9ehIZQNkLdit7IAZbY4BzpI3QNL9UGtbkN6DuFzM0fW76aOfwYi/w436-h655/image.png" width="436" /></a></div><br /><span style="box-sizing: border-box;"><br /></span><p></p><ol style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; color: #374151; counter-reset: list-number 0; display: flex; flex-direction: column; font-family: Söhne, ui-sans-serif, system-ui, -apple-system, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Noto Sans", sans-serif, "Helvetica Neue", Arial, "Apple Color Emoji", "Segoe UI Emoji", "Segoe UI Symbol", "Noto Color Emoji"; font-size: 16px; list-style: none; margin: 1.25em 0px; padding: 0px; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><li style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; counter-increment: list-number 1; display: block; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 28px; padding-left: 0.375em;"><p style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px;"><span style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; color: var(--tw-prose-bold); font-weight: 600;">Character Motivations:</span></p><ul style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; display: flex; flex-direction: column; list-style: disc; margin: 0px 0px 0px 1rem; padding: 0px;"><li style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; display: block; margin: 0px; min-height: 28px; padding-left: 0.375em;">What drives Sadie to embark on this journey to find her father, especially given the mysterious messages she discovers?</li><li style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; display: block; margin: 0px; min-height: 28px; padding-left: 0.375em;">How do Caden's motivations and his secret agenda contribute to the unfolding plot?</li></ul></li><li style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; counter-increment: list-number 1; display: block; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 28px; padding-left: 0.375em;"><p style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px;"><span style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; color: var(--tw-prose-bold); font-weight: 600;">Themes of Discovery and Identity:</span></p><ul style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; display: flex; flex-direction: column; list-style: disc; margin: 0px 0px 0px 1rem; padding: 0px;"><li style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; display: block; margin: 0px; min-height: 28px; padding-left: 0.375em;">In what ways does Sadie's quest for her father tie into larger themes of self-discovery and identity?</li><li style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; display: block; margin: 0px; min-height: 28px; padding-left: 0.375em;">How do the mysterious messages add depth to the exploration of family and personal history?</li></ul></li><li style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; counter-increment: list-number 1; display: block; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 28px; padding-left: 0.375em;"><p style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px;"><span style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; color: var(--tw-prose-bold); font-weight: 600;">Setting and Atmosphere:</span></p><ul style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; display: flex; flex-direction: column; list-style: disc; margin: 0px 0px 0px 1rem; padding: 0px;"><li style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; display: block; margin: 0px; min-height: 28px; padding-left: 0.375em;">Discuss the role of the isolated cottage and the storm in shaping the atmosphere of the story. How does the setting impact the characters and their decisions?</li></ul></li><li style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; counter-increment: list-number 1; display: block; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 28px; padding-left: 0.375em;"><p style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px;"><span style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; color: var(--tw-prose-bold); font-weight: 600;">Secrets and Agendas:</span></p><ul style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; display: flex; flex-direction: column; list-style: disc; margin: 0px 0px 0px 1rem; padding: 0px;"><li style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; display: block; margin: 0px; min-height: 28px; padding-left: 0.375em;">Explore the theme of secrets in the story, focusing on both Sadie and Caden. How do their undisclosed motives create tension in the narrative?</li><li style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; display: block; margin: 0px; min-height: 28px; padding-left: 0.375em;">How do the characters' secrets affect their relationships with each other?</li></ul></li><li style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; counter-increment: list-number 1; display: block; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 28px; padding-left: 0.375em;"><p style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px;"><span style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; color: var(--tw-prose-bold); font-weight: 600;">Relationship Dynamics:</span></p><ul style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; display: flex; flex-direction: column; list-style: disc; margin: 0px 0px 0px 1rem; padding: 0px;"><li style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; display: block; margin: 0px; min-height: 28px; padding-left: 0.375em;">Analyze the evolving relationship between Sadie and Caden. How do their interactions change over the course of the book?</li><li style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; display: block; margin: 0px; min-height: 28px; padding-left: 0.375em;">How does the external pressure of the storm and the quest for Sadie's father influence their connection?</li></ul></li><li style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; counter-increment: list-number 1; display: block; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 28px; padding-left: 0.375em;"><p style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px;"><span style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; color: var(--tw-prose-bold); font-weight: 600;">The Price of Help:</span></p><ul style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; display: flex; flex-direction: column; list-style: disc; margin: 0px 0px 0px 1rem; padding: 0px;"><li style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; display: block; margin: 0px; min-height: 28px; padding-left: 0.375em;">Discuss the concept of "help for a price" that Caden offers Sadie. In what ways does this add complexity to their relationship and the overall plot?</li><li style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; display: block; margin: 0px; min-height: 28px; padding-left: 0.375em;">How do the characters grapple with the idea of assistance coming with strings attached?</li></ul></li><li style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; counter-increment: list-number 1; display: block; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 28px; padding-left: 0.375em;"><p style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px;"><span style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; color: var(--tw-prose-bold); font-weight: 600;">Unintended Consequences:</span></p><ul style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; display: flex; flex-direction: column; list-style: disc; margin: 0px 0px 0px 1rem; padding: 0px;"><li style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; display: block; margin: 0px; min-height: 28px; padding-left: 0.375em;">Explore the idea that Sadie and Caden may unknowingly endanger their hearts and the people they love. How do their actions have unintended consequences?</li><li style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; display: block; margin: 0px; min-height: 28px; padding-left: 0.375em;">In what ways does this element contribute to the suspense in the story?</li></ul></li><li style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; counter-increment: list-number 1; display: block; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 28px; padding-left: 0.375em;"><p style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px;"><span style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; color: var(--tw-prose-bold); font-weight: 600;">Faith and Family:</span></p><ul style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; display: flex; flex-direction: column; list-style: disc; margin: 0px 0px 0px 1rem; padding: 0px;"><li style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; display: block; margin: 0px; min-height: 28px; padding-left: 0.375em;">Considering the Christian series aspect, discuss any themes of faith that emerge in the narrative.</li><li style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; display: block; margin: 0px; min-height: 28px; padding-left: 0.375em;">How is the concept of family portrayed, especially within the context of the Haywood family of Cascadia, Washington?</li></ul></li><li style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; counter-increment: list-number 1; display: block; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 28px; padding-left: 0.375em;"><p style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px;"><span style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; color: var(--tw-prose-bold); font-weight: 600;">Comparisons to Similar Authors:</span></p><ul style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; display: flex; flex-direction: column; list-style: disc; margin: 0px 0px 0px 1rem; padding: 0px;"><li style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; display: block; margin: 0px; min-height: 28px; padding-left: 0.375em;">For readers familiar with authors like RaeAnne Thayne, Taylor Hart, and Cami Checketts, discuss how this book aligns with or deviates from the conventions of sweet suspense novels in the genre.</li><li style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; display: block; margin: 0px; min-height: 28px; padding-left: 0.375em;">What elements make this book unique within the Christian series?</li></ul></li><li style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; counter-increment: list-number 1; display: block; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 28px; padding-left: 0.375em;"><p style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px;"><span style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; color: var(--tw-prose-bold); font-weight: 600;">Ending and Expectations for the Series:</span></p><ul style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; display: flex; flex-direction: column; list-style: disc; margin: 0px 0px 0px 1rem; padding: 0px;"><li style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; display: block; margin: 0px; min-height: 28px; padding-left: 0.375em;">Without spoilers, share your thoughts on the ending of the book. Did it meet your expectations, and did it leave you eager to explore the rest of the series?</li><li style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; display: block; margin: 0px; min-height: 28px; padding-left: 0.375em;">What aspects of the blurb make you curious about the continuation of the Haywood family's story?</li></ul></li></ol>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3597827761483000345.post-3785503452094646732023-12-11T07:27:00.000-08:002023-12-11T09:14:24.042-08:00My Almost Fist-Fight in France<p> Have you ever been in a fistfight? Me neither. But I came close this summer. And I wasn't even mad. I just knew when the scrawny little French woman picked up my daughter's dog, I would fight her. And I would win or die trying.</p><p>A little backstory. This summer while on a work assignment and living in a gorgeous Paris apartment apartment with her adorable husband (all the superlatives are just to emphasize that depression doesn't have to be situational-based), my daughter's depression hit her hard.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD05GsuOHYxriT-y8iRWQGWxVpvK2dnf5rZJ2onLipi5dZ5ymeEzpionIpdOOjiSkOjrNkrw1lQKNV9woqPvAR9PSIq_H_NP1X58u9jx4ufjfNtunQFnaUYNnbMXfkD2SKHj4VJqKNbUK-qhlJIT7YcPtYrC-oeMDLI3MX4uruCmwTBRJZeo52LrzS2Vz-/s1425/IMG_1243.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1425" data-original-width="1170" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD05GsuOHYxriT-y8iRWQGWxVpvK2dnf5rZJ2onLipi5dZ5ymeEzpionIpdOOjiSkOjrNkrw1lQKNV9woqPvAR9PSIq_H_NP1X58u9jx4ufjfNtunQFnaUYNnbMXfkD2SKHj4VJqKNbUK-qhlJIT7YcPtYrC-oeMDLI3MX4uruCmwTBRJZeo52LrzS2Vz-/s320/IMG_1243.jpg" width="263" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The cat in the courtyard</div><p>She has an emotional support dog, Billie, who had a long-running feud with the neighbor's cat. This beautiful creature liked to sit outside Billie's window and stare up at her (which made Billie nutso.) Billie had a lot of other things going on. Like, she wasn't used to never being let off leash, but in the heart of Paris, she didn't have many options. So, Billie would sit at the window and noisily cry for extended periods of time.</p><p>One night just before going to bed, I took Billie down to the courtyard. Several apartments (and one cat) share this small open space. I had looked for the cat before taking Billie downstairs, but hadn't seen it hiding in the bushes.</p><p>But Billie had seen it. Howling, she tore away from me.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv2RqZ15CHeFpXjFB4dsl_fEF0L6dCbWcy9VDo7pWGXVbEdaA30veTZqk7PwnsSknpKuXpKzUhOtbBhJtUSSirJDSwoyLCfYiUVG_Rjw0xeU4yANBOSCuRZ_KfTi7Y7t2nEhNNlKQEgmElv5iDxeiKc-xzc53PTZy6jUqe9g6wpwbjEsJgge_ls0VWD68j/s1170/IMG_1245.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1147" data-original-width="1170" height="314" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv2RqZ15CHeFpXjFB4dsl_fEF0L6dCbWcy9VDo7pWGXVbEdaA30veTZqk7PwnsSknpKuXpKzUhOtbBhJtUSSirJDSwoyLCfYiUVG_Rjw0xeU4yANBOSCuRZ_KfTi7Y7t2nEhNNlKQEgmElv5iDxeiKc-xzc53PTZy6jUqe9g6wpwbjEsJgge_ls0VWD68j/s320/IMG_1245.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Billie looking adorable and posing with my book.</div><br /><p>While trying to capture Billie, a tiny, angry French woman accosted me. Yelled at me. I laughed at her because it seemed so ridiculous to scream at someone who can't understand you. </p><p>To be fair, Billie was making A LOT of noise. Much more noise than this woman.</p><p>I had propped the door open to my daughter's stairwell because I hadn't brought a key. The woman must have realized this because she removed my prop and tried to lock me out of the building.</p><p>I shoved my way in.</p><p>She tried to push me out the door. When that was unsuccessful, she picked up Billie.</p><p>And it was at that moment, I knew, if I had to, I would fight for the dog.</p><p>As I said previously, I wasn't even mad, but I couldn't let this woman take the dog and disappear into some unknown apartment and maybe even call animal control. I wrestled Billie out of her arms and, after gaping at me, SHE TURNED AND RAN AWAY.</p><p>I can write about this now and smile, because here I am, a sixty-something grandma, and this French woman probably twenty years younger than me ran away because she was scared of what I would do to her.</p><p>This was one of those "WHO AM I?" moments. I've never been in a fight before. I rarely raise my voice. I felt physically sick. I was worried, not so much for myself, but for my daughter who would have to live in this complex with the cat and the woman long after I had returned home.</p><p>The next morning, I resolved to buy the woman a small token and apologize, but my daughter convinced me this woman did not deserve an apology.</p><p>I never saw the woman again, but my daughter did and she said that the woman has been friendlier since the incident.</p><p>What I learned: that we can never be quite sure how we'll respond in a situation until we're in the heat of it.</p><p><br /></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3597827761483000345.post-50102205186148912142023-12-06T07:48:00.000-08:002023-12-06T07:48:41.630-08:00Wednesday's Word: YOUNG. An Excerpt from Small Town Escape<p> <span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, "system-ui", ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Welcome to </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, "system-ui", ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><a class="x1i10hfl xjbqb8w x6umtig x1b1mbwd xaqea5y xav7gou x9f619 x1ypdohk xt0psk2 xe8uvvx xdj266r x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r xexx8yu x4uap5 x18d9i69 xkhd6sd x16tdsg8 x1hl2dhg xggy1nq x1a2a7pz xt0b8zv x1qq9wsj xo1l8bm" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/wednesdaywords?__eep__=6&__cft__[0]=AZX2TnHCCezSOrfVJxIDF1GEKTlQxBM4-MxBT9ihqVc1wY3JImxU78PRZRP2HFwHRU8BW6XZfnWOjW0oIGdDIdpNSExMX0mqjZKyTJndjkHLkkao5ExaATW3WzQdHx4ghh6ZaXrYYnh8urcdPQglj7ChRsJEth99xfWaXA2Iaown25kzN_wB5SK8pO0tl39QfNT_KABEALwWfg6QpGH24Qb-&__tn__=*NK-R" role="link" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; background-color: transparent; border-color: initial; border-style: initial; border-width: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; cursor: pointer; display: inline; font-family: inherit; list-style: none; margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; text-align: inherit; text-decoration-line: none; touch-action: manipulation;" tabindex="0">#WednesdayWords</a></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, "system-ui", ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> where I share a snippet of a story using yesterday's word from the New York game, WORDLE. Yesterday's WORDLE was YOUNG. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CP2XGJY8" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="690" data-original-width="460" height="577" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpnO5AxV3VOHaZ2T11DTQhiGYKlkQ8X5Ds5bgs7CEee59IhX5PrG6S8xrYRuQGv34uEcFkla3hefwuyP7leKFbKHHlx4mFeCDjX-n853AiCi6cyBBL5MPOdrdxQpnQmUY8_hClany4_E9S2NV-3Yuozqs79P_J5RV09UxXc0iFO1NRGX_ZmRSEcOvBVvn_/w384-h577/0.jpg" width="384" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CP2XGJY8">AVAILABLE FOR PRE-ORDER</a></div><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style',serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Watching Jamie peel off his shirt sent me into an emotional tailspin. Harrison mimicked Jamie and the two of them turned when they heard our approach, and watched us with their legs shoulder-width apart and their hands on their hips. Bear stood like a soggy sentinel between them.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style',serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">They looked so much like a matched set, Daphne laughed. “That’s something that might want to make you reconsider moving back to L.A.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style',serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">She had so much love and affection written across her face, I felt like I was eavesdropping on an intimate conversation just looking at her. She pulled up beside Jamie’s truck and jumped out.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style',serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">I had to school my emotions before following her because what was written across my face might not be appropriate for YOUNG children.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style',serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Jamie grabbed a towel off the porch and wiped his hair with it. “Where you two been?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style',serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Daphne breezed past him, scooped up Harrison, and climbed the porch steps. “Wouldn’t you like to know.” Her tone was teasing, but I saw a flicker of annoyance in Jamie’s eyes.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style',serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">He flashed me a quick glance. “It’s rude to speak English around Mabel.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style',serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“Then why are you?” Daphne quipped back without glancing at him.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style',serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“Shouldn’t you be lying down and healing?” Jamie asked in Spanish.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style',serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“If you must know, I’ve never felt better.” Daphne collapsed onto the porch swing as if exhausted, but her eyes sparkled, and she had that look of someone who had been on an adventure.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style',serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Harrison snuggled against her, soaking her shirt. "Mommy! We gave Bear a bath, and Uncle Jamie got all wet and muddy."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style',serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“So did you,” Jamie muttered.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style',serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Daphne ruffled her son's hair. "I bet you were a big help."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style',serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“He couldn’t have done it without me,” Harrison announced.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style',serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“Hey, hairball.” Jamie tossed his towel at Harrison’s head and it smacked Daphne in the face.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style',serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">She flinched, but her grin didn’t fade.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style',serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Jamie dropped onto the rocking chair across from Daphne and Harrison. “I’ll have you know, I’ve been washing dogs since before you were born.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style',serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">I stood on the edge of the porch, feeling like an interloper.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style',serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Harmon leaned against the porch railing. “How you feeling, Daffy?” His voice carried concern. “Should I heat up some of that chili your mom brought by?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style',serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Harrison perked up. “With cornbread muffins?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style',serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“Those are all gone, sport,” Harmon said.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style',serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Daphne shifted Jamie’s towel off her face. “Can we go into town?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style',serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Harmon’s forehead wrinkled with worry. “Babe,” he said slowly.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style',serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“Don’t call me that.” Daphne sat up and threw the towel at her husband.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style',serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">He easily caught it and twisted it in his hands. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style',serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“I’m tired of being babied.” Daphne planted her feet on the floor. “I want to go to the Close Encounters.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style',serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Jamie and Harmon exchanged glances.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style',serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“But we already ate,” I said.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style',serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Jamie slid me a glance. “We can always share a dessert.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style',serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Daphne gently set Harrison on his feet and eased off the swing. “I’m going to change. You got me all wet. I can’t get the Out of This World Special if my shirt is wet and clingy.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style',serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Harrison giggled and darted inside. “I’m going to change, too.” He came to an abrupt halt and whirled around as if noticing Jamie for the first time. “But what about Uncle Jamie? He needs some dry clothes, too.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style',serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Harmon pulled away from the wall. “I’ll lend you a shirt.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style',serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">The Hernandez family trooped to their respective bedrooms, leaving Jamie and me looking at each other. I tried not to stare at his impressive chest. Silence fell.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style',serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Jamie broke the moment by shrugging and following the family inside.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style',serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">I trailed after him and glanced around the living room, my gaze landing on the slightly damp carpet. "It looks like you guys had a water fight in here."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style',serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">"Well, you know how these things go with a four-year-old and a big dog." Jamie studied me. "So, where were you two?” </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style',serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">I hesitated for a moment and tried to feign excitement for my news. "I got a job as a housekeeper for Mrs. Taggart. Can you believe it? I’m going to be working in that Victorian mansion up the road."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style',serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Jamie raised an eyebrow. "Mrs. Taggart's place? That's quite the gig."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style',serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Harrison, halfway into his shirt, came trotting back into the room. "Who's Mrs. Taggart?"</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style',serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Daphne, now clothed in a Foo Fighters T-shirt, explained, "Mrs. Taggart is an elderly lady who lives not far from here."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style',serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Harmon tossed a T-shirt at Jamie. "It's like a living museum. And according to the rumors, she’s a wild hare."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style',serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Jamie caught the T-shirt with one hand before slipping it on.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style',serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">It hugged him in all the right places, showing off his broad chest and strong biceps. It barely covered his torso and didn’t quite reach his jeans’ waistband. He tugged on it, but wasn’t able to cover his exposed strip of skin. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style',serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Daphne turned to her husband. “Do you have any idea where Faith is?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style',serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“Haven’t seen her in years,” Harmon said. “Why?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style',serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“I just feel badly for her grandmother. She worships her. I’m sure she misses her.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style',serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;"> “Faith has always been gonzo.” Harmon collected his keys from a rack near the door and flipped them in his hand.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style',serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“What’s a gonzo?” Harrison followed his dad. “Is that like a Gumby? My friend Carter brought a Gumby doll to school.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style',serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Daphne rested her hand on the top of Harrison’s head. “Gonzo means crazy. Gumbys are stretchy–not necessarily crazy.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style',serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“Too bad,” Harrison said. “I would have liked to see a Gumby person.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style',serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“Me,too,” Jamie said.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style',serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“Me, three,” Daphne answered.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style',serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;"> “You guys up for a dessert?” Harmon asked as if Jamie and I had come together and would naturally leave together.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style',serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Jamie sent me a silent invitation.</span></p><p><span id="docs-internal-guid-640bac33-7fff-39f5-6515-f8d38684b7d4"></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style',serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">I shrugged. “Sure, why not?”</span></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3597827761483000345.post-15806383887973864152023-11-29T07:12:00.000-08:002023-11-29T07:12:09.217-08:00Wednesday's Words: Scope. An Excerpt from Small Town Secrets<p> </p><p><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 21.6pt; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium; text-indent: 0px; white-space-collapse: collapse;"> Welcome to Wednesday's Words where I share a snippet from one of my stories using yesterday's word from the New York game Wordle. Yesterday's Wordle was SCOPE.</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 21.6pt; white-space-collapse: preserve;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 21.6pt; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Small-Town-Secrets-Romance-Suspense-ebook/dp/B0CG2L97CV" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2700" data-original-width="1800" height="595" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhesnoZ6D0-NgYSOuY7Qo9jY-R8gYDkdnyeS0Q2sagirDwVneqNgJ7ibhyQG07yYiZSGhYS883MiB4awwPZauxXrOiVMVTOK35bDQ9cDRwc2ejK_AbuvOE5ccPcDLkFzqJlyLqTxK6A6QyjS5Bo0n7MdInHW2RSOA1sQ-oE9ckYKDH96P7GhwVACkDYKSHh/w396-h595/Small%20Town%20Secrets%20(2).jpg" width="396" /></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 21.6pt; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 21.6pt; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Small-Town-Secrets-Romance-Suspense-ebook/dp/B0CG2L97CV">AVAILABLE ON AMAZON</a></span></div><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 21.6pt; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium; text-indent: 0px; white-space-collapse: collapse;"><br /></span></span><p></p><p><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 21.6pt; white-space-collapse: preserve;">*SADIE</span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-b18e809f-7fff-6347-7618-83e8477d7dc9"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I met Piper for lunch Monday at the Yellow Finch Café and told her about my stay at the Haywood’s cabin and the happenings at my own house.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“He sounds perfect,” she said with a sigh. “And he has brothers, right?” She grinned. “One for you and five for me?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">How typical of Piper to skip right over the strange appearances of the trophy and scrapbook and focus on the men.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Who do you think moved the scrapbook and trophy?” I tried dragging the conversation away from Caden and his brothers.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“And they’re all really rich, too, right?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I stirred my crackers into my tomato basil soup. “Do you think it’s my dad playing some sort of mind game with me?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“No.” Piper sobered and put down her sandwich. “Do you really want to know who is moving things in your house?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Of course.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“It’s you.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Me?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Think about it. You have a history of sleep walking. You know it’s triggered by stress. You moved out to a house in the middle of the boonies and there was thunder and lightning.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I grimaced and sipped my soup. “I actually thought of that.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Mystery solved. Now, when I can meet Caden and his brothers?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“You can help him find a place to live.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“In Cascadia?” Her voice squeaked. “I’m not sure anyone lives there other than cows.” She paused for a moment as if lost in thought.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“He’s handsome, right?” she asked as if his looks had any bearing on Cascadia’s real estate market. “And you two are shacking up?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“You know it’s not like that, and besides, he’s in love with someone else, remember?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Piper pointed a spoon at me. “But she, crazy person that she is, doesn’t love him back. That’s good news for you.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“But, also, sad for him.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Should I call him?” Piper pulled out her phone and began to type on it.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“What are you doing?” My voice squeaked with panic.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Looking him up, of course. He’s gorgeous. Oh look!” Her shoulders did a little happy dance. “There’s an article about him in the Cascadia Chronicles.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“There is? What does it say?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Piper handed me her phone. “It’s just about him taking over the veterinarian practice.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I had barely skimmed the news write up before she grabbed the phone back. “Oh, his brothers aren’t bad either.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Sadie?” a male voice called.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I twisted in my chair to spot Dr. Mitchell striding my way. Tall, blonde, and perpetually wearing a stethoscope, he seemed glad to see me.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I thought that was you,” he said.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Piper, the only one of us not wearing scrubs, beamed and held out her hand.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Dr. Mitchell, this is my friend, Piper Hayes.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Hey, Piper.” He took her hand but kept his gaze on me. “It’s funny running into you here. I was just thinking about you.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I didn’t know what to say, but, fortunately, Piper did.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“How do you two know each other?” Piper asked when Dr. Mitchell dropped her hand.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“He’s the doctor of a few of my patients,” I said.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“And they only have good things to say about you.” He smiled down at me. “Everyone loves Nurse Sadie.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“As they should,” Piper put in.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I have your number, right?” Dr. Mitchell asked.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I’m… not sure,” I stammered.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I guess I can get it from Tisha Wong.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Or she can just give it to you.” Piper kicked me under the table.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Dr. Mitchell, looking proud of himself, pulled out his phone, and handed it to me.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I typed in my number.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">After pocketing his phone, he said goodbye and walked away.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Piper put her elbows on the table and leaned my way. “Should I become a nurse?”</span></p><div><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span></div></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3597827761483000345.post-22173402745402871592023-11-27T10:11:00.000-08:002023-11-27T10:11:58.140-08:00Help Me Write the Blurb for my Upcoming Release<p> What do you think of this blurb? Feedback wanted.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWuEMAD0E6UTpkH_rhOodQRnbJ9gv8v00lflX5ZdOIhXCaO6uACXuGAxCyirhjh2U2YRdlVg6Fj4sTfrYsxZDEmITKcoc3_BaSLRKx_BXat18FyaySuhWtJo4qLcafplczrwX1otS1dZvDOmZn1PU6cIrfpMUEHRcD3A_X4mojwdL9X9i2362aq_h8EaEw/s690/0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="690" data-original-width="460" height="577" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWuEMAD0E6UTpkH_rhOodQRnbJ9gv8v00lflX5ZdOIhXCaO6uACXuGAxCyirhjh2U2YRdlVg6Fj4sTfrYsxZDEmITKcoc3_BaSLRKx_BXat18FyaySuhWtJo4qLcafplczrwX1otS1dZvDOmZn1PU6cIrfpMUEHRcD3A_X4mojwdL9X9i2362aq_h8EaEw/w384-h577/0.jpg" width="384" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><i>In the small town of Cascadia, a mysterious and beautiful woman running from her past slowly falls for a handsome, young police officer.</i></p><i><br />Isabelle hadn’t meant to stay. And she certainly hadn’t meant to get involved. She traveled to Cascadia with one purpose: to discover what had become of her violent ex-boyfriend’s previous lover.<br /><br />Despite her reservations, Belle slowly begins to warm to the close-knit community and becomes increasingly charmed by Jamie, his family, and life in Cascadia.<br /><br />But even as Belle begins to fall in love, she struggles with the memories of the man who haunts and terrifies her . . . and a past that will surely follow.<br /><br />Small Town Escape is #3 in the Small Town series. Each book is a standalone, full-length, contemporary romantic adventure and follows the exploits and escapades of one of the seven Haywood children in the small town of Cascadia, Washington.</i>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3597827761483000345.post-71786232241996217592023-11-24T18:36:00.000-08:002023-11-24T18:36:12.516-08:00ChatGPT's Feedback on the First Chapter of My Work-in-Progress<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal">Lately, I’ve been toying around with ChatPGT and, on a whim,
I asked it for feedback on my current work in progress.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">How about you? Are you allowing ChatPGT to provide feedback?
<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I’m not sure this was super helpful, but it was complimentary,
so it made me feel good!<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b>Me</b>: <i>Can you analyze this first chapter of my romantic
suspense novel and tell me what you think?</i><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It hurt to say
goodbye. The midnight blue BMW convertible with fawn-leather seats had been a
decade-long dream, and now I was abandoning it on the side of a dirt road just
shy of the Grapevine. Dark fields void of light stretched before us. The stars,
so much brighter here than in light-saturated L.A., reflected off the car's
sparkly chrome.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">"Belle, are you sure about this?" Regi jingled the
keys to his Jeep—correction—my Jeep. The sound competed with night noises,
humming insects, wind whistling through bushes, and the distant roar of
vehicles on the 5 Interstate.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">"Are you?" I tugged on Atticus's leash, impatience
bubbling.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Regi stepped in to give me a hug. I held him briefly. He was
my last contact with my former life. My brother's best friend. He handed me his
key and yanked on the bill of his Angel's baseball cap to hide his eyes.
"Leo is going to kill me."<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I put my hand on the door, anxious to leave. "He'll
never know."<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">"He's omniscient."<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">"He's off the grid. Hopefully…" I opened the rear
door and urged Atticus inside.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Atticus jumped onto the seat and spun around three times
before curling into a doughnut position.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">"What's up?" Regi clenched his fist and looked
ready for a fight. "What's with all the subterfuge? Is it that guy you
were dating?"<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I pushed his shoulder, striving for joviality. "Go home
to your wife and child and stop fretting. I'll be fine." The less he, or
anyone knew, the better.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Regi growled, making Atticus look up and cock his head.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">"I'll call when I get there." I closed the door on
the dog.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">"Get where?"<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Good question. I had vague ideas and hoped they would become
more concrete with time and distance. I glanced at the Jeep and memories of
beach parties flashed through me. In high school, we had loaded the Jeep with
surfboards, coolers stocked with soda and beer, and too many people with too
few seatbelts. Tears sprung in my eyes.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">You're doing the right thing, my sensible voice reasoned.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">"I have to go," I said out loud and pulled open my
door.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Atticus braced his paws on the window and looked at me with
a lolling tongue.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I hugged Regi a second time before climbing into the Jeep,
shoving the key into the ignition, and revving the engine. I waited for Regi to
pull away in my beautiful BMW before taking the Jeep out onto the dirt road and
heading north. I gave the folded map on the passenger's seat a dubious glance
and prayed I wouldn't need it. The interstate could take me all the way to the
Canadian border. I liked the idea of slipping into another country. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The guy at Walmart had assured me the Wifi on the pre-paid
phone would be nearly impossible to trace, but I didn’t want to take the risk.
When I had destroyed my old phone, I had also broken ties with Tom and all his
toxic messages.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">He would never find me.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I shook away my fears, reached into my bag, found a can, and
popped open a Red Bull. The caffeine needed to keep me awake until I reached
Cascadia.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">*JAMIE<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">When I spotted Kelvin Duran running, I took after him.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Donna Darlington toddled after him, her rolling pin raised
in the air. "I've got you now, you little bugger!" Donna, who had the
build of a bowling ball, stopped to catch her breath on the corner of Olympic
and Pine. Doubling over, she put her hands on her knees and wheezed.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I patted her on the back when I passed. "Don't worry.
I'll catch him."<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Jim Henry, in his battered Chevy, braked in the
intersection, missing me by a hair. He waved. "Go get 'em, sheriff!"<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I wasn't a sheriff, but Henry knew that, so I didn't stop to
correct him. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Kelvin dove into the hardware store.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I pounded after him.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Stan Jorgenson behind the counter didn’t looked up from his
Country Gardens magazine, but his lips twitched, and he pointed a long finger
toward the lumber aisle without saying a word. I caught a flash of Kelvin's red
sneakers rounding a stack of two-by-fours.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I sprinted after him. "Those don't belong to you,
Kelvin!"<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">A door banged, telling me my prey was now in the alley.
Swearing, I tore through the back room, vaulted over a stack of bagged potting
soil, and burst through the door. Outside, I looked in both directions and
caught my breath. The crisp late autumn air filled my lungs.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Grime and soot stained the buildings on either side, and the
occasional dumpster overflowed with garbage, filling the air with the stench of
rotting food. Puddles of murky water and discarded cigarette butts littered the
ground. Colorful murals and graffiti adorned the walls. Small doorways and
staircases leading to the buildings’ upper floors hid in the shadows. Kelvin
could have disappeared into any one of them.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Where was he? If he were hiding in the trash bins, was that
punishment enough?<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I went left, heading for Pine. When I reached the sidewalk,
I was rewarded by another Kelvin sighting. I sprinted after him, through
Legionnaire's Park, hurdling benches, avoiding a poodle on a leash, and past
the gazebo.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Kelvin flashed a terrified glance over his shoulder and
threw the bag of doughnuts at my head. I almost caught it, but my feet slipped
and I went down on one knee, breaking my fall with outstretched hands.
Doughnuts showered around me. A dog snuffled my hair.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">" ¡Maldito sea!"<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I looked up to see the most beautiful woman I'd ever met
staring down at me with large, amber eyes. She wore a pair of jeans and a white
button-down shirt that accentuated her tanned skin. A strawberry-shaped
birthmark sat just below her jawline. She tugged her dog, some sort of terrier
mix, away from the doughnuts.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Lo siento.” She fished a poop bag out of her backpack and
tossed it to me. Her gaze sent me an apology. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I inspected the bottom of my boot and tried to scrub it
clean with the bag. When I looked up, the woman, dog, and Kelvin had all
disappeared.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">A cluster of crows swooped in to take care of the doughnuts.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I headed back for the station, angry at myself and Kelvin in
equal measure, and hungry for doughnuts.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Chapter 2<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">*BELLE<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I followed the twisty road through a forest. The sun
flickered through the trees and cast shadows on the asphalt. I stopped and
pulled over when I got to a wrought-iron gate. The name on the adjacent mailbox
read Taggart.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Are you here, Faith?” I asked.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Atticus answered with a small woof.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I debated what to do for a moment, but then decided given
the sturdiness of the gates, there was little I could do, unless I was willing
to climb my way in.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Gates exist for a reason and that reason is they either want
to keep people in or out. If I wanted to find Faith, somehow, I would have to
scale the gates.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I put the car back into motion and headed for town on the
two lane road.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">More trees.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">A couple of logging trucks passed me. A man driving a bright
red tractor waved at me to drive around him. The forest gave way to a pasture
filled with horses and cows.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Ten minutes later, a thrill of excitement tingled down my
spine when I pulled up to the Dollhouse Inn. It was as creepy as Donovan had
promised.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Tucked away in a forgotten corner of town, and hidden by a
Hanse- and-Gretel-type forest, peeling paint covered the weathered and
dilapidated house. Gangly trees cast eerie shadows across the lawn. A rusty
sign hung above the entrance announced its vacancy.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The classic Victorian-style house had multiple stories.
Gables and dormers interrupted the roof lines and stared off in different
directions. Gingerbread trim and scrollwork hung from the eaves. There was not
one, but two turrets. One wrap-around porch. Two balconies. Three chimneys. It
was both hideous and glorious.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I loved it.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I parked the Jeep and pressed my finger to my lips, telling
Atticus to hush. I gave him a treat for good measure. Gathering up my bag, I
shouldered it, and climbed out. The damp air smelled of pine and a neighboring
farm. My excitement mounted with every step across the fallen leaf-strewn lawn.
The porch groaned when I took the steps and a bell jingled when I pulled open
the door.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I had found The Dollhouse Inn.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Now I needed to find Faith.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the gloom.
Floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with dolls in all shapes and sizes lined the
walls.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">A grizzled silver-haired woman reading Edgar Allen Poe’s
‘Telltale Heart.’ sat behind the desk. She looked up and gazed at me with
swimmy eyes. “May I help you?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Miss Martinez. Reserva?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">"No English?" <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I adopted my grandmother’s thick Hispanic accent. “Just a
little.” I held up my fingers in a near pinch.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">She slid a bookmarker between the pages and put her novel on
the counter with a thud. "Well, I don't care as long as your money is
good."<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I fished out my wallet and found a hundred-dollar bill.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The woman cackled and her eyes gleamed. “You’re a pretty
thing. I wonder what brought you out here. Guess I'll never know. I’ll give you
my favorite room, the one with the largest collection."<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Perfect.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The woman simpered and handed over the keys. “Room 14. Don’t
touch any of the dolls. It has an outside entrance. Just follow the porch
around to the back."<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I hesitated, unsure how to respond.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The woman heaved out of her chair and her knees popped.
"I guess I'll have to show you." She waddled out from behind the
desk.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I smiled, tried to look clueless, and followed her. Outside,
I breathed a little easier, appreciating the fresh air after my few minutes in
the dusty foyer. I prayed my room would be cleaner. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The woman paused at a red door, inserted a key, and pushed
it open.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The musty smell of old fabric and decaying wood greeted me.
Like the reception hall, the walls were lined with shelves upon shelves of
dolls. Some big. Some small. All of them creepy. I had to tuck my hands in my
pockets to keep from covering my nose.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The woman glowed with pride. "It's something, isn't it?
My aunt started the collection, but I added these babies from all over the
world." She stopped. "What am I saying? You can't understand
me." She pressed her hand to her chest. "My name is Phyllis."
She pronounced each word slowly and distinctly.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I mimicked her. "My—" I caught myself. “Belle.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">"It's nice to meet you, Mabel. I like a girl with an
old-fashioned name. I hope you'll be happy here."<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Should I correct her? I decided to let the slip pass.
"Gracias."<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I wandered into the room and dropped my bag on the bed.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">"Just ring if you need anything, but don’t try calling
anywhere but the front desk." Phyllis motioned to the old-fashioned phone
hunkered like a squatty toad on the bed stand before going out and pulling the
door behind her, leaving me alone…almost.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Most of the dolls had porcelain heads, with delicate
features and lifelike hair that seemed to shimmer in the dim light. Others were
made of stuffed fabric, their once vibrant colors faded and worn with age. And
then there were the dolls made of plastic, their cheap material giving them a
hollow, soulless quality.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">But it was the eyes that made the dolls so unsettling.
Glassy and lifeless, they seemed to follow me, watching. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">My gaze wandered the room, taking in the high ceilings, the
crumbling molding, the ornate woodwork surrounding the windows, and the sturdy
but stained wooden floors. The furniture was an eclectic mishmash–an art-deco
armoire, a mid-century dresser, a pot-bellied grandfather clock.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I nearly skipped into the bathroom where I
found a claw-footed tub, a black and white checked tile floor, a pedestal sink,
and a small stained-glass window above the toilet. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">My imagination soared. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">How many more rooms were there? Did every room have a
private bath? How much would a place like this cost, and how could I convince
Phyllis to sell?<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Desperate to show someone my find, I went back to the car to
fetch Atticus. I knew he wouldn't be impressed, but he was glad to see me. Of
course, I hadn't mentioned the dog to Phyllis. I hoped she wouldn't care, but I
wasn't about to ask. Atticus stopped to pee on the lawn. I took the moment to
further inspect the house.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I had to renovate it. My followers would eat it up.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Atticus barked, reminding me of Tom.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I couldn't buy this place, even if it was for sale. I
couldn't renovate it, and I most certainly couldn't post pictures on my
website.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">What was I going to do?<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The answer was almost immediate, as if someone had whispered
it in my ear. Find Faith.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">*JAMIE<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I double-checked the bottom of my shoe before entering the
station. A bell jangled when I pushed open the door. Inside, the office looked
exactly the same as it had when I had first come here as a Boy Scout. A few
desks and chairs, a filing cabinet, and a map of the town on the wall. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Sheriff Hudson MacPherson, a tall, broad-shouldered man with
a weathered face, sat at his desk, reviewing a report. He had been the sheriff
of Cascadia for over twenty years, and he knew the town and its people better
than anyone. Even me, and, other than my years at college and the police
academy, I had lived here all of my life.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Taylor sat at her desk across the room, typing up a report.
She was about ten years my senior, with short blonde hair and a no-nonsense
attitude. She had been with the department for five years but because she lived
in Everette, she complained most Cascadians still treated her as an outsider.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The phone on MacPherson's desk rang, and he answered it with
a gruff "Sheriff's office, MacPherson speaking."<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I only half-listened to the conversation, my attention
drifting when it became clear he was talking to someone about having the
furnace repaired. What I hadn’t realized when joining the force three months
ago was that police work was twenty percent helping people and eighty percent
paperwork.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">When the sheriff hung up the phone, Taylor approached him
with her report. He glanced over it and nodded his approval before handing it
back to her.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">"Looks good," he said.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">She smiled, lapping up the compliment.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">MacPherson glanced over at me, his gaze lingering on the
grass stains on the knees of my pants, making me grateful he couldn't see the
bottom of my shoes. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">When I left the farm, I had hoped to spend less time
wallowing in muck. I rubbed my shoe on the mat under my desk. I didn’t regret
opting to be a cop rather than staying and working for the family business, but
sometimes I thought about joining a larger force where chasing Kelvin Duran
wasn’t a weekly occurrence.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The sheriff pinned me with a don't argue with me look.
"I need you to go out to The Dollhouse. Phyliss claims there's been
another theft."<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Taylor smirked and ducked her head to hide her glee she was
no longer the new guy.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I fiddled with my pencil and tapped the pile of papers on my
desk. They weren’t interesting, of course, but they seemed like a better use of
my time than visiting Phyllis’s creepy doll collection. "That's her third
call this week."<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">"It's a wonder she can even tell any of them are
missing," Taylor said. “There are so many.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I reached for my keys. "I think she has them all
named."<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">MacPherson and Taylor's laughter followed me out the door.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I passed Kelvin on my way out of town.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">He slunk over the railroad tracks.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I stopped at an intersection and watched him disappear into
the trees bordering the Evergreen Estates—a mobile home community filled with
mostly senior citizens and retired loggers. An uncomfortable thought crossed my
mind. What if Kelvin had been hungry?<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I shook the worry away. The school provided free breakfasts
and lunches--not that Kelvin was a model student. Still, my new concern stuck
with me like an itch begging for a scratch all the way to The Dollhouse Inn.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">*BELLE<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The sound of raised voices floated through the window.
Atticus sat in a chair, his nose poking between the slats of the blinds. He
growled low and deep. I patted the bed, trying to distract him. "Come,
boy," I urged.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">He skated me a quick sideways glance and went back to
growling at the unknown voices outside our door.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Unhappy at the interruption, I put my book aside and crawled
off the bed to investigate.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">A woman lost in that space between forty and sixty that made
it impossible to tell her age stood before Phyllis, her arm raised toward the
house. I strained to hear their conversation. The woman, with her face screwed
with frustration, looked upset, but not nearly as emotional as Phyllis who was
wringing her hands and crying.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">A police patrol car roared up the drive and the officer who
had stepped in Atticus's calling card climbed out. The women immediately
hushed, but Phyllis's shoulders continued to shake.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Atticus yapped.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Cursing, I scooped him up and hurried him into the bathroom.
He barked out a complaint, but I closed the door on him, returned to the
window, and peeked between the blinds.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Atticus scratched the door and whined.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The officer, with his dark curly hair and a swarthy build,
reminded me of Leo, and my heart twisted with loneliness. His brown eyes swung
in my direction. I let the blinds drop close and pressed myself up against the
wall, my heart hammering.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">My phone, sitting on top of the nightstand, buzzed and slid
onto the floor. I scooped it up, if only to hush it, and recognized Courtney’s
number on the screen.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">"Hey," I breathed into the phone, willing my heart
to slow.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">"Belle? You okay?"<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I gulped. "Yep. I'm fine."<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I gave the officer beyond the window another cursory glance.
I was glad to see the two women now had his full attention. Crossing the room
beneath the doll's watchful eyes, I let Atticus out of the bathroom. He shook
himself, gave me a resentful glance, and curled up on his bed with a huff.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">My homesickness, like a cancer, swelled. Just hearing
Courtney’s voice made me choke up. "How are you?" <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">"Did you find The Dollhouse Inn? Is it as horrid as
Donovan said?"<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">"Better and worse." I plopped onto the bed and
pulled my down quilt around my knees. The familiar scent of my laundry soap
wafted my way. At Donovan's suggestion, I had brought my own linens.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Courtney giggled. "You make it sound like you're going
to marry it."<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">"I wish I could. I love it that much."<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">"Put me on Facetime!" Courtney demanded.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">"I can't...I lost my phone, remember?" Not quite a
lie. "I had to buy a new one. That's why I have a new number."<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">"What does that have to do with Facetime?"<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">"I don't have WiFi."<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The news must have stunned Courtney, because she fell silent
for a couple of beats. "No internet?"<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">"No."<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">"I can't even go there."<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">"Well, you don't have to, but I did."<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">"No social media?"<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">"None."<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">"But your followers…"<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">"I'm hoping there'll be computers at the library."<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">"Whoah." Courtney fell silent again as if she
needed time to process my news. "Why are you doing this?"<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">"You've heard of a social media fast."<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">"Of course. It's something old people do to remind them
of their oldy-moldy days." She paused again. "Should I visit
you?"<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">"Courtney, I'm fine. Besides, I’ll be home before you
know it"<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">"Will you take pictures?"<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">"Of course."<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The sound of raised voices returned. I unfolded off the bed
and returned to the window. The two women were fighting again and the police
officer had disappeared. He reminded me of my current predicament.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Courtney, you can’t tell anyone where I am.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“I already made that pinky-promise.” She made it sound as if
we were playing a game, but she didn’t know how high the stakes were.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Should I tell her? Or, would her knowing just make things
worse? Was she safer the less she knew?<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Tom was involved with really scary people,” I began.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Then I’m glad I never met him. It’s still crazy to me that
you met and almost married him during my internship.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I had actually met Tom a week before Courtney had left for
Italy, but still, the whole affair had been fast and furious. I reflected on
those first heady three weeks when I had thought all those stories of love at
first sight had come true for me. Tom had swept me off the dance floor when I’d
twisted my ankle, carried me to my car, and hired an Uber to drive me home. The
next day, a dozen roses had been delivered to my apartment. We went to a
beachside restaurant the next night–him, stunning in a cashmere sweater and
black pants–me, wobbling on a pair of crutches. We saw each other every day for
the first week. He gave me diamond earrings on the first month anniversary of
the night we met. He proposed on the cliffs above Malibu after three months.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">"Are you listening to me?" Courtney asked.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">"I'm sorry," I said, floundering to catch up.
"Luke said what?"<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">"I wasn't talking about Luke."<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">It had been a good guess. Courtney talked about Luke about
ninety percent of the time. I dialed back into the conversation, grateful for
the distraction from the dolls and my memories of Tom. After Courtney said
goodnight, I listened to Atticus’ gentle snores and let my mind wander over my
hasty decisions that had landed me here.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Later that night, after I’d finally been able to sleep, I
woke when I heard a sound.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Tom! Had he found me?<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">My eyes snapped open, my heart pounded and a cold shiver
crept down my spine. In the house’s dim, moonlit darkness, an eerie creaking
sound echoed through the halls. I lay in the corpse position, straining to
catch any further sounds.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">What had come first? The noises? Or the dreams of Tom?<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">My mind raced, imagination weaving sinister scenarios. The
creaking sounds intensified. Outside, the wind seemed to whisper nightmares,
its fingers brushing against the windowpanes. A distant branch tapped
insistently on the glass. The rhythm sounded like an unknown code.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Was my imagination on overdrive, or was something more
menacing at play? My gaze darted to the antique grandfather clock in the
corner, its pendulum swinging hypnotically. The rhythmic ticking which had
earlier seemed like soothing lullaby, now mimicked a heartbeat. My thoughts
went back to Phyllis reading Poe and his Tell-Tale Heart.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Could Phyllis be prowling about?<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Every creak of the floorboards and every sigh of the old
house settling seemed amplified, morphing into Tom’s heavy footsteps. I
clenched the bedsheets until my knuckles turned white with tension.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Why had I come here?<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">What had I hoped to prove?<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Was this labyrinthine Victorian mansion with its ornate
details a picture-perfect backdrop for a nightmare?<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Swallowing hard, I strained my ears again, my senses attuned
to the slightest noise. Was that a faint rustling sound? A whisper of movement
from somewhere beyond my closed bedroom door? Dread pooled in my stomach, my
muscles tensing like a coiled spring.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Seconds ticked by in agonizing silence, each one a nail in
the coffin of my rationality. I mustered the courage to slide my hand toward
the bedside table, fingers inching toward my phone.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I froze with the realization the call could be traced back
to me.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">There had to be a landline at the front desk, right?<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I shot Atticus a quick glance. He lay snoring on his bed,
chasing bunnies in his sleep. Falling back against my pillows, I stared at the
ceiling and willed my heart to slow. It had all been a bad dream. A nightmare.
Just like everything else about Tom.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Still, sleep eluded me. I crawled from the bed and crept
across the room.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Atticus snorted and shifted when I opened the door, but
didn’t wake.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The door snicked close behind me. Pale moonlight shot
through the tree boughs. The brisk night air hit my lungs. An owl winged
overhead. Shivering from cold or fright, I followed the porch to the front
entrance. The night, full of shadows, was sleeping. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">What had I expected to find? Three cars were parked in the
lot. One was my Jeep. One must belong to Phyllis, so who drove the other car?<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I crossed my arms when a chilly breeze stirred the air.
Goosebump rose on my arms. A sound drove my attention to the stained-glass
doors.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">A shadow darted past the window.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Someone was skulking in the main parlor, and they had a bag
in one hand! The sound of glass shattering rent the air. Cursing followed.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">My fingers flew to my lips. Was it Tom? How had he found me?<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">My first thought was to bolt to my Jeep, but I didn’t have
my keys. I would have to return to my room, which would wake Atticus who could
be noisy. I took a deep breath, debating on what to do.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The backdoor opened and closed. Footsteps pounded along the
porch.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Gulping a deep breath, I tried the front door. It opened
easily and without a sound. I scurried to the receptionist desk, squatted
behind it, and picked up the old-fashioned phone and cradled it in my lap. With
trembling hands, I dialed 911, my voice barely a whisper. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">While I waited for the reassuring voice of the dispatcher,
my gaze darted around the foyer, conjuring shadows into Tom-like figures. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The old house seemed to hold its breath, its secrets closing
in like a tightening noose. I clung to the phone, feeling the seconds stretch
like an eternity until the distant wail of sirens cut through the night.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Relief flooded through my nerves as the red and blue lights
illuminated the front parlor, banishing the darkness and uncertainty. I peeked
through the window and watched the police car skid to a halt. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b>ChatGPT<o:p></o:p></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">This first chapter sets the stage for a gripping romantic
suspense novel, skillfully blending elements of romance, mystery, and tension.
The writing effectively conveys the protagonist's emotional turmoil and the
mysterious circumstances surrounding her departure. Here are some points of
analysis:<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b>1. Emotional Depth:<o:p></o:p></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The opening lines capture the protagonist's emotional pain
and the significance of leaving behind a cherished possession, the BMW
convertible. This emotional depth adds a layer to the character and sets the
tone for the story.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b>2. Tension and Mystery:<o:p></o:p></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The mysterious circumstances surrounding the protagonist's
departure and her reluctance to disclose details build intrigue. The sense of
urgency is palpable, especially when she hands over the keys to her Jeep and
insists on secrecy from her brother's best friend.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b>3. Character Dynamics:<o:p></o:p></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The relationship between the protagonist (Belle) and Regi is
established with a mix of nostalgia, concern, and secrecy. Regi's protective
nature adds complexity to the characters, and the unspoken tension adds an air
of mystery.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b>4. Setting Description:<o:p></o:p></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The vivid descriptions of the surroundings, from the dark
fields to the starlit night, contribute to the atmosphere. The transition from
the urban setting of L.A. to the desolate dirt road creates a stark contrast
that enhances the sense of a life-changing journey.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b>5. Foreshadowing:<o:p></o:p></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The mention of Leo, the protagonist's brother, and the fear
of his reaction foreshadow potential complications and conflicts in the future.
This adds anticipation and keeps the reader engaged.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b>6. Dual Perspectives:<o:p></o:p></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The alternating perspectives between Belle and Jamie provide
a multi-dimensional view of the unfolding events. This technique helps to weave
separate storylines together, creating a sense of interconnectedness.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b>7. Intriguing Secondary Characters:<o:p></o:p></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The introduction of secondary characters, such as Phyllis
and the police officer, adds layers to the plot. Phyllis's doll collection and
the mysterious theft at The Dollhouse Inn introduce an element of mystery and
perhaps a subplot.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b>8. Pacing and Suspense:<o:p></o:p></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The pacing is well-maintained, with a good balance of
action, dialogue, and introspection. The suspense is built gradually, keeping
the reader eager to uncover the secrets behind Belle's escape and the events at
The Dollhouse Inn.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b>9. Descriptive Language:<o:p></o:p></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Descriptive language, especially when portraying the
Dollhouse Inn, creates a vivid image in the reader's mind. The contrast between
the exterior and interior of the inn adds to its enigmatic allure.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b>10. Internal Conflict:<o:p></o:p></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Belle's internal conflict and self-reflection add depth to
her character. The juxtaposition of her past memories and the present decision
to leave everything behind hints at a complex backstory that readers will
likely want to explore further.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b>In conclusion,</b> the first chapter effectively
establishes the foundation for a romantic suspense novel, combining emotional
depth, mystery, and well-developed characters. The blend of dual perspectives,
foreshadowing, and descriptive writing keeps the reader engaged and sets the
stage for a compelling narrative.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3597827761483000345.post-59324387875935058892023-11-22T07:48:00.000-08:002023-11-22T07:48:04.725-08:00Wednesday's Word: PIANO. An Excerpt from my Work in Progress, Small Town Escape<p> Welcome to Wednesday's Words where I share a snippet from one of my stories using yesterday's word from the New York game Wordle. Yesterday's Wordle was PIANO.</p><p><br /></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-452ec66a-7fff-5d27-40dd-16579652ebb1"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="color: #374151; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The moon cast an eerie glow upon the worn bricks and faded sign of the old mortuary. A wrought-iron gate creaked open.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="color: #374151; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> A grizzled-haired man stooped with age and clad in a tattered cloak greeted us. “Welcome to the realm of the macabre,” he said in a voice that spoke of years of tobacco abuse. He held an inverted top hat by the rim for Jamie to drop his donation into.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="color: #374151; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I moved for my wallet, but Jamie stopped me. “I got this. You didn’t even want to come.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="color: #374151; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">True story.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="color: #374151; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“This probably isn’t a very good time to tell you that I’ve never been very brave,” I admitted, wrapping my hand around Jamie’s arm.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="color: #374151; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Really?” Jamie asked. “That surprises me.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="color: #374151; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Why?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="color: #374151; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Well, because you came all the way to Cascadia, a town that no one knows, from Mexico! By yourself! I don’t know what made you do that, but I think it took a lot of courage.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="color: #374151; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Maybe it was scarier to stay.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="color: #374151; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jamie placed his hand over mine. “You don’t need to be scared here. This place is run by the local senior center. Everyone is harmless.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="color: #374151; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Together we climbed the steps. Inside, the air was thick with must and billowing mist. Dim, flickering lights illuminated the narrow hallway, and cast long, dancing shadows along peeling wallpaper. Cobwebs lined the corners, and dust particles danced in the glow. Antique furniture draped in dusty sheets lined the passage. A chilling breeze swept by as a distant door opened and closed.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="color: #374151; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Another attendant with a lace shawl draped over her shoulders, gave us a wicked smile. Her wrinkled hands held a flickering candle that cast an eerie shadow on her faces.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="color: #374151; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We ventured deeper. Lifelike mannequins dressed in vintage funeral attire stood frozen, their hollow eyes following our movements. The attendants, with theatrical flair, whispered among themselves.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="color: #374151; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">In the front parlor, the haunting melody of an old piano drifted through the air. The knitting circle, a group of senior ladies dressed in black, huddled near a potbellied stove, their needles clacking. Cobweb-covered candelabras, faded funeral bouquets, and antique furniture filled the room.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="color: #374151; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jamie and I exchanged uneasy glances, unsure of where to go next.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="color: #374151; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">One of the old ladies looked up, her eyes twinkling. "Oh, young dearies, you've stumbled upon our little sanctuary. Care to join us for a seance?"</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="color: #374151; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">"No, thank you.” Jamie steered me back out into the hall. “We'll just, um, continue our tour."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="color: #374151; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This place gives me the creeps," I whispered, my voice barely audible over the distant creaking of floorboards.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="color: #374151; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jamie chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Come on, Belle. It's just a bit of fun. What could go wrong in a place like this?"</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="color: #374151; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We moved through the narrow hallways, guided only by the flickering light of vintage chandeliers swinging overhead. Dust particles floated in the air, catching the light.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="color: #374151; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We rounded a corner, and the door to the embalming room groaned open. Stainless steel tables, now draped with moth-eaten cloth, lined the room. Antique embalming tools were displayed in a glass case, their once-sharp edges now dulled by time.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="color: #374151; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I tried not to sprint the exit. I breathed easier once we were outside. Orange lights strung overhead lit booths where locals sold pumpkins, painted gourds, and crafts. A man dressed like a vampire played The Addams Family Theme song on an accordion.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="color: #374151; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I willed myself to relax. “It was silly to be such a scaredy cat.” But those words just made me think of Scout and I shivered.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="color: #374151; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Are you alright?” Jamie asked, sounding more concerned than the situation deserved.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="color: #374151; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Of course.” I added a chuckle to be more convincing.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="color: #374151; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Young Haywood!” An elderly woman dressed in a raggedy wedding gown toddled toward us. “Can you help me?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="color: #374151; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Of course, Mrs. Pearson.” Jamie stood up taller. “What’s the matter?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="color: #374151; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“It’s Hector. He’s climbed a tree and refuses to come down.” Mrs. Pearson waved her arms in distress. “I think the haunted house has him spooked.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="color: #374151; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“You’ll be okay if I help Hector?” Jamie whispered in my ear.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="color: #374151; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I thought of pointing out that he wasn’t on duty, but reconsidered. What harm could come to me here? “Of course. Go! Save the cat!”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="color: #374151; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jamie dropped a kiss on my cheek, before hurrying after Mrs. Pearson. I raised my hand to wear Jamie had kissed me and a tingle traveled through my fingers, down my arm, and settled in my belly.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="color: #374151; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He was too good to be true. He was much too good to be lied to.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="color: #374151; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Excuse me, how much is this?” A woman about my age wearing a witch’s hat and a long black dress held up a gourd for the man in the booth to see.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="color: #374151; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Seven dollars,” he answered.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="color: #374151; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I stared at the woman. “Faith?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="color: #374151; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She flashed me a glance. “What? This is hardly the place to preach your religion.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="color: #374151; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I’m not…sorry.” My thoughts stammered. “I thought you were someone else. Faith. Faith Taggart.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="color: #374151; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The woman gave me a frown, paid for the gourd and moved away.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="color: #374151; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Feeling awkward, I bought a cup of hot apple cider from a woman stirring a smoking cauldron, and sat on a hay bale to wait for Jamie to return.</span></p></span><br class="Apple-interchange-newline" /><p> </p><div><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3597827761483000345.post-68915961341201890292023-11-20T07:56:00.000-08:002023-11-20T07:56:15.467-08:00Story Ideas<p> <span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;">Probably the most common question people ask me about writing is where I get my ideas. Generally, I tell them my ideas come from living. Recently, I got an idea from death.</span></p><p style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.5px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px; padding: 0px;"> </p><p style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.5px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px; padding: 0px;">My sister-in-law's diagnosis came just a few weeks before her death, giving her and her family very little time to grasp the new reality.</p><p style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.5px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px; padding: 0px;"> </p><p style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.5px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px; padding: 0px;">A few days before Vickie died, I had a death dream. One moment I was driving a car around a bend and the next I was floating above a field. Immediately I realized that although I was outside above a frost covered the field—I wasn’t cold. Wind moved the trees, but I felt nothing as I watched the scene of the accident. A few minutes later all sounds disappeared and everything around me became eerily quiet.</p><p style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.5px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px; padding: 0px;"> </p><p style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.5px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px; padding: 0px;">I thought of my husband and suddenly I was where he was. I watched him receive the news of my death. I had the same experience with each of my children.</p><p style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.5px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px; padding: 0px;"> </p><p style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.5px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px; padding: 0px;">I woke before dawn and I did what I often do when I’m upset. I put on my running shoes, plugged in my IPod and headed outside. The world was covered with frost (I was in Washington, visiting my family—the world in California, where I live, is rarely covered in frost) but unlike in my dream, my feet were firmly planted on the ground.</p><p style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.5px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px; padding: 0px;"> </p><p style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.5px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px; padding: 0px;">As I ran I thought about my dream and related it to writing. In my dream I was able to watch my loved ones receive the news of my death, but what if a writer was able to watch readers read her books? How would that change the writer and her work?</p><p style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.5px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px; padding: 0px;"> </p><p style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.5px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px; padding: 0px;">This is just one example of how one writer (me) gets her (my) ideas.</p><p style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.5px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px; padding: 0px;">Right now, I have a lot of ideas spinning in my head. I would love your opinion! I have a number of books I wrote early in my career. Some have little to do with each other. I also have a slew of short stories and novellas that are all over the place. I would like to rework four of the books and several of the short stories/novellas and tie them into a series. Here are the options I'm considering:</p><p style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.5px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px; padding: 0px;">1. Create a therapist character who has a podcast and these are stories from his podcast. (Like The New York Times Modern Love series.) I like this idea, because I have a niece who is a therapist and she would be an awesome reference. I dislike this idea because I have a writing friend who is going to use the same concept for her murder mystery series.</p><p style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.5px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px; padding: 0px;">2. Have all of the characters live in the same small town and belong to a book club. (This is the one I'm leaning toward.) All of the characters will be introduced in the first novella, and each of them will have a story to tell. (Like Chaucer's Canterbury Tales.) The final novella will have them all tied together.</p><p style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.5px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px; padding: 0px;">Here are the novels and stories I would string together in the series. Below are the books and stories. Some are currently published. Some have been unpublished. Some have never been published.</p><p style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.5px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px; padding: 0px;">CARLY AND THE CHRISTIAN COWBOY</p><p style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.5px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px; padding: 0px;">A GHOST OF A SECOND CHANCE <a data-link-id="1242674454" href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B007IK0KZK" style="color: #006ae3;" target="_blank">available on Amazon</a></p><p style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.5px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px; padding: 0px;">EXCERPT FROM VERITY</p><p style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.5px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px; padding: 0px;">THE RHYMES LIBRARY</p><p style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.5px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px; padding: 0px;">EXCERPT FROM RITA</p><p style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.5px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px; padding: 0px;">HAILEY'S COMMENTS</p><p style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.5px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px; padding: 0px;">THE EDIT <a data-link-id="1242674455" href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01N7W0JLS" style="color: #006ae3;" target="_blank">available on Amazon</a></p><p style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.5px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px; padding: 0px;">LOSING PENNY</p><p style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.5px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px; padding: 0px;">ANYWHERE ELSE <a data-link-id="1242674456" href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01HON0TI8" style="color: #006ae3;" target="_blank">available on Amazon</a></p><p style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.5px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px; padding: 0px;">THE PICNIC</p><p style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.5px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px; padding: 0px;">RETURN TO CINDER <a data-link-id="1242674457" href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01N1VJ1EE" style="color: #006ae3;" target="_blank">available on Amazon</a></p><p style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.5px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px; padding: 0px;">Which I idea do you prefer? Or, do you have a better idea of your own?</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3597827761483000345.post-87475258508953209482023-11-13T09:58:00.000-08:002023-11-13T09:58:40.056-08:00The Christmas Coins<p><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 18px;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="mlContentTable" style="max-width: 560px; width: 560px;"><tbody><tr><td style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.5px;"><p style="line-height: 19.5px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-size: 18px;"><em>The Christmas Coins </em></span><span style="font-size: 18px;">was inspired by the parable of the lost coin. (Luke 15:8-10)</span></p><p style="line-height: 19.5px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-size: 18px;"><em> What woman having ten pieces of silver, if she lose one piece, doth not light a candle, and sweep the house, and seek diligently till she find it?</em></span></p><p style="line-height: 19.5px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-size: 18px;"><em>And when she hath found it, she calleth her friends and her neighbours together, saying, Rejoice with me; for I have found the piece which I had lost.</em></span></p><p style="line-height: 19.5px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-size: 18px;">I love so much about this parable. I love that the woman's first act is to light a candle. She shines a light on the loss--she doesn't try to hide it, but she examines it. Then, she cleans house! The cleaning is part and parcel of the seeking. She doesn't sit and wait for someone else to come and help, instead; she gets busy.</span></p><p style="line-height: 19.5px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-size: 18px;">I hope whatever you're looking for in your life; you find. Sometimes, it's hard to know exactly what will make us happy. So often, I find myself looking in all the wrong places, climbing all the wrong ladders, and chasing the wrong dreams. I have to stop and remember that I might not know which tail (or, as an author--which</span><span style="font-size: 18px;"> </span><em style="font-size: 18px;">tale</em><span style="font-size: 18px;">) I should be chasing, but Heaven does. And Heaven's help is just a prayer away.</span></p><p style="line-height: 19.5px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px; padding: 0px;"><a data-link-id="1238706503" href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B081Y5RD42" style="color: #006ae3;" target="_blank"><img src="https://bucket.mlcdn.com/a/723/723287/images/3af54160e19bd1ccbca12b3d7cdf920793975137.jpeg" style="margin: 5px 0px;" width="100%" /></a></p><p style="line-height: 19.5px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px; padding: 0px;"> </p><p style="line-height: 19.5px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: justify;"><strong><span style="font-size: 18px;"><em>When your prayers are answered in unexpected ways...</em></span></strong><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 18px;"><em>For more than a hundred years, Zoe Hart's family has been buying keepsake gold coins and banking them in a small wooden box treasured by each generation. When Zoe loses the box--a precious symbol of her family's dreams for so long--she is heart-sick.</em></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 18px;"><em>When Ethan and his daughter Hannah face a crisis, Hannah prays for help. When she finds the coin box, she believes her prayer has been answered.</em></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 18px;"><em>But prayers can have many answers... and not only what is wished for. And sometimes, the greatest miracles hoped for are the least of the blessings bestowed.</em></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 18px;"><em>Book four in the popular Canterbury Romance series. All books can easily be enjoyed in any order.</em></span><br /><span style="font-size: 18px;"><em>USA Today bestselling author Kristy Tate returns with another clean and wholesome romance that will be sure to warm the hearts of Hallmark movie fans. If you like sweet romances with a touch of magic, be sure and pick up your copy of Christmas Coins today.</em></span></p><p style="line-height: 19.5px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 18px;"><em><a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B081Y5RD42">READ NOW</a></em></span></p></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><p><br /></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3597827761483000345.post-71915469655657622942023-11-08T11:39:00.004-08:002023-11-08T11:39:43.629-08:00Wednesday's Words: Limit. An Excerpt from Small Town Shenanigans<p> Welcome to Wednesday's Words where I share a snippet from one of my stories using yesterday's word from the New York game Wordle. Yesterday's Wordle was LIMIT. </p><p><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Small-Town-Shenanigans-Romance-Suspense-ebook/dp/B0CHTNNRMF">Small Town Shenanigans is now available on Amazon</a></p><p><br /></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">The glint in Brook’s eyes when he watched Sydney cross the room made me itch. “So,” I said rather loudly, hoping to draw his attention away from Sydney’s retreating, and lovely, backside, “who do you think is responsible?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Brook swiveled my way once Sydney disappeared behind the restroom door. “Bellemont, of course.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“I’m her attorney and I can assure you she’s more upset about this situation than you.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Brook’s eyebrow lifted and he leaned forward, suddenly alert. “You know who she is?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“I can’t tell you,” I bit out.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Brook sat back with a huff. “Of course not.” He considered me. “Does she really know where the treasure is?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">I lifted my hands in a who knows gesture. “I would guess not since she’s not the one sending you those letters.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Brook looked grim. “If this whole thing is a hoax, people are going to blame me.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“That’s a legitimate concern.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“It could kill my business.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“You’re the only bookstore in thirty miles,” I pointed out. I considered mentioning asking that since his business was in a tiny town, how good could it be? But decided to stay on his good side. “And the closest library is in ten miles. If people are looking for something to read, there aren’t a lot of options.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“You’re right.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">An awkward silence fell between us, and I worried about Sydney.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“Did the letters come all at once?” I asked.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“No. I get them the day before. They come with instructions.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“Did you hide the one at the quarry?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“No. I get the clue just like everyone else, but I’m exempt from winning. I was told if I follow the instructions, I’m guaranteed a reward.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“A reward, huh?” I asked. “It must be pretty sizeable if it’s worth not searching for the Penn treasure.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“A bird in the hand and all that,” Brook said with a shrug.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Something banged in the alleyway.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Brook shot a glance in that direction. “I wonder what that was.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“Probably a cat or a dog or something.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Brook twitched. “Could be someone trying to steal the clues.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“I get why you’re nervous,” I told him, “but Cascadia is usually a safe place.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“But right now, it’s full of weirdos.” Brook shivered. “This whole thing has got me spooked.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Sydney emerged from the bathroom looking winded and red-faced.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">I bounced to my feet. “Are you ready to go?” I asked her.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“Are you?” she returned.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“Sure.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Brook also stood. I shook his hand. “Thanks for meeting with us.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">I put my hand on the small of Sydney’s back and led her out of the store.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">The sun had disappeared while we were talking to Brook and a few stars twinkled in a periwinkle sky. Sydney waited until we crossed the street before saying, “I had to crawl out the bathroom window and sneak in through the backdoor to check out the typewriter.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“But I didn’t hear the typewriter. I listened.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“It was electric—which was good—so it was probably quieter than you expected.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“Did you get a sample?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Sydney grinned. “I want you to appreciate how difficult this was. First, I had to find the typewriter, then I had to locate an outlet, and then I needed paper. Oh, also, I had to turn it on. There was a button on the side that wasn’t obvious.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“So, all of that and—”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Sydney pulled out a piece of paper with THIS IS FOR DALLAS typed on it. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">I drove the rest of the way to the cemetery with my hands griping the steering wheel so tightly, they were clenched and cramping by the time we arrived. I parked outside the gates. A crowd had already gathered near the entrance.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“Come on.” I took her elbow. “I know another way in.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Together, we headed into the dark, cold night. The moon had nearly reached its zenith, but wispy clouds dimmed its shimmery light. Mist hung in the trees and blew through the cemetery like ghosts on an urgent errand. We skirted around the stone wall, hesitant to enter the graveyard. I took her hand and gazed over the tombstones. Some stood tall and erect, but others tilted, as if tired of standing as sentinels for the dead.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">A dark shadow appeared from behind a monolith, and Sydney screamed as the cloaked apparition removed his hood. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">A tall man with dark blond hair stood before us.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“Reagan!” Sydney exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“Emma told me you’d be here.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Reagan’s gaze—hostile with a touch of curiosity—cut to me.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Sydney made the introductions, referring to Reagan as ‘her friend,’ making Reagan’s jaw tighten.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“You goon,” she said. “Where did you get the cloak?” She stared at him as if she’d never seen him before. “This is really not like you.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Reagan looked pleased with himself and swished the cape as if he was a model on the runway. “My neighbor is into cosplay. I told him where I was headed, and he told me I needed it. I wasn’t sure, but the midnight in the cemetery convinced me.” He glanced around and the crowd milling about us. “Any idea what’s happening tonight?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“No,” I said. I wanted to tell him to go away, but knew I didn’t have the right.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“I’m glad you’re feeling better,” Sydney said. “I’m not sure those pills sit well with you.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“They seemed like a good idea at the time,” Reagan muttered, sounding defensive.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Sydney grew suddenly silent and still. Her eyes widened and she barked out a laugh. “Look!”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“A headless horseman!” someone cried out.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">A tall figure on a black stallion thundered past. I pulled Sydney against my chest, not because I feared for her safety—we were yards away from the dark rider—but because I wanted to, and it kept her away from Reagan.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Sydney moved away and rummaged through her bag.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“Where’s the clue?” I asked.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Sydney pulled her dog-eared copy of </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Musings</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;"> out of her bag. “That </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">was</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;"> the clue.” She dropped onto a headstone and turned on the flashlight app on her phone.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">That</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;"> was the clue?” Reagan echoed, sounding as confused as I felt.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“There isn’t a headless horseman in </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Musings</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">,” Sydney said without looking up. “But there are storm riders.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“Storm riders? Reagan echoed.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Sydney nodded. “They hunt down the living and recruit them into the Underworld. They ride on stormy nights in what’s called the Wild Hunt. In Musings, they heard barks of dogs, the rhythmic sound of hooves, and the haunting melodies of hunting horns on stormy nights. There was speculation that the leader of the Wild was Odin or Woden, the chief deity of the Norse gods, or Satan, King Arthur, or Herne the Hunter. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Like a lot of Musings, it was inspired by legends. One particular myth is tied to Cadbury Castle in Somerset, often considered the former location of King Arthur's Camelot. According to the tale, on wild winter nights, the sound of King Arthur and his hounds racing along a nearby old lane.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“But I thought Musings was inspired by Greek Mythology,” I said.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“I don’t think Bellmont felt limited by any one lore,” Sydney said. “If it was fantastic, he would use it.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“He?” Reagan echoed.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Sydney and I exchanged glances.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“So, you’ve met </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">him</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">,” Reagan said.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">When Sydney didn’t answer, Reagan turned to me. “You’re Bellemont’s attorney?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“And you’ve met him, too? Why all the cloak and dagger?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“I’ve actually known…her…for most of my life. I just had no idea he had this secret identity.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“Is he completely bonkers?” Reagan asked.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“No. Not at all. If you knew who him, you might understand.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Reagan stuffed his hands into the pockets of his cloak. “If I had written a bestselling book, I wouldn’t be ashamed of it.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“I don’t think he’s ashamed. I think it’s more a matter of protecting his privacy and not wanting to be bothered.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Sydney looked up. “Do you know what I think is curious? When he published the book, how did he know he’d need a pen name? Do you think he had any idea of how popular it would be?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“Do you think his mystique adds to the popularity?” Reagan asked.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Mystique wasn’t a word I would use to describe Gerard, but I couldn’t say that to Reagan. “I doubt it,” I said. “Did you find what you’re looking for?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Sydney balanced the book in her lap and held her phone above it. Around us, the crowd had thinned.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“The trow is mentioned on page 204.” Sydney frowned. “That’s not much of a clue. ‘In the dark shadow of the grove, on the margin of the brook, he beheld something huge, misshapen, black, and towering. It stirred not, but seemed gathered up in the gloom, like some gigantic monster ready to spring upon the traveler.’”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“Is that from </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Musings</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">?” Reagan asked. “I thought it was more of a teeny-bopper romance.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Sydney bristled. “He’s quoting Washington Irving.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“Yes, but why?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“He’s a writer and she’s a muse.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“I thought the main character was the muse of math and science,” I said.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“She is, but her sister is the muse of tragedy. Washington Irving’s Headless Horseman is a tragic literary figure.” Sydney sounded as if she were standing in front of an English lit class instead of sitting on a tombstone in a cemetery.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Reagan put his hands on his hips. “There has to be restroom around here somewhere.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“I’m not sure it would be open,” I said.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“Do you need to find a bush?” Sydney asked.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“I’m not going to find a bush,” Reagan muttered.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“Where are you staying?” I asked, praying he wouldn’t answer, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Sydney’s bedroom.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“At the inn,” he said, sounding gruff. “It seems to be party-central.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">An idea struck me. “Can you read that passage again?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“Sure.” Sydney cleared her throat before beginning. “In the dark shadow of the grove, on the margin of the </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">brook,</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;"> he beheld something huge, misshapen, black, and towering. It stirred not, but seemed gathered up in the gloom, like some gigantic monster ready to spring upon the traveler.” She looked up at me, wide-eyed. “Brooks Books?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“It has to be.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Sydney stood and tucked the book into the bag. “He wouldn’t be open now though, right?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“We’ll go first thing tomorrow morning,” I said.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“Good. I’ll meet you there,” Reagan said hurriedly. He strode away, making me wonder if he was going to find a tree, after all.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Sydney stood and looped her arm through mine. “I wouldn’t mind finding a restroom myself.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">I gave her sideways glance. She was so beautiful in the moonlight. I could hardly blame Reagan for following her across the country. “I’ll take you to it, but, like I said, I doubt it’s unlocked.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">She fell into step beside me.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“Have you broken things off with Reagan?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“I haven’t had the chance, but I’ll do it first thing in the morning.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“It would be kinder to do it now.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“Right now, I’d like to find a bathroom, and, I’m guessing, Reagan wants the same thing.” She chuckled. “For a brief moment, we both want the same thing.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“A brief moment?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“He told me he wants to leave the city and start a practice in Connecticut.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“Would that be so bad? Leaving the city, I mean?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“I can’t move away—” She caught herself and gave a little shake. “Emma’s moving to Seattle. I can hardly believe it.” I filled him in on Emma’s plans. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Hoping to comfort her, I rubbed her back as we walked, even though my heart skipped in hope. I tried to calm my feelings, telling myself that just because her sister moved here, that didn’t mean that she would want to follow. I reminded myself of Lisa and a cold gloom settled over me.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">A building appeared in the shadowy dark. I guided her to it. “The doors are probably locked, but it can’t hurt to check.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">The restroom, a stone building with a women’s room on one end and a men’s facility on the other, had been built ages ago. It had six-inch-high windows running just under the eaves. A light flickered inside.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“Someone is in there,” Sydney whispered.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“It could be a homeless person or, more likely, a competitor. Do you want me to go in with you?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“No.” Her answer was quick and decisive.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">With my back pressed up against the facility’s outer wall, I tried to convince myself that what I was trying to do—listen to Sydney pee—wasn’t stalkerish or creepy. Only she wasn’t peeing. Why wasn’t she peeing? Wouldn’t I be able to hear if she were? I circled the building. Rustling came from the men’s room. But she hadn’t gone in the men’s room. Still, someone was definitely in the men’s room. Could it be an animal? I slipped inside. The light automatically went on.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">A large black stallion tossed his mane and grunted. Ah, I had stumbled across the Storm Rider’s creature, which meant the rider had to be nearby.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“Hello?” I tried to peek beneath a stall and caught a glimpse of a pair of tall black leather boots.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">With a swirl of a dark cloak and a bang of the door, the rider strode out. He wielded a whip and aimed for my face. I ducked, and smacked my face against the sink.</span></p><p><span id="docs-internal-guid-4f02df40-7fff-0b78-00f2-252635b0e31f"></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">The rider swung up on the horse and disappeared through the open door with a clatter of hooves.</span></p><p><br /></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3597827761483000345.post-11982198282893511272023-11-06T11:52:00.001-08:002023-11-06T11:52:19.117-08:00Sweet Potato Soup Recipe<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJagdjkgRQsmTHsa440mBqQEh5q9u13xFKuLXyQ3A2sG7eaAqTK0LpkcBdj_yIztdG3ZEcxiwFiqLWCCmrstoFcE4pk4odhuGotng8JTjZ0oifj3Z-wzjRoC0VZWY-rRvSJD_miN-g9rSWp0wCDGTS76OC0lRKO_O-9rdDWLGUjK4BTm_rvtrJfmfdv5r7/s4032/IMG_1161.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="663" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJagdjkgRQsmTHsa440mBqQEh5q9u13xFKuLXyQ3A2sG7eaAqTK0LpkcBdj_yIztdG3ZEcxiwFiqLWCCmrstoFcE4pk4odhuGotng8JTjZ0oifj3Z-wzjRoC0VZWY-rRvSJD_miN-g9rSWp0wCDGTS76OC0lRKO_O-9rdDWLGUjK4BTm_rvtrJfmfdv5r7/w497-h663/IMG_1161.jpg" width="497" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>I love this sweet and spicy soup! It's a perfect gift for a friend on a chilly November day.</p><p>2 cups peeled and chopped sweet potato</p><p>1 large peeled, cored, and chopped apple</p><p>2 cups chicken broth</p><p>1 cup almond milk (or regular milk)</p><p>4 ounces cream cheese</p><p>1 medium chopped onion</p><p>2 cloves minced garlic</p><p>1 teaspoon cinnamon</p><p>1 teaspoon ginger</p><p>1 teaspoon nutmeg</p><p>Mix all ingredients in a crockpot and let simmer for about 3 hours. When the vegetables are mushy, puree in a blender. Enjoy! (Top with sunflower or pumpkin seeds if desired.)</p><p><br /></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3597827761483000345.post-44600374768469263032023-11-06T11:40:00.003-08:002023-11-06T12:05:53.154-08:00Gift Ideas and Giveaways!<p> It's the season of giving! So how about some gift idea giveaways? Here are 3 of my favorite things that you can enter to win.</p><p>1. Homemade soup. (Everyone who made it this far will receive my Sweet Potato Soup recipe. You can find it <a href="https://kristystories.blogspot.com/2023/11/sweet-potato-soup-recipe.html">here</a>.)</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJagdjkgRQsmTHsa440mBqQEh5q9u13xFKuLXyQ3A2sG7eaAqTK0LpkcBdj_yIztdG3ZEcxiwFiqLWCCmrstoFcE4pk4odhuGotng8JTjZ0oifj3Z-wzjRoC0VZWY-rRvSJD_miN-g9rSWp0wCDGTS76OC0lRKO_O-9rdDWLGUjK4BTm_rvtrJfmfdv5r7/s4032/IMG_1161.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJagdjkgRQsmTHsa440mBqQEh5q9u13xFKuLXyQ3A2sG7eaAqTK0LpkcBdj_yIztdG3ZEcxiwFiqLWCCmrstoFcE4pk4odhuGotng8JTjZ0oifj3Z-wzjRoC0VZWY-rRvSJD_miN-g9rSWp0wCDGTS76OC0lRKO_O-9rdDWLGUjK4BTm_rvtrJfmfdv5r7/s320/IMG_1161.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>2. This anthology is only .99 right now. Three winners will get a free e-copy. (This picture really puts its 802 pages into perspective.) </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEhPDg0pa0pyb4gKVhWgH-qhrcN5cdxW_cmMs_rQqR9RbocZ3q0KEn0jJNJA61_UkgWz9QVubwk6ayqOeS-wc0j1CobS9PBT7tLFlvkeqyoemAGwPNaCdAIOxxIAKXXYCLBriyV14EpiDPH00nu-NMi53adIVcX1igf9DTq9L4x1oODfU8x7Osa1rT7AZy/s2048/anthology.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEhPDg0pa0pyb4gKVhWgH-qhrcN5cdxW_cmMs_rQqR9RbocZ3q0KEn0jJNJA61_UkgWz9QVubwk6ayqOeS-wc0j1CobS9PBT7tLFlvkeqyoemAGwPNaCdAIOxxIAKXXYCLBriyV14EpiDPH00nu-NMi53adIVcX1igf9DTq9L4x1oODfU8x7Osa1rT7AZy/s320/anthology.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSBAqVI2pLaDv6omxU_AA5gf8OqlgfdsmOffMJKm65AqseitMzum3KwjH2-ezj-ReGFX10O3TJcS777MAlt80ReED6RXRkFEsSlWCUmQu2m7a8XApX4vLuRnStXBvQaaSGyJpzeV7iA0jvhGgGcOe9A2TGbvy0_mbH-KQW4051Jxphvosd5J-ZQrE36dCc/s445/519OqCbCRVL._SY445_SX342_.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="445" data-original-width="279" height="379" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSBAqVI2pLaDv6omxU_AA5gf8OqlgfdsmOffMJKm65AqseitMzum3KwjH2-ezj-ReGFX10O3TJcS777MAlt80ReED6RXRkFEsSlWCUmQu2m7a8XApX4vLuRnStXBvQaaSGyJpzeV7iA0jvhGgGcOe9A2TGbvy0_mbH-KQW4051Jxphvosd5J-ZQrE36dCc/w238-h379/519OqCbCRVL._SY445_SX342_.jpg" width="238" /></a> <br /></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>3. This ebook collection of Christmas stories. (Three winners)</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07ZJVQDQ4" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="425" data-original-width="283" height="381" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqU1KyxDImZnASReDuPJZZw9-vHyUDxF_Rfwt6ffoOn00C7L0m9tyyjM0O7qC5oZk0U7-jjHxCOHLvkrLLeas9wjYwBGSprI2_7m8amdLtPDSnVupkaBfFNWIzg3XgYWYc-qfdAmnZyQuiySVIVcw4s-Hhsru2Vy6MRbbksgDPMXo3iGvLaeTS1G4QSKvP/w253-h381/Christmas%20collection.jpeg" width="253" /></a></div><br /><p>For your chance to win, follow along and <a href="https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSfhYbSZHLKReWKaJ0ZnpEN8fVu7RbRCNvvwJ49BuJnwNt3B_A/viewform">fill out this form</a>! Coco, my dog, will choose winners for each question answered.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnJ0-GsO4Rd_2vt-CIOlkLrNA_c7lj4I6J23vbpYCUOu8-NrHr4VxOI29YnUdngIEVMs__T54FXptE7KWTzbcYo33Hk9VEV5ERaWRix5SQ0pGAhobWZCF3EHyrP3cidiZkXwTIw5_CfBN5drgJUNxRoc0ozDN-rDr3MQQbFSXIUFuNT62plXsSBi-FLUGL/s2436/IMG_7153.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2436" data-original-width="2125" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnJ0-GsO4Rd_2vt-CIOlkLrNA_c7lj4I6J23vbpYCUOu8-NrHr4VxOI29YnUdngIEVMs__T54FXptE7KWTzbcYo33Hk9VEV5ERaWRix5SQ0pGAhobWZCF3EHyrP3cidiZkXwTIw5_CfBN5drgJUNxRoc0ozDN-rDr3MQQbFSXIUFuNT62plXsSBi-FLUGL/w263-h301/IMG_7153.jpg" width="263" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0