P.L. Parker Author Writer of Paranormal Fantasy Romance Novels

Polly Bemis - an Idaho Pioneer

2012-01-29T08:21:00.000-08:00

Of all the pioneers in Idaho, I would have to say Polly Bemis (or Lalu Nathoy or Hathoy) is one of the most interesting. She was born in China in 1853. As a child, her feet were bound in what was termed "golden lotuses." Times were hard and her impoverished family sold her to bandits for 2 bags of seed. She was ultimately shipped to San Francisco where she was sold for $2,500 to Hong King, a saloon owner in Warrens, a mining camp in Idaho, as a prostitute, though it is uncertain whether Polly actually worked as a prostitute or Hong King kept her for his concubine. Charlie Bemis, a resident of Warrens, became her protector and eventually they lived together and then married. Speculation is that it may have been a marriage of convenience - Polly took care of Charlie and in return, she was saved from deportation. They later moved to a spread on the Salmon River where they were known for their hospitality. Charlie Bemis died and Polly ran the ranch by herself for several years. Polly died in 1933 from injuries sustained a fall

In 1991, a fictionalized account of Polly's life, a movie entitled "Thousand Pieces of Gold" was released. Though lacking in many ways the true account of Polly's life, it did symbolize the plight of many Chinese women who were smuggled into the United States for the purpose of prostitution.
The Polly Bemis Ranch is a designated national historic site.

For more information on this amazing woman:
http://www.answers.com/topic/polly-bemis
http://pollybemis.org/
http://www.mccunn.com/PollyPic.html

At Linda LaRoque's Wonderful Site today.

2012-01-25T05:59:00.000-08:00

Linda LaRoque has a wonderful blog spot, always something interesting happening there. Stop by today and visit with me and perhaps win an e-copy of Will o' the Wisp. Thanks.

Patsy

Blogging today re: Riley's Journey

2012-01-18T05:57:00.000-08:00

I'm at 99cent EBOOKS today visiting about Riley's Journey. Come by if you have a chance and visit.

Patsy

Patsy's Amazing Author Blog Tour

2012-01-16T16:29:00.000-08:00

Welcome to my portion of the Amazing Author’s Blog Event. A group of author friends are sharing our stories and at the end of the event, a nice prize package awaits. Keep track and be ready to answer some easy questions which will appear at Ginger Simpson’s blog as the last contributor. A great way to get some new reading material.

My short story, Will o’ the Wisp, is my contribution to the winning package.

Blurb:

Stalked across the vast reaches of the universe, Tannis, the last fecund female of the clan Light Bringers, takes refuge on Earth, veiling herself within the dying form of a human female. Her energy forces are flagging and to rejuvenate, she must seek the healing properties of the sun’s rays, but by doing so, she risks discovery by the hunter. Time is short and Kadin—the most feared assassin of all—draws near!

Excerpt:

The hunt had led him to this place. A primitive planet on the outskirts of a distant galaxy. He’d arrived ahead of the pack, confident his subtle pointers would lead the others in the wrong direction. Convinced he’d caught up with Tannis at last, he’d come upon her at the moment she’d entered the host body, seeking to mask her presence. Such was the act of desperation, born of her inexperience and misguided information. Her energies pulsed bright and compelling, far too tangible to hide in the husk of the former occupant.

His lips curved in a self-deprecating smile. He could heal the female body with a simple touch. The shell’s hold on life was tenuous but if Tannis flew, the hunt would commence again. He grew tired of the hunt, tired of the unending frustrations. Now he wanted closure, craved an ending. But until he caught her, it was not to be.

He glanced down. A single human male also watched the vehicle’s progress. When the transport disappeared from his line of sight, the human turned, starting up an overgrown pathway into a wooded area. Kadin touched on the human’s mind, taking in information at light speed.

Buy link: http://www.amazon.com/Will-o-the-Wisp-ebook/dp/B0060M0QU6/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1326557858&sr=8-1

Next stop on the blog tour event (January 18): S.G. Rogers, http://childofyden.wordpress.com/

Patsy

Can Sins be Absolved?

2012-01-08T17:23:00.000-08:00

Are we fated by the sins of our fathers? Can we be absolved from sins we didn't realize we committed? I delve into these questions in my novel Absolution. Chloe is a vampire who doesn't realize she's a vampire. In the past, she was protected. In the present, she is hunted.

Excerpt:

“I canst not move,” she objected. “Ye hast made movement impossible.”

Chloe reached up, moving the gauze just enough to allow breathing.

“Now you messed it up.” Earl re-adjusted the layer, leaving it slightly looser.

“I be barely able to see,” Chloe complained. “Doest ye believe such will work?”

“I think it will, but what about these?” Benny fingered her long tresses. “Won’t they get suspicious if her hair’s not burned off?”

“’Tis very thin,” Chloe murmured, “and p’raps they will think the fire be the cause.”

“Good point! Maybe if we pull it up and wrap it around her head, they won’t even notice it. Her face’s enough to scare ‘em away anyway.”

“For gawd’s sake, Benny! Is your mouth attached to your brain?”

Chloe’s lips twisted in a wry smile. “’Tis well Benny reminds me often, else I might fall into the sin of vanity.”

“Well, I’ve been paying attention, and believe me, you’re getting better. There are actually places where skin’s starting to form. That has to be good!” Earl reached for a jug of blood. “While I’m thinking about it, you better drink some more of this before you go to sleep.”

Benny’s stomach gurgled loudly. “How about us? When do we eat?”

“I be pleased to share.” Chloe’s voice rang with amusement, much to Benny’s chagrin.

Shuddering exaggeratedly, he poked a finger down his throat and gagged. “Forget it!Yuck!”

With Earl’s assistance, Chloe managed to mince her way to the SUV, but getting in was another matter. Between the two of them, Earl and Benny loaded her into the back, taking care to tuck the tent around her once again. Their voices came muffled through the layers and Chloe felt as if she were in another world. Truth be known, she was in

another world, unlike any she’d ever imagined. How was she going to fit into this strange place?

Buy Link: http://www.eternalpress.biz/book.php?isbn=9781615723164

http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B004QGYCA8/ref=s9_simh_gw_p351_d0_g351_i1?pf_rd_m=ATVPDKIKX0DER&pf_rd_s=center-2&pf_rd_r=16W78E3NFP9XYAVJKN4V&pf_rd_t=101&pf_rd_p=470938631&pf_rd_i=507846

Stepping into 2012

2012-01-02T09:40:00.000-08:00

I start 2012 in my 60th year! Pretty much a milestone in anyone’s life. I used to think 60 was old, but I don’t feel old! I still enjoy life and look forward to life’s events. I admit I don’t bend as easily as I used to and certain parts of my body tend to ache at times, but in general, I’m in here kicking. I am thankful that my family is still here, my parents, my siblings, my children and grandchild and that we enjoy not a wealthy life, but we have what we need.

Part of me fears the future. What will happen this year? Hopefully, good things. I try to keep in mind that no matter what, today is the first day of the rest of my life. I have the opportunity to make changes for the good.

Patsy

99 Cent Deals on Amazon Fiona and Riley's Journey

2011-12-29T14:40:00.000-08:00

Step back in time 4,000 in time, to a place where Celts shouldn’t be, yet they were!

Fiona by P. L. Parker- Excerpt:

Kellach was rooted to the spot. The woman before

him was beautiful by any standard. Her huge green eyes

reflected the light from the candles and her trembling lips

were lush and full. Her nose was small and straight and

creamy skin graced her perfect visage. Long hair the color

of silver moonbeams fell to below her waist, the sides

pulled back in braids. One shoulder was bare as the

shapeless gown slipped off, and the promise of full breasts

tantalized his perusal. Who was she and why was she

sleeping in his bed—and with a dog?

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” he

growled at her. He was exhausted and, although she

interested him greatly, he wanted to sleep.

Fiona clutched the puppy tighter, he was yelling at

her and too fast for her to understand. She tried to think

of something to say, but her mind wasn’t working. She

remembered, “Kellach’s house,” she screamed at him.

Kellach nodded, yes, it was his house. At least they

had that covered.

“Go,” she screeched and pointed to the door.

Kellach shook his head, trying to clear his mind. The

woman appeared to know it was his house but was

screaming at him to go, this didn’t make sense.

99 cents on Amazon. Buy Link:

http://www.amazon.com/Fiona-ebook/dp/B005SV2838/ref=ntt_at_ep_edition_2_6?ie=UTF8&m=AG56TWVU5XWC2

The research project was only for an extended period. No one said anything about forever.

Riley’s Journey by P. L. Parker – Excerpt:

Finally, he broke the silence. "Aren't you going to say

anything?"

"What do you expect me to say? Thank you? If even a

small part of what you say is true, then I'm stuck here for

eternity with a guy I don't even know, in a place I hate and

with no future. Yeah, I guess that comes under 'thank you!'"

She rubbed her hands across her face. This was a nightmare!

And not for a minute did she believe what he told her, at least

not most of it. The guy was probably crazy, but if he was

crazy, she must be too, because she had seen that bunch of

strange looking humans and they didn't look like any people

existing in her world.

"I'm really sorry. I didn't know Bethany would go this far. I

made the mistake of saying at the drop point that I didn't

think I would be able to last here alone much longer. She

must have heard it." His face was a mask of regret.

"And that's supposed to make it all better?"

"I don't know what else to say. I'm sorry. I wish I could

change the outcome, but there's nothing I can do. Maybe, if

nothing else, they'll be able to figure out a way to bend time

back so we can go home."

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but one of the things

I noticed while I was at the facility was that it was really

understaffed and it looked like it was being closed down.

99 cents on sale at Amazon:

http://www.amazon.com/Rileys-Journey-P-L-Parker/dp/1601541112

Time for the Resolutions

2011-12-27T08:27:00.000-08:00

I’m not one for New Year’s Resolutions. I’ve found over the years I haven’t been able to maintain even one that I can remember. Not that I don’t try, I do. But I just can’t seem to hold on. Weight loss, improving myself, being a better person. Seems like they all go by the wayside. I keep trying though.

My resolution for the new year will be to finish projects I’ve started and find new things to stimulate the old brain. Now that I’ve got mine – what’s yours?

Patsy

New Contract for The Chalice

2011-12-06T06:02:00.000-08:00

Just received word that I'm being offered a contract with New Concepts Publishing for my manuscript - The Chalice! More to come!

Wonderful Review for Will o' the Wisp

2011-12-02T19:29:00.000-08:00

Brand new review for Will o' the Wisp by Toni Sweeney! 5 Stars! I am so pleased!

http://www.tonivsweeney.com/Book_Review/Entries/2011/12/2_Will_of_the_Wisp_by_PL_Parker.html

New Review for Absolution

2011-12-01T17:19:00.001-08:00

Just saw this review by Michelle's Ramblings. She gives Absolution 4 out of 5 Stars.

"Absolution is a unique read and I enjoyed it very much"

http://michellesramblins.blogspot.com/2011/05/review-absolution-by-pl-parker.html

Linda LaRoque and the Comstock Law of 1873

2011-11-27T08:56:00.000-08:00

I want to welcome fellow author Linda LaRoque to my blog. Linda’s here to talk about her new release and a little bit of historical information that I’m sure you’ll find interesting.

Condoms and the Comstock Law of 1873

The American Social Hygiene Association fought hard to prohibit condom use in the early part of this century. Social hygienists believed that anyone who risked getting "venereal" diseases should suffer the consequences, including American doughboys — U.S. soldiers who fought in World War I. The American Expeditionary Forces, as our army was called, were denied the use of condoms, so it is not surprising that by the end of the war our troops had very high rates of sexually transmitted infections. Like most people throughout history, our "boys" were just unable to "just say 'no'" (Brandt, 1985). Law of 1873

One of the challenges that Margaret Sanger faced as she fought for women's right to use birth control was the double standard regarding condom use. Doctors were allowed to "prescribe" condoms to protect men from syphilis and gonorrhea when they had premarital or extramarital sexual intercourse. The men could not, however, get condoms to protect their wives from unintended pregnancy (Brandt, 1985; Valdiserri, 1988).

Sanger had to find a way around the Comstock laws, which prohibited the transport of birth control devices or information through the mail. Her solution, clever — as well as illegal — also involved the diaphragm (Chesler, 1992).

A History of Birth Control Methods

Planned Parenthood

http://www.plannedparenthood.org/resources/research-papers/bc-history-6547.htm

Comstock laws

The Comstock Act, (ch. 258 17 Stat. 598 enacted March 3, 1873) is a United States federal law which made it illegal to send any "obscene, lewd, and/or lascivious" materials through the mail, including contraceptive devices and information. In addition to banning contraceptives, this act also banned the distribution of information on abortion for educational purposes. Twenty-four states passed similar prohibitions on materials distributed within the states.^[1] Collectively, these state and federal restrictions are known as the Comstock laws.

The Comstock Laws were variously case tested, but courts struggled to establish definitive thinking about the laws. One of the most notable applications of Comstock was Roth v. United States, in which the Supreme Court affirmed Comstock, but set limits on what could be considered obscene. This landmark case represented one of the first notable revisions since the Hicklin test, and the evolving nature of the laws on which Comstock was conceived.

The sale and distribution of obscene materials had been prohibited prior to Comstock in most American states since the early 1800s, and by federal law since 1873. Federal anti-obscenity laws are currently still in effect and enforced,^[2] though the definition of obscenity has changed much (now expressed in the Miller Test) and extensive debates on what is "obscene" continues.

A Marshall of Her Own – Blurb

Despite rumors of "strange doings"at a cabin in Fredericksburg, investigative reporter Dessa Wade books the cottage from which lawyer Charity Dawson disappeared in 2008. Dessa is intent on solving the mystery. Instead, caught in the swirling mist that surrounds the cabin, she finds herself in 1890, in a shootout between the Faraday Gang and a US Marshal.ite rumors of “strange doings” at a cabin in Fredericksburg, investigative reporter Dessa Wade books the cottage from which lawyer Charity Dawson disappeared in 2008. Dessa is intent on solving the mystery. Instead, caught in the swirling mist that

Marshal Cole Jeffers doesn’t believe Miss Wade is a time traveler. He admits she’s innocent of being an outlaw but thinks she knows more about the gang than she’s telling. When she’s kidnapped by Zeke Faraday, Cole is determined to rescue her. He’s longed for a woman of his own, and Dessa Wade just might be the one—if she’ll commit to the past.

Leave a comment to win an e-copy of A Law of Her Own

About Linda:

Linda LaRoque is a Texas girl, but the first time she got on a horse, it tossed her in the road dislocating her right shoulder. Forty years passed before she got on another, but it was older, slower, and she was wiser. Plus, her students looked on and it was important to save face.

A retired teacher who loves West Texas, its flora and fauna, and its people, Linda’s stories paint pictures of life, love, and learning set against the raw landscape of ranches and rural communities in Texas and the Midwest. She is a member of RWA, her local chapter of HOTRWA, NTRWA and Texas Mountain Trail Writers.

Linda LaRoque
Writing Romance with a Twist in Time
www.lindalaroque.com
http://www.lindalaroqueauthor.blogspot.com
http://www.authorsbymoonlight.com
http://thewritersvineyard.com/

Linda’s blog tour continues Nov. 30 – Nikki Barrett http://www.stormgoddessbookreviews.blogspot.com/ - The Hoosier.

Thanks Linda for stopping by. Loved the “condom” history! Don't forget to leave a comment!

The Urumchi Mummies - and Fiona

2011-11-17T06:03:00.000-08:00

"Fiona" (my debut novel) evolved from watching a segment of the Discovery Channel about the discovery of Caucasian Mummies in the Taklamakan Desert of Northern China. These mummies, possibly Tocharian Celts, existed in that part of the world long before Caucasians were thought to have made their appearance. No one knows where they came from or where they went. Maybe they subsequently interbred with the nearby Uyghur tribes, which could account for the lighter skin and rounder eyes of the peoples in the area. It is a question whose answer is lost in time. After I set the parameters of my story, I purchased a copy of Elizabeth Wayland Barber's The Mummies of Urumchi. She discusses textiles, basketry, weaving and carding, and other aspects of these people's daily life, things I needed to give color to my slant on life 4,000 years B.C. My heroine, Fiona, is based on the discovery of one such mummy, a young blonde woman, possibly a sacrificial victim. Dismemberment was a common form of torture to the ancients. In almost every culture, there is mention of this horrific end result. There wasn't much I could do to alleviate her suffering, but perhaps I could write her a better end.

Step Back 40,000 Years - Could You Survive

2011-11-09T06:02:00.000-08:00

Ever wonder if modern man could survive the trials and hardships of the last great Ice Age? I've always been interested in ancient history, the farther back the better. Most of my stories have some basis in fact, a snippet of the unusual in the pages of time.

After a particularly engrossing chapter of the Discovery Channel about the discovery of the Oetzi, the frozen mummified body in the Alps, http://dsc.discovery.com/news/2008/08/22/oetzi-iceman.html, the idea for my time travel novel, Riley’s Journey, came into being. I was captivated by the trials and tribulations this ancient man must have endured before his eventual death. Why was he in that place, frozen for all time?

The Iceman was shot with an arrow--the head of which remained lodged in his shoulder -- that fatally severed his left subclavian artery. He also suffered a traumatic cerebral lesion, the consequence of a trauma from a blow or a fall onto the rocks.

My creative juices flowed. How would modern man measure up under the same circumstances? Would he fare better? Worse? Without modern conveniences, would he even survive? My personal opinion was…perhaps. But it would have to be an individual skilled in living off the land, comfortable with crafting and using ancient weaponry, and the daring to go forth and multiply. A lone person might survive (Nathan in Riley’s Journey), but without human society, would he have the will to continue? Okay, so perhaps a band of time travelers, each with skills essential to begin life in a prehistoric setting would be a better fit under the circumstances.

The parameters of my manuscript were set. In the beginning, I contemplated the story taking place at about the same time period as the Oetzi mummy. Ultimately, I went back even farther, to 40,000 years ago during the last great Ice Age when Cro-Magnon and Neanderthals both inhabited the earth. http://www.valdostamuseum.org/hamsmith/iceciv.html#geminga35k

I now I had my time period. I needed to set up the location where the time travelers would ultimately end. Early man is thought to have migrated from Africa and spread out. See, for example, The Real Eve, Modern Man’s Journey Out of Africa by Stephen Oppenheimer. Research into the nearby land masses led me to decide on an area of the Far East, in what would eventually be the southern areas of China. This area’s climatology 40,000 years ago would support the basic needs of life in primordial Earth. (Id.)

Early humans were hunter/gatherers. What animals existed in that time and place and which were predators and which were prey? In Riley’s Journey, the protagonists were the aggressive Cro-Magnon and their influx into the primitive Neanderthals’ territory. In the sequel to Riley’s Journey, Into the Savage Dawn, soon to be released by Willow Moon Publishing, the protagonist is still the Cro-Magnon but with the added twist of a giant cave bear who stalks Geena and Seth (hero and heroine) after they involuntarily intrude on his territory.

Research into primordial Earth is fascinating. Cave bears, saber-toothed cats and giant sloths were just a few of the many creatures who have suffered from the effects of evolution along with the giant megaloceros (elk), the wooly mammoths and the wooly rhinoceros.

For more information, the following sites are good reading for all ages:

http://www.enchantedlearning.com/subjects/mammals/Iceagemammals.shtml

http://www.prehistory.com/

http://www.kidzworld.com/article/7309-animals-of-the-ice-age

Riley’s Journey by P. L. Parker

Into the Savage Dawn by P. L. Parker

Coming in the future- soon I hope - the third in the series (no name yet)

Excerpt from Will o' the Wisp

2011-11-05T08:19:00.000-07:00

“Hold her down while I sedate her.”

“No!” Tannis screamed out. “If I sleep, he’ll find me!”

“No one is going to hurt you,” the woman soothed. “We just want you to calm down.” “You don’t understand! I can’t sleep,” she cried. “If I do, he’ll destroy me.”

“No one’s going to destroy you,” Laura said as she reattached the tubes. “We won’t let them,” she glanced at the other two. “Will we?”

They shook their heads. “Not on our watch,” one replied.

“But…but you won’t even know he’s here until it’s too late.”

A hand squeezed her shoulder. “You’re in ICU. No one gets in here without us knowing about it.”

“You can’t know…,” she moaned as more drugs entered the body’s system. “He won’t rest until I’m eliminated.”

My Haunted Story

2011-10-27T06:11:00.000-07:00

Ghost and goblins and things that go bump in the night! Still chance to enter to win an e-copy of my ghoulish vampire story, Absolution. Add your own little piece of Halloween fun! See below!

Absolution - Can a vampire not know she's a vampire? Find out.

Happy Halloween

Patsy

www.plparker.com

Halloween! Vampires and all things scary!

2011-10-15T14:57:00.000-07:00

We all love Halloween - a time of ghosties and ghoulies and things that go bump in the night. Each of us has had our brush with the paranormal. Do you have one? Here is a true story of mine - still makes me shiver.

The two story Victorian house stood in the center of lush green and gold fields in the heart of farming country. Care
had been taken with the home’s renovation and the graceful lines, cornices and wrap-around porch were as fresh as the day when it had been first constructed, the classical lines and beauty a testament to the architecture of bygone days. An aura of mystery surrounded the old edifice, drawing passing strangers to stop and stare, moved by the richness of the pastoral scene.

I stepped in, standing at the doorway, allowing my eyes to adjust. I drew in a deep breath and let it out, marveling with delight. The interior was an antique collector’s dream—oak or maple wood furnishings, oil paintings and tintypes on the half-paneled walls. Throw rugs covered the solid oak floors gleaming from years of polishing by loving hands. It was as though I’d stepped back into another century. But something gave me pause. I suffered a moment of anxiety…tensing.

The scent of cooking wafted on the summer breeze. My stomach rumbled.
My host threw open her arms in welcome, chattering with excitement. “You have to take a tour of the house before we eat,” she exclaimed. “We just finished the upper floor and it’s almost all complete.”

I nodded, anticipation and the promise of food caused my mouth to water. We strolled through the lower level, the sun room, the sitting room, dining area and kitchen. Perfectly preserved as it had once been—but my nerves tingled.
She started up the staircase. “Hold on. It’s kind of steep and I don’t want you to fall.”
The staircase opened into a long hallway graced by oaken doors positioned in various places along the way leading out to an upper veranda. We meandered along, stopping to admire the wallpaper, the wall hangings, wood carvings, and the oak paneling before stepping out on

to the deck. The view was fantastic. Farmland stretched into the distance tucked beneath hills and mountains towering to the azure skyline. Too beautiful for mere description.

“I’m starving,” she said. “I hope you’re hungry.”
She was a good cook and conversation was fast and furious. Our friendship was new and we hadn’t had the opportunity to visit very often, but we found numerous topics to discuss.
A grating noise caught my attention. I tilted my head, listening. Overhead, a door could be heard to open, steps walked along the upper hallway, another door opened and then closed. The hair rose on the back of my neck.“Is someone here?” I asked, perplexed. I hadn’t seen anyone but her since I arrived.
“No, but don’t worry,” she grinned, a mischievous twist of her lips. “That’s our resident ghost.”
I shifted, suddenly uncomfortable. “Ghost?”
“Yeah,” she laughed. “He opens doors and leaves things around, but mostly he walks out onto the upper deck.” Blue eyes glazed over as she considered. “I think whoever it is died here

and he’s looking for his lost love.” She shrugged. “Makes a good story. He doesn’t scare us anymore. Just walks around.”
Goose bumps rose on my arms. I shivered, unnerved.
“Do you want to see something really weird?” She jumped from her seat and motioned for me to follow.
Really weird? I’m not so sure. I’m not what you’d call an adventurous person and things like ghosts, witches and things that go bump in the night scare me. I believe! But I was an invited guest…
She led me up the stairs to the second floor and into her bedroom. She opened a window and leaned out. “See that round window out there?”
Dusk had settled over the panorama. Night would seen be here.
I leaned out, nodding as I located the object. About the size of a ship’s porthole like many old houses have.
She climbed out the window reaching for my hand. “Be really careful,” she cautioned. “It’s very steep out here.”
She wanted me to climb out on the roof! I don’t think so.
“Come on,” she urged. “It’s worth it.”
I inhaled, praying for courage. I climbed out, choking on terror. Vertigo seized me in its hideous clutches. Spots danced in front of my eyes. I felt faint.
She wrapped an arm around my hips. “Sit down and scoot along the roof.”
I slid down, thanking God for the brief moment of deliverance. I scooted as she instructed.
Slivers embedded themselves in my posterior, but anything was better than standing up. I reached the window.

She pushed me forward. “What do you see?”
I looked in. My eyes adjusted to the dark interior. The room might have once been a walk-in closet or perhaps a dressing room attached to the main suite. But no door opened from any wall. It was a closed room.
“What do you see?” she asked again.
I cupped my hands around my eyes to see better—shock held me motionless.
“What do you see?” She giggled, knowing what my answer would be.
“There’s a long wood box sitting on what looks like old sawhorses or something.”
I looked to her for confirmation. “It looks like an old wooden casket.”
Her eyes popped with excitement. “The ghost who walks comes out of that room, even though there’s no door. It’s been plastered over. We think it’s his body in there.” Her voice hushed.
“Maybe he was murdered and put in there by whoever did it.”“So why don’t you bust the wall down and get rid of it?” Made sense to me. I w
ouldn’t live in a house with a dang coffin in it!
“We kind of like the not knowing. The notoriety. You know what I mean?”
“No,” I snapped. “I don’t know what you mean. I think it’s really creepy and I wouldn’t live here if you paid me.” Ghosts and people, at least for me, isn’t a good mix.
We crawled back inside and into the hallway. My eyes were drawn to the area where

the coffin was housed. Nothing there to give any indication as to what lurked beyond.
Cold air swirled, brushing us with its chilling fingers.
“He’s coming out again,” she whispered, eyeing the wall.
My knees grew weak, my imagination rampaged. I had no desire whatsoever to see the specter. I ran from the house shaking in my shoes.
We moved from that area shortly after and I lost contact with my new friend. I often wonder if they left the casket as is or if they finally tore down the wall and found out what was in there. I’ll never know. I never went back to that house.

Leave a comment and be entered to win an e-copy of

my scary story, Absolution. Contest ends midnight, October 31

Welcome Alyson Reuben

2011-10-09T08:06:00.000-07:00

Help me welcome Alyson Reuben, fellow TWRP author, to my blog! Alyson is here today promoting her release A Beautiful Cage.
I love the cover and the premise for the story is very thought-provoking.

Alyson, the stage is yours!

Can you tell us a little about yourself?
I'm a small-town girl, who grew up mostly in rural areas. As a kid, I expanded my knowledge of the outside world not by actual travel, but by, you guessed it, reading. My mom read to me and my oldest brother at bedtime. She chose chapter books, often keeping us awake well past the time we should've been asleep. Her enthusiasm for books gave me a love for reading that was eventually joined by a desire to write, fueled by a guest author who visited our school in second grade. Besides being an author, I'm also an artist. At one time, I nearly decided to pursue it as my main career, but changed my mind. Now I just paint and sketch for fun and, occasionally, I'm commissioned for a project. Several years ago, I began collecting antiques and vintage pieces, such as 1920's hats and costume jewelry. Sometimes I recycle the vintage finds into modern wearable pieces. With my love of art and antiques, it seems natural that when I write, my stories are also vintage/historical in flavor. That's not to say that I won't one day write a contemporary romance. But I think for now, this is the sub-genre for me.

What was your favorite part of the book or books?

Wow, this is a toughy! I love ALL of A Beautiful Cage. Since I put my heart and soul into the story, it's like trying to pick a favorite thing about my child. Not so easy to do! One of my favorite parts is when Rebecca and Gustav dance during their 'date', which takes place inside Gustav's house because Rebecca isn't allowed to be seen outside. But that's just one of my favorite parts.

What was the hardest part to write in A Beautiful Cage?

The timeframe! I actually had to draw a timeline, complete with both Rebecca and Gustav's birthdays and other momentous occasions in their lives. This kept me from going nuts trying to remember how old Rebecca was in, oh let's say May of 1935. I wanted zero mistakes. Also, some of the research was thorny. One item that was particularly difficult to find? The exact first day of Hanukkah in December 1938. I was near tears before I finally stumbled on the answer.

Are the love scenes in your books made up or are they from personal experience?

Ha! I love this question! And it's one that I'm surprised I haven't been asked before, because I've often wondered the same thing about other author's love scenes. I'm still relatively young — mid thirties — so my answer is that they're a combination of both! I always keep in mind the characters need to do and feel things from their unique perspective. So it's a balance of reality with straight fiction.

What do you hope readers will take from your writing?

About the WWII theme: I hope they walk away from the story thinking about the holocaust's lesser known aspects, such as the scattered resistance movements throughout Europe. Although they obviously weren't effectual in stopping the war and the holocaust, there were more people opposed to Hitler than what met the naked eye.

About the characters: I hope they'll fall so deeply in love with Rebecca and Gustav that they miss them after the story ends, and catch themselves wondering what happened to them later in their lives. Most of all, I hope they derive a sense of love being infinitely stronger than hate, able to conquer and abide through horrifying circumstances.

What is the toughest part about being a writer and how do you get past it?

To me, the hardest part is there's never enough time in the day!!! In fact, I recently blogged on my own site about my struggle to find time for reading. Balancing family life with my writing schedule can also be tricky, but it's worked out so far. I'm lucky that my family understands there are occasions when I must blog or write even while they're home from school and work.

Is there anything in your story based upon a real life event? If so, tell me about it.

Considering A Beautiful Cage's pre-WWII theme, I can't say the scenes themselves are based on my real life. However, my grandpa Rice used to tell me stories about Hitler and the war, which helped shaped my interest in the subject. Also, Gustav's grandmother Bertie is loosely drawn on a deceased elderly friend.

Scenes aside, many of the emotions weaved throughout the book are ones I can identify with. The sense of being different and even ostracized from peers is something I've felt off and on throughout my life. I've always had my nose in a book, was never super athletic, and was never part of the most popular set. Sometimes loneliness springs from being different. Likewise, love has always been a powerful force in my life. Family and friends are everything to me. So all I need to do is close my eyes and conjure emotions I've felt during various periods in my life to make them really come alive in the story.

If you could have dinner with one person, dead or alive, who would it be and why?

That would be Jane Austen. I'd love to ask how she crafted her time-honored stories during a time when romances just weren't written that way. She was a true pioneer of the genre. And she's someone I've always admired.

Do you know how your book is going to end and/or the fate of all your characters or are you surprised as you write the story and in as much suspense as the reader?
Both. Because I have to do so much research for the historical parts, I pretty much know how they'll end. However, some romantic or social scenes and conversations catch me totally by surprise. One scene in particular involving Rebecca, Gustav, and a certain *act* on top of a desk, really threw me for a loop! It was completely unplanned! And I was downright shocked at my own characters! Lol

Where can people learn more about you and your work?
website: http://www.alysonreuben.com
blogsite: http://www.abiteofreubensandwich.blogspot.com
facebook author page: http://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/Alyson-Reubens-Author-Page/107423069337260
twitter: http://twitter.com/#!/alysonreuben
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5171065.Alyson_Reuben

A BEAUTIFUL CAGE's blurb:

Wanted by the Gestapo, Rebecca Bloomberg is on the run for her life. Sheltering in the home of a reporter who writes absurd lies for a Nazi propaganda newspaper is hardly an ideal solution. Irresistibly drawn to the man, she dares not trust him, until she discovers his journalist position is a mask for involvement in an anti-Nazi resistance ring.

Gustav Von Furst has done all he can to perfect his mask. Neither his family nor his close friends know the truth. Hiding a Jewish girl is the most foolish risk, yet there is something about her that makes him want to protect her.

Eager to forget the outside world, Rebecca and Gustav are caught up in a private world of forbidden passion—until unexpected danger lands on their doorstep and they’re faced with a decision that will change everything. Will love demand a sacrifice too great to give?

*You can read an excerpt from A Beautiful Cage here: http://www.alysonreuben.com/abeautifulcageexcerpt.htm

Thanks, Alyson, for visiting my blog. Best of luck on sales, though I think this one will do very well.

Travel Back in Time 40,000 Years

2011-09-03T08:31:00.000-07:00

Ancient history has always been a favorite of mine! The veil surrounding the far past is a dark one, opening so seldom and it seems like every time the scientists have it pegged, something new crops up and the timeline changes. Several of my stories are the result of watching the Discovery Channel. A wealth of fascinating information rests within those viewings. The discovery of Otzi the Iceman in the Alps bordering Austria and Italy sparked the beginnings of my journey 40,000 years ago. For details, check out:

p://wilderdom.com/evolution/OtziIcemanAlpsPictures.htm
My curiousity grew. Could modern man thrown back into the last great Ice Age survive? Would he have the knowledge and skill necessary to provide food, clothing and a place to live in such a primitive environment? Animals such as the saber toothed cats, Mastodons, megaloceros (giant elk) and the terrible cave bear have evolved or disappeared into the mist of time.

I doubt one person could have survived. But what about a group of people--those trained in the art of survival and warfare?

Riley's Journey came into being:

The research project was only supposed to be for an "extended period." No one said anything about forever! So Riley's journey begins. Sent back 40,000 years to be the mate of a man she had never before met, Riley struggles to understand and adjust. Her journey will take her into a world fraught with dangers - a world made more treacherous by savage beasts, primitive Neanderthals, and the incursion of the aggressive Cro-Magnon man. Surviving alone for five years in this vast wilderness, Nathan, along with his enormous dog, Demon, carve out a life in the perilous environment. Though thrown together by forces beyond their control, love grows between Riley and Nathan - but will they survive?

My fans responded -- they wanted more! I was surprised but happy to drag out my research and begin again. The sequel:

Into the Savage Dawn:

Sent back 40,000 years to the ends of the last great Ice Age, the time travelers embark on a journey of survival and discovery. The brutal and cannibalistic Cro-Magnons discover the small band and attack. Forced to flee from their high mountain encampment, the tribe heads into the dawn, towards the Pacific Ocean and their dream of ultimately reaching North America. Geena and Micah are left behind to lead the Cros away from the escaping tribe. When he is killed, she finds herself terribly alone. Severely injured and without hope or resources, she nonetheless is determined to survive and find the people. Survival of the fittest - that is the law of primordial earth.

And amazingly enough - they wanted more. I'm currently working on the third chapter in the story of the Black Ops team sent back in time 40,000 years. Come and experience the journey with me. I don't think you'll be sorry.

Leave a comment and be entered to win an e-copy of BOTH Riley's Journey and Into the Savage Dawn. Contest ends September 15.

Patsy

Mr. Man and the Romance Van

2011-08-10T06:09:00.000-07:00

As an aspiring author, my goal is to let the world know about me. Ergo, the sign on the window of my Chevy van.

I love my sign. Mr. Man (my husband) even helped center and attach the sign to the window, carefully measuring every angle and smoothing the bubbles out. He didn’t think much about the sign after that—and then people began to take notice.…

Because I write under the pen name P.L. Parker (my maiden name), I leave gender out of the picture. (I read somewhere that just using initials can aid in bringing the male population in as fans.) My husband has been confused with me on numerous occasions and he doesn't always view it as amusing.

For example - he (nice guy that he is) took my van to the car wash. A very sweet young man approached him and asked if he was the romance author. My disgruntled husband growled "No. My wife is!"
The young man grinned. "Oh really," he said.

Mr. Man tried another car wash, same thing happened. Another time we were driving down the freeway and a truckload, literally a truckload, of cowboys drove up beside us. They were hanging out the windows on every side yelling, "Oh Yoohoo, Mr. Romance Man - yoohooo!!" His eyes straight ahead, my husband made for the nearest off ramp, growling all the while. I of course was laughing my head off.

Then there was the time his truck broke down (he manages properties) and he had to borrow my van for the day. He indicated later it was hard to be professional when all his contacts were eyeing the van, then him, then the van - and grinning!

I drive every day and seldom have any comments, but it seems as though every time he is out driving alone, the catcalls and comments fly. It is if he is cursed. Little by little, his love for the sign diminished…and now has died.

Next year, we plan to trade in the Romance Van. Mr. Man has indicated that when the time comes and we have a new vehicle, my sign will go by the wayside. NO SIGNS ALLOWED! What is he thinking? Give up my sign? How will anyone know who I am?

But do not despair my friends! There are always opportunities…..

I have to say, Mr. Man is my best fan! He reads everything I write, has wonderful input and criticisims and he is actually the reason I started putting my stories down on paper (or computer :)). Being a husband to a romance writer can be stressful at times, but he's a staunch supporter.

How does your significant other deal with the stressors of the romance world?

Review for Jezebel's Wish by A.J. Nuest

2011-07-23T13:02:00.000-07:00

Jezebel attempts to escape her tortured past and the guilt eating at her soul. Her mother's ranch only amplifies her misery. Then the veterinarian and The Reverend enter her life and the sparks fly. With Mattias and The Reverend's love, her life slowly changes, even though she is afraid to let love in. Matthias gains a hold on her heart with his honesty and goodness and The Reverend teaches her to respect the devotion between a man and his horse. When disaster again strikes, Jezebel bolts, determined to lay to rest the ghost of a lost love, leaving behind a heartbroken Matthias.

Matthias' love is forever, but can he overcome the demons haunting Jezebel?

Jezebel's Wish is a delightful love story. Ms. Nuest delivers a passionate and compelling story of broken promises, heartrending pain and, ultimately, the dream of a bright future. Keep a Kleenex handy, this is a tearjerker - happy and sad. I recommend Jezebel's Wish to anyone who loves a great romance and to those who understand the bond existing between humans and their pets!

Review for Cursed Mates by Cara Marsi

2011-07-23T12:55:00.000-07:00

In the village of Heavensent, dark powers gather with murderous intent. Beset by visions and counseled by her spirit guide, Kayla Yaeger, were-huntress, along with her best friend and assistant Todd, arrive in Heavensent. Evil surrounds the village and with the full moon fast approaching, Kayla's visions intensify, warning her of a black werewolf, but with the dark force, a white werewolf also appears. Nick Radford, tortured by his past and harboring a dark secret, lives a secluded life in Heavensent, waiting and preparing for the moment he will escape from the demons plaguing his soul. 500 years before, he'd become the Beast, turned by a man he once considered friend. With the rising of the full moon, the battle between the good and the evil will commence.

Kayla and Nick are thrown together by the forces shifting about them. Passion is sparked and then grows, blooming into a love that can never be. She is the huntress, he is the prey.

Cursed Mates is a thrilling ride into the world of the paranormal. Cara Marsi weaves together the legends of many cultures into an intense and chilling drama of love and betrayal. I heartily recommend Cursed Mates for those who love the dark realm of the werewolf and those who enjoy a passion-filled adventure into the realm of fantasy.

Welcome Emma Lai

2011-04-15T18:11:00.000-07:00

Welcome My Guest Author Emma Lai.

From Emma Lai's blog: Emma likes nothing more than a challenge. First, she tackled the male-dominated field of engineering. Next, she expanded her understanding of the world by studying international relations. Finally, her husband dared her to use her experience and knowledge and devote herself to writing. She accepted his challenge and has been writing ever since. Writing keeps Emma sane. Her characters demand their stories be told and nag her incessantly until she complies. The characters are very insistent about her remaining faithful to their individual adventures. As a result, Emma writes a range of genres and levels of heat. She never knows what the next set of characters will demand! What is it about the romance genre that appeals to you? I’ve been reading stories for the romance in them for as long as I can remember. When I was in elementary school I kept wanting Nancy Drew and Frank Hardy to date. (I don’t remember if they do or not, but when I started reading the books, they were all just friends.) I attempted to write my first romance in elementary school as well. It was a high school romance. What does an elementary student know about high school? Nothing, is the answer. The story was horrible. What is it about romance that draws me though? I like the push and pull between the hero and heroine, and, of course, the happy ending.

What is it about the romance genre that appeals to you?

I’ve been reading stories for the romance in them for as long as I can remember. When I was in elementary school I kept wanting Nancy Drew and Frank Hardy to date. (I don’t remember if they do or not, but when I started reading the books, they were all just friends.) I attempted to write my first romance in elementary school as well. It was a high school romance. What does an elementary student know about high school? Nothing, is the answer. The story was horrible. What is it about romance that draws me though? I like the push and pull between the hero and heroine, and, of course, the happy ending.

Is there anything in your story based upon a real life event? If so, tell me about it.

In most of my stories, character emotions are drawn from personal experience. In His Ship, Her Fantasy, Ellie’s sense of isolation was based on my initial experience when starting as an electrical engineer. In His Hope, Her Salvation, Judith’s resilience in the face of abuse was drawn from one of my first relationships, which while not physically abusive was emotionally abusive. In Twice is Not Enough, Lady Minerva’s self-sacrifice for the happiness of others was based on, well let’s face it, most women today know all about the circumstances that lead to this one. The only story with absolutely none of my life in it is my latest release, Slave to Innocence.

What inspired you to write Slave to Innocence?

Slave to Innocence was inspired by a submission call. The story line calls for stories set in Ancient Greece. I started out with the intention of writing a story about a female slave, who is rescued by a friend of the family. However, the characters refused to cooperate and I ended up with something completely different that challenged me in ways I’d never imagined. No matter what I tried, the mistress of the house refused to be written as a secondary character. Then she admitted to having feelings for the slave, and the rest, well I blush to think about it.

Are the love scenes in your books made up or are they from personal experience?

All my loves scenes are made up. Mortification burns me up at the thought of committing those particular personal experiences to paper. Not too sure what hubby would think either.

LOL – My hubby worries about that all the time. Can you give us a sneak peek of your next book?

My next story is an erotic contemporary. It was inspired by an idea of a friend and fellow author. Sabrina is going to lose the one thing left in the world she cares about unless she can find someone ruthless to help her. So, she turns to her ex-lover, who she abandoned five years ago without an explanation. William’s moved on with his life. A self-made millionaire with women at his beck and call, he wants to know what Sabrina’s willing to offer for his aid. Sabrina’s answer...complete and utter submission.

What draws you to a story?

A good plot with strong characters. I check out the blurb and if it portrays the story as having a good plot with strong characters, I’m tempted to read the excerpt and maybe more. What makes a good plot and strong characters? All kinds of things, which is why I read across genres with a special spot for romances, science fiction and fantasy.

If you could have dinner with one person, dead or alive, who would it be and why?

My current choice of dinner companion would be Franklin Roosevelt. I’d like to talk to him about where he found the courage to take on the problems facing America at the time. And, ask him what he would do if he were president now.

Do you know how your book is going to end and/or the fate of all your characters or are you surprised as you write the story and in as much suspense as the reader?

I never know how my stories are going to end. Sometimes, I don’t even know what a character is going to do next. It can be trying sometimes because I then have to go back and make sure the actions don’t contradict previous behaviors, and if they do then they have to be explained, which means I have to ask the character why they’re behaving unusually. It makes for fun writing.

Where can people learn more about you and your work?

Blog: http://emmalaiwrites.blogspot.com

Twitter: @EmmaLaiWrites

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/emmalaiwrites

Blurb: Slave to Innocence (Sins of Sybaris) Selene, the wife of a wealthy merchant, has few freedoms. To entertain herself, she uses her male slaves to fulfill her fantasies. However, she finds herself drawn to the innocence of her favorite female slave, Parthenope. Will Selene resist temptation, or will she become a slave to innocence?
>br>Thanks so much Emma for joining me and much luck in your endeavors. Patsy

Welcome to Sky Purington

2011-03-25T17:56:00.000-07:00

Welcome to fellow TWRP Author, Sky Purington. Sky, tell us about yourself.

I write a cross genre of paranormal/fantasy romance heavily influenced by time-travel and history. When I’m not penning stories about Druids and Scottish Highlanders, I’m busy writing vampire tales. My latest work focuses on three haunted houses under the spell of Calum’s curse. This time the heroes are three modern day guys, paranormal investigators all, who suddenly find themselves warlocks. As an added bonus, this recent trilogy features some of the characters from my Highlander trilogy.

What is it about the romance genre that appeals to you?

Simply said…the way it makes me feel. I love the interaction between a man and a woman from the first moment they lay eyes on one another to the first sweet kiss. Throw in some drama, and I’m even happier. Add a little adventure, mystery, history, and the perfect romance is really starting to form. I could go on at length about all the reasons I adore the romance genre but I’ll spare your readers!

Have you always wanted to be a writer? If not, why not?

Always! From the moment I could put words together and read (1st grade I think), I hoped that someday someone would read words I’d written. Then I wrote my first award-winning work in second grade (some sort of Care Bear outer space tale. Yep, they were around in the 80’s! LOL). Makes me wonder if I shouldn’t get around to writing a SciFi romance one of these days!

What do you hope readers will take from your writing?

A chance to escape their everyday lives. To truly lose themselves in another reality.

What is the toughest part about being a writer and how do you get past it?

Honestly? I think the toughest part is putting my work out there to be reviewed. Where praise can send one to the moon, criticism can cut close to the heart. How do I get past it? Realize that readers like variety and what might thoroughly impress one critic may have the opposite effect on another. I keep my priorities straight (thick skin intact) and always remember to write for the pleasure of it. I’m doing what I love!

Are the love scenes in your books made up or are they from personal experience?

*Grins* Great question! I’d say a bit of both. After all, there are things my sexy Scottish wizards could do that my husband is incapable. And some of the vampire sex scenes…well…let’s just say for a mere mortal, many of the moves are impossible. There’s nothing quite like superhuman speed! ;-)

If you could have dinner with one person, dead or alive, who would it be and why?

My grandmother, Mildred, who passed away in 2003. She was my best friend and we have some serious catching up to do.

Do you know how your book is going to end and/or the fate of all your characters or are you surprised as you write the story and in as much suspense as the reader?

While I might try to flesh out the details ahead of time, I’m always surprised as I write my story. My character’s love to throw me for a loop. As to the ending? It typically makes itself known about three quarters of the way through.

Where can people learn more about you and your work?

Visit Sky at her Website: http://www.skypurington.com

Enjoy blogging? Swing by Sky’s blog, A Writer’s Mind where authors are always being features and prizes are up for grabs! http://www.skypuringtonwrites.blogspot.com

Befriend Sky at Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/login.php

Follow Sky on Twitter: https://twitter.com/Skyluvs2write

Other Cyber-spots you can find Sky:

Amazon (http://www.amazon.com/Sky-Purington/e/B004I4ITRU/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1297816883&sr=1-2-ent)

Author’s Den (http://www.authorsden.com/skypurington)

Blazing Book Trailers http://www.blazingtrailers.com/browse.php?txt=sky purington

(HEART OF VESUVIUS, sequel to DARKEST MEMORY)
Two vampires, one goal.
Alexandria has no choice. She must flee to the last place she wants to. Straight into the arms of a vampire she was determined to forget.
Salvator, ancient vampire, finds this a clever fix to obtaining the one vampire who he has always desired, Alexandria.
Together, they must find a way to evade her powerful enemy, Salvator's brother Luciano. On the run, they struggle to understand one another. Deep, dark secrets are revealed. Denied passion ignites. Blood is spilled. Within the Heart of Vesuvius, anything is possible. All can be conquered. But will it be? Can wrongs be made right? History is the locked door. Forgiveness is the key. Time will tell if ancient love can once again flourish.
Link to Excerpt: http://www.skypurington.com/main.html
Purchase Links: The Wild Rose Press http://www.thewildrosepress.com/heart-of-vesuvius-p-4351.html
Amazon http://www.amazon.com/Heart-Of-Vesuvius-ebook/dp/B004GUSEH6/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&m=AG56TWVU5XWC2&s=books&qid=1297817475&sr=8-1
Fictionwise http://www.fictionwise.com/ebooks/b117622/Heart-Of-Vesuvius/Sky-Purington/?si=0

Thanks, Sky, for visiting and much luck with sales.

Welcome Guest Joanna Aislinn

2011-03-04T19:37:00.000-08:00

Welcome to Fellow Author Joanna Aislinn as she tells us about her novel, No Matter Why.

What is it about the romance genre that appeals to you?

I just finished reading a suspense novel, a take on ‘Thelma and Louise’ (and no gorgeous younger Brad Pitt, lol). Occurred to me, somewhere along the ride, I missed the emotion that drives romantic literature.

Have you always wanted to be a writer? If not, why not?

Had no clue I was headed this way, PL! I’d been mentally re-writing TV shows to incorporate my characters since I was a kid. Not until I met an author who was the keynote speaker at a women’s retreat I attended, did I realize I wasn’t some weirdo whose mind was always preoccupied with heroes, situations, conflict, etc. When I accidentally discovered fan-fiction, I realized I am really NOT alone. My writing took off from there.

I know the feeling. I carry on conversations with myself all the time. I tell people I have split personalities. What do you hope readers will take from your writing?

I think I’d like them to understand judging others’ choices is an easy thing to do, but one really needs to live someone else’s life before s/he does that.

Exactly my thoughts! What is the toughest part about being a writer and how do you get past it?

Time and organization, especially since I get to bring so much work home. I never feel organized b/c I’m never sure exactly what’s coming, and my work flies in from all directions. I’m not a terribly structured person to begin with (hence, I’m a pantser) so that doesn’t help.

I'm a pantser as well. Is there anything in your story based upon a real life event? If so, tell me about it.

I wove a couple situations in here and there and tied them together with others to make it mine for the story. That’s all I’ll share.

LOL! What inspired you to write No Matter Why?

No Matter Why started out as flashbacks from another story. The sequel, a direct continuation, was supposed to be Part 2 and the bridge between Parts 1 and 3. Didn’t quite work out that way, but I’m very happy with the way things did.

Are the love scenes in your books made up or are they from personal experience?

Probably a mix of the two. How does one not incorporate what one knows into one’s stories?

I find I draw from personal experience all the time. What was your favorite part of the book?

I love the magic of watching the main characters’ relationship grow and change.

It is exciting. What did you wish you might have done differently in your book?

Wish I had the editing knowledge I gained along the way so that I could apply it to that book, lol. Though the emotion that runs through my stories tends to be the same, I hope I took the writing to another level in my next work(s).

Who/what are your favorite authors/books?

Laura Ingalls Wilder: The Little House Series (Little Town on the Prairie is probably my favorite of the collection);

Lynn Austin: Hidden Places

Kathleen Woodiwiss: Ashes in the Wind and The Wolf and the Dove

Wolf and the Dove is one of my all time favorites. How do you juggle a full-time job and write on the side?

I’m having a very hard time with this one this school year. Bringing work home is really getting in my alter-ego’s way. On the bright side, think the time crunch is finally teaching me to edit my reports a little. (What was consistently five pages recently has been trimmed to four); my interviews, too, or so I like to think. (Y’all feel free to tell me: NOT!)

Can you give us a sneak peek of your next book?

Sorry. Not yet. But I will say it’s been finished for quite some time now.

What draws you to a story?

I’m very open to storylines. As long as a blurb sounds good or I happened across a good review, I’ll check it out. I’ll even read a poorly written account if the story keeps me interested. I am appalled, however, at how many authors out there are making a living off of—or at least selling enough books to make bestseller lists—with mediocre writing. We won’t mention those well-established wordsmiths who break all the rules and get away with it because their names sell. (I guess one of the hardest things I’ve had to accept as a writer is that I’ll never read ANY book without automatically editing it as I turn the pages. Even in the best-written story, sometimes I have to consciously tell the inner-editor to ‘get over it.’)

If you could have dinner with one person, dead or alive, who would it be and why?

Hmm. Part of me has a slew of questions for my Maker, whom I choose to call God. Laura Ingalls Wilder comes to mind; there is so much more I’d like to know about her life on the day-to-day, as TOLD to me firsthand by the lady herself. And how about cappuccino with Rafa Nadal, Novak Djokovic, Aaron Rodgers and maybe even Tom Brady, lol?

When you begin a story, do you know how your book is going to end and/or the fate of all your characters or are you surprised as you write the story and in as much suspense as the reader?

My most recently completed novel surprised me. This particular pair wasn’t supposed to wind up together (or they were supposed to wind up ‘on the offs’ at the beginning of Part 3). Not only did I truly fall in love with this hero (and the ending), I realized the heroine’s character arc was really done and anything else would be a re-do at her end. Finally, this story could easily reflect real life, so I wound up embracing the story as it worked out. That’s part of the fun of being a pantster: I’m as much a reader as a writer while the story unfolds.

Where can people learn more about you and your work?

My website. http://www.joannaaislinn.com/
My blog. http://joannaaislinn.wordpress.com/
Facebook. (Always looking for new friends there!)
Twitter (I go by FancyWriterLady and am working on getting a little more established with this particular hub of social media!)

No Matter Why: blurb

Trust and stability became empty words the day motherless, sixteen-year-old Carrie Norwell came home to find her brothers murdered. Within moments, her father arrived and his heart gave out at the scene. Five years later, is it any wonder the walls with which she’s barricaded her heart are virtually impenetrable to anyone looking to get close and offer what she wants more than anything? The security only a loving family can give? Or someone with whom to build her own?
Billy Jay Eldridge wants to offer exactly that to the right girl. He’s two years out of college and managing a store at the assistant level. He didn’t count on not synching with the corporate/retail atmosphere and toys daily with the idea of a major career move that promises to make nobler use of his God-given talents. Then shy, quiet Carrie joins his crew. Intrigued and charmed by the girl’s haunted eyes and withdrawn ways he sets out to know her better, clueless that his life’s calling will be the biggest setback to getting her to accept from him what she wants and needs most.

Read an excerpt or two (or three or more)
http://joannaaislinn.wordpress.com/read-an-excerpt/

Thank you Joanna for taking time out from your busy schedule to visit.

Welcome Autumn Jordon

2011-02-24T19:46:00.000-08:00

I want to welcome fellow author Autumn Jordon, author of Evil's Witness, Obsessed by Wildfire and her newest, In the Presence of Evil. Welcome, Autumn, tell us a little bit about yourself.

My nickname is trouble. I earned the title from my family and friends—just ask them. Even my pets look at me with a cautious eye, at times. Life is never dull in my valley surrounded by the beautiful Blue Mountains of northeast PA.

I love to travel with the man who is not only my husband but also my best friend. We love to learn about the areas we visit and make new friends. I’m never bored because I have a long list of hobbies. No matter what I’m doing, I’m always, always, busy dreaming up ideas to put my characters in grave danger.
www.autumnjordon.com
or http://autumnjordonsnotes.blogspot.com/2011/02/cabin-fever-101.html
www.Facebook.com/AutumnJordon
www.twitter.com/AJordon

What is it about the romance genre that appeals to you?

The emotion and the happily ever after ending . I love novels that wrap me up in the characters and take me for a ride. I also love stories with happy endings. Romances do both.

Have you always wanted to be a writer? If not, why not?

I’ve always written and always wanted to be a published author. In high school I was a reporter and later an editor for my school paper. My life took a different direction and I married a solider a week after graduating from college. Twenty years and four children later I decided it was now or never to realize my dream.

My favorite Question: Are the love scenes in your books made up or are they from personal experience?

LOL. I read this question and wondered how many people actually answered it. I think every author pulls from her or his personal experience when writing any emotional scene. They’d be lying if they told you otherwise. So the answer is yes my DH and I do enjoy each other. LOL.

How do you juggle a full-time job and write on the side?

My life is busy just like everyone’s, but this is my career of choice and my business. If I don’t write, I have nothing to sell. I write almost every day. I study the craft or industry every day. I’m promoting my work every day. I might not have uninterrupted hours on end to write but I do have stolen minutes and believe me you can write a lot in twenty minutes. And even if you only get a few lines down, that is a few more than you had. Word By Word, Line By Line, Page By Page has been my motto for years.

Can you give us a sneak peek of your next book?

My next romantic suspense, In The Presence Of Evil, will be out shortly. Here’s a blurb:

A Russian mafia hit-man frames Gina Rizzo for the murder of her boss. Her only hope to stay out of prison is to accept the help of the man who years ago broke her heart.

Staring death in the eye is easier for Marine Cole Hanson than facing the woman who stole his soul and then betrayed him. However, when Cole sees Gina in handcuffs, old feelings flare and even though he doesn’t trust her with his heart, he willingly steps up as her alibi.

Gina’s life is threatened and staying alive while tracking a murder depends on whether Gina and Cole can trust each other again. If they do, will their rekindled love be their demise?

What draws you to a story?

Like my first romantic suspense, Evil’s Witness, the characters of In The Presence Of Evil draw you into their lives from one page. Each chapter you learn something about them, their pasts and about their growing love.

If you could have dinner with one person, dead or alive, who would it be and why?

Other than my Dear Husband? Oh, let me think. Ah, probably a real female espionage spy. I’d love to learn the real behind the scenes activities she is involved in, a little about her personal life and how she walked away from her past.

Do you know how your book is going to end and/or the fate of all your characters or are you surprised as you write the story and in as much suspense as the reader?
Each one of my books ended differently than I first envisioned it. The characters definitely had a hand in the outcome.

Thanks, Autumn, for joining me here. I'm a new host for guest bloggers and I'm thrilled you accepted my invitation. Good luck and many sales.

Patsy

Welcome Skhye Moncrief

2011-02-15T19:21:00.000-08:00

I'd like to introduce a friend and fellow author Skhye Moncrief. Welcome, Skhye -

Many thanks to Patsy for having me over! My latest release, a werewolf space opera, is being released Friday, February 18th!!! I'm so excited my brain just can't think beyond the book. So, I decided to have a little quiz... Just for fun. But oh so revealing. Let's get in the mood. Close your eyes. Inhale deeply. Exhale. Let all that stress out. Feel your muscles relax.. What if your psychic abilities manifested just a little more prominently than those of everyone else in the population?

Psychic werewolves are saving the universe. And they're recruiting. Read chapter 1, http://www.newconceptspublishing.com/skhyemoncriefbooks.html,
to learn how to avoid being inducted into the war!

Of course, you might be gungho about joining the Blood Wars...
Do you have what it takes to become an elite were-assassin? Run through this checklist to determine if you've got the right stuff to keep Earth safe from the evil emperor's reign of mind control:

1. Are you into that legendary conflict between werewolves and vampires?
2. Do you think--deep down inside in an intuitive, rather instinctual way--that something is going to happen on Winter Solstice 2012? (You aren't alone. Many cultures around the world think something's going down... And the universe's free thinkers are determined to see it doesn't happen.)
3. Can you read minds, levitate objects, remote view, heal with your touch, sense truth with your gut, etc.?
4. Have you been told you are ADHD or a labeled a Violet Child?
5. Have you experienced lost time or alien-abduction nightmares?
6. Are you drawn to blood as if the substance somehow inherently exuded power?
7. Are you into Gothic anything?

If you answer yes to any of these points, read up on the Blood Wars at
http://www.newconceptspublishing.com/skhyemoncriefbooks.html

Book 2 in the FERAL series: FERAL FLAW (available Feb 18th at

http://www.fictionwise.com/ebooks/b115094/Feral-Fascinations/Skhye-Moncrief/?si=0)

Blurb: FERAL FLAW
Sexual espionage never got any deadlier!

As the Blood Wars between psychic werewolves and vampires continue, Commander Goro’s deepest desire, his love, his promised mate, is taken from him in the worst possible manner. He learns she’s given birth to his arch enemy’s child, a deadly rumor for both his honor and her life. If he discovers she’s a sex spy, he’ll have to kill her. Now they must mate to disprove the rumor of sexual espionage. Although he’d postponed that moment of divine completion bonding their bodies through mystic sex and blood exchange to safeguard her from the treacherous game of manipulation—a game he and his intended play with everyone aboard his starship, he has no choice but to mate.

Just one problem stands in his way…

Psychokinetic earthling Crazy Darla, manipulator extraordinaire unequaled by none other than Goro, realizes the only way to survive the rumored lie is to run for her life. But there was always something more in her motives than fantasies of delicious sex with the man she’s craved for years. Even though those motives felt carnal. Something else, pure and, perhaps, metaphysical haunted her. Perhaps in his goddess, Destiny? She had to believe in those feelings of love. But to trust is to show weakness in handing over one’s fate to another who just might ritually disembowel you.

Who is playing whom in the battle of masterminds? Sexual espionage never got any deadlier. With the secret baby, bounty hunters, an entrancing crystal, and a space opera between werewolves and vampires forcing Goro and Darla into dark secluded corners, pushing them into carnal sexual interludes and dangerous blood exchanges fueled by the frenzied blood lust of were-mates, the future holds both promises and lies in the psychic war. And one wrong move means you’ve succumbed to the deadliest thing in the universe, your FERAL FLAW.

Reviews for Book 1 in the FERAL series: FERAL FASCINATIONS...

"FERAL FASCINATIONS ...a surprise and an exciting read. It's not an easy novel to summarize but take my word for it…a summary can't do it justice any way. You have to read—and enjoy it—for yourself!... There's a lot of sex in this one but it's neither intrusive nor too graphic and every thrust of it moves the plot. Both Kindrist and Straightarrow, as well as the other characters—even the Bible-quote spouting Darla—are drawn with sympathy and realism. Pithy dialogue—a lot of it going on inside Jake's head, give the novel just enough of a quirky nature to keep it from the run-of-the-mill storyline of alien-abductee-saves-Mankind-and-gets-girl. 5 Stars!" ~Tony-Paul http://www.tony-paul.com/

"This isn’t one of your brother’s Sci-Fi Books – it’s Rebel Mercenary meets Paranormal Alien Chick. ...Complex and well written, Ms. Moncrief seamlessly blended earth religion, new-age mysticism, paranormal events, shapeshifing rogue spies, and a who-done-it twist. The love scenes were not overly explicit, but very romantic & emotionally heart felt." ~LynnMarie, HEA Reviews

"Feral Fascinations is one of those werewolf science fiction novels that captures the imagination. Skhye Moncrief has done an amazing job of bringing a new world out and showing it to the reader with such amazing clarity. ...An original novel many will enjoy as it combines both modern and futuristic elements twinned with horror... True horror and science fiction fans will take to this novel really well as the characters are fascinating and well worth reading about. The sex scenes are not descriptive, but leave plenty to the imagination so the reader can make of the scenes what they will." ~Sandra, Romance at the Heart Magazine

FERAL FASCINATIONS Available in e-format at New Concepts Publishing
http://www.newconceptspublishing.com/skhyemoncriefbooks.html
at Fictionwise http://www.fictionwise.com/ebooks/b115094/Feral-Fascinations/Skhye-Moncrief/?si=0

Book 3: FERAL FEVER coming in April!!!

CONTEST:
Both of these books revolve around Winter Solstice 2012 myth/legend. Please tell me how you think legendary crystal skulls on Earth fit into the story world I created. Leave a comment with your answer here (as well as an e-mail address so we can contact you) by 12:00 noon on February 25 and be entered to win a Time Guardian T-shirt! And I'll pick a winner.

Thanks for having me over, Patsy! ~Skhye

Fall in love beyond this reality...

Skhye's website http://skhyemoncrief.com
Skhye's blog http://blog.skhyemoncrief.com
Skhye's newsletter yahoo group http://groups.yahoo.com/group/skhyemoncrief/

Thanks, Skhye, for joining me and good luck with the new releases.

Patsy

Goodreads Blog Hop

2011-01-31T20:02:00.000-08:00

Blog-Hop - One lucky commenter will be the winner of an e-copy of his/her choice of any of my books. To enter, leave me a comment and your e-mail address so I can contact you. Click on the Good Reads Blog Hop to see a list of contributor sites.

Thanks, P.L. Parker

Cover Art for Absolution

2010-10-19T19:08:00.000-07:00

So excited. Just received my cover art for "Absolution." From the mists of time. . .dark powers arise. Coming from Eternal Press. www.eternalpress.biz

In Search of my Soulmate - The Final Chapter

2010-10-02T16:54:00.000-07:00

I’d rented the special movie I’d been dying to see. I was bathed, dressed in my favorite lounging wear, ready and expecting a night of nothing but relaxation.
The phone rang—and rang.
“Damn,” I grumbled, struggling out of my favorite recliner. “Just when I get comfortable.”
It was Barb. “Can we go out tonight,” she wailed. “Marty stood me up and I’m feeling terrible.”
“Can’t,” I said. “Already in my pajamas and ready for bed.”
“But…but,” she blubbered. “He stood me up. I can’t stand to stay home.”
“Have a beer and relax.” Please, please, God! I just want to stay home.
“You have to go out with me. I’ll go crazy just sitting here. And remember when. . . ”
Yes, I remembered. Damn and double damn! I was sooo ready to just sit home and veg.
I heaved a giant sigh. “Okay. But it’ll take me some time to get ready.”
“I’ll pick you up in a half hour,” she cried and slammed down the phone.
I stood there glaring at the receiver. Why me? I didn’t go out anymore. No reason to.
I was 38. I’d accepted the fact that I’d be single for the rest of my life. I had my sons who I dearly loved. I was saving to buy a house and by next summer, I’d have my downpayment. I didn’t need a man to make my life complete. I was accepting and content with my lot.
I threw on my makeup and rummaged through my closet for an outfit. If I was going out, might as well try to look good.
The doorbell rang. She was here.
We spent the first hours racing around to different bars, most just a step through the door, a quick look around and we’d be off. I was getting the idea.
“We aren’t out here to have fun,” I snapped. “We’re looking for your creepy boyfriend. Remember—the one who stood you up.”
“I just have to know if he’s out with another woman,” she moaned. “I can’t bear worrying about it.”
“Oh for Pete’s sake.” I threw open the door of the Bouquet. At least the music here was good. “This is the last one I’m going to. After this, I’m done. Take it or leave it.”
We found a table on the upper tier and sat down. Minutes later, Saturday Night Fever asked me to dance, followed by Country Swinger (who almost tore my arms off), and finally Humper. Small and sweaty, he trembled and jerked the whole time, I imagined in the throes of orgasm. How a guy that short and weenie looking could hold on so tight and hump all at the same time was beyond me. Finally, the torment was over. I hurried back to my seat and sat down.
“That’s it,” I growled. “I’ve had enough. I want to go home.”
“But Marty’s here,” she hissed. “He’s over by the wall. Is he with a girl?”
I checked out the direction she indicated. “It’s a guy sitting next to him—or at least from a quick inspection I think it’s a guy.”
“What should I do?” she cried. “I want to talk to him.”
“For cripe’s sake, go over there and say something. Then we’re going home. Or at least I am.”
“Want to dance?” The soft voice drew my irritated attention. I glanced up and...froze. Leaning around a post, dark chocolate eyes sparkling with a thousand mischievous lights, was a real live good-looking man. White teeth gleamed in a wide smile, round cheeks creased with deep dimples. Longish black curly hair brushed his shirt collar. Yuppy type but definitely interesting all the same.
“Uh. Okay,” I murmured.
I stood up and he moved to take my hand. He was tall and broad-shouldered, two things I loved--and those long legs. Damn! He was so cute! He looked young, probably 28 or so, too young for me. But it was only a dance after all.
He was a good dancer, nothing flashy but interesting. We danced again, and then again, and then the music changed to a slow dance. He cuddled me close and moved to the beat, sexy and compelling.
Somewhere in the middle, he kissed me. It was one of those lip fusing, heart stopping, stomach fluttering, womb clenching, knee shaking, toes tingling kind of kisses—the kind when time takes a hike. My mind whirled in flagrant disregard of the crowd milling around us. Finally, the kiss ended. Why’d he have to be so young?
Dazed, I stared at him. “What was that for?”
“You looked like you needed a kiss,” he grinned, unabashed.
We walked back to my table—or perhaps I should say I stumbled to the table on weak-kneed legs.
“When're you going out with me?” he asked.
“I don’t date younger guys,” I said. Damn my stupid rules!
“I’ll bet you ten dollars I’m older than you,” he laughed, daring me to take the bet.
“Put your money where your mouth is.”
I took out my ID and tossed it on the table. He did the same.
I picked his up and read the date. He was datable!
“You are older than me,” he chuckled. “By a year. When are you going out with me? How about tomorrow night?”
“I’d like to, but…”
“Okay,” he groaned. “Here comes the but.”
“No. No. Really. I’d like to, but I promised my boys I’d take them out to dinner and a movie.” Might as well put all my cards on the table. If he hated kids, now was the time to find out. “But you can join us if you’re interested.” I said the words pretty much expecting how he’d react.
“Okay,” he said. “Where and when?” Surprise! Surprise!
But then again, I’d heard that before. Setting a date, getting all excited and then getting stood up. I was burned and wary.
“Call me tomorrow at ten o’clock a.m. and if you’re still interested, I’ll give you my address. Dinner’s at six and the show’s at eight.”
I had nothing to write with so I had to use my lipstick and a napkin. He took it, read it through several times and then tucked it in his pocket.
The bar was closing and it was time to go home. He walked me to Barb’s car and helped me in.
He leaned against the car. “Go out to breakfast with me."
“Nope. I came with Barb and I’m going home with her.”
“It’s just breakfast.”
“I know, but I do have some rules and that’s one of them.”
He leaned in and kissed me again. My heart rate soared in my love-starved breast.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he promised, adding a quick peck on my lips.
Hope springs eternal.
The phone rang the next morning. I staggered out of bed.
“Hi.” He sounded as hung over as I felt. “Where and when,” he asked.
That was twenty years ago last January. Since that night, we’ve only been apart for a night here and there, but so few times, I can count them on one hand. We were married the following summer, have a son together to add to our family of boys, and I wonder how I got so lucky.
A few months ago, as we were walking away from my fortieth high school reunion, he took my hand like he always does. A voice called from behind us.
“Do you two still hold hands after all these years?”
I glanced over my shoulder and laughed. “Yes,” I said. “We still like each other.”
The road to love was a long and bumpy one, and I kissed more than my share of toads along the way. But in all fairness to the opposite sex, I will admit that I was probably a toadette on some of my male counterparts’ romantic journeys. But I did find him, my best friend, my lover and my soulmate. My forever man, Jack.

In Search of My Soulmate - Bachelors No. 5

2010-09-18T08:59:00.001-07:00

The Dating Service

“Come on,” my friend Wanda urged. “Fill out the form and I’ll send them in. You never know. We could just meet somebody.”
So--we’d fallen to this, joining a dating service.
“How come we get to sign up for free?” Didn’t sound right to me!
Wanda ruffled the papers. “Not many women’ve signed up yet and he said if we signed up fast, he’d waive the fee.”
Tongue between my teeth, I studied the papers.Not much there, but what the heck. I wasn’t doing so good man-hunting on my own and this might just be the start of something wonderful.
“Okay. It says to describe myself. Do I say pretty? Average? Okay?”
Wanda chewed on her pen. “I’m going to say average for me.”
“Me too! Saying I’m pretty makes me feel sort of funny—like I’m vain or something.”
I checked the next box. “Okay. Am I voluptuous?” I arched my back, striking a pose.
Wanda, who was voluptuous, laughed. “I don’t think so. Say average there too.”
Okay, I marked my way down. Average. Average. Average. So I was average.
We signed our names and Wanda threw them in the mail. Within a short time, the prospective applicant referral forms arrived in the mail.

Dating Service Date No. 1: Referral form indicated he was 34 years old, a construction worker, divorced, one child, handsome. Okay. Sounds good. He called and we agreed to meet for lunch at a local Mexican restaurant.
I arrived, trepidation causing my knees to shake. What was I going to say to a perfect stranger? And would I even recognize him. He was supposed to be wearing a blue T-shirt, tall and dark blonde hair. I saw him right off. Okay-not quite what I envisioned. We introduced ourselves and I sat down.
“Do you have a problem paying for your own lunch?” he asked.
“Uh….uh, no,” I stammered. “Good idea actually. Just a friendly lunch and then we don’t owe anything to each other.”
He smiled, seeming relieved.
The waitress arrived, I placed my order. He only asked for a glass of water. Strange.
During a stilted conversation, my food and his water arrived. After the waitress left, he pulled out a sack lunch and began eating.
I glanced around the café, somewhat ill at ease.
“I’m short on money most of the time. Child support and living costs,” he explained.
So why was he trying to date? Wasn’t like I was going to pay all the time.
Lunch over – date over – referral over.

Dating Service Date No. 2: His form said handsome, 39 years old, divorced and liked to travel. Didn’t sound bad. At 32 myself, 39 was an acceptable age. He called and we agreed to meet for lunch at the same Mexican restaurant where I’d met No. 1.
He said he’d be wearing a red shirt. Now there was a red shirt, but the guy was 60 if he was a day—and handsome was stretching that word like spandex on a Suma wrestler’s butt.
He must have sensed my perusal because he caught my eye, waved me over, teeth jutting like old ivory pegs. Dragging my feet, cursing my luck, I stumbled to the table.
He pulled out a chair. “Wow,” he gushed, wiping his florid face. “I hit the jackpot with you.”
Oh goody!
I pasted a smile on my face and sat down, thankful that I was only going to lose an hour of my life.
The waitress arrived, took our orders and left.I so wanted to go with her.
“I don’t know about you,” he snickered, trying to hold my hand. “But I don’t need to look any further. I’ve found my woman.”
My fake smile slumped, my stomach lurched.
The food arrived, I stared at my plate, wishing I was anywhere but here.
He took a bite, coughed and sputtered, spewing food. “Hot.”
Another bite. His already red face flushed purple, sweat popped out on his forehead. He grabbed for the cloth napkin, blew his nose and then wiped his face, neck and underarms with the dainty white square.
I lost what little appetite I had.
“Your application said you were 40?” I said it like a question. “You seem. . .older.”
He grimaced. “I’m 58. I was afraid if I gave my real age, all I’d get were fat old women. I’m not looking for fat old women. You’re just what I wanted.”
Cripes!
He wiped his neck again. I imagined I could see smears of snot sliming his exposed neckline. “When I get home, I’m calling the service and tell them to forget sending me more applications. I’m happy with you.”
Lunch seemed interminable but eventually it ended. I grabbed the bill and paid for both. No way I was going to owe this guy anything.
“I’ll call you,” he said as I ran from the room.
Date No. 2 – Over - dead.

Dating Service Date No. 3: 37. Chef in a downtown restaurant. Handsome, shy. Okay, I liked the word “shy.”
He actually picked me up and we drove to a nice restaurant. I wouldn’t have described him as handsome but looks aren’t everything.
“Why are you using a dating service,” he asked. “You’re too pretty.”
“I don’t consider myself pretty,” I said. “I’m average.”
“My daughter filled out my application,” he explained, hand brushing his bald pate. “She thinks I’m handsome and she wants me to be happy.”
“I think that’s absolutely wonderful.”
Dinner was really nice. He was considerate, a good conversationalist, and I enjoyed the meal. I actually liked this guy. So there were some decent men out there.
He drove me home and patted my hand. “You’re too pretty for me.”
“Wha…?” I was flabbergasted. Too pretty? What kind of a remark was that?
He never called back. I was sort of disappointed.
Date No. 3 – No, but I was kind of sorry.

Dating Service Date No. 4: Rugged, owns his plumbing business. Divorced. 35. Okay, the age was good—if it was true and rugged was good. Brought to mind guys like Mark Wahlberg—but I was wary.
He called and wanted to meet that night. It was a weeknight and I had my three year old son to contend with. He said no problem, bring him over and we can visit at my place for awhile. Get to know each other. Okay, sounded like a plan.
We drove to his place, my angelic three year old excited and happy about being included. We stopped in front of a reasonably nice condo. Not bad.
I knocked on the door and it flew open almost immediately.
“Come in,” he said.
It took a few moments for my eyes to adjust to the difference in light. When they did, I’m sure my mouth dropped open. Rugged? This guy said he was rugged? Heck, I could take him on a bad day. He hunched over me like a big spider waiting for the fly. I could smell the musky scent of sweaty body odor. Murky eyes glistened behind pop bottle lenses, sandy brown hair stood on end in little tufts. Sorry, but this guy was truly…creepy.
My sweet baby boy took it upon himself to go crazy. He ran to the coffee table and climbed on, jumping and screaming as he flew from the sofa to a chair, to the next chair, back on the coffee table. Threw the centerpiece to the floor (unbreakable thankfully), started stomping on the table and warbling a full throated battle cry, throwing out his little arms and generally going bananas. I watched, stupefied. What was happening? My little angel who never caused me any concern was going frickin nuts.
I grabbed him up. “Uh,” I said. “He’s never acted this way before.”
Spider man hunched over me even more, his blurry eyes widened even larger. “No problem. He isn’t hurting anything.”
“No, no, really. We have to go.” I practically ran out the door to the safety of my car.
Little guy regarded me with a large amount of concern. He knew he was in so much trouble.
I leaned over, gave him a big kiss. “I love you, sweet baby.”
He looked at me like I’d gone crazy. I bought him an ice-cream cone on the way home.
Date No. 4 – Hell no.

“Okay, Wanda, that’s it. I’m done with this stuff.”
“Why? You’ve only gone out with four?”
Yeah, but I don’t like the unexpected—and from future referrals, I didn’t think it was going to get any better. I was doing as well on my own. At least I had an idea in advance what I was getting. If the guy turned out to be a jerk, wasn’t anybody’s fault but mine.
Dating Service dates – done! (Note – I did let Wanda meet Spider Man—couldn’t let that one pass by.)

In Search of My Soulmate -Bachelor No. 4

2010-09-09T19:48:00.000-07:00

The Cowboy Ladies Man

Every once in awhile, you meet a guy that causes your heart to flutter, your knees to shake and your female parts to charge up and head for the finish line.
That was the cowboy. He was one of those guys who aged early, lots of curly silver hair, blue blue eyes and that weathered look from being out in the sun too much. And funny. I loved his funny sense of humor. From the onset, I was a little concerned about the overindulgence in drinking, but I liked a cocktail once in awhile so I forced my anxiety into the back of my mind.

“Meet me at Shorty’s,” he said over the phone. “I’ll be there about 9.”
I flew about the room, finding the perfect outfit, took a quick shower, spent extra time on my hair and makeup and I was ready. Short drive to the bar and, nervous, I entered.
I spotted him at the bar, perched beneath a rather inebriated female. He caught my eye, smiled and…I was hooked again.
“Who’s this?” She was still plunked on his lap, a drunken grin on her heavily made-up face.
“Aw, nobody,” he said. “Just tripped and fell into my lap.”
She tripped and fell into your lap?
He pushed her away and she staggered off in search of a new victim.
“Wanna go hunting this weekend?”
Besides being a cowboy, he liked to fish and hunt anything that moved, any season of the year.
“O…kay,” I agreed somewhat reluctantly. “Where to this time?”
“Up near Cambridge. My aunt’s fixing breakfast and then we’re all going out.”
Another female entwined her arms around his neck.
“Who’s that?” Sheesh, this was getting ridiculous!
He gave her a hug, kissed her cheek and patted her butt. “Just an old friend.”
An old friend?
Four o’clock comes early. A huge crowd gathered at his aunt’s place. Looked like the annual meeting for Hillbilly High.
A woman squealed and ran for the cowboy, hugging him and planting kisses all over his face. “Where’ve you been?”
Cowboy had the decency to at least look embarrassed. He turned to me. “This is my girlfriend,” he said, jiggling my arm.
Her face grew confused, stormy. “Since when?”
“Uh,” he stammered. “For awhile.”
“Eat shit,” she growled, stomping away.
His aunt was a gracious hostess. I sat down at the table and she slapped down a turkey platter-sized plate of sunny-side-up eggs, rashers of bacon and sausage, a mountain of hash brown potatoes and a pile of toast. I, of course, assumed it was for the whole table. Nooooooo – it was my plate. First, let me preface this. Eggs to me should be cooked until they are so dead, they couldn’t move if they tried. But a plate full of sunny-side-up eggs? All for me? My stomach rolled. But my mama taught me good manners. I picked up the fork and forced down a bite, pretending to myself that it wasn’t really the nastiest thing I’d ever had in my mouth. Each chew rendered the eggs even slimier in my mouth. ACCCKKKKK!!!
The forest beckoned. About the time we left the rest of the group, I noticed he’d only packed a hunting bow.
“Shouldn’t we have a gun?”
He looked at me like I’d grown antlers. “For bow hunting?”
“We’re bow hunting?” Out here in the wilds where there are bears and wolves and all kinds of man-eating creatures—with nothing but a bow?
“Well, yeah,” he said. “It’s bow season.”
“You didn’t tell me that last night.”
“I thought you were smart enough to figure it out.”
When I was six, I was cornered by a big cinnamon bear in Yellowstone Park. Since that time, I’ve lived in fear that somewhere, someday, a bear would show up to finish the deal. For that reason, camping to me is the nearest motel from the family site and I rarely go further than ten feet beyond the campground. Not my style.
Huddled behind him for protection, we headed out. About an hour later, we came across a deep brushy gully-- one we needed to cross.
I noticed movement across the way. A huge black bear was tearing bark from a dying pine tree. I froze. There he was--the hideous nemesis of my worst nightmares. Huge and lumbering, it hadn’t spotted us yet as it clawed the tree, ripping off strips.

Catching our scent, he whirled, darting into the brush of the very gully we had to cross.
“Come on,” cowboy said, pulling my arm. “We need to get to the other side.”
“Not on your life,” I gasped. “That…that thing is down there.”
He laughed. “He’s more scared of you than you are of him.”

“I seriously doubt it.”
But being the idiot that I can be sometimes, I let him lead me down into the deep dark recesses, the sky obscured by the overhead limbs blocking the sun. A small game trail wove its way through the bushes, just wide enough to squeeze through. My heart was beating in my throat, teeth chattering, knees quaking. This was such a freakin' bad idea!
Something big crashed through the brush, headed right for us! By the sounds, it was big. The bear! I knew it was the bear!
Cowboy grimaced. “Maybe we should’ve brought a gun.”

No shit, Sherlock!
The pounding was almost upon us. I tripped falling backwards, dragging the cowboy down on top of me. Maybe the bear would eat him first and leave me alone!
A trophy sized elk, snorting in terror, flew over us, landed and raced up the side, Shocked, I could only stare.
Cowboy struggled to stand, stumbling after the elk. I crawled after him, refusing to be left alone in this hell, praying I could reach safety and see my children again.

He never shot the elk and I didn’t care. Numerous women friends and a drunken car crash later, I finally accepted the fact that the cowboy was a dead-end street. He was never going to change and women were a dime a dozen.

In Search of My Soulmate- Bachelors No. 3

2010-08-25T17:33:00.000-07:00

The Blind Dates:

Everyone had a friend, friend of a friend, brother, uncle, cousin, son or whoever and every one of them wanted to set me up on a blind date. Nice person that I am, I didn’t want to hurt any feelings so I went – how bad could it be?

Blind Date No. 1: The doorbell rang. I drew a deep breath and marched forward. My source said he was newly single, had one child and was looking to date again. Okay. Sounded interesting. I opened the door and. . .a young woman was standing on the porch. I gawked in surprise. Omigawd! I was horrified. Did my source think I was gay? How awful!
“Hi,” she smiled, holding out her hand. “My name’s Mary. I know this is really weird, but my brother’s so nervous, he was too scared to come to the door. I’m really sorry about this.”
I shook her hand, breathing a sign of almost relief. “Um. . .no problem whatsoever. Did he even come with you?” I asked, leaning around to look.
“He’s out in the car. We thought we’d go to Dino’s for dinner—if that’s okay with you?”
I grabbed my purse and followed her off the porch. Sure enough. There was a male sitting in the car. Not bad. Normal, but sort of pale and shaky looking.

I opened the back door and climbed in. Might as well keep this on a “friends only” basis.
Dino’s is a nice place. Italian food and good music. A nice start.
We were seated and the waitress brought menus.
“Do you see the prices?” he grumbled, frowning at the list. “I only brought twenty dollars.”
“That’s okay,” I was quick to reply. “I’m more than happy to pay for my own.”
“You will not,” Mary gasped. She scowled at her brother. “I’ll lend you the money until pay day.” I was so embarrassed. “No. Really! I don’t mind.”
“See,” he said. “She doesn’t mind. I think it’s great.”
“She. Will. Not. Pay.” Mary slapped him on the shoulder. “It’s a date—remember?
I ordered the cheapest thing on the menu and water to drink. Blind date No. 1 - No.

Blind Date No. 2: My brother Kev set the date up--an old friend of his, Taylor. My brother said it would be fun. Okay. I was game. I didn’t live in the same town so I drove up and decided to spend the night with my parents.
“You aren’t going to like him,” my mother murmured, concern written all over her face. “He just isn’t somebody you’d date.”
“He can’t be that bad, Mom,” I replied, my naiveté showing. “Kev wouldn’t set me up with a creep or anything.”
“I don’t know,” she sighed. “He just doesn’t seem right for you.”
We agreed to meet downtown. My brother, another friend of his, Lowell, and I headed out. I wasn’t nervous. After all, my brother set up the date. I trusted him.
Lowell nudged my arm. “You aren’t going to like him.”
The second person in less than a half hour to say the same thing. Okay, I’m getting anxious now.
The bar was in full swing when we arrived. Kev cased the place, looked for his friend. Growing more anxious by the minute, I found a chair and sat down. Lowell plunked down next to me.
“Why won’t I like him?”
“He’s just…different.”
I’m only five foot two inches, but Taylor was shorter than me—and probably three times as broad. Long hair and sideburns reminded me of a homely aging Elvis, complete with bell-bottomed pants, an open white silk shirt with a leather vest, and more chains than I could count covering his flabby and overly hairy chest.

He stuck out his hand. “See that ring.”
I did. Pretty impressive. More diamonds than I’d seen in awhile.
“Every time I get engaged and we break up, I get the ring back and add the diamond to my ring.”
Let me see! There had to be at least twenty diamonds on that pudgy finger.
A big-bosomed girl passed our table. His eyes devoured her. He whirled, running after her. That was the last I saw of him.
Later I asked my brother why?
“He hasn’t had a date in quite awhile.”
Was I happy? Blind Date No. 2 – Really! No!

Blind Date No. 3: “He’s perfect for you. He’s really handsome, looks like Tom Selleck.”
Hmmm. Tom Selleck? That I could handle. Without further hesitation. “Okay.”
Now I should’ve paid more attention. My co-worker’s husband looked like Don Knotts with a whole lot less hair. But she said her friend was handsome, had a job, and had been divorced for quite some time.
I waited outside. The moment arrived. A beat-up dirty old Buick drove up. The driver leaned over and shoved the door open.
“You Patsy?”
Uh. This had to be the wrong guy! Never in my wildest nightmares would I compare this guy to Tom Selleck. Tom Selleck’s mutt maybe--but not Tom Selleck!
Empty beer cans and garbage littered everything. Spots of liquid and food stains covered the seat. I brushed a small space free and climbed in, full of dark misgivings.
“I thought we’d go play some pool,” he said, popping open a Bud. He took a long swig. “You any good at pool?”
His foot punched down and the car jumped away from the curb. We flew towards the intersection and careened around a corner.
I held on, scrambling for my seatbelt. “Do you think you should be drinking and driving?” I asked, whispering the Lord’s Prayer to myself. “Might want to slow down.”
Cans and bottles rolled and bounced against my legs and feet, spewing liquid on the hem of my best jeans and drenching my sandaled toes.
“No cops around,” he coughed, spitting fluid. He wiped his face with his hand. “Not worried anyway.”
“Well, I’m worried.” Worried for my safety, my self-preservation, the lives of my children if I died. Mundane, everyday thoughts.
I wasn’t a pool player, so I was more than happy to let him find another opponent. The pool game dragged for hours it seemed. He drank like a fish, burping and laughing at his own coarse humor.
I wanted to kill my co-worker. How dare she put me in this situation!
Finally. “I need to get home,” I said. “My sister’s babysitting and I promised her I wouldn’t stay late.”
‘No problem.” His drunken eyes leered at me. “I’m ready to go myself.”
Crap! “No. No,” I said. “You’re having a good time and I don’t want to ruin it for you. I’ll call a cab.” And save myself some grief.
He stroked my arm. I thought I’d puke.
“I’ll take you home, baby,” he whispered. “We still have some talking to do.”
Omigawd!
He was insistent and I was still too stupid and scared to stand up for myself. I followed him out the door, my heart thumping in my chest. Did I dare get in the car again?
He drove like a maniac, skidding to a stop, punching the gas and zipping through traffic. I prayed the whole way home.
The car swerved, jumped the sidewalk and stopped. Panicked, I threw myself out the door.
“Thanks,” I yelled over my shoulder, not forgetting my manners.
I ran up the steps, fumbling for the keys. He was right behind me.
“Don’t I get a kiss goodnight?” His hand stroked my butt cheek.
“Uh. I don’t kiss on the first date.” I wiggled the door handle
“Aw, come on, baby. I deserve a little kiss.”
I was going to faint. I knew I was—but if I fainted, I’d be fair game. What to do?
The door opened. My sister’s sleepy face peered out. She looked at me and then at him, realization dawned in her expression. The door opened wider.
I slipped through. She slammed the door in his face.
Blind Date No. 3 – Definitely--No.

Blind Date No. 4: “You have to meet my uncle. He has his own business. He’s rich.”
Rich was good!
First impressions were not bad. He took me to a nice place for dinner and we were seated. From earlier experiences, I was ready to pay my own way and I made sure he knew it.
“It’s a date,” he objected, smiling. “Later down the road, if you want, you can treat once in awhile.”
Okay, he was looking better!
“I live in a singles only apartment complex down by Julia Davis Park.”
“Oh. How…interesting.” Singles apartment?
“Yeah,” be continued. “We have a big hot tub and we all like to get naked and jump in.”
“Oh,” I fiddled with my fork. “Sounds. . .” Creepy—yeah, creepy. That’s the word I’m looking for.
The food arrived.
“Maybe you’d like to come over sometime.” He started eating. “Afterwards, me and a few of the girls like to play.”
“Play?” I asked, not really wanting to know what he meant.
“Yeah. I like threesomes, with me in the middle. A human sandwich,” he laughed.
Omigawd! Not again! Blind Date No. 4 – Hell No!

My search for the perfect soulmate suffered some horrendous setbacks. But I wasn't ready to give up yet.

In Search of My Soulmate- Bachelor No. 2

2010-08-16T08:15:00.000-07:00

The Fisherman

Charged with nervous energy, I waited, excited and impatient. I could hear him rustling around in the back room.
“You’re gonnal love this,” he called. “I got it on sale and it’s perfect.”
My excitement rose. A Christmas present from a guy! Almost as good as flowers on Valentine’s Day.
He peeked out the door. “Close your eyes and don’t open them until I tell you.”
I obliged, shutting my eyes tightly, but the suspense was killing me. What could it be? Jewelry? New clothes? Something wonderful I just knew.
“Okay, you can open them now.” He sounded so pleased.
My eyes popped open.

I stared at the object. What the hell was that?
It was an inner tube! An inner tube?
“Uh,” I stammered, at a loss. “Thank…thank you.”
“It’s a float tube,” he grinned. “We can go fishing together.”
“Fishing? In that?”

Now I don’t know about you, but my idea of fishing is standing on the bank, forcing unwilling worms onto a hook and casting out. Reeling slow and, if luck was with me, I’d snag a fish. But a float tube?

I studied the item a little more carefully. There was kind of a seat thing in the middle, with holes for my legs to drape down. Didn’t look safe to me. I’m not much of a water person and I sort of figured I’d have to go out on the water in this thing.
“You’ll still need to get waders and flippers,” he explained, still so pleased. “Soon’s it warms up, we’ll go.”
Oh joy! I’m excited—not.
***
March came far too soon for my comfort. The fishing trip was on the schedule. Some obscure reservoir or lake out on the Camas Prairie near Fairfield, Idaho.
“You can borrow my husband’s waders and flippers.” My friend Carol fairly bubbled. She threw up her hands. “Those things are too expensive to buy until you’re sure you want to keep floating.”
Expensive was the key word. A single mother struggling to make ends meet, I didn’t need a costly hobby. Hobbies were to be enjoyed, treasured, moments of personal pleasure. I didn’t see this as falling into any of those categories.
“Thanks,” I said, with about as much enthusiasm as I could muster. I didn’t want to go in the first place so buying the gear was out of the question.
“It might be fun,” she commiserated, knowing I hated the idea. “Keep good thoughts.”
**
Before daylight we headed out on our less than grand adventure. It was a cold morning. The wind was blowing, the sky was overcast. Rain drizzled the bleak landscape. Not a good day to be out fishing—even less for float tubing. I kept hoping the truck would break down, he’d suddenly fall sick or that I’d awaken soon from this horrible nightmare. But fate was against me, we arrived without incident.

The reservoir was small, but certainly big enough. Mr. Fisherman threw on his gear and waded out, leaving me to decipher the complexities of the confusing equipment. There were no instructions. I had no manual. Why was I doing this? Why hadn’t I just said no? Because you’re an idiot. That’s why!
False starts and many minutes later, I was ready.

Now I don’t know if you’ve ever float tube fished, but imagine loaded down with a pole, a fish bag, drinking water, my small cache of makeup, hanging onto both sides of the float tube, hampered by flippers which I have never worn before and trying to walk. Get the idea?

I stumbled towards the water on feet suddenly larger than Shaquille O’Neal’s. The voice of impending doom whispered its insidious words of disaster to my terror-fogged brain. I shivered in the icy wind. The moment was upon me.
Okay, let’s do this. I waded into the water. Farther. Deeper. In the distance, Mr. Fisherman waved, giving me the thumbs up. Asshole!
The water rose to the bottom of my tube. Okay, I can do this. I stepped forward. With the strength of super glue, the muddy bottom clung to my feet. One of my flippers slipped off! Omigawd! I’d lost one of Darrell’s flippers. I couldn’t afford to replace the item!
I leaned out, as far over the edge of the float tube as I could get, dipping the edge as I frantically groped for the flipper. No luck! I forced the tube further down, stretching out as far as I could.
The tube flipped! Freezing water enveloped my head, shoulders and chest area. I was hanging upside down in the water! Dirty water rushed into my silently screaming mouth. I was drowning. Upside down in a freakin float tube! My thoughts ran rampant. My children. My family. I’d never see them again. And they’d be left with the details of my ignoble death. Shameful and embarrassing. The local newspaper would pick up the story—I could see my epitaph—The float tube won!
I fought, but there was nothing I did that changed the situation. I was growing tired of struggling. Death loomed its ugly face.
A hand gripped my shoulder and pulled me upright. Water streamed from my hair. The waders filled with icy water.
Materializing in front of my watery eyes was the face of an elderly gentleman. “Are you okay?”
I gazed into his face, too shocked to speak.
“Are you okay?” he asked again.
I nodded, strands of wet hair flapping my face.
“Let’s get you back to the bank.”
It was only then I noticed my savior had waded out, without protective gear, to save me. He was almost as wet as I was.
“I’m…I’m sorry,” I sputtered, slogging to the bank, burdened by the added weight of the now full waders. “I…”
He frowned. “You shouldn’t be out here if you don’t know what you’re doing.”
“That’s exactly what I thought.”
In the distance, Mr. Fisherman waved again, thumbs up. He is so dead!
“You need to get dry—so do I,” my savior chuckled. “Didn’t expect to go swimming.”
“I’m so sorry,” I apologized again. “I feel terrible.”
“You look terrible. Go get dry.”
I stripped off the waders, noting a long tear in the right leg. Great! Now I’d have to buy waders and flippers. My gross national debt was growing by the second.
In a rash moment of clarity, I had packed a second set of clothing—in the off chance I’d need them. Finally dry and sitting in the truck, I waited for Mr. Fisherman, fuming and ready to attack.
It was then the truth finally sank in. Mr. Fisherman believed whatever was good for him was good for me. Wasn’t it? I looked back over the preceding months. We did what he wanted to do, ate what he wanted, tried to enjoy what he enjoyed, and I realized--I was nothing but a second thought when he was in the mood.
Several days later, walking down Main Street, a couple walking ahead of me were sucking face and groping frantically. It was Mr. Fisherman!
Months later, I ran into him again. He asked me if I'd ever gone float tubing again. "Sadly," I said. "A friend borrowed the tube, left it in the back of his pickup and lost it driving down the freeway." Secretly I smiled. That fifty bucks in my checking account just about paid for the
flippers and waders.
The vote was in. Mr. Fisherman? Definitely a “No.”

In Search of My Soulmate - Bachelor No. 1

2010-07-27T17:13:00.000-07:00

Who Was that Basque Man?

I ducked behind a shade tree, pulling at my skirts. “Cover me while I change.”

I struggled with my costume. Time was short and my next performance was only minutes away. I giggled to myself. My skirts had snagged my harem pants and pulled them down somewhat. The crack of my butt was probably showing, but Kay was protecting my back so I wasn’t worried.

“Uh, Patsy,” Kay muttered. “We’ve got company.”

Company? What company? Here?

As I slipped my skirt up, I turned. . . and froze. Standing there, gaping at me, were two men. My fogged brain scrambled to achieve coherent thought.

The heavier man cleared his throat, lips quirking. “My friend here, Javier, wants to meet you. He thinks you’re beautiful.”
My eyes were drawn to the second man. A white cowboy hat covered black curling hair. I perused his features. Blue, blue eyes (the bluest I’ve ever seen without contacts) gazed at me, openly admiring. Sculpted features accented full lips made for dirty kissing, now spread in a beautiful, white-toothed smile. Dimples danced in his clean-shaven cheeks. From the tip of his hat to his down-at-the-heels shoes, the guy was carved from rock hard muscle and oozed masculine beauty. My stomach flipped.

“He’s Basque and doesn’t speak any English,” the man explained. “So I’m the interpreter.”

“Uh, nice to meet you . . . him,” I blubbered, embarrassed by my unintentional peep show. Fine time to meet Mr. Hunk-Man!

Javier leaned over and murmured something to his companion.

“He wants to take you to lunch.”

“Lunch? Today?” I’m sure I blushed. “I . . .I can’t. I’m performing and then I have to get home to my boys.” I know the excuse sounded lame, but it was the only one I had.

He chattered in Spanish to Javier who began to look discouraged. His blue eyes brightened. He mouthed another string of incomprehensible utterings.

“How about tomorrow?”

Tomorrow? No, tomorrow was Sunday! “No can do. I’m taking my boys to the movies and then to dinner.”

He relayed the information.

“How about Monday?”

I had to give the guy points for perseverance. I didn’t really like to meet prospective dates while I was performing – didn’t send the right message about me. But I had to be onstage in a few seconds and didn’t have time for further negotiations. Besides, Javier was pretty.

“Okay,” I grumbled. “Have him call me at work and we’ll figure something out.”

I spewed out my work number. If a guy didn’t call, no skin off my nose because then they had no idea what my home phone number was and I didn’t have to sit by the phone wondering.

Javier nodded, seeming pleased. I rushed to the stage and forgot about the incident.

Bright and early Monday morning, the phone rang at work. It was him! The hunk from Saturday. Our conversation was a bust. I couldn’t understand him and he couldn’t understand me. Another voice came on the line, heavily accented but understandable.

“I Javier’s cousin. He take you to lunch today.”

Today? Was I ready for that? It was a Monday after all. Mondays aren’t always the best days for socializing--but what the heck.

“Okay. Where and what time?”

The voice hesitated. “You pick. He be there.”

Just great! “Meet in front of my building and we’ll go from there. Noon. I have to go at noon.”

“He be there.” The phone clicked off.

Noon came far too early. I’d scurried to learn a few Spanish words, enough to say “hello” and “goodbye,” but that was about it, and grabbed some paper and a pencil. If nothing else, we could draw.

I stepped off the elevator and into the midday sun. He was there, leaning against a lamppost, arms crossed. Waiting. I took a deep breath. My memories hadn’t failed me. He was pretty. A smile split his too sensuous lips.

“Buenos dias,” I blubbered, knowing I had all the accents wrong.

He chuckled, adding a spate of Spanish words of his own.

I shrugged. “I don’t understand.”

“No English,” he explained. “French?”

“Nupe.”

“Italiano?”

“Again, nupe.”

“German?”

“No,” I said, exasperated. “I only speak English—and that not very well.”

He took my hand, head tilted questioningly.

“Oh. . .kay,” I huffed, wondering why I was putting myself through this. “Let’s go.”

We ended up in a small sandwich shop about a block away from where I worked. I ordered for both of us. Conversation was limited, drawings were infantile but serviceable to get ideas across. When the time came to pay, he took out some Spanish paper money and coins. Not going to work here! Crap! I wasn’t planning on paying for lunch.

“Can I write a check?” I asked the waitress, fearing the worst. Hoping my account had enough in there to cover.

“Sure,” she said.

His face flamed. He was embarrassed. He tried to hand me his money but what was I going to do with a bunch of foreign cash? I wasn’t a federal bank! I didn’t have the vaguest idea how to exchange money. I’m from Idaho for crissakes!

“No. No,” I shook my head. “That’s okay.” I patted his hand for good measure, a smile pasted on my face.

We walked back to my office.

“Disco?” he asked.

“Wha. . . ?”

“Disco?” he asked again.

Disco--like back in the 70’s? Dancing? That’s what he wanted. To go dancing.

I didn’t know if I was interested in taking it to the next level—but he was pretty.

I wrote my home number down, feeling like a deer in the headlights. He was interesting and respectful. I could say pretty much anything I wanted, good or bad, and it made no difference to our relationship. There was that.

He took the number, smiling. Another string of unintelligible chatter.

“Well. Goodbye.” I headed back to work, convinced that was the end of it.

The phone rang that night. His cousin was on the line.

“Lunch tomorrow,” he said. “Nice Basque Restaurant downtown.”

I knew that place. It was expensive.

“I can’t afford that place,” I groaned. “How about someplace cheaper?”

“No,” he barked. “I buy.”

“Oh, you’re buying this time?” A free lunch. Something us single girls can appreciate.

“Basque Restaurant downtown. You come?” He sounded so insistent.

The place in question was only a few blocks from my place of employment and known to have great food.

“Okay. Tomorrow. Noon. The Basque Restaurant. I’ll be there.”

The phone line went dead.

Lunch time came. I walked over to the restaurant feeling uncomfortable. I spotted Javier as soon as I entered the restaurant. Spit-shined and wearing a white dress shirt, my Basque friend was seated at a table with two other individuals. A group date! How really fun!

The man stood up. “I cousin. Wife.” He pointed to the woman who smiled.

“I know this is weird,” she said, “but Javier wanted us here so he could talk to you. I hope you don’t mind.”

“No trouble whatsoever,” I said. “Makes sense to me.” Frankly, it would be nice to have someone to talk to who actually understood me.

The waitress came and we ordered. Hands folded and resting on the table, Javier and his cousin stared at me, assessing and calculating. They glanced at each other and Javier nodded.

The cousin cleared his throat. “Your children need a husband.”

“Wha. . .?”

“Your children need a husband.”

His wife’s mouth fell open. She gaped--horrified. “Omigawd!” She leaned over the table. “I had no idea what they were up to. Just ignore them.”

She chattered in Spanish to her husband. He chattered back, face growing dark. Javier chattered something. Everyone but me was chattering in Spanish. Somebody tell ME something!

The waitress arrived with our plates and set them down. She looked worried, perplexed. We weren’t the happiest top.

The wife inhaled, looking chagrined. “Javier wants to stay in America. He needs a wife. These two idiots think you’ll do just fine. Javier says you’re just what he wants.” She paused. “I am so sorry. I never expected them to pull this.”

I took a bite. The food stuck to the roof of my mouth. “Well. . .uh. . .my children don’t need a husband. I don’t need a husband,” I mumbled. “I’m not interested in marriage.”

“I can’t imagine what they were thinking. I would never have gone along with this if I’d known what they were planning.”

“Javier good man,” the cousin interrupted. “He make good husband for you.”

“I don’t want a husband.” I sounded whiny, but I felt whiny. “I just got rid of one and I’m not interested in another.”

The wife glared at the two men. “Leave her alone,” she snapped. “Let her eat.”

More Spanish and gesticulating.

“I’ll pay for my own lunch,” I whispered. “Since I’m not buying into this mess, I can afford to pay.”

“Not on your life,” the wife grouched. “They planned this. They can pay for it.”

Lunch was over and it was time to go.

Gentleman that he was, Javier escorted me back to my office building. Uncomfortable and nervous, I shook his hand goodbye, mentally determining that I’d never see him again. My choice—but the right one. I deserved more than being a Green Card wife.

As in an old movie of the 40’s or 50’s, he wrapped his arms around me and bent me back, slapping a throat-licking kiss on my unsuspecting mouth. I was horrified! People I worked with and saw every day were walking by, staring curiously. I struggled to get free, but bent over backwards is not the most conducive pose to that end. The kiss went on and on. Javier was putting every ounce of persuasion into that kiss. I was putting every ounce of determination into ending it. I couldn’t enjoy it. It was broad daylight and the noon walkers were out and about. What if my bosses saw me? How awful would that be?
Finally, adding a hug and a squeeze, he let me go, a self-satisfied smile on his face.

I straightened my clothing, sucking in air.

“Uh. . .goodbye,” I said, watching the passersby, discomfited by their obvious amusement.

“Disco?” he tried again.

“We’ll see.” I extended my hand, shook his and walked away.

“Was that you in the parking lot?” an interested lady on the elevator asked.

“Nope. Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I never saw Javier again. He called a few times, but I put him off and over time, he quit calling.

Years later, married to my sweetie, I look into his melting chocolate brown eyes and grin. He fills me up. Sometimes I think of brilliant blue eyes and wonder if Javier managed to find a wife---but not often.