Living the Dream

Welcome to the last post of February 2026. This record-breaking winter still has us in its grasp. I can appreciate Mother Nature’s hot flashes, but maybe it’s time to turn down the A/C and give us a little heat! Today’s Tuesday Tales word prompt is HEART. I’m continuing with The Case of the Missing Prince and giving you insight into one of the things that gave me the idea for this story. Enjoy.

My eyebrows climbed my brow. Crushed leg injuries happened when a leg was subjected to heavy, prolonged compression—in his case, the weight of the earth and rocks. Severe complications and the possibility of secondary infection which could lead to amputation or death. If he was still walking on that leg, limping or not, he was damn lucky.

“Petrov mentioned that you’d needed surgery. He didn’t get into specifics.”

“Yes, once they managed to get me to the hospital, they reduced the swelling, opened my leg and with the help of rods, pins, screws, and an artificial knee, put it back together. Quite impressive or so I’ve been told. Until they were sure it would heal properly, the possibility of amputation was on the table, but as my mother used to say, I’m tougher than I look, with the heart of angel and the courage of a lion. Unfortunately, the leg is shorter than the other and the limp is permanent, but when I saw the doctor this morning, she pronounced me fit for duty. I can get a note if you need one.”

He was baiting me, and I wasn’t about to fall for it. I was in charge here, not him.

“No, that’s fine. I’ll take your word for it.” I had no intention of seeing this interview turn into a shouting match across the room. “Please sit so we can get started.”

He walked over to the chair in front of the desk and sat. He glared up at Al still standing behind me like some kind of avenging angel.

“I take it he’s coming with us?” He did nothing to minimize the look of displeasure on his face. “I see no need to include others on our search.”

“He is,” I barked the words, annoyed by the man’s lack of savoir faire. He had no right to tell me who could or could not work this case. “Al Binette is my most trusted employee.”

“And yet, his name isn’t on your company’s employee roster. Why is that? You aren’t the only one who researches those with whom he must work,” he challenged, reminding me of his parting shot on Monday.

“I realize working with people you don’t know may not appeal, but remember that works both ways.”

Before I could respond, Al placed one hand on the top of my chair, indicating that he would deal with the man himself. Why not? If this was a pissing contest, I wanted no part of it.

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Welcome to this week’s Tuesday Tales, the blog post that allows a select group of authors to share their works in progress with you. Since Saturday was Valentine’s Day, this week’s word prompt, KISS, is most appropriate. Enjoy?

Two hours later, Al and I had finished the working lunch Hallie had picked up for us at Coffee Clutch. We’d gotten a little frisky after we’d eaten … nothing over the top, but we’d kissed and cuddled while we’d discussed the case. I’d never realized how helpful it was to have someone I could trust with me when I had issues, and believe you-me, I had issues. It wasn’t that I didn’t believe what the men had told us, it was just that I should’ve been told all of that up front, and the fact that I hadn’t been pissed me off.

While Anton hadn’t revealed anything particularly surprising, other than the fact that he’d spent two days in his room with the runs—if that was true—the information from Zandro had been disturbing to say the least. Why hadn’t Viktor mentioned Andreea Popa when I’d asked him if anyone had known that Leo was the prince? He’d lied to me, and I wanted to know damn well why. He was the one who’d claimed they’d been followed. It seemed to me that Ms. Popa was as good a candidate for that role as anyone else, and the fact that she and Zandro had engaged in a little pillow talk before her vanishing act and the prince’s certainly was of interest to me.

The intercom on my desk buzzed. I glanced at my watch. It was too early for Petrov; he wasn’t due here until two-thirty, while Viktor was scheduled for four. Perhaps Hallie had discovered something about Andreea. Why hadn’t she just brought it in? Silly me. She was no fool and might’ve guessed what we were doing behind closed doors. The intercom buzzed once more, pulling me out of my head.

I stood, straightened my clothing, walked over to my desk, and depressed the button.

“Yes, Hallie, what’s up?”

“Sorry to disturb you, Ms. Chambers…”

The emergency alarm in my brain went off, and my eyebrows drew together. Something was wrong. The only time Hallie spoke to me that way was when there was a client present. I checked my watch again. I hated being late, but then I would never show up an hour early either. If it wasn’t one of the Zoborans, who else had come to see me? Had Emile sent Nadia over with more information? I looked over at Al and shrugged. I would know soon enough.

“What’s the problem, Hallie?”

“I … Baron Bukowski and Mr. Opole are here.”

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Welcome to this week’s Tuesday Tales, the blog that lets you look at the work in process of the authors involved in it. It is still bitterly cold where I am, -20 C, -28C with the wind or -4F and -18F for my readers in the US. This week, our word prompt is BLEAK, like the weather with 15 cm or 6 inches of snow in the forecast for today. I am so over winter!

I’m continuing with my Cozy Mystery, The Case of the Missing Prince. and I have a surprise for you! That’s right. Here’s the cover.

Al laughed. “You don’t have to cover up on my account. I thoroughly enjoy the view.”

Cheeks burning, I forced myself to drop the sheet.

“Then, you might as well get an eyeful!” Drawing on my bravado, I stood, reached for the coffee mug, and flounced down the hallway to the bathroom, as if I were a runway model in Paris during fashion week, showing off the latest couture design. “Eat your heart out!”

Al’s rumbling laughter followed me down the hallway. “I will, but I’m saving you for dessert after dinner.”

Now, that was something that would keep me going today.

Twenty minutes later, casually dressed in jeans, a long-sleeved t-shirt, and half-boots, I entered the kitchen. Al sat at the table, engrossed in something on his laptop. Knowing my breath was now minty-fresh, I bent down and kissed him.

“Good morning.” I inhaled deeply allowing his forest-fresh aftershave to blend with the aroma of coffee, cinnamon, and maple syrup. “It smells fantastic in here.” I glanced at his laptop and noted that he was catching up on the news on the CBC app. “Anything special going on in the world today?” Most of the news was pretty bleak these days, but one had to stay informed.

He shook his head. “Not much. Same old rants and raves, but it appears to be a slow news day.”

“Well, that’s a blessing. Lately, we don’t get many of them. The old saying, ‘no news is good news,’ has never been more accurate.” I sipped from my half-empty mug, the coffee now cooler than I liked. I made a face and set it down. “Did you get a chance to look over the files again? The ones from my interview with Emile, Jacob, Petrov, and Viktor?”

He nodded before standing and going over to the counter, coming back with the carafe and refilling my mug with hot coffee before going back over to the stove. He opened the oven door and took out two plates covered in French toast, complete with the sliced bananas he’d promised, and decorated with powdered sugar that I didn’t even know I had. The can of maple syrup sat in the center of the table.

“I did. Loved the way you referred to Viktor as Mr. Male Chauvinist Pig, MCP for short.”

I shrugged. “He did apologize … sort of, but it didn’t feel sincere.”

“It probably wasn’t.” His gaze met mine and held it. “Is that why you wanted me here? Because you think he won’t follow your leadership?”

I shook my head. “It did cross my mind that he would be difficult, but that isn’t why I wanted you here. I trust you. I don’t trust him. And I missed you. You were coming soon, and I wanted you here sooner,” I admitted.

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Here we are in February and I’m certainly seeing the effects of Climate Change in the prologued periods of cold we’ve had this winter, not to mention more snow than ever.

February 4 question – Many writers have written about the experience of rereading their work years later. Have you reread any of your early works? What was that experience like for you?

Rereading early works, especially things I wrote before I decided to try to be a published author showed me how very little I knew about writing, despite the fact that I’d been teaching high school English for years. While the storyline wasn’t bad, the head-hopping and other writing errors were shameful. Even the punctuation needed work. Luckily, in my early career, I had some excellent editors who showed me the error of my ways. I’m a much better writer for having written those early stories and so many other books. It seems the more you write, the better you can get–but perfection? That’s another matter.

But, on the same note, since I’ve started to put my books into audio files using the Virtual Voice function, I’ve listened to books I wrote several years ago, surprised that I could be taken in by my own stories the way I have been. I suppose it’s all a matter of taste. I love transporting my readers to other times and places, and if I do it to myself, so much the better.

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It’s chilly in most of the Western Northern Hemisphere, but maybe this week’s posts will warm you up! Welcome to this week’s Tuesday Tales, a blog post where you get to see what myself and my author friends are doing. Each week, we have a word prompt to incorporate into our stories. This week, that word is DRY. I’m continuing with my cozy mystery, The Case of the Missing Prince. Enjoy.

Ottawa International Airport was quiet when I arrived just before seven. Al’s plane was due in at seven-thirty, and I was anxious to see the man who’d won me over with kindness and a killer smile. On this level, there were few places to sit and wait, but I was lucky enough to find a spot at the Starbuck’s. Knowing I couldn’t just sit there, I ordered an iced Chai Latte to sooth my dry throat and waited.

As I did, my mind drifted back to what I’d learned this afternoon. Emile had been quite open once I’d forced his hand, but I hadn’t learned much from Jacob Horvath although the man was forthcoming about the surgery and the environmental initiatives Zobora Copper and Fine Metals were considering. It seemed like the mine operators, those under contract to the crown as well as those working for other landowners were resistant to change, especially when such changes affected their bottom lines. Adding filters, scrubbers, changing energy sources, and investing in carbon-capture wasn’t free. He talked about the fact that Zobora Copper and Fine Metals was a leader in the industry, but he didn’t deny the fact that like all other similar industries, they had a long way to go. He was quite excited about some of the crown prince’s ideas, discussing the man with a fondness usually reserved for a doting uncle referring to his favorite nephew.

Could it all be an act? Too many people were focused on the prince’s qualities and great ideas, but everyone had flaws, and every idea had potential drawbacks. The other thing that nagged at me was the fact that while everyone wanted the prince found—or so they said—no one was willing to admit he was missing. Even I was supposed to limit my search to his alias and not bring up his real name.

The screen changed. Al’s plane had landed. I finished my latte and stood. Ten minutes later, he was the first one down the ramp. I hurried over to him and stopped, suddenly as nervous and shy as a teenager talking to the captain of the football team.

“Welcome to Ottawa.” I licked my lips. “How was the flight?”

He grinned and released his hold on the bag-covered metal cart.

“It was okay, a little turbulence at first, but…” He pulled me into his arms for a long, deep satisfying kiss that curled my toes. “I’ve missed you.”

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Welcome to the last week of January, 2026, another month gone by in the blink of an eye! This week, the authors of the scenes for Tuesday Tales are working with the word prompt SUNNY. I am continuing with my cozy mystery, The Case of the Missing Prince.

“I’m awaiting a kidney, Ms. Chambers, but I won’t have to wait much longer. Jacob is giving me one of his. He is a distant cousin and an excellent match.”

“Jacob Horvath?”

“Yes. That is the real reason Jacob plans to retire at the end of the year. He will need to recover.”

“When is the surgery scheduled?”

If anything happened to him, to whom would I report?

“The surgery is scheduled for late November. By then, we will know what has happened to the prince, will we not?”

I nodded. “You’ll know something well before that. Hopefully, it will be the answer you want.”

He just smiled. The door opened, and Nadia stepped into the office.

“Minister, your next appointment is here. I can show Ms. Chambers out.”

I stood. “Good luck with … everything. Will you have Nadia send me those phone numbers?” I reached down for the contract we’d signed and slipped it back inside my purse. “I’ll have my assistant send you a copy of this.”

He nodded. “Yes, of course, and Nadia will e-transfer you the price upon which we agreed. It was a pleasure doing business with you.”

It seemed that not even the trusty personal assistant knew the truth.

I shook hands with the minister and followed Nadia back to the front door. The Lurch-like butler was waiting and escorted me the rest of the way to the entrance.

When I stepped outside, I saw that the day was now sunny if still unseasonably cool. I strolled leisurely to my car, the hairs on my nape telling me that somewhere behind those lead-glass window panes, someone was watching my every move. Friend or foe? Only time would tell. If the prince’s disappearance was linked to a political coup to get the government to concede to foreign interference in their affairs, then this could be far more dangerous than I had anticipated. Thank God Al would be with me.

I got into my vehicle, put on my seatbelt, and started the car. Turning right, I drove through the subdivision until I reached Sussex Drive. As soon as I could, I pulled into one of the viewing areas. Across the Ottawa River, the trees decorating the Gatineau Hills were resplendent in their red, orange, and yellow coat of leaves, dotted here and there by evergreens. I shut off the engine, reached for the envelope Emile had given me, and opened it, pulling out six sheets of paper—the truth and nothing but the truth.

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Winter has this part of Canada firmly in its grasp. This week, the authors from Tuesday Tales are writing their scenes based on the word prompt COLD. I’m continuing with The Case of the Missing Prince.

Minister Novak nodded. “Now, since I’m certain that you haven’t come simply to share my tea, am I to assume you’ve decided to take the case?”

“I’m considering it,” I admitted.

He narrowed his eyes. “But…”

“I have some questions I need answered first.”I wasn’t going to beat around the bush. “I was doing some online research last night, and I was surprised to find absolutely nothing anywhere about a missing prince. So my first question to you is: is someone really missing? And if so, who is it?” I put up my hand to stop him from interrupting me. “More to the point. I have the official list of names from everyone who was on the mountain that day climbing, and there is no Viktor Opole nor a Stanislav Drulivic on it. So would you be so kind as to explain what’s really going on here? Unless you’re completely honest with me, I’m walking out of here, and you can find someone else to do whatever the hell it is you want. As you said yesterday, I am a business woman, but I’m nobody’s fool.”

The man hung his head. When he looked up, he seemed to have aged ten years.

“My apologies, Ms. Chambers. I was going to remedy that situation when you agreed to take the case. The crown prince is indeed missing. The reason his name doesn’t appear on the list is that the entire party used aliases. From your online research, you would’ve realized that the prince keeps a very low profile. He has always been shy, and eschews publicity, although that is changing. Viktor alluded to some of the political issues threatening our country at the moment. What he didn’t mention was that much of it is being funded by another nation intent on getting its hands on our mineral wealth.” He sighed, making me wonder about his health again. “Prince Stanislav has very definite opinions on Zobora’s future, and he’s not prepared to compromise them. He can’t be bought, blackmailed, or bullied into submission, but until he is king, he can’t make any changes.”

I leaned back. “I see. Where does the king stand on his son’s proposed changes?”

Emile sipped his tea, emptying the small glass before refilling it. He offered me more.

“No, thank you.”

If that had been icy cold water, I would’ve been all over it.

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Welcome to 2026 and the IWSG monthly blog hop! I’ve started the year with a head cold–things could be far worse–but it is what it is.

January 7 question – Is there anything in your writing plans for 2026 that you are going to do that you couldn’t get done in 2025?

In 2026, I hope to publish the second book in my Evie Chambers Mysteries series. The book is started and is entitled The Case of the Missing Prince. Once that’s done, I need to format a couple of books into audio and paperback. My biggest want is to complete my Listen to the Stones fantasy series which I’ve decided to release in a fashion similar to the Lord of the Rings. So far, I have released two of the four books. In Book One, The Awakening, my heroine discovers that she is more than she ever expected to be, while my hero continues his search for a woman he loved and lost in the past and suffers psychic attacks he doesn’t understand. In Book Two, The Homecoming, my heroine learns more about her past through dreams, out-of-body experiences, and encounters with withches and humans alike who prepare her for what she’ll find when she reaches home. My hero continues his search and worries since the stones he relied on, not only for information but for the plots to his successful novels, have gone silent. Discovering that the woman for whom he’s been searching is the new chatelaine of the Fraser lands, the place where his stones are located, is exhilerating and confusing. He knows exactly who she is and what she was in the past, but she doesn’t know him. To make matters worse, he has competition for her affections. The catch is both of them must find and recognize true love, freely given, before the enemy regains his powers. Once they do, they will both have access to the abilities they need to cdefeat him. If they fail, the world such as they know it, will end. Book Three, The Bonding, is finished and just requires editing. Book Four is barely started, so that’s my big push for the year.

I’ve penciled in a couple of romances as well as another book in my paranomal detectives series, and would like to work on a couple of holiday books, but we’ll see. After a fairly decent December, book sales and pages read so far in January have been abysmal. I’m hoping that will improve. I also my try more promotional activity even though I find it difficult.

So, I end with wishing you all a Happy 2026.

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Welcome to the first Tuesday Tales scene of 2026. Tuesday Tales is a weekly blog written by a small group of wonderful authors and I am honored and humbled to be one of them. Each week, we have a word prompt that we incorporate into the scen we present. Scenes are usually around 400 words long and come from our current works in progress. I am working on a cozy mystery entiltled The Case of the Missing Prince. Our word this week is NEW.

Hallie slapped the table. “Evie, I swear you can be the most exasperating person I know. For the love of God, give me some details. How does your new man compare with the hotties from this morning?”

I was enjoying this. “If those two are the gold standard, then Al is a ten carat diamond.”

Her eyes grew large. “Really? I never thought you would ever look at another man again.”

“Neither did I. When I first saw him, he wore a navy uniform with gold epaulettes, his costume as curator of the museum. In profile he reminded me of Pete. He’s tall, with dark hair that curled on his collar when I left him, although he may have gotten it cut by now. He has streaks of silver peppering his hair and his beard, not enough to age him, but enough to give him that touch of mystery and character.” I laughed. “Why is it that a woman with that hair color or white like me is considered over the hill, while guys like Al are dashing and experienced? It really isn’t fair.”

“That’s why you like him? Because he reminds you of Pete?” The lines furrowing her brow deepened. “Is it healthy?”

“It isn’t like that. Believe me, the superficial resemblance vanished once I got closer to him and we spoke. He’s taller, with broader shoulders, and there isn’t a millimeter of fat on him. His eyes are a different shade of blue than Pete’s, and while he’s also a diver with a penchant for motorcycles, that’s where the comparison ends. He’s got a wonderful sense of humor, loves to dance and sing along to the music, and is great with kids.” I licked my lips. “He makes me feel alive, Hallie, something I never expected to feel again, and when I’m with him, I feel as if I’m where I need to be.” I held up my hand to stop her from interrupting. “At first, I thought that I was imagining the way I felt, but now … I miss him, and this case may be just what I need to find out whether or not Al Binette is the man for me. If I’m going to search for the body of a man who may have been murdered, I need someone I can trust with me. I trust Al.”

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