Living the Dream

Welcome back! This week’s Tuesday Tales’ authors are writing to the word prompt PEARL. I’m continuing with my Christmas Romance Comedy, Naughty Rudolph. Enjoy!

When we got to my building, he stopped outside the door. Could he really be smart enough to realize he wasn’t going to get lucky tonight despite the fact that he’d shelled out more than one hundred and fifty bucks for dinner?

“I’m having a moving sale next weekend. If there’s anything you would like that I’m not taking with me, just say the word and it’s yours. There are a few things we bought together…”

Bought together? That was rich. The only thing we’d ever bought together might’ve been groceries.

His voice trailed off. “You’re awfully quiet. I hope you didn’t catch something from one of those snotty-nosed monsters you teach.”

Snotty-nosed monsters? And I’d wanted him to father my children? How could I have been so blind?

“I have a bit of a headache,” I admitted.”

“Of course. It is almost your time of the month.”

As I said, he hated surprises, but I hadn’t realized he tracked my damn cycle. Probably had the information entered in his electronic watch.

“Listen,” he said, his tone smarmy as if he were doing me a favor. “I’ll just go home. I’ll be around for another week since I need to get up there and familiarize myself with the area while Uncle Albert is still around to smooth my takeover and introduce me to the people who matter most.” He bent over and kissed my cheek. “Go on up, take a couple of analgesics, and go to bed. You’ll feel better in the morning. I’ll call you mid-week.”

I nodded. “Thanks, and Doug, I really am happy for you. It’s just that all this came as a huge surprise. I’ll think about the stuff you have and let you know, but offhand all I can think of are the pearl-handled steak knives I bought last spring.” The ones I would love to stick in his back. “They match the ones I have. You can never have too many steak knives. Goodnight.” I turned and entered the building.

Walter Stafford, the building manager, was working on the elevator.

“Sorry, Ms. Howard. You’ll have to take the stairs. I can’t figure out why this dang thing isn’t working, and the company can’t send a man out until tomorrow.”

I groaned. Thank God I only lived on the fourth floor. Three flights of stairs wouldn’t kill me, right?

Wrong! By the time I reached my floor, I was huffing and puffing like the Big Bad Wolf about to blow down someone’s house.

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Welcome to this week’s Tuesday Tales. Our word prompt is YELLOW. I’m continuing with my Christmas Romance Comedy, Naughty Rudolph. Enjoy.

Suddenly, I realized what was really happening here. Yellow-bellied Doug was dumping me and doing it under the guise of a wonderful opportunity for himself. He wasn’t proposing marriage. He wasn’t asking me to go with him. No. This was the big adios. My heart pounded in my ears as I tried to reconcile reality to what I’d anticipated.

Happy for him when he’d destroyed my carefully crafted future? Not by a long shot.

“Of course I’m happy for you,” I lied, not for his benefit, but I would die before I let him know how devastated I was. “You always planned to own your own company, and your uncle turning his over to you is an incredible opportunity. When do you leave?”

“I move into the house on November 1.”

I swallowed. “So soon?” I’d made plans for Christmas, and they didn’t include flying to the Great White North. “I thought we’d discussed going to Victoria this Christmas.”

He rubbed the back of his neck once more as red crept up his cheeks.

“Actually, Mara, You talked about Victoria; I didn’t. I’ve known about it since August. I just needed to straighten up a few things here first—you know, resign my job, give my landlord my notice, make plans to ship the things I want to keep up north. I tried to tell you a couple of times, but … You’re my best friend and I’ll miss our special nights together, but I have to do what’s best for me … and for you, too. We want different things in life, and it’s time we both accept that.”

How the hell was I supposed to answer that when I’d believed what I’d wanted and what he’d wanted were the same things? Here I was, thirty years old with a biological clock going into overdrive, and my baby-daddy was taking off for the Yukon.

The silence between us grew heavy and uncomfortable.

“Do you want dessert?”

I shook my head. “No, I’m full.”

If I tried to eat anything else, I’d probably vomit.

“Then I suppose we should get going.”

If he expected any nookie-nookie tonight, he was going to be sadly disappointed.

Doug called the waiter over, asked for the bill, and paid it.

He led me out of the restaurant. We’d walked over since my condo was only a couple of blocks away, and the night was a cool but comfortable eighteen degrees.

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Hello! Amidst the flooding tragedies, the wildfires, volcanic eruptions, wars, and the onset of hurricane season, I have a new book release. If you’ve been following this blog, then you’ve spent the last three months reading scenes from the first half of the book, And Justice for All.

When I started this romance suspense novel, I had one thing in mind and that was to bring a little Canadian perspective to the current drug and gun smuggling crisis at the Canada-US border–not from our side, but from the statistical evidence that shows how much of that poison comes into Canada from the US. This is particular true when talking about guns and human trafficking, as well as drugs including cocaine, fentanol, and synthetic oxycodone which has killed several people in Canada, most notably a teenage boy in Quebec this year. Then, I saw news articles about home-grown militia in both the US and this country, including a Canadian group that was preparing to take over an area in Quebec, and I added to the story. Finally, I noted the overwhelming number of police officers killed in the line of duty, and the full story was born.

So where was I going to set it? There is no doubt that Highway H2 O, the St. Lawrence River that forms the boundary between the US and Canada, has always been a conduit for smugglers. My own grandfather had the dubious honor of being a rumrunner during Prohibition. So, with all that in mind, I opted to set my story in the Thousand Islands. If you would like to learn more, click on the link. https://www.1000islandstourism.com/

One of my favorite places to visit is the small town of Rockport and one of my favorite restaurants is Cornwall’s. We went on Sunday, had lunch, and then took a two-hour cruise through the islands. Here are a few pictures.

As you can see, there are some impressive cottages on the islands, but there are also some uninhabited ones.

Everything that happens in And Justice for All is the product of my wayward imagination. Is it built on facts, yes, and the statistics quoted in the story are accurate, but as for the rest of the tale, well, let’s call it a flight of imagination.

And Justice for All is currently available in e-Book format and on Kindle. It’ll be in paperback by the end of July. https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0FH2R6TPP

Blurb:

Someone is killing cops, and it’s up to them to stop him.

Eight years ago, Detective Maggie Sutton had her heart broken. She turned to her job to ease the pain, knowing that someday she would find the right man and start the family she always wanted. Fate had other plans. While she survived an ambush that killed her partner, the bullet that struck her ruined her chances of ever having the family she wanted. Now, her sole purpose in life is to find the one responsible. She’ll bring him or her to justice, but not until she understands the reasons for what happened.

When she returns to fulltime duties, she’s assigned to a new investigative unit dedicated to finding, identifying, and bringing to justice whoever is behind the ambush that killed her partner and nine other members of police forces in Ontario over the past three years. The problem is that her new boss is the man who broke her heart, and the one she just can’t forget.

Three years ago, RCMP Inspector Harry Collins survived an ambush that claimed the life of young officer. Since then, his sole purpose has been to find and stop what he sees as an organized effort by parties unknown to eliminate members of law enforcement. Walking away from Maggie eight years ago to do what he thought was the right thing was the hardest thing he’d ever done, but he can’t stay away any longer. Too much is at stake. Working side by side on this case may be harder, especially when he could well have put her in the killer’s gunsights once more.

The air between them is charged as they fight to control their passion just below the surface and find the killer responsible for the latest deaths. Will they succeed, or will the assassins finish the job they started?

Get your copy today!

Happy July! Welcome to this weeks Tuesday Tales. I’m beginning a new novel today, this one will be lighter than my last book and is a Christmas Romance. Naughty Rudolph, the name of a cocktail as well as the hero of the story will be with you until October. Here’s a peek at the opening scene.

People often considered thirteen to be an unlucky number. They weren’t wrong. October 13 was shaping up to be the worst day of my life. All of my carefully made plans for the future had just blown up in my face. This wasn’t anywhere near what I’d expected tonight. I’d assumed something very different. Assumptions really are for fools.

I knew something was up the moment Doug invited me to Thanksgiving dinner at the Cactus Grill, Osoyoos’s premier restaurant. For the last five years, I’d cooked the turkey dinner with all the trimmings and then sent him home with enough prepared leftover meals to last him at least two weeks. How the man could eat the same thing day after day was a mystery, but there was some comfort in knowing he wasn’t difficult to please—well, that was as long as things went according to plan since he was the least spontaneous person I knew. Tonight was definitely out of his comfort zone. Paying sixty bucks for a steak was as out of character for him as was the deep blue suit with the white shirt and striped tie he wore. It wasn’t that he was cheap, but the man pinched a dime so tightly that he could tell whether or not the queen wore a bra.

I stared at him. For all his faults, this was the man I’d hoped to marry, the man I’d selected to father my children, the man with whom I’d planned to grow old, not that there was a great deal of choice in the 5,500-soul town. In addition to the suit, he’d gone all out, getting his dark brown hair cut and his beard trimmed, so why wouldn’t I expect that he’d finally decided to propose?

I choked on the mouthful of beer I’d just taken, grateful that I hadn’t spewed it across the table and all over my new salmon wool dress.

“You can’t be serious. Dawson City? In the Yukon?”

He chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s where it was the last time I visited in August. The place is like nowhere else on earth. I’d always intended to go home, you knew that, but until now, there weren’t any opportunities for me.”

Had I known that? If I had, I would never have considered him as husband material. After five years of friends with benefits, I’d assumed that home was here in Osoyoos with me. Mistake number one!

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Well, it’s here at last. The summer of 2025 promises to be a lot of things, but dull won’t be one of them. I continue to recover from my hip surgery and am slowly embracing different ways of working. I now write standing as well as sitting, since sitting too long makes the hip stiffen. I’m also exploring the idea of using voice to text software. I use text to voice now to edit, but we’ll see. From the few times I’ve tried it, the words that flow so easily from my fingertips seem to freeze in my mouth. I suppose it just takes practice.

July 2 question – Is there a genre you haven’t tried writing in yet that you really want to try? If so, do you plan on trying it?

This is an intriguing question for me since I’ve tried most genres that interest me. While all of my books fall into the romance genre, I have shied away from erotica and horror. I did write one book for the Christian market, but sales were abysmal. So what have I tried and left sitting on my desktop? I began a Sci-fi novel years ago, one I tried to serialise but that didn’t work. That book is far from finished and since it’s a ‘we destroyed the Earth with war and pollution and now need a new planet to call home,” I may go back to it later this year. As well, I also have the first book that I wrote, a completed story about fairies and angels and all sorts of fey creatures, that requires serious editing since it was written before I knew the finer points of writng. I head-hopped all over the place. Currently, I have a fantasy series in progress. Book One, The Awakening, in the Listen to the Stones series is live, but my surgery and other things fate has tossed my way have delayed the publication of the next three books in the series. That’s at the top of my to do pile, along with a Christmas themed story due in October.

That’s my take on things for this month. Hope the weather treats you kindly! Check out other posts here. https://www.insecurewriterssupportgroup.com/p/iwsg-sign-up.html

Welcome to this week’s Tuesday Tales blog and the last post from And Justice for All. I’m a few words over, but since this week’s word is VIOLENT, it’s the perfect way to leave you wanting more.

Harry entered the trailer and closed and locked the door behind him before following the sound of voices down the hall. He’d asked them to come over here after they’d finished eating, expecting to be only five or ten minutes behind them but he’d been on the phone close to twenty minutes, and none of what he’d heard was good.

Adding that news to what Maggie had discovered, he knew they were closer than ever to discovering the truth, and the possibility that it could all be drug and smuggling related made more sense than ever. Performance enhancing drugs could not only bulk up a man, but also when taken in high doses often caused irritability, anxiety, anger, aggression, sudden and violent mood swings, as well as manic symptoms and paranoia. If Lacey was right, and he had no reason to doubt her, the MMA fight club Maggie had discovered could easily be a recruitment office for the FFA. Super soldiers without empathy or control, robots ready to do everything and anything for their leader, no matter how twisted and crazed he might be.

As expected, the team had crowded into the room that Lacey used, the walls and desk covered in screens and computer equipment. He spotted Maggie standing alone off to the side of the room and leaning against the wall. He could see that she was tired. If he could spare her this, he would, but it was out of his hands now.

“Come on, Lacey,” Peter Rasmussen spoke over the murmurs of the others. “Can’t you give us a hint? I don’t know what’s keeping the boss, but I’ve been up since five and would love to get some sleep.”

“And you will,” Harry said, stepping up beside Lacey. “Or maybe you won’t after you hear what we have to tell you. I’m sorry that took so long, and yeah, it’s late, but I just got off the phone with Sam Eastman. He’s the coroner from Kingston who took the bodies to the military base for autopsy. He felt they were better equipped for a job like this, and he was right. They’ve identified the bullets used this morning.”

“Were they stainless-steel?” Eban had moved closer to him.

“Yes and no.”

“What the hell does that mean?” the ex-soldier snarled. “Are we dealing with the same killers or not?”

“I believe we are, but they’ve upped their game,” Harry admitted. “The bullets are primarily stainless-steel, but the ones used this morning had a tungsten core with a cupronickel outer shell.”

“Maudite merde.” The curse exploded from Gabe. “You’re telling us that they now have armor-piercing bullets? How are we supposed to protect ourselves from those? Our vests are practically useless.” He shook his head. “Do you have any other good news?”

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Welcome to this week’s Tuesday Tales and the official start of summer. I know I’ve whined about the snow, the rain, and the cold, and swore not to complain about the heat when we got it, but seriously, there’s heat and there’s going under the roiler. We are in for a heat dome for the next three day. It started yesterday, but today, the mercurt will hit 34C, but with the humidex, it’ll feel like 46C, 0r 114.8 F! I can’t remember it ever getting that hot! Good day for asthmatics to stay inside and read! This week’s word is QUAINT. I’m a few words over but I hope you’ll indulge me. I’m continuing with And Justice for All, my romance/suspense.

Harry stepped back. She’d done it. After months of searching, Lacey had found the killers once more.

His gaze fixed on the detested logo, the one that had haunted his dreams for months.

“This is incredible. I’m going to put your name in for a commendation.”

She looked up at him, her eyes filled with misery. “Harry, there’s more.”

What the hell more could there be?

Lacey clicked another link. His eyes threatened to bulge out of his head. The screen displayed a series of fourteen photographs, similar to what police officers used for photo lineups with witnesses. Eleven of those pictures were seared into his mind. The nine officers who’d been assassinated had DECEASED under their photo. While Patricia Holmes and Mikela Santiago weren’t there, Maggie was as well as Peter Malloy, the officer he’d been replacing the day he’d been shot and two who were strangers to him but wore the familiar OPP uniforms. The words PENDING CONFIRMATION appeared under the four pictures. If he needed proof that Maggie was still a target, he’d found it. He moved closer to the screen once more. Why wasn’t his picture there?

Given his position, he would’ve expected it to be there since his appointment to lead the task force had been reported by all of the major news networks as part of the Making Canada’s Border More Secure Initiative. Along with the Border Czar, a quaint name for the newly created government position for a man who was supposed to be responsible for all of border security, the article had focused on the task force, the deployment of more drones and helicopter patrols, the hiring of more than a thousand new RCMP officers over the next few years, and the expanded powers given to the CBSA enabling them to search vehicles exiting as well as coming into Canada. So who were the unknown officers?

His scowled deepened. Why weren’t this morning’s dead officers there? Was it possible that their deaths weren’t part of the FFA’s crusade? That they were personal as Maggie suspected? If so, how did the FFA and its successful demonstration fit into this? Either way, these crackpots had to be stopped before the PENDING under Maggie’s name became DECEASED. He turned to Lacey.

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Last week I inadvertently published two scenes. Giant oops, but what’s done is done. So, this week, I’m providing you with another scene from the word BROWN.

Harry examined the picture again, his eyes drawn to the man standing in front of the others, the balaclava not hiding the mania in his deeper brown eyes. Those eyes made his blood run cold.

“Any idea which one of them is in charge?”

Lacey shrugged. “The one in front might be their version of a general, but the actual leader isn’t one of the foot soldiers in the photograph. The man in charge calls himself the Anointed and considers himself a messenger from God—think Jim Jones, David Karesh, Charles Manson, and Marshall Applewhite. This guy thinks he’s the second coming, and that his mandate is to restore order to the world by following his slightly skewed good book—think of it as an extreme version of the Old Testament, filled with fire, brimstone, and a hell of a lot of hatred. I didn’t read many of his tenets, but those I did turned my stomach. Believe me, it’s not a world in which I would want to live. He makes Adolf Hitler sound like a choir boy. His flock has a definite hierarchy. There are women there but only those from God’s anointed race. Their role in his little wonder-world is to please and support men, have babies, and accept their rightful place as possessions and servants. Anyone else who isn’t part of this chosen group isn’t even considered human. Other than needing them as slave labor, they’re dispensable—think cannon fodder in a war situation. According to the American government’s Homeland Security Department, there are more than two hundred of these homegrown militias and survivalist cults active in the US at any time. Based on CSIS files, we have a few similar groups here, but they are smaller in number and usually less lethal. That White Lightning MMA group may just be a tip of the iceberg. A few other groups showed their true colors during the pandemic when they refused to follow government mandates, but it never really came to violence. A surprising number of them are affiliated with groups in the US. There are several screens like this. When I clicked on associates, guess what I found?”

Harry huffed out a breath. “Not in the mood to play guessing games. Show me.”

She pushed a few keys and sat back.

He gasped. A logo similar to the one from the Swine Eliminators site filled the screen. With one foot atop what was obviously a dead pig stood an AI rendering of the man in camo, holding an Uzi. The words White Thunder Pest Control encircled them.

Don’t forget to check out the other Tuesday Tales. See you next week!