Living the Dream

Welcome to this week’s Tuesday Tales. This week our word prompt is ROCK. I’m continuing with Royal Flush, my contemporary romance.

“I hope you don’t mind, but yesterday I asked Maggie when you wrapped up for the day.” He grinned. “If you aren’t too tired, I thought we might grab a drink and finish our conversation. There is someplace in town that sells cold beer, right?”

She chuckled, secretly pleased he’d thought enough to ask and wanted to spend more time with her, but determined not to let him know it.

“There is, but I wasn’t aware we had a conversation to finish,” she parried, playing the coquette even though she wasn’t particularly skilled at it.

He covered his heart with his hands. “Ouch! That hit the bullseye. I’m mortally wounded.”

She fought to keep her laughter in check. “Sure you are, but since I’m thirsty, you can buy me a beer at The Brew Shack. Their patio runs along the creek, separated from the water by a low, rock wall. It’s in the shade at this time of day and guaranteed to heal all mortal wounds.”

He grinned and offered her the crook of his arm. “In that case, lead on. I’m not sure I remember where it is.”

“It’s only been open a couple of years,” she explained, putting her arm through his and walking along the sidewalk with him, secretly cherishing the smiles on the faces of those they met, with their “Hi, Pearl” and “Welcome back, Kyle,” as if they approved of them as a couple. The prince and the pauper—if only they knew the truth!

She loved every inch of this town, even though it was as different from what she was used to as night and day. Hollywood Boulevard and Rodeo Drive had far less appeal for her than Main Street. They walked by Aunt Ida’s Quilt Shop, closed on Tuesday so that the woman could play bridge. Next to her store was The Blushing Bride and Groom, a “by appointment only” wedding boutique since each of the garments Agnes Getz sold was handmade. On the corner of Main and Colchester stood Martin’s Antiques and Collectables.

“Have you ever been in there?” she indicated the place. “They have some truly unusual items.”

“Yes. A couple of times. I think every kid who grew up in Forest Falls went down there on a dare at one time or another. A lot of them think the place is haunted. What about you? Have you tempted fate yet?

That’s it. Stay safe and don’t forget to check out the other Tuesday Tales

Welcome to this week’s Tuesday Tales. Since our prompt is a picture, we’re limited to 300 words. I’m continuing with Royal Flush, my contemporary romance. Here’s the picture I chose.

Pearl liked finishing at three. It gave her time to explore the area before calling it a night. She’d picked up a used bike—only three gears—and often rode down to the creek as the locals called it. It was actually a small tributary off the Winooski River. There was a spot where a lot of the locals went swimming, and on a hot day like this, a swim sounded inviting. Maybe she’d been a small town girl in another lifetime, but as much as she would love to stay here, eventually, reality would intrude, her father’s mercenaries would find her, and she would have to go home.

Going into the breakroom, she stuffed her dirty apron into the laundry hamper, removed her uniform and hung it in her locker, slipped off her loafers, shoving the footies she’d worn inside a baggy and then into the side pouch on her messenger bag. After spritzing herself with a lightly fragranced body spray, she dressed in walking shorts, a sleeveless blouse, and sandals. She removed her hairnet, yanked the elastic from her hair and brushed out her curls before scraping them back into a high ponytail. She’d toyed with the idea of getting it cut short, but since she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had it short, it might not be a good idea. Grabbing her messenger bag and sunglasses, her mask still in place, she headed home for the day.

Finding Kyle sitting on the bench outside the diner was a surprise. He stood as the door closed behind her. She removed her mask and smiled.

“Fancy seeing you here,” she said. Was he waiting for her? The tiredness from moments ago vanished.

That’s it. Stay safe and don’t forget to check out the other Tuesday Tales

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Welcome to this week’s Tuesday Tales. Only a few days into the new year and it feels a lot like the old one. This week’s word prompt is STICKY.

Kyle Stapleton leaned against the back of his stool. He really should’ve made an effort to come back sooner. Ten years. How could he have let time slip away from him like that? Family mattered. It was a damn shame that was a lesson he hadn’t learned in time.

He raised his cup to his mouth and washed down the last forkful of pie, his gaze on Pearl as she poured coffee into the deputy’s mug. There was something about her … He wiped his sticky lips with the napkin and continued admiring the waitress. Since the man had his back to him, he couldn’t see his face, but he could read her body language. It was a very nice body at that—slim but not too slim with just the right amount of cleavage and curves. She was tall, with a great pair of legs, too. The man had said something that had made her stiffen her spine. Bad news?

A few moments later, the deputy stood and turned toward him. Kyle recognized Randy Walker the second he laid eyes on him. At six foot two, more muscled and slightly more portly than he’d been in high school, the man was the epitome of a small town lawman. His starched shirt hugged his broad shoulders, and even if the buttons strained a little across the midriff, he still looked fit and dangerous, not the sort of man he would want to tangle with. The razor-sharp crease in his pants suited the mirror-like shine on his boots. Obviously, Randy took his job seriously and dressed to prove it.

The deputy hadn’t put on his mask and his broad grin as he approached was all Kyle needed to confirm that his former teammate had recognized him. He stood, a welcoming smile on his face.

“Reckless Randy! Fancy seeing you here dressed like that,” he said. “Given the way you behaved in school, I would’ve expected to find you sitting on the other side of the bars.” Randy laughed and rubbed his bald head. “No one’s called me that in years. If I hadn’t married Rachel, you might’ve been right, but she tamed me. Now, I’m a devoted father and husband as well as a hard working pillar of the community. I noticed that fancy leather jacket of yours in the mirror. Who else other than a pimp or a big city lawyer would be wearing something like that in the middle of June?”

That’s it. Stay safe and don’t forget to check out the other Tuesday Tales

Welcome to the first blog post for the IWSG for 2022. I’m sure many of you, like me, hoped that things would be back to some semblance of normal by now, but Mother Nature and her friends the COVID 19 virus variants still have us by the short hairs. Christmas and New Year’s Eve were once more disrupted, and for many the emotional strain of worrying is taking its toll. For my New Year’s resolution, I made a decision to focus on one positive thing each day. Today’s positive? The Christmas decorations have been taken down and the cleaning ladies are here to restore order to the house.

Each month I try to respond to the topic question presented. This month the January 5 question is- What’s the one thing about your writing career you regret the most? Were you able to overcome it?

As Frank Sinatra sang, “regrets I’ve had a few,” but who hasn’t? The biggest one has to be getting involved with small traditional publishing houses, two of which ended up being run by crooks, while another couldn’t handle the time and costs and had to fold. She did things properly, and I didn’t lose any money. Unfortunately, the main publisher I was with, the one where things were really going well, screwed us all by selling out to one of the big boys. You would think that would be a good thing, but the big company only wanted one thing, and that was to destory the smaller one along with the writers in its stable. I went from healthy quarterly cheques to infintesimal amounts, the books ridiculously priced and absolutely nothing done to promote them. I tried promoting them myself at my expense, but since they took the lion’s share of the royalties, it wasn’t worth it. Some of the writers were able to bounce back and find other publishers, many just stopped writing, and that was a great loss.

When I was given the option of getting my rights back, and believe me, that was easier said than done with the unscrupulous publishers, I did, but the old “once bitten, twice shy” adage was never far from my mind. One by one, I revised and edited each of my previously published books and then self-published them. All I can say is thank goodness I didn’t have to rely on my writing to support me, since the climb back up into the marketplace was a long, slow one. Gradually, I wrote new material and self-published it, but it’s taken me five years to get my groove back. My sales and pages read improved greatly in 2021, the numbers surpassing my best ones in the early years, and I’m hoping that trend continues.

So, what did I learn? Not to trust traditional publishing. It’s as simple and as complex as that. I refuse to submit any of my books to any house ever again. Will I regret this? Maybe in the long run, but for now, no one is cheating me out of anything, and I’m comfortable with that.

How about you?

Check out other answers here: https://www.insecurewriterssupportgroup.com/p/iwsg-sign-up.html

Welcome to 2022. Here’s hoping it’s a good year, better than the last. For the first Tuesday Tales’ post of the year, our word prompt is HARD. I’m continuing with Royal Flush, but to better serve the plot, I’ve switched from first to third person since Kyle deserves a voice of his own and tweaked the story a bit.

“Kyle Stapleton, well, I’ll be,” Randy said. “His mother, Leilani, is still quite the celebrity around here. She was a famous model, apparently from a well-to-do Hawaiian family. She retired from modeling when she married. Gossip said the family wasn’t pleased with her choice, disowned her, or something. Derek was fresh out of the marines—they met in Honolulu. They came back to take over the family farm after his old man died. They’ve lived outside of town for more than forty years. The farm’s made quite a name for itself, too. They had three kids, two boys and a girl. Leila married a doctor and moved out of state. Ben, the youngest son, manages the farm now that Derek passed a few months ago. He and his wife Ingrid don’t have any kids yet. I was surprised when neither Kyle nor his sister came back for the funeral—not that there was much of one considering the pandemic. Leilani took some of Derek’s ashes back to Hawaii, so they may have met up with her there. Kyle’s a big shot lawyer—not sure what kind—but it has something to do with the government. Could be he’s with the IRS. Their fraud division probably has a bunch of lawyers on retainer. Last I heard, he was engaged to marry some debutante.”

Damn! She should’ve known. Lots of men chose not to wear a wedding ring. Thank goodness for the old small town rumor mill. What they didn’t know, they invented. Everyone meant well, and there was no malice intended, but keeping things private was hard to do in Forest Falls. How much of Randy’s story was true? Not that it was really any of her business. She had her secrets, and he was entitled to his, but knowing he was unavailable would prevent her from making a fool of herself.

Pearl shrugged. “Maybe they couldn’t get here. You know, the virus has made traveling difficult, and depending on where they were, flights were hard to get. I’m sure, given how bad the pandemic was then, a doctor would’ve been unable to get away. Kyle said he was back a few weeks to visit family. Other than the fact that he likes the coffee and lemon meringue pie, that’s all I know.”

Randy laughed, something he did rarely these days. “You may be a sight for sore eyes, but you make a lousy detective.” He lifted the cup to his mouth. “By now, Rachel would have all the latest information, including the color of his shorts. My wife missed her calling.”

That’s it. Stay safe and don’t forget to check out the other Tuesday Tales

Well, we’ve survived another year. 2021 wasn’t the kindest year since many people I know lost loved ones, or have some who are still critically ill. Horrible, catastrophic weather disasters impacted much of the planet, and we’ve been warned there’s more to come. And of course, Coronavirus is still with us.

My husband and I did get to celebrate a milestone anniversry and enjoy a fantastic trip out to the Canadian Rockies. We had plans to go to Europe to see our son and granddaughter, but those plans, like the ones to go to Nova Scotia and Gaspesie, are on hold for the foreseable future.

How things will go this year is anyone’s guess. I’ve seen the posts reminding me that Soylent Green, the sci-fi movie, was set in 2022, and that this year is pronounced 2020 too, but I lived through all the doomsday predictions including 1984, 2000, and 2012. I’m not too worried . . . am I? Do you remember how hopeful and optimistic we all were last year once a vaccine had been approved? Well, three shots later, and we’re still waitng for the light at the end of the tunnel, hoping it isn’t another oncoming train.

But I refuse to allow negativity in anything but a COVID 19 PCR or antigen test to affect me this year. I’ve determined to put on a happy face and keep it there!

Do you make New year’s resolutions? In the past, I did, but nine out of ten times, I didn’t last a month. Why? Because I set impossible goals for myself. This year, I’ve decided not to stress myself that way–life is stressful enough as it is.

So what will my resolutions for 2022 look like? Well, here’s the first. I will endeavour to have breakfast on 50 percent of the mornings. I’ve never been a breakfast eater, unless I’m on vacation, and usually that’s taken mid-morning. So, this year, I will try to have breakfast 4 out of 7 days a week, but I won’t beat myself up about it if I don’t make it. Today, it’s actually brunch–bacon and scrambled eggs. Tomorrow, I’ll aim for a smoothie. I’ll keep track of my accomplishments and failures on my desktop calendar.

A second resolution will be to blog at least 3 times a week. I tried to do a newsletter but got locked out of the program when my cellphone number changed. So, instead of a newsletter, I’ll blog. On Tuesdays, I’ll continue my Tuesday Tales posts, and then I’ll find something else to blog about the other two times–maybe books by other authors or new releases of my own–perhaps a book on sale–we’ll see.

My third resolution is to spend a bit more time on promotion, something I truly suck at, but that unfortunately is essential for writers these days.

Finally, I intend to try to write at least 2000 words every day. That may not seem like much but with all of the demands the real world tosses at us, some days 2 K will feel like 20 K

So there you have it. My list of New Year’s resolutions. Do you have any?

What do a honky tonk bar, a hunky cowboy, a damsel in distress, and a New Year’s Eve brawl have in common? Why Jess Wells, of course.

You can run, but you can’t hide!

In order to escape an arranged marriage to a rude, insufferable man, Jewel Wellington leaves home and The Met to hide with a honky tonk band on a Southern promotional tour. As Jess Wells, she and the other Silvertones step into The Squawking Tomcat, a bar on the outskirts of Alice, Texas, expecting to have a three-week gig. The problem is, the bar’s owner, Lance Corcoran, isn’t expecting an all-girl band.

Frustrated at this sudden reverse of fortune, Jess makes a deal with the bar’s owner—pick any song by any artist, and let her prove she and the Silvertones can do it. What she doesn’t expect is to realize that the bar’s crusty cowboy owner is none other the surfer she spent one steamy night on the beach with eight years ago, one she left without saying goodbye. Will Lance recognize her? And if he does, will it cost them the gig?

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Welcome to the last post for Tuesday Tales in 2021. This has been a hard year for many of us. Here’s hoping 2022 will be better. Our word prompt this week is GREEN. I’m continuing with Royal Flush. Enjoy, and I’ll see you here next year.

When my father had shown up at the board meeting with Isamu Tadashi, heir apparent to Bonsai Aeronautics, I’m sure I turned green, ready to lose my breakfast. I knew exactly what was going through dear daddy’s cold, calculating mind. Despite a little thing called creating a monopoly, he was hoping for more than one merger this year, and I was having none of it. Isamu, raised in a traditional Japanese family, one with ties to the Emperor, would expect his wife to be meek, mild, and obedient. I was none of those things and didn’t intend to start now. If Dad wanted to find someone who would take one for the team, he needed to look elsewhere.

While Dad had been arranging dinner with Isamu and the rest of our family, I’d been on the phone to my cousin, Jewel. Her father had tried to pull the same stunt a few years ago, and like me, she’d refused to have anything to do with it. Did I mention my extended family had a habit of naming their girls after gemstones? My female cousins, according to age, were Opal, Jade, Ruby, Amber, and Jewel. I rounded out the family’s weird habit with Pearl and, as the last of this generation not married, I honestly hoped the trend would stop with us. Jewel had escaped her fate and had fallen in love with and married a hunky cowboy she’d met years earlier at one of the annual family get-togethers on Catalina Island. I wasn’t looking to marry anyone, least of all Isamu.

I’d played nice-nice until Isamu had returned to Japan, and then I’d made my escape. At the moment, my dad believed I was in Norway, visiting an old friend and waiting out the virus and travel restrictions. That excuse had lasted three months and wasn’t going to be good much longer, but I really wasn’t ready to go back to Beverley Hills and the merger he proposed—not that Isamu had been anything but a perfect gentlemen. He just didn’t interest me. Besides, I liked it here in this small Vermont town where everyone treated me as if I were just an ordinary hard-working stiff.

“His name’s Kyle Stapleton, and he grew up here.” It didn’t occur to me not to answer Randy’s question. “You’ll probably remember him because of his mother.” I shrugged.

That’s it. Stay safe and don’t forget to check out the other Tuesday Tales