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~ Small town romance, big time love.

Ginger Ring

Monthly Archives: June 2013

Welcome Melanie Shawn

30 Sunday Jun 2013

Posted by Ginger Ring in Guests

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Melanie Shawn’s The Crossroads Series – What Makes Being At A Crossroads In Life Such a Compelling Theme?

The writing team of sisters Melanie and Shawna discuss why they chose the theme of “Big Life Choices” for their Crossroads Series.

Robert Frost, in his immortal poem, describes one of the biggest conundrums in life.

“Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood”

There is something so gut-wrenching about facing a metaphorical fork in the road. You can only go one way, and the what the rest of your life will look like is based on that one monumental decision.

Of course, people face these crossroads in life every day. They decide whether to enter or leave relationships, they decide what job to take and what job to pass on, they decide whether to move across the country or not. They decide whether the time is right to start a family.

It’s not the rarity of the experience that makes the facing a crossroads so compelling, it’s the struggle. We all do it. We go back and forth mentally, we try to see down the divergent paths to envision what our lives would be like under each of the two sets of circumstances we are choosing between, even though we know that’s folly! There’s no way for us to predict the outcome.

The truth is, the only way to make a big “crossroads” kind of decision is to follow your heart. You have to ignore the clenching in your gut, the uncertainty, the little voice in your head that says you aren’t good enough, and just…leap. You have to take a giant leap of faith.

Decisions. Choices. Crossroads.

We knew immediately when the concept occurred to us that it simply had to be the theme of our second series of novels. There is such a great arc, and there is so much rich emotional material for mining, in a situation where one or both of the characters have to dig deep, determine what is right for them, and then take a huge leap of faith.

Of course, since we’re romance writers, we know that leap will pay off for them. They will take that scary jump only to land in their lover’s arms and find out that they were launching themselves right into their own HEA all along.

But the “good stuff” is in how they manage to get to the point where they feel ready to jump!

Bio:

Melanie Shawn Bio

 

Melanie Shawn is the writing team of sister duo Melanie and Shawna. Originally from Northern California, they both migrated south and now call So Cal their home.

Growing up, Melanie constantly had her head in a book and was always working on short stories, manuscripts, plays and poetry. After graduating magna cum laude from Pepperdine University, she went on to teach grades 2nd through 8th for five years. She now spends her days writing and taking care of her furry baby, a Lhasa Apso named Hercules. In her free time, her favorite activity is to curl up on the couch with that stubborn, funny mutt and binge-watch cable TV shows on DVD (preferably of at least eight seasons in length – a girl’s gotta have her standards!).

Shawna always loved romance in any form – movie, song or literary. If it was a love story with a happy ending, Shawna was all about it! She proudly acknowledges that she is a romanceaholic. Her days are jam-packed with writing, being a wife, mom aka referee of two teens, and indulging in her second passion (dance!) as a Zumba instructor.  In the little free time she has, she joins Melanie in marathon-watching DVDs of their favorite TV programs.

 

They have joined forces to create a world where True Love and Happily Ever After always has a Sexy Twist!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Book Description:

 

Jason Sloan is known as Harper’s Crossing’s resident Romeo, and he’s never had to work too hard to live up to that nickname. With his easygoing charm, whiskey-colored brown eyes, and sinfully sexy half smile, women just seem to fall all over themselves when he’s around.

Well…most women, anyway. Katie Lawson’s the one woman who isn’t putty in his hands, and she’s the only one he’s ever wanted in his arms.

Katie Lawson left Harper’s Crossing in the middle of the night ten years ago, immediately after her high school boyfriend Nick’s funeral. She left behind all memories of Nick, and she left behind her life-long best friend, Jason Sloan.

Now she’s on the fast track to junior partner at one of San Francisco’s top law firms. She’s made a life for herself that’s all about maintaining order and sticking to the rules. Rule #1 is keeping herself WAY too busy to think about all that she ran away from. If she can do that, after all, she can keep everything under control.

But that rule is about to be broken. She’s headed back home to be the maid of honor in Nick’s little sister’s wedding. It’s time to face the truth she’s been avoiding all these years, the same one that sent her running ten years ago – that maybe she didn’t lose her first love the summer after high school. Maybe her first love has been waiting for her all this time, at home in Harper’s Crossing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Excerpt:

My First Excerpt

Katie opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. She snapped it shut. She tried again. Same result. She imagined she looked like a trout on the banks of a river, flapping her mouth open and shut for no apparent reason.

The realization of how silly she must look gave her just the extra edge of courage she needed to jump off the cliff.

“Jason, I…I wanted to…I wanted to tell you that…” she steeled herself for what she knew her physical reaction would be as she forced herself to look up into those gorgeous brown eyes, which resembled nothing so much as pools of warm and melty milk chocolate…

The expression on Jason’s face when she raised her eyes brought her up short. She narrowed her eyes.

“Why do you look so smug?” she asked suspiciously.

Rather than answering, he smirked and bent down, putting his mouth right next to her ear. His hot breath assailed her neck and she began to feel light-headed again.

Wait…was this….OH NO! Panic attack #2 might be on the horizon.

Not in front of Jason, PLEASE, not in front of Jason, Katie begged the Universe.  It seemed like the Universe must have more important things on its mind, however because – oh, lord. Now the shallow breathing was starting.

Jason’s breath on her neck, however, was anything but shallow. It was deep. And heavy. And warm. And full of desire. And…oh, man, that lightheadedness was just getting worse and worse.

Jason had her pinned up against the trunk of her car. Her mind was screaming at her to push him away and RUN as fast and as far as she could. Hey, it had worked in the past. Her body, however, was sending her some very different signals.

“I’m not smug, Kit Kat,” Jason informed her, his deep voice rumbling in his chest.

“Wha…huh…?” Katie mumbled.

Jason laughed lightly, “I was just saying that I’m not smug. Just happy to know that I still get under your skin.”

Katie didn’t respond. She didn’t even really hear what he said, she’d stopped trying to pay attention to the words. Stupid words. They just got in the way of listening to his voice…that silky, deep voice.

Jason traced his thumb down the back of Katie’s neck slowly, sensuously, and then continued across her shoulder and down her arm. When he reached her waist, he slipped his hand around her easily, spreading his fingers slowly and firmly, grasping her back with a familiarity that felt as dangerous as it did comforting.

His thumb began to gently massage the small of her back, sending sharp zings of electricity ping-ponging off of her nerve endings. She wanted to stop those little zings of pleasure in their tracks. She wanted to ignore, suppress, deny…anything!

She needed to push him away and get some distance is what she needed to do. Her knees began to buckle. Any time now, a little voice in the back of her head whispered. Any time you want to get a jump on creating that distance would be perfect.

That was, however, not what Katie did. No matter how hard her lizard brain screamed at her to push him away…step away…jump away…DANCE away, even…all Katie found herself doing was looking up into his chocolate brown eyes as she melted into his embrace.

Katie heard a low moan escape from Jason’s throat and was suddenly hyper-aware of how close their lips were to each other. A shiver ran through her as she contemplated the nearness of those delicious, sexy lips.

Katie’s breathing became more labored, but not in an out-of-control, panic-attacky kind of way. No, it was more of a body-coming-alive-for-the-first-time-in-years kind of way.

She vaguely wondered what was going to happen next, but couldn’t make herself focus too much on the future. Not when the present was this flipping interesting!

Her brain might be telling her to get out of this situation, to think about the consequences – but her body was perfectly content to ride this little scene out and see where it went thankyouverymuch.

Why did it seem that she was utterly incapable of listening to her brain in any situation where Jason Sloan was involved?

 

 

 

 

Links:

Buy Links:

Amazon: http://bit.ly/myfirstamazon
B&N: http://bit.ly/myfirstbarnes

Website: http://melanieshawn.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/melanieshawnbooks

Twitter: https://twitter.com/MelanieShawn

Youtube: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mka92etUNsE

Welcome Natalie Gayle

25 Tuesday Jun 2013

Posted by Ginger Ring in Guests

≈ 3 Comments

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The Voices in My Head

Yep it’s true.  I hear voices in my head. But before you lock me up or call the men in the white jackets – let me clarify.  You see that’s how I write my novels.  The characters talk and I listen.

Do they talk to me? Well not really.  They don’t go “Hey Nat this is what’s going to happen.”     It’s more as if I’m sitting watching things evolve through a movie.  I refer to it as the “fly on the wall” phenomena.

You see, I can vividly hear and see everything that is happening and playing out in my books.  Then I just describe it and write it with a bit of help from my characters.

I’ll be driving down the road listening to the radio and then next thing I know I’m watching a scene play out between my characters.  The dialogue is, as if it’s happening in the car with me.

It makes me smile. It makes me laugh.  My family often see this happening and walk past shaking their head.

“Mum’s head’s in her book again!”  My kids say and walk off shaking theirs.

I’ve been caught with a sly smile on my face many times by my husband.  For the first few times he said “What?”

After a little while I had to come clean, I think he was starting to get suspicious of something that was only a figment of my imagination.

Now he just raises his eyebrows, I smile and nod and he nods as well – very knowingly.  Yep she’s up to it again.

What is totally bizarre is when the characters do something you don’t expect.  It’s a bit unnerving actually.  Take Rihanna for example.  She did something big in Finding Trust.  Something, that I just didn’t not expect.  No way. No how.  If you’ve read it – you’ll know what I mean.  If you haven’t I won’t spoil it for you.

But when she did what she did.  I kind of sat there gobsmacked.  Really – she was going to do that?  Apparently yes.  Who am I to argue?  I’m just the idiot on the keyboard!

I must say life’s never boring when you’re writing about dominant and interesting characters.  They do and say the most amazing things, regularly.

I think this experience is probably very similar to all authors.  I’m really interested to see if it still continues.  It served me well to get “Finding Trust” written and delivered.  I only hope it continues as well for all the other novels I have planned.

“Don’t fail me now – character’s!”  I cry.

Not sure what I’d do if the process changed. So I’m not going to think about that.  I’m a firm believer that if you start dwelling on the negative, you suddenly make it a reality.  I’m going to trust that the characters want their story to be told and I’m going to do my job and write it the best I can.

So having now divulged that I hear voices in my head I hope you won’t think any worse of me.  Maybe everybody does – they just don’t want to admit it?

What do the voices in your head tell you? Stop and listen – you might just be surprised.

DESCRIPTION:

Brayden and Rihanna He’s hot, sexy, and leads a double life. Sometimes in the limelight, mostly in the shadows. Brayden James holds fast to a secret that’s more than his to share. She’s a singularly focused veterinarian out for a rare night of fun with friends, at a New Year’s Eve rock concert. Going home with the lead guitarist was furthest thing from Rihanna Mason’s mind when the night began. When Rihanna inadvertently becomes the target of a deadly terrorist plot using the Hendra virus as a biological weapon, Brayden is forced to reveal his other life. His job is to keep her safe and together they must stop the terrorists before it’s too late. But what happens when she becomes more to him than just the assignment? Will the secret he cannot disclose ultimately prove too much for Rihanna’s fragile trust in relationships? Or will he finally break through the double brick walls around her heart, where every other man has failed?

Buy Finding Trust ebook: http://www.amazon.com/Finding-Trust-Centre-Games-ebook/dp/B00BMHKBDG/ref=tmm_kin_title_0?ie=UTF8&qid=1371316771&sr=8-1

Buy Paperback: http://www.amazon.com/Finding-Trust-Centre-Games-Volume/dp/0987514202/ref=tmm_pap_title_0?ie=UTF8&qid=1371316771&sr=8-1

JT and I

20 Thursday Jun 2013

Posted by Ginger Ring in My Thoughts

≈ 2 Comments

I like to call myself eccentric. I don’t like trends. If everyone has it, I don’t want it. You will never see me with the latest clothes, the hippest shoes, and I don’t owe an iPad or even a smart phone. Maybe I am just boring or odd but I like things that others often don’t.

I find that true in a lot of aspects of my life. Whereas most people like to vacation in exciting places, I like to find places off the grid. I usually hate the movies that win best picture. I don’t always like the most popular music and I like TV shows that others don’t care for.

True Blood just started again. I recently saw where someone posted on Facebook that women watch it for the three main guys. I don’t, I watch it for Jason Stackhouse played by Ryan Kwanten! He’s adorable and as everyone knows I have a thing for guys named Ryan. That in itself is another quirk.

I don’t usually read bestselling books either. I will never read Fifty Shades of Grey, Harry Potter, or the Lord of the Rings. Not that these are bad books or anything, I’m just not interested. I have fallen for some that where in the loop. Yes I did read the Twilight series but Black Dagger Brotherhood is more my style. I’ll take the brooding tattooed Vishous over those sparkly boys any day. The Hungry Games was good but I was starting to crave antidepressants by the third book. My favorite trilogy was The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. That series got better with every book. I was hooked like a fish while others just didn’t get it. I had friends that said it was too dark, too disturbing, and too erotic. Different strokes for different folks, I say.

Every writer has a different approach to writing as well. Some have rituals such as a special place to write, a certain outfit they wear, a special thing they do to celebrate when they are done, etc. My thing is music. Everything I write needs its own soundtrack. It can be related to the theme of the book or not. I am just finishing up, or trying to, I’m slow, a cougar book that takes place in West Virginia. I have the pair alone in a garage listening to Southern blues, so of course that is what I listened to when I wrote it. I am starting to work on what I have been calling the gangster book. It has to do with some illegal activity that takes place in the late 1920’s and, of course, two lovers that get caught in the crossfire. So of course this book needed some tunes as well.

I didn’t want to listen to big band or the Charlston but I am quite fond of Justin Timberlake’s song Mirrors. Again I have never been on the JT bandwagon but he seems to have grown on me lately. He is awesome as the host on SNL and I think he is a pretty good actor too. I bought the CD the 20/20 Experience thinking I had found the perfect fit for my next book. I didn’t. I like Mirrors, Suit and Tie and a crazy tune called Pusher Love Girl but the rest is not so good. Help!!  I need a soundtrack for my new book, any suggestions?

Anyway, I have been rattling on when I should be working. I will keep searching for the perfect tune and being my eccentric self!!

Welcome Katie Gallagher

18 Tuesday Jun 2013

Posted by Ginger Ring in Guests

≈ 1 Comment

5755_10201152668475939_2021163747_nToday I am welcoming writer Katie Gallagher

So Katie, why don’t you tell us how you got into writing?

I loved making up stories when I was younger, and until I could write them on my own, I’d have my mother write them down for me. I always had a book with me and often got in trouble for reading when I was supposed to be paying attention in class. I enjoyed getting lost in books and knew then I wanted to write for a living.  I even almost failed reading in the fourth grade because of my attention span, lol.

What was the first book you ever published?

I “published” my first book when I was seven years old. I still have them somewhere in my parent’s garage too!

What is your process for writing – do you plot it out, outline, panster?

I start out as a pantster, but once I’m halfway through my novel, I got back through it and make a detailed chapter by chapter outline, so that I don’t forget an event that I want to include in my novel. So, I guess you can say, I don’t just have one process when writing a novel.

What is your favorite and least favorite thing about writing?

My least favourite thing about writing is my  self doubt. I can’t just write a story and immediately like it. Luckily, I back my writing up on my flash drive every time because I usually get frustrated and manage to delete it off my desktop once before I realize that it’s actually good. In fact, it took me 4 years from the time I wrote my novel to getting the guts to publish it. Right after I wrote it, I began sending it to agents, but didn’t get ANY responses at all and I began to wonder if it was any good at all. And, I think if it wasn’t for my husband, I’d still be treating writing as a hobby wishing that it were more.

My favourite thing about writing is the ability to lose myself in the lives of characters that I’ve spun from my imagination and make them do things that I would never do on my own.

Is there a genre you would like to write but haven’t yet?

I’d love to try and write a paranormal romance or a time travel novel.

 What are you currently working on?

I’m writing a new adult novel, Stealing Cynderella. It’s about a girl, Cyn Clark, is starting college, away from her parents for the first time in her life. She sees it as the perfect escape to forget all of the family drama.  But, college is anything but. She has the roommate from hell, a best friend who’s a lesbian and begins a relationship with the campus bad boy, James. Things are going great between the two of them until some bad news from home that makes Cyn rethink things. She falls into her best friends arms and regrets it as soon as it’s over. She confesses to James, but he breaks up with her anyway. If things couldn’t get any worse, she’s pregnant.

That sounds like a great story.  I write cougar stories, is there a younger man you would love to go on a date with if you could?

Tyler Blackburn; Caleb from Pretty Little Liars

I’ve seen Pretty Little Liars, great choice!

Katie has a book out titled Catching You and here is a description. Please check it out and for more information about Katie and her books please click the links below.

This was supposed to be the best summer of Lauren’s life. It turns out to be the worst.
After Lauren wakes up in the hospital and learns that her boyfriend Ryan has died, her life slowly begins to unravel. She soon begins receiving mysterious text messages that make her wonder if his death was even an accident like everyone is saying. She finds herself leaning on Nick, her boyfriend’s best friend, for support. He tells her tidbits about Ryan’s life that make her wonder if she even knew her own boyfriend at all. Now, she’s even more determined to learn the truth about Ryan’s death and she wonders who she’s able to trust. She starts confiding in her best friend, Bryn, until she remembers something about the accident that makes her wonder if she’s trusted the wrong person the entire time. She’s determined to get justice for Ryan, but can she do it without losing her best friend?

 

 

 Links :

http://www.amazon.com/Katie-Gallagher/e/B00A3UKPFC/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/catching-you-katie-gallagher/1113750350?ean=2940015936469

http://www.lazydaypub.com/store/Catching-You.html

 

 

 

Welcome Terrence McCauley

15 Saturday Jun 2013

Posted by Ginger Ring in Guests

≈ 1 Comment

Since I mainly write crime fiction – and this is primarily a romance novel blog – I’m honored that you’ve allowed me to be featured here. I currently have three novels on the market right now.  All of them are set among the vicious gang world of 1930s New York City. My first novel – PROHIBITION – is published by Airship 27 and is set in 1930 New York. It is about a heavyweight boxer-turned-enforcer, Terry Quinn, who must use his brains instead of his brawn to find out who is trying to undermine his boss’s criminal empire.  FIGHT CARD: AGAINST THE ROPES is published by Fight Card Books and is a prequel to PROHIBITION which involves how Quinn went from heavyweight contender to mob enforcer. My latest novel is SLOW BURN, published by Noir Nation Books, and is set in 1932 New York and is about a minor character from PROHIBITION – Charlie Doherty;  a corrupt Tammany Hall cop who  finds himself in the middle of a murder/kidnapping case involving one of the richest families in New York City.

All of these works have been published by three different publishers over the last six months. One of most surprising aspects of all of this has been how much my work appeals to women! They love the gritty violence and honest masculinity of my characters. It wasn’t the audience I intended, but it’s the audience I love to have.

My short stories have also been featured in anthologies like Thuglit, Action: Pulse Pounding Tales (Volume 1 and Volume 2), Shotgun Honey, Out of the Gutter Magazine and Big Pulp Press. I’m also working on a western, a modern day spy thriller and a space adventure. Of course, I love the 1930s and hope my characters will be popular enough to warrant more stories and novels set in that time period.

Below is an excerpt from my latest book SLOW BURN.  All of my books are available from my Amazon page here: http://www.amazon.com/Terrence-McCauley/e/B00AO7AN0G/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_3?qid=1371222959&sr=8-3

I am also on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/TerrencePMcCauley

And on Twitter: @tmccauley_nyc

Here is an excerpt from SLOW BURN:

slow-burn-small

N E W  Y O R K  C I T Y

4:00 AM – Late August, 1932

CHAPTER 1

WEST END BLUES

I hated it when they were that young.

The girl was too young to be that dead, but she was dead all the same. On a hot,

humid August night on the floor of a fleabag hotel on Twenty-eighth Street and Ninth

Avenue called The Chauncey Arms. Room 909.

The girl was naked. Legs together. Arms at her sides. Throat cut. Blood had

pooled on the floor around her head in a neat circle, like some kind of goddamned halo.

Her dead eyes were half-closed, staring out at nothing. The cracked plaster ceiling was probably the last thing the poor kid had seen before she bled out.

She looked about twenty or so, but all the war paint she was wearing made it

tough to be sure. Besides, figuring those kinds of details was the coroner’s job, not mine.

Chief Carmichael’s office had been clear about what my new duties were when

they’d stuck me here.

Work the graveyard shift.

Tag ‘em and bag ‘em.

Start the file.

Let the daytime boys worry about solving murders.

They said: You’re not a Vice cop anymore. You’re lucky you’re still a cop at all.

They said: Now you’re a glorified note-taker with a badge, courtesy of Chief

Andrew Carmichael and Roosevelt’s new Good Government crusade against cops they deemed crooked.

Those rotten, phony bastards called me crooked, even though they were every bit as corrupt as I had been. They…

No. I stopped before I started having the same old argument I always had. All the old resentments started rising in me again, and I knew that would get me nowhere fast.

Instead, I took another look at that poor dead girl on the floor, and suddenly my

own troubles didn’t matter so much.

Because she had been alive not too long ago, with a life of her own and troubles

of her own. Troubles that had brought her to The Chauncey Arms.

Troubles that had gotten her killed.

I found myself wanting to figure out what her troubles had been. I heard myself

vowing to find out who had killed her and why.

Maybe it was because her dark hair and fair skin reminded me of the woman

who’d just walked out on me. Legally, she was my wife, but I’d stopped thinking of

Theresa as my wife long ago. Once the graft I’d made from my Tammany connections

ran out, so did Theresa. I’d known the kind of woman she was when I’d married her, so I wasn’t surprised when she left. But she took the girls with her. That’s the part that stung the most.

The sight of this dead girl reminded me that it didn’t matter when I got home,

because no one would be waiting for me when I got there. It also reminded me about why I’d become a cop in the first place.

Because every cop instinct I had told me one thing:

This girl did not belong in a place like this. Not alive, and certainly not dead.

Something just didn’t feel right.

I got angry when Frank English started making with the crime scene pictures. The poor bastard was doing his job, just like me, but the stark light of the flash always made a death scene colder. And standing over a corpse made the badge feel a bit heavier in my pocket.

It felt heavy enough already.

I realized I’d been too busy getting a handle on the crime scene to question the

only witness I had: the night manager of the hotel. But with English taking his pictures,

now was as good a time as any.

* * * * *

The air in the hallway was somehow thicker and even more humid than in Room

909. A few weak yellow bulbs gave off just enough light to show the rat turds that lined

the hallway. Lucky me. I always worked the swankiest places.

From all the years I’d spent in Vice, I knew that in general the night managers of dives like this were a special breed of low-life. The night manager of The Chauncey Arms

lived up to my expectations.

He was the small, swarthy type, with sweat-stained clothes and yellowed, pockmarked skin. Perched all by himself on the stairs, he looked out at me from

beneath heavy-lidded eyes. A crooked, hand-rolled cigarette dangled from the corner of

his mouth.

He took a deep drag on his cigarette as I walked over to him, letting a long

plume of smoke escape from his nose. I was just one more pain in the ass he’d have to

deal with on a hot August night.

The feeling was mutual.

“I’m Detective Charlie Doherty,” I told him as I pulled out my notebook and

started with the basics. “Name?”

“Miller.” He slapped at a fly that had buzzed past his eyes, but missed. “Augie

Miller.”

I wrote it down. “See anyone around here today who might’ve done this, Mr.

Miller? Anyone suspicious?”

“You kiddin’ me? Take a look around, mister. Most of the people who come in

and out of this dump look like they just got outta prison. Hell, I’d bet most of ‘em have.”

He had a point. Just about the only thing the Chauncey Arms had going for it was its location. Twenty-eighth Street and Ninth Avenue was just far enough off the beaten path to draw a middle-class clientele looking to do low-class things: hookers and their johns; junkies getting their fix; married guys and their boyfriends; drunks and their bottles. You get the idea.

“Who’s the room registered to?”

“I figured you boys’d be askin’ that.” Miller fished out a soggy scrap of paper

from his shirt pocket and held it out to me. “I wrote it down for you. You can check the

book personally if you don’t believe me.” He squeezed out something closer to a wince

than a smile. “I’m here to help, mister. I kinda like cops.”

“Yeah, I can tell.” I took the damp paper from him with two fingers and read the

name for myself. Miller’s chicken scrawl was tough to read, but I made out the name:

Silas Van Dorn.

Fancy name for a dump like The Chauncey Arms. Familiar, too. So familiar that I couldn’t quite place it, but I knew I’d heard it somewhere recently. I wrote Van Dorn’s name in my notebook. “I was expecting something more original, like John Smith.”

“Got plenty of John Smiths in the register, too,” Miller said. “But I’ll bet most of

’em cleared outta here when they heard someone went and got themselves killed. The

ones sober enough to get dressed, anyway.”

I’d seen some of patrons scurrying off into the night when

my partner and I had pulled up about twenty minutes before. Men pulling up their pants,

tucking in shirttails. Women fixing their skirts as they ran down the street. Every last one of them in a big hurry to run back to their lives as respectable people. Putting as much distance between them and The Chauncey Arms as possible.

“My partner, Detective Loomis, and a couple of uniforms are already knocking on doors, canvassing the place for witnesses.” I knew they wouldn’t turn up much, but it still had to be done. “You got a pass key they could use in case they need to get into one of the rooms?”

Miller shrugged. “Sure, but anyone still here is probably too drunk or too high to

have heard much. But I’ll be glad to lend you my master key to let you in wherever you

want to go. Like I said, I’m here to help. Could be helpful in a lot of ways.”

“No kidding?” I saw no harm in playing along. “Like how?”

Miller looked up and down the hall first before beckoning me closer. “Got me a

couple of ideas on who killed that Lindbergh kid over in Jersey, see? You hear lots of

things workin’ in a place like this, and I’ve heard some choice stuff that’ll curl your hair

for you. I’d be willing to share what I know. For a piece of the reward money, of course.”

Just what I needed. Another crackpot. “Of course, but unfortunately, that’s not my case. Tell me about the guy who rented Room 909. This Silas Van Dorn. What’d he look like?”

With his dreams of the Lindbergh reward fading, Miller went back to deadpanning it. “I wouldn’t know. Register said he rented the room yesterday mornin’ after my shift ended.”

“What hours do you work?”

“Seven in the afternoon to seven in the morning, Register says he checked in yesterday morning after nine and paid through midnight. Cash money, too. I was too busy at the desk to check on the room ‘til ‘bout an hour ago. But when I came up to check it, that’s when I found… well, you know what I found. This Van Dorn fella coulda walked past me a dozen times, but I wouldn’t know who he was.”

I saw an idea dawn on Augie Miller. “Say, you boys are gonna clean up

that room when you’re done, aren’t ya? I mean, you ain’t gonna up and leave all that

mess behind. Someone’s gonna hafta clean it, and it sure as hell ain’t gonna be me.”

I found Miller’s compassion overwhelming. I waved over one of the uniforms

posted in the hall and said, “Take Mr. Miller here down to the front desk. Help him find

the name Silas Van Dorn in the register, then get in touch with the day manager. Ask him what this Van Dorn guy looked like. I’ll be down in a couple of minutes.”

Miller loped down the stairs as the policeman followed close behind him. Augie

Miller: Citizen of the Year.

That was the first time I’d ever laid eyes on Augie Miller, and that’s what bothered me. Back when I’d worked Vice, I knew everyone who worked every dive, speakeasy, flop house, whorehouse and gambling den in the city. I would’ve known Augie—and he would’ve been more helpful than this.

I felt those old resentments rising again, but cut them off even quicker this time.

What was done was done, and there was no going back.

Besides, I had a job to do: I had a file to build for the daytime shift. Might as well get started building it.

me

Thanks for stopping by Terrence!!!  I can’t wait to read your books!!

Welcome Lisa Eugene

12 Wednesday Jun 2013

Posted by Ginger Ring in Guests

≈ 9 Comments

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HOW STEAMY DO I GO WITH MY SEX.

Well…humm…I have to say that my sex scenes do get pretty steamy, but I think it’s a product of my writing. The best review I ever got was when somone wrote, “You can really feel what her characters are feeling and going through”…that’s what I aim for, so I tend to be very descriptive with my writing! If my characters are going through it, I want my readers to go through it too! If they are sad, I want my readers to feel sad. If they’re angry, I want my reader to feel angry. If they are horny…well, you get the picture! Although I want my sex scenes to be realistic, I try to be tactful and romantic with my wording. Although, lets face it…there’re only a few words to describe the private areas so it can sometimes be a challenge.

I want my writing to be an emotional experience. I myself am a voracious reader. I like to absolutely immerse myself in a scene. I want to know the textures of the reality. What color is the sky? How does the breeze feel against my skin? What does this world smell like? I think that’s why my sex scenes tend to be explicit. I want to know what my hero and heroine are feeling, tasting, and smelling….maybe a little weird, right? But, that’s me. That’s also why my husband says I’m horrible at telling jokes. If a guy walks into a bar, I want to know what he’s wearing, the color of his eyes, what the bartender looks like…lol

Reading is escapism in its most cerebral form. I believe that you can live many lives inside your brain. That’s what daydreaming is about. An author can help create a fascinating daydream or spark the fuse for one. I have to say that it’s also a little bit voyeuristic. We as people, love to look into the lives of others, not just sexually, but in a way that depicts everyday lives…look at reality TV. We are fascinated by what others are going through. I think in a way it gives us validation that we’re not alone. We’re not the only one having a bad day, or having bad hair or bad skin or bad sex. Or on the other hand we may revel in the joys and triumphs of life just by observing or reading about the lives of others. It can be fictitious or real. It’s life. I enjoy depicting that life as a little more exciting and sexy.

So…steamy sex scenes…hell yeah!

Blurb: Conservative Emergency Room Physician, Nina Henley has always followed the rules. Her life has been dictated by her unwavering commitment to medicine. Wade Connolly, renowned medical malpractice attorney and ‘New York’s sexiest bachelor’ enters her life and challenges her with his bold sexuality and intense passion. One look into his gorgeous blue eyes and Nina is forced to acknowledge needs that have long been repressed. When she becomes involved in Wade’s perilous malpractice case she realizes that she is at risk for not only heartbreak, but betrayal as everything she’s worked so hard for is threatened. Will Wade’s passion and love be enough to save her or will she lose everything…including her life?

Excerpt of STRICTLY BUSINESS rated ADULT:

Professional, she kept repeating to herself. Gorgeous and huge! Another voice kept insinuating itself into her overheated brain. The air in the room was thick and the only sound that echoed off the walls was the steady rhythm of their mingled breaths. Nina moaned as he lifted her top, exposing her black lace bra. Cool air teased her hot skin, making her shiver. A finger tormented her nipple and she was sure she whispered “please” before he groaned huskily and closed his mouth over her breast.

Caught in a cloud that was all sensation and need, she trailed her fingers down to the waistband of his pants.

“God…I want you. Where can we go? Is it safe in here?” His husky breath floated against the shell of her ear, sending a hazy buzz along her skin.

The loud jingle of the beeper hanging precariously from her scrub bottoms sliced through the moment like a sledgehammer. They both stared at each other, stunned, wide eyed, and wanting.. She exhaled an unsteady breath as she skimmed a hand over her hair, ignoring the jab of several pens. She quickly checked the state of her scrubs. She couldn’t believe that she’d acted so impetuously—like a sex starved lunatic!  Remorse stabbed at her. Thoughts of her promising career and the life she’d built all twirled around in her head like a frenzied tornado, threatening to disappear into the fuzzy distance…

BUY STRICTLY BUSINESS

http://www.amazon.com/Strictly-Business-ebook/dp/B00BLOQ0ZS/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1367419601&sr=1-1&keywords=lisa+eugene

Find Lisa:

https://www.facebook.com/lisa.eugene.3

http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17450303-strictly-business

https://twitter.com/lisaeugene43

Jess Please!! Welcome Jess Hunter!!

09 Sunday Jun 2013

Posted by Ginger Ring in Cougar Worthy Men, Guests

≈ 17 Comments

When I came up with the idea for the Cougar Worthy Men last year, it was my inspiration to not just feature men that were models  or celebrites but to feature ones that were my idea of model men!!  Men that were accomplished, successful, intriguing, creative, and, of course, handsome.

Men are visual, whereas women melt to the sounds of words they yearn to hear. When you are interested in writing, or have a love for reading, men that are good with words are even more appealing.

I’ve been very lucky to have had two great authors featured here already –  Dr. Ivan Rusilko and my favorite Ryan, Mr. Ryan O’Leary. I am very excited to be adding another great writer, Mr. Jess Hunter, to my Cougar Worthy Men list. Once you have finished reading about Jess and the words he has to say, I’m sure you will be adding him to your list as well.

Jess will be giving away a copy of For A Hero to two people that leave a comment. So be sure to leave a comment at the end and I am very pleased to Welcome Jess Hunter!!

Everyone always associates me with superheroes. I never intended for the connection to be as ubiquitous or permeating as it is, but I don’t mind. “For A Hero,” wasn’t about a superhero, it was about a man. I am a fan of superheroes, but I am also a fan of detectives, cowboys, spies, presidents, astronauts and bounty hunters. They aren’t all over my page and when you see one of them, you don’t think of me. So, why superheroes? I guess someone who loves me a lot knew that I liked superheroes and wanted me to be surrounded by something I loved. (Sable & Barb) I already wrote a piece about why superheroes are important to me and my literature since so many people asked questions about their prevalence, but this is different. Something VERY big  and important is about to happen to me, and I want to share it with you.

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Superman has been a very powerful influence in my life ever since I was very, very young. One of the first things I ever got was a homemade superman shirt and cape. My dad sewed the S on my chest himself. I couldn’t even run yet, but in my heart, I could fly. I spent my whole childhood with a towel around my neck. As I grew up and passed the six foot mark, graduated college, and started paying my own bills, the love of Superman never went away. Sure, I love Batman, too, as well as the whole Justice League and even Marvel’s teams and heroes. But Superman is special.

jessegaron

If it isn’t already obvious to you, I am talking about the premiere of the film, “Man of Steel.” The production team behind The Dark Knight Trilogy created it, and it was directed by the man behind “300” and “The Watchmen.” I believe for many reasons, objectively and not-Superman related, that this film will be the biggest blockbuster of the year, but for me, it is something more than that. This film is what my imagination has been telling me Superman is for my whole life. I really feel like these people understand who the character is, and what he represents, and why he is so important. I feel like they are going out of their way, not JUST to make a great movie, but to truly, completely embody the character and make no apologies for what he is. Let me share with you why he is different from other popular heroes, why is so important to me, and why the world is latching onto him right now.

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Superman is nothing but hope. Many other ‘heroes’ in all mediums have a hundred other motivations. The Batman is angry and vengeful and broken. Spider-Man is guilt-ridden and insecure. Wolverine is apathetic and cold. Sherlock is detached. James Bond is a mask of a man. They are all heroes, doing good, but none of them, not a single one, is pure. Superman is ONLY pure. That is his greatest power. If he were ANYTHING other than modest, loving, and pure, the world wouldn’t be the same. To me, he is a great metaphor for who we are. He reminds us that inside each one of us, is something special, unique and powerful. He is an obvious archetype of that. He is an example of goodness and compassion.

I become very emotional when I think about him, because he isn’t just a fictional character. He is all the goals and trials and precedents. He is the best that we could be, and him existing is the anchor that can pull us there. Finally, and I’m sorry for going on such a nerd-rant, the world is getting wrapped up in him right now also. He was the most beloved fictional character, period, from 1938 to 1984 when “The Dark Knight Returns” was written and everyone jumped on the Batman bandwagon and rode it until the end of the Nolan trilogy. But in that time, we have suffered. Tragedy after tragedy after tragedy has been hurled at us. We are inundated with bad news all day, and each morning, just as we think nothing worse can happen, someone bombs somebody or shoots somebody or rich people get flustered over petty scandals and taxpayer’s money. It’s getting darker and darker outside and we have been starting to forget the goodness that is inside people. Superman can show us that. It might be silly, but I think this movie is exactly what America (and the world) needs right now. I know it’s hard to imagine someone being so emotionally invested in a movie or a fictional character, but it’s the idea, the hope and purity, that is touching everyone now. I feel like they were hungry for something like that. I feel like Superman is giving them all just a little ray of hope. They’re all joining my little club. J

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This video link is to a collage of reaction videos, all people watching the third “Man of Steel” trailer for the first time. The emotions jump and burst off of the people’s faces. Three of them began to weep as the music crescendos and Clark saves the day at his own expense. See for yourself. https://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=2YG6RakU3h8 May each of you, however you do it, get just a slice of that kind of happiness, joy, love, hope, humor that I feel when I get into a mood like this. Maybe Superman can do that for you, like he does for me. I hope this wasn’t too geeky for you. If any of you are in Houston, you’re welcome to come with me to the midnight premiere on the 13th of June. I wouldn’t miss it for the world. I’ll be wearing my cape. If you’re interested in coming along, email me at jesshunter247@gmail.com

Here is one of the trailers for Man of Steel  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-DaPBBOHfsA

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BIO: Jess Hunter is a New Orleans native who grew up in Austin, Texas. He attended the University of Texas with a major in Business and Communications. Jess loves to ride motorcycles, play video games and philosophize about the meaning of life. He is the brother and co-author of Sable Hunter and enjoys good food, beautiful women and sleeping-in on weekends. Jess will continue to write – not only romance, but horror, suspense and fantasy. Delve into the enigma that is Jess Hunter as he captures the purity and innocence of the hero dynamic and intertwines it with romance and love that will take your breath away.
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BLURB:
Heroes are not born, they are made – they are made by defeating enemies, by overcoming impossible challenges and by walking through fire. David is such a hero. He has devoted his life to saving the hopeless, yet he can’t accept the fact that he is worthy to be loved.

David lost his family and he blames himself, so he fights Fire to repay a debt he never really owed. Day after day he does his job and goes home alone to face a future of solitude and regret – until Jenna comes into his life. Jenna sees a hero when she looks at David. She sees a man who is bigger than life and deserves to be loved. So, Jenna sets out to prove to him that he is perfect just the way he is. And starts by buying a date with him – to the tune of $15000. Before David knows it, his life is full of excitement, passion and more love than he can handle. But will he be able to keep it or will the demons from his past snatch happiness from his grasp?

** Warning: Contains Explicit Scenes and Content, Intended for 18+ Audience

Here is the link to the book Jess wrote with his sister Sable Hunter. I have read it, loved it, and you will too!!!  Ginger

http://www.amazon.com/For-A-Hero-ebook/dp/B00CDAXAN4/ref=sr_1_1_bnp_1_kin?ie=UTF8&qid=1370662366&sr=8-1&keywords=for+a+hero

You can also connect with Jess on his facebook page:

https://www.facebook.com/ForAHero?ref=hl

For A Hero
Heroes are not born. they are made. Heroes are men who fight their enemies with valor, who overcome impossible challenges and who walk through the fires of trouble and despair.   Delve into the enigma that is Jess Hunter as he captures the purity and innocence of the hero dynamic and intertwines it with romance and love that will take your breath away.
Jess Hunter Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/author/jesshunter

Welcome Sable Hunter

07 Friday Jun 2013

Posted by Ginger Ring in Guests

≈ 11 Comments

DEEP WATER

History fascinates me. I love to learn odd facts and epic truths about our past. History and political science were my choices of a major in college, but I was weak-willed and let my mother influence to become an accountant like Lowery Pickard. Haha! An accountant!!!! I hate numbers. I can do them, I always made good grades, and I majored in accounting for her and graduated with honors, but I hated it and the years that I spent pursuing that career path. Who was Lowery Pickard you might ask? He was a son of one of my mother’s friends and she deemed him successful – thus,my life was influenced and molded by a dry, bespectacled bean-counter who I didn’t know very well. But, I did make my escape into the world of writing – finally!

But history is still important to me. I stay part of my time at my uncle’s deer camp in East Texas. It’s more than a deer camp because it has land and a large house sitting on it, capable of housing the entire family when we get together – think rural backwoods Kennedy compound and you’ll have an idea of where I hangout, deep in the Piney woods with swampy areas nearby. Anyway, the land sits fairly close to two larger reservoirs. One of them is Toledo Bend and the other is Sam Rayburn. My Nana’s husband worked for the State during these developments and I can remember him telling me of his experiences. For example, he shared with me how he rode a paddle boat down the Sabine River before the lake was ever built and listened to Herb Alpert and the Tijuana brass. After the bridge between Texas and Louisiana was built, he was responsible for salting the  5 mile bridge during freezing weather, this would have been in the 1960’s, before machinery was invented to  do those things. He and a crew did it by hand with a shovel, working off a maintenance truck.

One thing he shared with me, I had forgotten. This past year, we experienced some drought conditions and the water level fell in the lake, quite drastically. Toledo Bend is a big lake, it covers 185000 acres and when its full, the depths reach 173 feet. So, during the dry season when it fell to below 150 feet, some things came to light that had not been seen in many years. Archaeological sites, Indian mounds, old road beds came into view that hadn’t been seen in fifty years. Tree stumps emerged and when you would drive your boat over areas, you would know that whole towns and cemeteries were submerged beneath the waters. It made me feel funny. I remember Papa telling me about people who fought so hard to keep their homes. They didn’t want to lose their land and houses when the rivers and waters rose. One old man, Ira Holbrooke, just refused to leave until they came in and crushed his home with a tree-crusher. Other’s battled the state governments over their ancestors remains in cemeteries which would be consumed by the lake. These facts haunt me, I can just imagine diving below the surface and seeing whole towns and tombstones – someday I shall write a book about it. Another thing that bothers me is who warned the wildlife – – TODAY IS THE DAY YOU NEED TO RUN – THE FLOOD WATERS ARE COMING! Some of the animals couldn’t outrun it, that’s obvious. How many drowned? This bothers me.

Most people don’t even think about this when they drive over the bridge or sit  at the country club and stare at the peaceful blue waters. They don’t think about what lies beneath or what it used to be before that 185000 acres was overrun by a raging flood that covered over entire town, people’s lives and a past we can only glimpse beneath the murky surface of the waters.

In Forget Me Never, history played an important role. I have lived in and around the area of South Louisiana most of my life. I knew there was a town named Carville, but I associated it more with the Ragin’ Cajun’ news pundit James Carville who helped get Bill Clinton elected. I love to watch the man talk, he graduated from LSU and he is brilliant. The town of Carville was named after his grandfather, who was the postmaster there years and years ago. But Carville is more than a small hamlet on the banks of the Mississippi River.

Please allow me to tell you about Carville.  For about one hundred years it was the location of the only leper colony in the continental United States.  The people who were sent there had no choice, it was the law.  When they were diagnosed with Hansen’s disease, they were quarantined and transported to Carville either willingly or unwillingly and sometimes in chains.  A person who was ‘sentenced’ to Carville was taken from their family and their names were changed.  They lost the right to vote and most of them were never permitted or able to go home again.  And if a resident did get a chance to leave for any reason, they had to obtain permission from any area they had to pass through.   Of course, due to the fact that there were men and women at the facility – things happened – but if a baby was born to a patient, it was immediately taken away and given over to foster care.  This is the inspiration for Savannah’s past in FORGET ME NEVER.

Up until the later part of the nineteen hundreds, Hansen’s disease or leprosy was totally misunderstood.  For thousands of years, leprosy carried the stigma of being a condition that was a result of the judgment of sin.  Those who suffered from it were thought to be immoral, unclean and beyond help.  It wasn’t until the 1940’s when it was discovered that the disease was caused by a bacterial infection related to tuberculosis that people began to – slowly – look at lepers and leprosy differently.  As a side note, the only other creature that contracts the disease is the lowly armadillo and much research has been done to find out why.

I arrived at Carville early on an August morning, I had been there before, but never with the knowledge that I had now. The fog from the river lay heavily over the landscape.  Huge oaks stood like sentinels guarding a place that housed the dashed hopes and the unfulfilled dreams of almost five thousand people.  I was able to walk through the grounds and imagine what it was like for this to be the sum total of their world.   Now it is a military base and it is still fenced and guarded, but you can access the museum and drive around the base and still see the building that housed the infirmary.  I must say that I felt I walked on sacred ground.

As time passed, Carville became a better place than anyone ever expected.  From the time that the first people were brought – hidden on a barge – until the leprosarium was made into a museum, there was a spirit of survival and determination about the place and its people.  Those who were sentenced to live there made it as much of a community as they could.  They had their own newspaper, Mardi Gras celebration – they even founded the first integrated school in the United States at Carville.

When a treatment was discovered that used a combination of three antibiotics, the lives of leprosy victims changed.  Gradually the rules changed, too.  At first it was declared that a person could leave and return home if they proved clean after twelve consecutive tests conducted one month apart – or over a year’s time.  Some residents didn’t want to leave; Carville was their home.  And the authorities let them stay.  Some of them lived there even after the year 2000.

Before I left, I walked through the cemetery with its military style white headstones and saw the last resting places of people who were buried and identified only by numbers or by names which were not their own.  And I saw graves of several of the Sisters of Charity who had devoted their lives to caring for these people and had chosen to be buried among those they served.  I felt a deep sorrow and admiration as I strolled among these poor souls who had lived their lives confined to such a small fenced existence.  But, I guess we are all confined behind walls of some sort – be they financial, emotional or circumstantial.

Fear is a strange element.  We always fear what we don’t understand and sometimes that fear gets out of hand.  The families of leper victims were treated as harshly as those who had the disease.  Some were threatened with violence, most were ridiculed and many were ostracized just because a loved one had been diagnosed with this disease which still carried with it all the prejudices that any plague would have.

Aids is the modern day leprosy.  Cancer may be horrible and even deadly, but compared to leprosy and Aids – cancer is a respectable disease.  Isn’t that horrible?  Isn’t the disease bad enough?  Must we add judgment and hatred on top of pain and suffering?

You might wonder what all of this has to do with a romance novel.  Well, my Savannah in FORGET ME NEVER was born at Carville and taken away from her mother and then no one would adopt her because she was the child of a leper.  She was healthy and beautiful but people judged her and considered her unclean because of where she came from and the circumstances of her birth.  It makes for some heavy emotion and I will admit I’ve shed tears while writing this book. But she met Patrick, (sigh – Patrick – yum) and he was able to look beyond the silly prejudices and see the beautiful, perfect Savannah.

We all need to count our blessings and give thanks that we were never forced to leave our homes and live in a place that we could never leave – all because we were unlucky enough to get sick.  It’s just beyond my comprehension.

So, yes – history is all around us. Places that we are familiar with, that we see every day – sometimes they have a hidden history. And that is what makes this world a fascinating place.

FORGET ME NEVER is out in audio book this week. I hope you try it, this is my first try at something like this – and I’m very excited!

Here’s http://www.amazon.com/Forget-Never-Cajun-Style-ebook/dp/B009DID9WG/ref=sr_1_1_title_1_kin?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1370553429&sr=1-1&keywords=forget+me+neverthe book link – the ebook.

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Here’s an excerpt below and also a clip from the audio novel.

https://soundcloud.com/alan-cooke-irish-actor/forget-me-never-ch-7-excerpt

Glimpses Into The Past

GEORGIA at 16

Savannah’s Mother-to-be

“Rise and be healed!” Elisha Renfro threw his arm in the air and shouted in a vibrant, mighty voice.  In his hand he clutched a Bible which he waved in the air like a banner.

Georgia Renfro timidly stood with head bowed in front of her father.

“In the name of Jesus, I command the vile spirit of leprosy to vacate the body of this, thy maidservant!”  The words echoed in the small building.  As the healer sing-songed the name of the Savior, it seemed the very walls vibrated with power.  He strained, red-faced as he tried to pour every ounce of faith in his soul into the words that would eradicate the ancient plague from his daughter’s body.  Elisha placed the handkerchief covered palm of his hand on the top of her head and pressed hard, pushing her backward.  She stumbled and would have fallen if Malcolm Waters hadn’t caught her.  Immediately he righted her, and then wiped his hands over and over again on his pants.

“Easy, preacher,” Elisha’s assistant cautioned the man of God, “remember what we’re dealing with here.  Okay?  It’ll be all right, Georgia.”  He patted the air near the trembling young girl’s shoulder.  “He’s just trying to help you; that’s all.”

“I know,” she whispered.

“Check for the spots,” her father demanded.

Georgia hung her head in humiliation as Malcolm grabbed her arm and gingerly pushed her sleeve up without coming into contact with her skin.  They all looked, but the white patchy lesions were still there.  “God Dammit!” the pious evangelist bellowed.

“What’s going to happen to me, Daddy?” Georgia was scared out of her mind.

“You’ll have to go to the hospital, Girl,” Malcolm tried to comfort her without touching her.

Georgia wondered if anyone would ever touch her again.

“Take her away,” Elisha sighed as he wiped the sweat from his brow.  “I can’t do anything more for her.”

“But, I don’t want to go, Daddy,” she pleaded.  “I want to stay with you.”

Malcolm led the crying sixteen year old from the room and returned after a few minutes.  “Sister Jones is getting her ready to leave.  Everybody’s scared to death, preacher.  What now?  Are we all infected?”

“I pray to God He’ll spare us.”  Elisha laid his Bible down and shoved his hands in his pockets.  “Georgia will have to go to Carville, it’s the law.  But I don’t want my name or the ministries name involved in any way.  From this day on, I don’t have a child.”

“Sir?” Malcolm Waters tried to understand.

“Don’t you get it?” Elisha paced across the wooden floor of the small country church where he was leading a charismatic revival.  “I am a faith healer!  I am God’s physician!  It can never be known that my child has come down with a disease that is the very expression of sin and evil!  It’s beyond my understanding, but Georgia has come under divine judgment and I do not have the power to deliver her!”  By now his swollen face dripped sweat and his breath was coming in gasps.

“Sir, you need to calm down.  You’re going to have a stroke and then where will be we?  I’m sure the doctors will be able to help your daughter at Carville.”

“I no longer have a daughter!” Elisha bellowed.  “When you leave her at the leprosarium, give them another name for her.  I’ll pull some strings at the capitol and have the records sealed.  I don’t ever want her real name or my name connected in anyway ever again.  In fact, her name is to never be spoken again.  After I’m finished, there will be no way for anyone to ever trace Georgia back to me.  I wash my hands of the leper.”

“Why?”  Malcolm couldn’t believe the man that he followed as his spiritual leader could be so cold as to abandon his only child.  Where was the compassion?  Where was God’s love in all of this?

“Don’t you see?  She would be the ruin of us all.  I can’t afford to acknowledge this travesty.  If I cannot heal my own child, no one in the world would ever place their faith and trust in me again.  My reputation would be in tatters.  Our ministry would be over.”

Malcolm almost reminded him that it was God in whom people should place their faith and trust, but Elisha paid his salary – the words went unspoken.
Georgia and Miguel

“Push!”  The infirmary nurse stood about a foot away clothed in enough protective gear to enable her to survive a nuclear meltdown.  Georgia complied; she pushed as hard as she could and held her hand out to touch Miguel.  Dr. Cheshire had allowed him in for the birth, even though they both knew they wouldn’t even get to touch the baby.

“It won’t be long now.  Good girl.”  The doctor stood back and looked at the couple who had created life in the midst of suffering and death. His heart went out to them.

Miguel took her hand.  It was as unmarked as his was.  Their disease was under control, yet they still had to abide by rules that went beyond cruel and unusual punishment.  They had to give up their baby.  “I love you, Georgia,” that was the only words of comfort that he could think of.

He had come to Carville from a border town in West Texas.  The doctor at the clinic who had handed down the sentence of leprosy had told him that great strides were being made in the treatment of Hansen’s Disease and that it didn’t have to be a death sentence.  What he hadn’t told him was how people would treat him, or how confining the leprosarium would be.  If he hadn’t found Georgia, he would have gone stark-raving mad.  But sweet, beautiful Georgia had been his salvation.  She had given him hope where there was none and a reason to live that went beyond just the instinct to survive.

“Come closer,” she urged him.  Georgia squeezed his hand hard.  The pain was incredible.  “Will our baby be okay?”  She looked up at his dear face.  When her father had sent her to Carville, she had felt as though she were being sent to the death chamber.  No one would touch her; no one would even look her in the eye.  But at Carville, she had found acceptance and love.  She had found Miguel.

Miguel looked at the doctor who had a smile on his face.  “How does it look, doctor?”

“It looks fine. The head is crowning; it’s time for one more big push.”

Georgia clung to Miguel and pushed hard.  She was fraught with emotion.  For nine months she had carried this baby and she loved it to distraction.  Everything within her wanted to clasp it to her breast and love it forever.  But that couldn’t be.  The doctor had told her that leprosy wasn’t passed to a child during gestation or childbirth, but it could be passed by close contact afterwards.  So, she knew what she had to do.  And it wasn’t like she had a choice.  “God help me!” she screamed as her child slid from her body.

“It’s a girl!” the doctor announced.

Instinctively Georgia held out her arms for her child, but the nurse stepped up and took the squirming, wiggling, screaming infant from the doctor’s arms.  With tears streaming down her face, she watched as they wrapped her little girl in a blanket and prepared her to leave.  “Bring her close, I want to look in her face just once,” she pleaded.

The nurse hesitated, but Miguel added his appeal.  “We just want a moment with her.  We’ll never see her again.  Have mercy on us, please.”

Dr. Cheshire nodded his permission to the nurse who had looked to him for guidance, then moved a few steps nearer to the new mother and father who were about to say goodbye to their infant daughter before they had even said hello.

Georgia’s heart filled with love even as it broke with utter despair.  “She is so beautiful.  Just look at our baby, Miguel.”  Together they stared at tiny fingers and tiny toes, a button nose and a head full of curly black hair. Georgia gasped in magnificent agony.  “I love you, Savannah.”  She didn’t know if the name she chose would be given to her child or not, but she prayed it would be so.  “Mama will pray for you every day.  In my heart, I will always be with you.  You’ll never be alone.  And I will never, ever forget you.”

SAVANNAH         At 12 years old

Savannah edged just as close to the wall as she could.  All she wanted to do was hide behind something, but there was nowhere to go.  These nice people with their pressed Sunday clothes and too-wide smiles weren’t going to take her home with them.  No one ever did.  She was unwanted.  And it wasn’t because she was too old; although, she was almost a teenager, it was because she was dirty.  And it was the kind of dirty that you couldn’t clean off of you.  With jerky movements, she scratched nubbins of grey paint off the sheetrock with her thumbnail.  She’d get in trouble for it, but she didn’t care.  The scars she put on the wall could never be worse than the scars on her soul.

“Stop that, Girl!” A hard slap upside her head caused Savannah to reel sideways and a sharp ringing started in her ears.  A rough, gloved hand grabbed her by the collar of her worn cotton dress and led her through the door of the Baton Rouge Humane Services Department out into the stark sunlight of a hot summer day.  “This was a damn waste of time.  Nobody’s ever going to adopt you!”

What her current foster father shouted came as no surprise to Savannah.  She knew she wasn’t going to be adopted.  She had already been rejected twelve times.  No one wanted a child born at the leper hospital, no matter how healthy and polite she was.

For a long time, the word leper had confused her.  Why was being a leper bad?  At first she had thought they were saying leopard hospital, and she had liked that.  Later, Savannah had found out being a leper was shameful.  Harlan Mosby, her foster parent’s oldest son had taken great pleasure in explaining to her what a leper was and why she was tainted forever.

It was state law that the circumstances of Savannah’s birth had to be disclosed to any couple who might consider bringing her into their family.  But they wouldn’t tell her or anyone else who her real parents were.  The details of Savannah’s birth were sealed by request of the family and a court ruling.  That worried Savannah.  Why didn’t they want her to know who she was?  It couldn’t have been to protect her, because she was not being protected by anyone.

All she had been given from her real family was a tattered Bible.  For years she thought there were no clues in it at all.  But one day, she had been reading it and discovered that two of the back pages were stuck together.  When she had carefully separated them, what she found were just a few words scrawled in blue ink.  They didn’t make any sense to her:  ‘Forgive me daughter. You are my greatest failure.  May the Word bring you comfort.  God save us both.’  And it was signed, ‘the Prophet.’   One day, Savannah vowed, she would find out what that meant.  Savannah wanted to find her mother and father, she didn’t care if they were lepers or not.

“When we get to the house, I want you to get back to cleaning out the basement.  If you want a room of your own, that’s where it’s going to be.”  Savannah didn’t mind the work; it gave her something to do.  And it would be nice to have a real room and not have to sleep in the broom closet.  There were three other foster kids, one boy and two girls, and they had bedrooms.  She wasn’t allowed to mix with them or the family to any extent.

“Yes, sir.”  The differences between her and the other kids weren’t obvious to Savannah, but apparently everyone else understood.  They were clean and she wasn’t.  Savannah ate by herself, slept by herself and played by herself.  She had her own plate, glass, fork and spoon.  No one wanted to eat after her.  And she had to use a hospital portable potty chair because no one wanted to share a bathroom with her.

Mrs. Mosby had said keeping her was worth it, though.  Apparently, the state paid them double for all the trouble she caused them. This confused Savannah.  She had asked if she was a leper, and they had told her ‘no’, so she didn’t understand why she was dirty.  Some nights she washed her hands over and over trying to get clean, but no one ever treated her any differently, no matter how pruny her skin became.

It didn’t really matter, that’s what she told herself.  Savannah tried to be happy.  She sang and made up stories to entertain herself.  And she read everything she could get her hands on.  Her foster mother brought her books that the library was throwing away.  Or at least that’s what she said, why the library was throwing away good books was a mystery to Savannah.  She liked to think that the librarian didn’t mind her touching the books.  That would be nice.  History was her favorite subject, so Mrs. Mosby took extra care to bring her all types of biographies and text books.

Savannah liked Mrs. Mosby. She talked to Savannah quite a bit and let her sit near while she was ironing or mending clothes.  Although, she didn’t care much for some of the things she said.  If her life was going to be as lonely as her foster mother tried to prepare her for, she didn’t really know if she wanted to grow up.

As Savannah sat on a towel in the back seat of Mr. Mosby’s sedan watching the flat landscape go by, she thought about what his wife had told her.  “You’ll never be able to get married, Savannah.  No self-respecting man is going to want to touch you.”  Savannah didn’t really know why she would want a man to touch her other than to be held.  Sometimes she dreamed about being held.  The Mosby kids got hugged, even the other foster kids got hugged occasionally, especially the girls – but as far as Savannah could ever remember, no one had ever hugged her.

“Get out, Kid.  We’re home,” her foster dad held open the door.  Savannah hadn’t even been aware the vehicle had stopped.  As she climbed out and looked up at the stern older man with his balding head and bad teeth, she wondered what her real dad was like.  Savannah bet her dad had a nose.  Harlan said lepers didn’t have noses or toes or fingers, that they rotted off and left holes in their face and stubs on their feet and hands.  The thought of what her parents must have suffered through made Savannah’s heart hurt.  Despite the horrible picture Harlan painted, she longed to be with her real mom and dad.  She longed to be happy.

So right then and there, as she walked into the foster home where she wasn’t wanted except for the money she brought into the household, Savannah vowed to find out who she was.  Flipping the basement stairs light on, she looked down into the lonely gloom, wondering what her life would be like.  Would she ever have a home?  Every night she prayed that God would give her a place to belong and someone to love.

Thanks for listening to me ramble.

Sable

Welcome Randi Alexander!!

04 Tuesday Jun 2013

Posted by Ginger Ring in Guests

≈ 6 Comments

Free Book! Double Her Fantasy by Randi Alexander, and a Chance to Win a Sexy Nightshirt and Two Other Fun Prizes

Hi – I’m Randi Alexander, and I’ve got a couple fun things going on this week. My erotic menage romance is free at Amazon June 4 – 8. Published by The Wild Rose Press, it’s a hot and romantic story that I hope you’ll enjoy.

Drop by my website for multiple chances to win a cute nightshirt (sizes S – 3X) with my tagline printed on it, a big coffee mug, or a handy flask necklace. Click here to enter. http://randialexander.com/2013/06/win-sexy-nightshirt-prizes/

DoubleHerFantasyRandiAlexander 360x577

BOOK BLURB: At a comic book convention, artist Megan Shore is thrilled to meet action movie hunk Garret McGatlin. Usually reclusive, Megan flirts with the leading man of her sexual fantasies. He invites her to his suite for a drink, but when she arrives, his rancher brother Trey opens the door and unleashes Megan’s cowboy fantasy. Both men pour on the charm, and she can’t decide which of them she desires more.

The McGatlin brothers have shared women, but none of them were like Megan, irresistible and perfect for both of them. Working together, they execute a potent seduction. During a hot, amazing week, the three-way relationship becomes emotionally charged. When they’re thrown into the media spotlight, Megan fears the exposure will trigger a past threat. Garrett and Trey need to prove they can keep Megan safe as well as happy and satisfied in their arms.

Available at Amazon.com: http://amzn.to/ZFyXI1

EXCERPT: The man in the elevator heaved a loud breath as he stepped back against the glass wall of the elevator.

Megan took a spot closer to the front, not as brave about the dizzying height as he evidently was. She noticed the mezzanine button was already pressed. Was that how she knew him? Was he a graphic artist, too? Under the guise of brushing something off the pant leg of her white suit, she risked a glance at him.

His gaze met hers. Those trademark blue eyes. Wavy, sandy brown hair a little long. Tall, really tall. Big across the shoulders, a tat of a lizard on his bicep… She sucked in a breath. Unbelievable. She’d seen that tattoo—and the man behind it—on the entertainment channel a month ago. Garret McGatlin. Action movie star.

A wild chill tingled through her. She smiled. “Thank you.”

He nodded, pulled his phone from the back pocket of his tight jeans, and started texting.

Glancing down, she noticed his heavy work boots, almost a military look. Was that his normal style, or did he have an action scene to film?

She looked out the moving wall of glass. She’d had a minor crush on him for three years, since she’d seen him in Killing’s Not a Stranger.

He seemed to want his privacy.

She didn’t blame him. She valued her privacy three hundred and sixty three days a year, then, for two intense days of the Comic Artists and Readers Convention, she became a very public star in her own universe. A different person than the reclusive artist she’d let herself become.

Hell, forget his privacy. How many chances would she get to talk to Garret McGatlin?

Sucking in a deep breath, she turned toward him. “Are you filming in Chicago?”

It took him a few seconds to drag his gaze from his phone. “Yes.”

Those eyes. Mmm. Terribly wicked. His nose a bit crooked from doing his own stunts. Lips pressed a little tight, possibly unhappy with being pestered by a fangirl. Strong jaw, freshly shaved. The smooth line of his throat eased down to the V of his black button-down shirt where a light sprinkling of hair showed.

She could play there, nuzzle her lips, tickle and tweak for hours. Oh, crap, was she gawking? Her gaze shot to his.

One perfect light-brown eyebrow arched up and a half-smile curved his lips.

* * * * * * * *

I hope you like Double Her Fantasy, and good luck in the contest!

Randi

“Rode Hard and Put Up Satisfied”

RandiAlexanderAvatar 

 

RandiAlexander.com

Double Her Fantasy is free in digital format at Amazon

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