Tuesday Tales ~ Broken

Thank you for dropping in to read this week's TUESDAY'S TALE

The prompt is 'Broken'

The rosy sun climbing above the horizon enticed the cold mist to rise and hide the road ahead of the solitary rider.

Without compunction Roul had stolen the horse from the field when his car broke down. Well not ‘stolen’ precisely, he’d left his contact number under his windscreen wiper for the owner to contact him when they discovered their animal missing.

The road ahead disappeared into the rising mist and like his thoughts left everything to the imagination.

When he’d last seen her, Serena melted in his arms with sighs of delight and promises of forever together. Now, less than twenty four hours later, she’d left a message on his voice mail retracting her promise.

Why?

What could have happened to change her mind? They’d known each other forever and been partners for six months.

He cursed the phone call demanding his presence in the office for a meeting that never happened. One his secretary claimed to know nothing about.

Who had made the call and why? Why had Serena broken off their engagement? And his car—, was the breakdown connected in some way to a sudden sequence of unexplainable events?

And the supposed meeting?

Not something that appeared out of the blue, but one he’d been expecting, connected to a long and sometimes tedious process of negotiation on his proposed offer for the failing electronics company he’d had his eye on for months now.

He rounded the corner of the village he and Serena fell in love with the moment they saw it and at the first opportunity left the road and urged his horse to follow the country tracks that led to the back of the home they shared.

The rising mist cloaked him in invisibility as he approached the woods bounding the north side of the property and he slowed his mount to a trot. When he came to the stone built wall he guided the animal to the little ivy covered gate.

Thirty minutes later, protected by the huge trunk of an old oak tree Roul stared at the two cars parked in front of the house and cursed.

The broken engagement, the phoney business call, and the vehicle breakdown, all slotted into place.

He prayed that the coffin sized box the two men carried to the back of the 4x4 did not carry the body of the only woman he’d ever loved.

He watched them slide the box inside before returning indoors then calculated the distance from his hiding place to the garage and the ancient Volvo kept there for emergencies and back at the upper windows of his home. Was anyone watching the area from there? If so, his cover would be shot to hell.

Was Serena alive?

His heart lurched. Was she a part of the cross and double cross situation? He shook his head. Surely not!

Why would she promise to marry him if she’d no intention of following through? Why not just keep stringing him along?

Roul let loose with a volley of curses when Joseph Bailey, CEO of Eagle Electronics strode from the house.

“Take the girl to the house in Scotland. Keep her there for a week and do not let her out of your site.”

Bailey slid behind the wheel of the red Ferrari, gunned the engine and left a shower of gravel behind as he disappeared round the bend in the driveway.

Thank you to everyone who visits and especially those who share their thoughts.  And last, but not east to Jean Joachim for creating the opportunities Tuesday's Tales offers the participants.

Six Sentence Sunday

Thank you to everyone who leaves comments, and visits every week.

Today I am sharing more from of my Valentine Story about  Henri Gasquet, hero in His Chosen Bride.

“What!” Shock propelled Henri from his chair, and anxiety chased him round the room while he tried to remarshall his scattered thoughts. “I don’t have time to take leave of any kind,” he snapped. "This morning I am presiding over the ceremony to lay the new foundations for the bridge that will connect the west of our country more directly with the east.”

He tunnelled his fingers through his hair.

“This afternoon, I have a meeting with the backers about the funds for Melanie’s riding school for the disabled; and this evening I am giving a speech to the leaders of our financial sector.”

Please hop on over to SIX SENTENCE SUNDAY to read more fabulous snippets on offer this week.

Inspiration - and 'where to next?'

For the last few years I have had an 'on-off' relationship with one of my WIPs.  For months my Regency romance refused to give up its ending, which in turn meant that every avenue I travelled to reach an unknown destination resulted in a dead-end, blank wall - well make that page.

Today, while, would you believe, I was spreading butter on my toast, yes really! LOL
The phrase 'down the pike' popped into my head.  Inevitably I asked 'what about 'down the pike' and wey-hey, just like that I've got the ending for my Regency!

They say 'It comes to those who wait.' 

Not long ago, after having no working title for this story, one of my secondary characters provied that, and now today is the day that has revealed the final route to end my Regency WIP , No Job For A Woman.

Tuesday Tales ~ Lies

Welcome back to Tuesday Tales. Each week a number of authors write to a prompt.  This week's prompt is lies.

~ ~ ~

Jenny skipped along the street, her pigtails flying, her eyes shining, and a permanent smile on her face. She carried her present for Shirley in the plastic carrier bag hanging from her arm, her Cinderella costume blowing in the breeze. Today her bestest friend was celebrating her ninth birthday with a fancy-dress party, and next week it would be her turn. Somehow, the figure nine seemed more grown-up than eight. Nearer double figures.

“You going to Shirley’s party?”

She’d seen the boy in the school playground. Always on the edge of a group, always watching, and, she shivered now, something about his eyes made her uneasy. Today was no different, and his costume didn’t help. His smile was inviting, warm and almost gleeful; yet, secretive, Shirley decided.

“What are you dressed up as?” She studied his cape and the scythe he carried, its blade gleaming in the sun.

“The Grim Reaper,” he said. “And my friend Herakles will be joining me in a moment.”

Damien, that was it! She’d never liked the name because it always made her think of demons; and demons, she knew, were scary. Lately they filled her dreams, turning them to nightmares.

She never quite saw their faces in her dreams, only heard their laughter, when it turned dark and evil and woke her up.

For the last couple of nights, she’d tried in vain to wake from the nightmares. The demon stood there watching her. Whatever she did, wherever she went in her dreams, the demon stood there watching in silent celebration.

Jenny looked at the boy walking beside her. Strange, she’d never noticed before, but if her demon had a face it would be like Damian’s.

“How old are you?” she asked in an effort to shake off her qualms. “Aren’t you too old to come to Shirley’s party?”

“Age, is in the head.” Damien smiled. “After all, you think nine as far more grown-up than eight, don’t you? When in reality it’s just the beginning of another day, another number you’ll hang on to for a year.

“If you’re lucky, that is.”

His eyes, dark as obsidian, gleamed in the sunshine, his hair reminded her of the huge raven that stole food off the bird table this morning, and cawed at her mother when she chased it away.

Sometimes, in a certain light, Damien reminded her of the old man who lived in the end house on the street. Rumour and gossip abounded about him, and the school children ran past his home; half hoping he’d come outside, and terrified he might!

“Never see a light on in that house, me dear,” old Mr. Hawkins, from two doors down, told her one day. “Best to stay clear of the place. That’s what I say.” And cackling he’d wandered off into the nearest shop.

Jenny stopped at the pedestrian road crossing and waited for the lights to change from red to green.

“It’s safe to cross now.” Damien told her.

She stepped into the road, thankful Damien hadn’t followed. Reflected in the shop window ahead of her she saw him standing on the pavement, watching her, his smile one of satisfaction this time.

She didn’t hear the car that ‘came from nowhere,’ didn’t hear the screams of horror that filled the air when the car never stopped, never saw Damien vanish into thin air, to reappear beside the driver of the car.

“Promise me she didn’t suffer,” he demanded of Herakles. “I didn’t like lying to her, she was a sweet kid.”

“She didn’t suffer,” his companion assured him.  

To read more from other participants hop on over to  

Tuesday Tales

Six Sentence Sunday

Thank you to everyone who leaves comments, and visits every week.

Today I am sharing more from of my Valentine Story about the brother, Henri, of the hero, Liam, in my current novella, From Now Until Forever, published by Astraea Press.

“I have not been unaware of the burden you have carried since my heart attack a year ago. Combining your own commitments with those you took over while I recuperated would have felled a lesser man.”

Feeling the heat burn his cheeks, Henri shifted in his chair.

The past twelve months had been tough, and for the last six, his advisors almost competed with each other in counselling him to slow down unless he wanted to occupy his father’s hospital bed.

“I am also aware you have ignored their advice to cut back. So I am decreeing that of this moment you are on indeterminate leave of absence.”

You'll find plenty more great offerings at Six Sentence Sunday

Review ~ Protecting Rose by Cheryl Yeko.

Protecting Rose
Cheryl Yeko
Soul Mate Publishing
Genre: Romantic Suspense.
Buy Link:
Released Dec 2011

Review requested and book provided by the author.

Review: Protecting Rose starts fast and continues apace. No sooner has Detective Nate Stone wrapped up one case than another all but ‘rolls’ into his lap in the shape of an amnesiac he names Rose.

When an out-of-control car speeds past Nate, he knows it’s going to roll off the road. What he did not expect, when he stopped to give assistance, was to be shot at.

What starts, for Nate, as the need to protect someone who is in danger, turns into an emotional roller coaster for the down-too-earth cop. With little more to go on than the evidence of an out of control car and an unidentified shooter, Rose becomes far more than ‘just another case’.

Ms Yeko’s plot is fast paced and tightly presented. Her writing style is dynamic. Her characters are so realistic they persuade you to continue reading about them from start to finish without stopping for anything or anyone one else.

Because every word the author uses, counts, she manages to pack an amazing story into a surprisingly few pages and you still close the book feeling you have been gifted a full-length mystery, suspense, romance.

Ms Yeko is an author to add to your TBR lists and to keep an eye out for.

Tuesday Tales - Kisses

Thank you to everyone who drops by to read my Tuesday Tale, and thank you to Jean Joachim for the opportunity to participate.

Today's prompt is 'Kisses'

“Suppose we talk things through rationally?” Rose Kiss cast an irritated look at her companion. “You come here today and tell me you are leaving tomorrow, to take up a new job on the other side of the country, and you want me to go with you?”




Ronald Blickling offered his famously charming smile and nodded.


“How long have you known about this move?”


“Three weeks.” A cautious frown replaced the smile now.


“I see, and in those weeks it never occurred to ask me in time for me to make the necessary arrangements for such a move?”


“What’s to arrange?” Genuine puzzlement filled his voice. “You live in a two-bit town, and have a two-bit job teaching kindergarten kids, and your flat is smaller than a basic rabbit hutch. What’s to arrange?”


Sunlight sparkled on the spring-green grass covering the valley hillsides. Dots of white, sheep, grazed peacefully. The hum of bees droned in the public flowerbed next to the solitary park bench. And unseen from her seat, friends went about their business, knowing her word was good and dependable.


And, she acknowledged, she wanted the same. For the first time since she first me Ronald, she realised she’d allowed his charming smile the glamour of his words and the emptiness of his promises lure her into thinking her really cared.


If he did, if he really wanted her to go with him, he’d have told of his new job, his intended move much earlier.


It galled her to realise she’d hitched her dreams to an illusion. He hadn’t deceived her. Not really. She’d revelled in his kisses, his promises of forever, of a shiny new tomorrow, and allowed herself to be carried away on a carpet of her own delusional dreams.


And she admitted, as she looked at the man beside her, she’d enjoyed the envious sighs of her friends when they saw the two of them together.


Next to her, Ronald looked at his watch. A big shiny gold watch, she noticed.


A replica?


Why had it taken a false invitation for the scales to fall away? That’s all Ronald was, a great big fat phoney, well not fat, she admitted, but still a phoney.


“Thank you, for the thought,” she didn’t even try for a genuine smile, polite was sufficient for ‘goodbye’. “I happen to like my two-bit town, and my two-bit job, and most of all I love my honest-to-goodness-down-to-earth-hundred-bit friends.” Standing now, her hands fisted on her hips, she stepped back studied his shock. That, she noted with grim satisfaction, was genuine.


“You don’t mean that? You’ll be sorry.” Hard as bullets, he shot the accusation at her.


“Oh, but I do! Thanks to your belated invitation, I know moving anywhere with you would be a wrong decision.”


She spun on her heel and walked away without a backward glance.

You will find more tantalising Tuesday Tales Here

“When there is an original sound in the world, it makes a hundred echoes.”

“When there is an original sound in the world, it makes a hundred echoes.”

John A. Shedd

Words are a bit like this.

One of the gremlins that so often slip through the editing net while preparing a manuscript for submission to a publisher is what is termed ‘echoes’ by the editors who plough through those lucky enough to make it onto the editors piles.

‘Echoes’ is another word for ‘repetition’. And it is surprising how many times ‘echoes’ creep into your work.

It may not be the same word that echoes through the whole story. You may find certain words litter several chapters and then the echoes change in the following ones.

Today I was working through a particular chapter searching out two words. ‘Season’ and ‘children’. ‘Season’ turned out to be under control, but ‘children’? In one particular page the word was everywhere. In almost every sentence.

And the horrifying thing was I’d ‘read’ over the echoes several times and only discovered them when I went in and used the ‘find’ facility.

Some echoes are permissible, but too many, and they simply become an annoyance that disrupts the writing flow, and pull the reader out of the story.

As I use all these awesome gadgets within the program and other software available I give thanks I do not have to struggle through the days of the typewriter, and my respect for those authors rises with each mistake my computer ‘gadgets’ discover and correct.

From Now Until Forever

WINNER of From Now Until Forever Contest

GIVEAWAY

At the end of December I am giving away a PDF version of From Now Until Forever and will use random.org to choose one lucky winner from all the SSS comments received.

And the winner December's Giveaway is...

  Zee Monodee

Congratulations Zee

Six Sentence Sunday

Best wishes  for 2012 to you all.

Thank you to everyone who leaves comments, and visits every week.  

What better way to start the New Year than to start with a new story? So  Today I am sharing the opening six lines of my Valentine Story about the brother of the hero in my current novella, From Now Until Forever, published by Astraea Press.

Henri Pierre Gasquet hesitated before knocking on his father’s office door. They’d shared breakfast together less than an hour ago and talked over many things, including Henri’s killer schedule for the next several months. The king had given no indication of the need for a formal meeting this morning. With a fatalistic shrug, he knocked, waited a second, then turned the handle and entered the room.

“You wanted to see me?”
Henri waited for his father to indicate he sit before dropping into the chair in front of the king’s desk.

You'll find plenty more great offerings at Six Sentence Sunday