Wednesday, April 30, 2014

DISCOVERY by Ginger Simpson

Where else can you get a compilation of stories that have a connection?  I've been told that short story collections don't sell, but the history of Reader's Digest condensed books proves that theory was once wrong.

 In Discovery, someone learns something they didn't previously know, and I'm hoping readers might realize the "Discovery" of a love of shorts again. *lol*

 Please forgive me if I toot my own horn, but the stories are entertaining, hopefully well-written, and are great for passing time in a waiting room if you have a Kindle.  The "book" is available in both download and print if you don't have an e-reader, and I absolutely LOVE the cover.  The eye is on you!  *smile*

Here's a little teaser to grab your interest:  (hint, hint)

A Wing and a Prayer - A flight attendant discovers that her judgement in people might be flawed.

Joy's Revelation - While waiting for her wedding, Joy makes plans to get a passport for her honeymoon.  Why is her mother dragging her heels when it comes to finding Joy's birth certificate?  Is there a secret to discover?

Just the Right Fit - An older heroine discovers more than shoes at a sale she visits.

Masked Love - Divorced, overweight, and trying to find love.  Will my heroine discover the health problem she has might be her doom?  Betcha think you know what she has.  *lol*

Hurricane Warning - When my heroine moves to Florida to be next to the water, she discovers help comes in the strangest and most handsome of ways.

The Forget-Me-Nots - When a mother passes away and her daughters clean out her belongings for donation, one discovers three strange objects in her jewelry box and sets off to find what they mean and where they came from.

Paging Dr. Jones - A woman injured in a domestic violence incident discovers a doctor that doesn't just care for her injuries, he treats her soul.  Will she discover a connection?

***

So, there you have it.  My seven stories and I hope you'll try them and let me know what you think.  You can always email me at mizging @ gmail dot com or leave a "non-snarky" review on Amazon.  Really, most authors pay attention to what their readers have to say, if the comments are given as positive feedback.  Thanks for visiting today.

Saturday, April 26, 2014

Meet Cindy from Shortcomings by Ginger Simpson #YA

My name is Cindy Johnson, and I’m a freak…at least I feel like one.  Although Momma says I’m beautiful, other people look at me like I’m uglier than sin.  You see, I was born with one leg shorter than the other and I have a very bad limp.   I go to high school, but if I had a choice, I’d just stay home and read romance books all day.  At least, through novels, I can escape to a world where people don’t stare and say unkind things.

Funny thing is, I have a crush on the HS Quarterback despite knowing I don't stand a chance with him.  His name is Cory Neil and he’s polite, but probably only because he feels sorry for me. Knowing Math is my strong subject, he called and asked me to tutor him. I was so blinded by his attention, I agreed because he was so sure he’d lose his place on the team if he failed the class.  I couldn't let that happen.  He's awesome.

 Anyhow, I arranged to meet him in the library because our house…well, let’s just say, it isn’t a mansion and I decided I’d be much more comfortable without him seeing how I live.  Oh, don’t get me wrong, my dad does his very best, but we’ve not had the best of luck which is how we ended up with me at a new school and people less forgiving than those I grew up with.  Wouldn’t it be a wonderful world if people thought before they spoke?  

Anyhow, Cory asked me to Homecoming and that made me so mad.  Why would he ask someone who obviously can’t dance unless he was dared by his friends?  I’m not stupid, and I immediately knew I was the butt of someone’s joke.  I absolutely refused to go and he pretends he doesn’t understand why I won't.  Yeah, right!


  I don’t think I’ve ever wished for anything as much as to be normal and go to the ball with Cory, but no matter how much I want things to be different, I’m who I am.  Yes, maybe I let my “Shortcomings” define me, but I just can’t afford to open myself up to more ridicule and hurt.  He doesn’t seem to want to accept my answer, but I’ve already made up my mind.  He can take the pep squad captain.  She takes  great delight in reminding me I’m nothing but a gimp whenever I run across her.  I'll get even...somehow, someday, someway, just you wait and see.

Thursday, April 17, 2014

RED MAGIC ~ CHRISTOPH ~ A Character Blog


 





My days of intemperance--of gambling, womanizing, and drinking--are done. Whether my sins ended when the cannon burst , nearly taking my leg, or whether they ended last month, when my affianced, an endlessly forgiving lady whom I’d at last agreed to wed, fell from her horse and broke her neck, matters little. My dear lost Wili, fool that I am, I took you for granted, thought you would always be there, arms open, ready to love and forgive!
That part of my life, full of deception and lies, those days of selfish pleasure—are over.  As my confessor says, God has granted me wealth, position, strength and grace of form, but I have taken His gifts for granted, have evaded the duties and tasks which are required of a gentleman.
 I am to marry my lost bride’s little sister and take up the duties of lordship, tending to neglected family property and assisting my father with diligence and honesty. My young cousin Caterina will not make an easy wife, for she justly blames me for her beloved sister’s years of unhappiness.   Caterina is, to all intents and purposes, a child, with little knowledge of the world or of the duties required of a gentleman’s wife. There is almost nothing about her—beyond her lanky promise of beauty—which interests me, except for her surprising knowledge of horseflesh, which rivals that of any man I've ever known.   
 If I am to fulfill the promises I’ve made to my family and to God, I must be patient with my young cousin, be at first far more a stern and loving father than a husband.  This will not be easy for me, as I have hitherto been accustomed to always have my way with the ladies...

 
~~ Christoph von Hagen
 
 
At Amazon, now reduced price!

                                                http://amzn.com/B00774BXDA








~Juliette Waldron

Historical Novels with Passion and Magic 

http://www.julietwaldron.com

Monday, April 14, 2014

Spring Cleaning

It's that time of year again. Usually by now I'm done, but I've been putting it off this year. Probably due to the weather. 
However, this past weekend was absolutely beautiful and motivated me. So far my living room is half done. Curtains are down, cobwebs removed, and furniture vacuumed. There was a time I flew through the room. Not so anymore. I'm not as young as I used to be, so I had to take a break before I dust the furniture, wash the windows, vacuum the floors and hang the new curtains. 
Wow, looking at that, I realize I'm not even half done. Age does take its toll. Part of the reason I'm procrastinating is I'm thinking about buying new curtains. I do like the ones I have a red and white plaid, it gives the room a fresh cottagey look. 
So why do I want to change them? Hubby is making new pictures for the walls. Sail boats and sea gulls and they're predominately blue. I'm hoping to find a blue and white plaid similar to the red and white. They're a linen type material, but sort of sheer. So far I've not been able to find anything like them. I bought them at Penney's a few years ago. 
I guess I'll just save the money and put the red and white ones back up. So it's back to work. 

By the way, two of my books are on special right now from Amazon, Secrets, Lies & Love is on sale for 1.99 for a limited time
and Deadbeat Dads for 99 cents. 

Saturday, April 12, 2014

Erica Morris Tells All



Dealing with divorce isn’t easy. Dealing with children during divorce is hard. Dealing with an ex-husband who doesn’t care about his kids is almost impossible.
How do I know? I lived it. After fifteen years of marriage and two kids, my ex walked out. Left us on our won, almost penniless to deal with life without him. Not only that, he left me to tell the kids. How do you tell an eight and ten year old, their father’s gone and not coming back?
Not that he was a great father to begin with, the kids rarely saw him, but he was their father. I’ll never forget the day he told me he was leaving. It wasn’t working for us, he said. He found someone else. You could have knocked me over with a feather. But I should have known. All the signs were there, working late, lipstick on his collar. How could I have been so stupid to ignore it?
He wanted a quick divorce to marry his pregnant secretary. Can you beat that? He never called our kids, never visited. The worst part, he refused to pay child support. I’d about had enough, but what was I to do? How do you force a man to pay?
I know, I could take him to court, they’d tell him to pay, but how to make him. Worst part, he was a lawyer. They tended to stick together no matter how wrong they were.
So I formed a group with a few friends who’d gone through the same thing. I was shocked to see how many women experienced the same thing. Had the men of this town gone crazy? How does anyone walk away from their kids? How does an self-respecting, responsible man refuse to pay child support?
I didn’t have the answer, but there were a lot of them. Now if we could figure a way to make them pay. Many of these men had disappeared. No one knew if they were alive or dead. Women who supported these men through the hard times were now left to deal with life on their own. I discovered most of these men were controlling. Not only didn’t they allow their wives to work, most of them weren’t allowed out without their kids, except for school functions.
I finally decided to take matters into my own hands. I’d demand my ex pay child support. I’d had enough. So, I went to his work and waited for him in the parking garage. We were going to have it out once and for all and I wasn’t leaving without some money.
What happened next tore me apart. Read about my experience in Deadbeat Dads available for 99 cents for a limited time from Amazon.
Read more about my books from my website: www.roseannedowell.com

Excerpt:
“Okay ladies,” I looked at the women gathered around me. Lisa Daly, who encouraged me to start this group, was here and Nicole Brown. Poor thing never went out while she was married. Oh, and Louise Conners, I still couldn’t believe her husband ran off with his receptionist, and now they were going through a nasty divorce. Not sure why that surprised more than the others. It shouldn’t. There was quite a turn out. Half the women I didn’t know.
I brought my attention back to the meeting. “First order of business, a name for our group, any ideas?”
“Deadbeat Dads Anonymous,” someone called out. 
“Wives of Deadbeat Dads,” someone else yelled. “Or Women Against Deadbeat Dads.”
“Better yet, how about Mothers Against Deadbeat Dads.  MADD!” Lisa Daly shouted.
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. There certainly wasn’t a shortage of names. “We’re mad for sure but that sounds too much like Mothers Against Drunk Drivers.”
“ADD,” someone else yelled. Against Deadbeat Dads.”
Nicole Brown’s hand went up. “Nicole, what’s your idea?”
“How about Wives Enraged at Deadbeat Dads. W.E.D.D.?” Nicole’s voice barely reached above a whisper.
Poor Nicole. Her ex-husband had knocked her self confidence so low. I was surprised to even see her here.  I met her at a school function. Nicole’s daughter, Cindy, was in the same class as my Josh. I had heard through the grapevine that Bob, Nicole’s ex, had run off with a stripper. Talk about humiliating. I shivered at the thought. 
Suddenly everyone came alive. Shouts of “Hey, that’s great, I like that,” sounded throughout the room. 
“Okay then it sounds unanimous, Wives Enraged at Deadbeat Dads it is. All in favor raise your hands. W.E.D.D.”  Kind of funny when you thought about it. None of us were wed any more.
Twelve hands went up.  “Motion carried. We are officially Wives Enraged at Deadbeat Dads. Now we need to set up a schedule for our meetings and discuss our agenda.  First, we need to choose a Chairperson.”
Nicole’s hand went up again. “I nominate Erica Morris for chair person.”
“I second that motion.” Lisa Daly raised her hand. “This group was your idea.  I think you should chair it.”
Me as chair person? I wasn’t too crazy about the idea. “Any other nominations?” I hoped someone would raise their hand. No such luck. Heat rushed into my face. I had a feeling it turned as red as my hair, which was pretty red. I wasn’t used to being the center of attention. Never liked it and sure didn’t care for it now.
The room remained quiet.
No other nominees. “Okay then, all in favor, show of hands. Motion carried, I guess I’m the chairperson. Thank you, I’m flattered.” Flattered but a little taken aback. Hopefully, I wouldn’t let anyone down.  “Let’s break for refreshments and we can continue our discussion while we snack.”  I needed a moment to myself.
I never expected the group to name me chairperson. I’d never chaired anything in my life. In fact, the parents group at my children’s school was the only other group I had ever joined.
Johnny didn’t like me to go out and do things. He expected his wife to stay home, and God forbid, I even suggested going out alone while he stayed home with the kids.  Anger flared in me as I recalled how often he came home late.  Working, yeah right, spending time with his playmates was more like it. How could I have been so stupid? I remembered the day he told me he was leaving. Just like that out of the clear blue sky.
“It’s not working for us, Erica,” Johnny said. “I found someone else.”
Oh, he found someone else all right, his young, sexy secretary. You could have knocked me over with a feather.  I should have known. All the signs were there, his late hours and lipstick on his collar. He was comforting the wife of a friend, he lied. I did a slow burn as the memories returned. And then he left, packed his clothes and just walked out without even a goodbye to the kids, left me to deal with them as usual. 
Katie and Josh woke up the next morning expecting to see their father. Not that they saw much of him, but sometimes he ate breakfast with them and made polite conversation. That was nine months ago, and he hadn’t been back since, not even to visit the kids. He wanted a quick no fault divorce so he could marry his pregnant secretary.
I almost refused, but figured why fight it?  The kids and I were better off without him, but how do you explain to an eight and ten year old that their father doesn’t care about them, that he had a new life with a new baby?  It was one thing to forget about me, but not the kids. And I haven’t received even one of the child support payments he agreed to pay in the divorce settlement.
“Erica, hey are you okay?” Lisa’s hand on my shoulder startled me. “You look mad enough to spit nails.  Thinking about Johnny, I bet.”
“Huh, oh yeah sorry, my mind was wandering. Yeah. I was thinking about Johnny. I just can’t believe he doesn’t care about the kids. He’s missed every scheduled visit. He doesn’t return my calls, and of course I can’t get past his secretary, uh wife, at the office or at home.  I could have him arrested, but with his connections he’d get off Scott-free. I know it.”
“Well that’s why we started this group isn’t it? Come on if we all put our heads together we’ll come up with something to make them pay.”
The rest of the meeting involved mostly chit chat about this ex hubby or that one and how rotten they all were. It was small consolation to know others had the same problem.






Wednesday, April 9, 2014

A few words from Bill Johnson


Fate, kismet, or whatever you want to call it, it turned Interior Designer, Wendy Seidel’s world upside down. From a chance meeting at the airport to Florida and back to Ohio, she can’t believe the strange circumstances that throw us together, after I literally knocked her off her feet at the airport

Hi, I’m Bill Johnson and I thought I’d take a minute to talk about Wendy Seidel, heroine of Designed for
Love.
I’ll never forget my first meeting with Wendy. Yes, I literally knocked her off her feet in the airport, accidentally on purpose. Oh, I didn’t mean to knock her over, that was an accident. I just meant to bump into her. But she darned near stopped and wham, I blasted into her.
From the minute I saw her, I couldn’t keep my eyes off of her. That red hair and those green eyes mesmerized me. I never went in much for red heads, too hot-tempered. But this chick hypnotized me or something.
So, there we were both hurrying to catch our plane and bam, I knocked her over. Talk about a temper. Phew, let me tell you, she could freeze a glass of water with that look and cut you to the quick with a few words.
Okay, I have to admit, getting knocked down would have put me in bad temper too, but gees, I did apologize. Not that it mattered, she was off and running lickety split. Yep, hell-bent on her mission.  So much for meeting her.
But…
…as luck would have it, there she was sitting at my departing gate. Well, heck, how could I resist talking to her? Not that she was much for talking. Had her nose stuck in a book and wasn’t about to take it out. At least not until I kept up my end of the conversation, but she wasn’t responding. I think I annoyed her more than anything.
Before I knew it, they made an announcement that our flight had been cancelled. So much for spending three hours trying to get to know her. At least that was my plan. I was going to con the person sitting next to her out of their seat. Instead, I had to make arrangements to stay in a hotel. Hey, maybe I’d get lucky and she’d do the same.
If you want to know what happened, you’ll have to read Designed for Love available at Amazon.

 
Excerpt:
“What the hell?” My carry-on bag slid across the floor and slammed into the wall. My feet slipped out from under me, I landed flat on my back, and someone fell on top of me, pinning me to the floor. The breath knocked out of me, I lay still a moment.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I finally caught my breath and pushed him off. “Everyone’s always in such a big hurry.”

“Why’d you slow down? You darned near stopped in front of me.” He stood up, brushed himself off and held out his hand to help me up. “Sorry.”

I knocked his hand away, got to my knees and stood. I didn’t need his help. Not his or anyone else’s for that matter. What I needed was to find my bag and get on to my gate.

“Look, I’m sorry. It was entirely my fault. I shouldn’t have been in such a hurry.” He held his hand out to me again, but I ignored it. “Here, let me get that for you.” He hurried to pick up my bag, but I grabbed it first.

“Look, Mister, I have a plane to catch, so excuse me if I don’t have time to chat.” I straightened up my bag, grabbed the handle and started toward my gate. Good looking in a rustic sort of way, I had to admit. Probably worked outdoors or at least spent a lot of time outside. Not that it made any difference. I didn’t have time for him. Or any man for that matter. I had a career to build, and men didn’t figure into it.

It wasn’t that I didn’t like men. I did. Even dated occasionally. Eventually I’d like to have a relationship, even get married. But relationships and marriage took time, not a priority right now. My career came first. Something about him, though.

I couldn’t resist looking back. Great. He stood watching me with a silly smirk on his face. Nice eyes, soft gray. I loved gray eyes. Maybe because my grandfather had gray eyes. He lifted his hand and waved at me. Heat burned my face, and I hurried off in the direction of the gate, looking at the signs above. Only at Gate 2. Not even close. Of course my gate was at the farthest end of the airport. Thankfully, there was plenty of time to get there.

I avoided a heavyset man, hell bent on his mission. I hated this time of year. Everyone was in such a big hurry.

To make matters worse, my butt hurt but I resisted rubbing it. Didn’t need to look like any more of an idiot. Ah, Gate 11, finally. Now I could sit down and relax, since there was still forty-five minutes before my flight. I took a book out of the side pocket of my carry-on and settled back to wait. Not that I could concentrate, anger at my boss raged inside me. Who in their right mind set up a meeting with a client right before New Years? And in Florida, no less. Obviously, Nick didn’t care that I had plans for New Year’s Eve.

So I was getting out of Ohio, big deal. Sure, my friends thought I was lucky, especially with the predicted snowstorm. Didn’t make any difference to me, I liked snow.

I glanced out a window. Already it was coming down pretty heavy, and there was still a good half hour before my flight.

Damn it, I hated flying. I could have sent the samples just as easy. What was so important they required me to personally bring them? I thought we’d settled everything before the client left. Why the sudden change? They could have at least waited until after the holidays.

Nick, my boss, promised I’d be home by New Year’s Eve. Yeah right. I knew how these things went. First this problem, than that one. I’d be lucky to be home in time for my nephew’s birthday on the sixth. Nick better not have any funny ideas. This was strictly business. I’d heard about his reputation with women. So far he hadn’t shown an interest in me, and I certainly didn’t have a problem with that. Good-looking though Nick was, nothing about him attracted me. Definitely not my type. Not that I had a type.

“Looks like we’re on the same flight,” a masculine voice said.

I looked up and almost groaned out loud. This couldn’t be happening. What were the chances we’d be on the same flight? I tried to ignore him, but something drew my eyes to his.

“Bill Johnson.” He extended his hand toward me. “I really am sorry about knocking you down.”

I shrugged and shook his hand. “No problem.” A quiver started deep in my stomach when he held my hand a bit longer than necessary. Rough, calloused hands. Does hard work. Maybe construction. I pulled my hand away and turned my attention back to my book. I hated talking to people at airports. Lord, please tell me he doesn’t have the seat next to me. I couldn’t be that unlucky, could I?

Of course I could.

Taking a peek at the ticket sticking out of his coat pocket, I groaned. Seat 16A. No way, what were the chances? I hoped he’d take the hint and leave me alone.

“Are you staying in Fort Myers?” He sat down next to me.

Figured, no such luck. I nodded. Maybe if I didn’t contribute to the conversation, he’d go away. I kept my eyes on my book but couldn’t concentrate. I had the irresistible urge to look at him, but ignored it. What was it about him?

“Visiting or business?”

I looked up from my book. He just wasn’t going to quit. “Business, no time for pleasure.” Maybe that would shut him up.

He smiled. “Everyone has time for pleasure. All work and no play...” He let the rest of the saying hang.

I put the book in front of my face. “I guess I’m a dull boy then.” Why didn’t he just let me read in peace. I couldn’t be much ruder. Some people just couldn’t take a hint.

Bill laughed. A big hearty laugh that caused people to stare. I wanted to crawl under my seat. “What’s so funny?”

“Honey, you look like anything but a boy.” His gaze took me in from top to bottom and came to rest on my breasts.

Okay, I’m well endowed and wished I had left my jacket on. Not that there was much to see through my bulky sweater, but enough. Heat rushed to my face again. Crap, why did I blush so easily? My face was probably as red as my hair. “Okay, so I don’t look like a boy. Just finishing the saying. And DON’T call me honey!” I put the book in front of my face, turned away from him, and tried to read. Lord, spare me friendly people. Especially men.

The last thing I needed was a man trying to pick me up. I wished he’d just go away. I could call airport security, but didn’t want to cause a scene. He’d done enough of that.

“Since you won’t tell me your name, I don’t know what else to call you.”

“Don’t call me anything.” I slammed my book shut, stood, and walked to the window. What more did I have to do to let him know I wasn’t interested? I stared out the window. Things didn’t look good outside.

“Full blown blizzard.” Bill’s deep voice came from behind.

I felt his breath on my neck and shivered from the warmth of it. Or was it from his nearness? Whatever it was, I didn’t like it. I looked at my watch. Still almost a half hour before take off. So far they hadn’t cancelled the flight.

As if my thoughts magically conjured it up, a voice came over the PA system. “We regret to inform you that all flights to and from Cleveland Hopkins Airport have been cancelled until further notice. New flights can be rebooked as soon as we resume our schedule. Sorry for the inconvenience. Airport shuttles are standing by to take you to a hotel. If you can’t get a room, you’re welcome to stay at the airport. Concession stands and restaurants will remain open for your convenience.

Great, just great. What more could go wrong? At least I could go home. If I could get a cab, that is. With the way it looked outside, I had a feeling most of the roads were closed, too.

I moved away from Bill and took my cell phone from my purse, got the number for the cab company from information, and punched it in. Crap, a recording. “No cabs due to weather.” Terrific. I punched in information for the number of the Sheraton Hotel. Hopefully, they still had a room. Spending the night sleeping in an airport wouldn’t improve my mood.

“Sheraton Hotel, how can I help you,” a female answered.

“Yes, I’d like a room for the night.” Please don’t tell me they’re all booked, I prayed. I didn’t care what kind of room as long as it had a bed.

“Yes, I have one room left. Two double beds. One hundred and fifty dollars.”

I let out a low whistle. A bit more than I cared to spend, but no matter. “I’ll take it.” I read my credit card number, grabbed my bag and raced to the exit while I spoke. Now to find an airport shuttle. Talk about luck, a shuttle parked just outside. I pulled the door open, and someone bumped into me.

“We have to stop meeting like this.”

I turned and looked into familiar soft, gray eyes. “Are you following me?” This was beginning to feel creepy. What was with this guy?

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Bill let out a low chuckle. “We can share a ride if you don’t mind. Give the driver a break.”

He followed me into the car. “Sheraton Hotel and...” He looked at me. “Where to?”

What were the odds he’d be going to the same hotel? This was getting scary. “Sheraton.”

“No kidding. Hey, maybe we can get together for a drink or something.”

Like I couldn’t guess what the or something was. I shook my head. Jerk. What made him think I’d even want to have a drink with him? “No thanks, I have work to do.” I looked out the window. How the driver managed to see where he was going was beyond me. All I could see was white. Thick, white, blowing snow. This was by far the worst snow storm I remembered. I just hoped it let up by morning like the weatherman promised.



Friday, April 4, 2014

INTERVIEW WITH Heroine from Ellie’s Legacy by Ginger Simpson



RF=Roselle Fountain
INT = Interviewer

Our special guest this evening is Miss Roselle Fountain, the heroine from author, Ginger Simpson’s western historical, Ellie’s Legacy.  Welcome, Roselle. 

RF – *Fidgeting* Oh please call me Ellie.  I’ve never much identified with such a flowery name.  You probably can’t tell by the way I’m dressed today, but I’ve always been somewhat of a tomboy.

INT - *Laughing*.  So I’ve heard.  You look very nice in your flowered print—very much the lady.

RF – That’s Pa’s doing.  He insisted that if I was going to make an appearance, I needed to dress like a lady.  I’d much rather be wearing britches and boots. *Tugs at the neckline of her dress*.  These things are too danged uncomfortable at times.

INT – So, Ellie, tell the readers a little about Ellie’s Legacy.

RF – *Grins* Well, I can’t give away too much.  Ginger would skin me alive, but I’m sure she won’t mind me telling you that it’s got a little romance, a lot of western, and even more feistiness than her last historical romance.  It all starts when Pa hires Tyler Bishop as the ranch foreman.  I kinda figured Pa always wanted a son, and Ty proves me right. Their relationship gets me pretty riled up.  I have a bad temper at times… I think it comes from this red hair.  *pulls a strand of hair forward and smiles*.

INT – So, besides your being jealous of Ty, is there any adventure involved.

RF – Oh, you bet.  *Squares herself in her chair*.  The polecats that live on the neighboring ranch are aiming to get Fountainhead away from Pa.  Dude Bryant and his twin boys are meaner than snakes… well at least Dude and Jason are.  Joshua comes across as quiet and a follower.  But, *balls hands into fists* I’ll be danged if they’re gonna get my legacy.  I actually bought a gun and taught myself to shoot it. 

INT – A gun?  What do you plan to do with it?

RF – Protect Fountainhead of course.  I’m aim to show Pa he don’t need Tyler Bishop around when he has me.  I just wish that Ty wasn’t so dang good lookin’.

INT – I haven’t heard you mention your mother.  How does she feel about you owning a gun?

RF - *Lowers her eyes*.  My ma died when I was very young.  I suppose that’s why I took up with the ranch hands and spend so much time workin’ outdoors.  *Raises a steely gaze*.  But, now that Ty’s in the picture, Pa wants me to spend more time in the house doing womanly things.

INT – Would that be such a bad thing?

RF – Of course it would.  I don’t much care for cookin’ and cleanin’.  We have Cook for that.  I’d much rather brand a cow as fry one.

INT – So what about the romance part of the story?

RF – *Chews her bottom lip for a moment* I can’t tell you much more than I accompany Ty to a dance, but as usual, he gets my dander up there, too.  What happens from then on, you’ll have to find out for yourself.  I may look young and naïve, but I’m not silly enough to give away the whole story.  Miz Ginger is counting on sales to help pay for something called a root canal.  I wouldn’t want to let her down.

INT – I certainly wouldn’t want you to do that either.  You’ve given us enough of a teaser to stir some interest.  Hopefully we’ll see you on a best seller’s list somewhere.

RF – That would be right nice.  It just may happen cause remember, I have a gun.  *Slaps hip and fakes a draw*.

INT -  Well, here’s hoping you don’t have to use it.  *laughs*.  Thank you so much, Ellie for being with us today.  And good luck in the future.

RF – Oh, yeah.  I almost forgot to tell you that Ellie’s Legacy is available on Amazon, published by Books We Love.  I reckon the copies are available on something called the Innernet.  *pulls paper from pocket.*  Miz Ginger gave me this to read: www dot amazon dot com forward slash author forward slash gingersimpson.  It’s her page where you can see all her books.  I hope I got that right.


INT – Sounds fine to me. Thanks again, Ellie.

Thursday, April 3, 2014

Inspiration for Geriatric Rebels

The idea of this book first came to me when my father was in a nursing home. Unfortunately, he couldn’t get
out of bed, but he did refuse to eat or take meds. After years of working as a tile setter, it had taken its toll and he suffered with arthritis in his knees and back, so much so that he wasn’t able to stand or walk. During several visits, I noticed a little old lady walk past his room. She always stopped and looked in. She never spoke, just looked at us for a minute and went on her way.
Something about her reminded me of my mother. Maybe it was her curly, silver hair, or her slight build. Whatever it was, she stuck in my mind and years later when I decided to write this story, she naturally came to mind.
This story actually had several different drafts. The original was a nonfiction assignment for a writing course I took. It was strictly about my father and his inability to get out of bed. From there it changed to fiction, and I brought Elsa into the story.  While Elsa is based on my mother – especially her love of playing jokes and her sense of humor, my mother predeceased my father by three years. And while Mike is based on my father, my dad didn’t have the same sense of humor. While I could picture my mother doing this stuff, even in a nursing home, I honestly couldn’t picture my dad. His sense of humor was much more sedate.
Where I came up with these ideas, I’m not quite sure. I think Mike and Elsa thought of them. The story just took off on its own and flowed. I love when a story does that.
Geriatric Rebels is the story of Mike and Elsa. Seventy-two year old, Mike, forced to stay in the nursing home for therapy, refuses to take his medicine, refuses to get out of bed, and won’t cooperate with the nurses. At least not until he meets Elsa. 
The spunky, seventy year old, Elsa was left in the home because her son took his family on a vacation. After an explosive meeting, she teams up with Mike and the nursing home is never the same. They become fast friends and later discover deception and fraud. Can the two find happiness together?
Published by Books We Love Publishing, Ltd. And available for 99 cents for a limited time from Amazon. Learn more about Roseanne Dowell’s books, check out her website: www.roseannedowell.com or her blog: http://roseannedowellauthor.blogspot.com/


EXCERPT:

Peeking around the corner into the dimly lit halls, Mike watched the pretty silver-haired lady slip into a dark room. What was she up to? He looked up and down the hall to make sure no one was around and followed her. Next thing he knew, he ran smack into her.
“Whoa,” she whispered. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”
“Maybe I should ask you that question,” Mike answered. “This isn’t your room.” A tiny little thing, she barely came up to his shoulders. She put her hands behind her back, and Mike chuckled. What was she hiding? “I’m night security,” he lied. “What’s behind your back?”
She lowered her head and brought out a water pitcher. “It was only a joke.”
Mike took her arm. “You better come with me.” He led her to the hall after a quick check to make sure it was still empty. “So you’re the one stealing the pitchers.”
She shivered and for a moment he felt sorry for her. What a mean trick, but he couldn’t help himself. He pushed open the exit door.
“Where are we going?” Elsa stiffened and tried to pull away. “Where are you taking me?”
 Her timid tone melted Mike. Time to confess. Damn, too late.
“Wait just a dog-gone minute.” She pulled away from him. “How do I know who you are? Where’s your uniform?  Show me some identification.” Although she spoke in whispers, the tone of her voice showed Mike she wasn’t buying his act.
Surprised by her sudden change of attitude, he stopped, raised his hands in surrender, and grinned at her.
“Who are you? Where do you think you’re taking me?” She glared at him with the lightest, bluest eyes he’d ever seen. Eyes that right now, he swore pierced into his.
 “You’re a burglar, aren’t you?” She tapped her foot and crossed her arms over her chest. “If you think for one minute, I’m going out that door with you, think again, buddy.”
Mike stifled a laugh, finding her amusing, obviously she didn’t trust him. Not that he blamed her, he did lie to her, and she didn’t know him from Adam. What did he expect?
“What were you doing in that room, buster, and if you don’t tell me who you are, I’m going to scream for help.”
“Okay, okay, quiet down.”  Hell, she meant business. “I was following you.” He tried to sound serious, but he couldn’t. He found the whole situation humorous. “My name is Mike Powell, room 110, but I don’t belong in this home.” He held out his hand toward her.
“Yeah, none of us belong here,” she scoffed. “Why were you following me?”
Since she ignored his outstretched hand, Mike lowered it. “I was curious to see where you were going in the middle of the night.”
“Humph.” Elsa tapped her foot. “So why are you here?”
“I fell and there wasn’t anyone to take care of me. My wife passed away three years ago, and I don’t have any children. So they threw me in here for therapy.”
“I never see you in therapy.”
“That’s ’cause I don’t need it anymore.”
“Humph. So how come you’re still here?”
“Nothing to go home to. I have more fun here. They don’t know I can get out of bed.”
“And just how did you pull that off?” Elsa seemed surprised to hear he had fooled the nurses into thinking he couldn’t get out of bed.
 “Simple, I refuse to get out of bed. Of course….” He combed his fingers through his thinning white hair and laughed. “They don’t know about my night time escapades.
“Ah, I know who you are. You’re that difficult man. I hear them talking about. You don’t eat, refuse to take your medicine, or even get out of bed. They call you the ‘Geriatric Rebel’.”
Mike chuckled. He liked the sound of her voice, musical, not raspy or whiney like the other women here. “So why are you here?” he asked. “You don’t seem like the typical resident.”
“Humph, kids are on vacation and don’t want to bother with me. I’m Elsa Logan, by the way.” Elsa turned away. “I better get back. Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow.” She left him standing in the hall.
A quiver of something familiar went through him as she disappeared down the hall and into her room.
***
Mike sighed as Doris’s soft hands slid over his forehead and soothed him. He liked her voice, soft, sweet, almost sing-songy. But no amount of cooing was going to make him get out of this bed. You would think after a month of trying, she’d give up. The others had.
“Come on, Mike, you know it’s not good to lay here like this.”
 He squeezed his eyes closed ignoring her, wishing her away.
“Just leave me alone!”
“Okay, Mike, but you’re not doing yourself any good.” Doris left and closed the door. Guilt gnawed at him the minute the words came out of his mouth. He shouldn’t have yelled at her like that, she was one of the few nurses in the home who bothered with him, and he savored the pampering. She’d been coaxing him to get up to socialize for a month. Sure, socialize, like half the residents here would even remember. Except Elsa.
Elsa with her curly silver hair, quick temper, beautiful smile and bright blue eyes, he closed his eyes, remembering the previous night.
 Mike smiled at the memory. He couldn’t wait to see her again. He napped off and on throughout the day to help pass the time. Finally, they dimmed the lights. Now was his chance. He sneaked into the hall, and there she was peeking out of her room. Was she looking for him? He hoped.
 “Hi, Elsa.” Strange, he felt shy with her. He’d never been shy a day in his life. Not with his wife, not with anyone. Never one to mind getting up in a crowd to speak, this shyness made him uncomfortable. “Want to go for a walk?”
She gestured for him to lead the way.
“Wait, how are we going to get back in?” Elsa stopped and pulled him back at the exit.
“Don’t worry, the door doesn’t lock. Look.” He went out, pulled the door closed and then pushed it open. “”Come on.” He led her out to the parking lot.
“How come the alarm didn’t go off?”
“I disabled it and jimmied the lock.”
She stumbled as she hurried to keep up with him. “Do you think you could slow down a little?”
He waited for her to catch up.  “Sorry, I forget old people can’t keep up with me.” He took her hand. Something about her brought out his playful side, a side long forgotten.
“Who are you calling old, you blustery old fool?” She pulled her hand away, planted it on her hip, and glared at him.
This was definitely a woman to reckon with “You’re really pretty when you’re mad.”
“Humph.” She furrowed her brow and stepped away from him.
Uh, oh he had pushed her too far, but he couldn’t help teasing her, he felt so alive.
 “I’ll show you mad.” Elsa swung her fist, just missing him.
“Hey, I was joking.” He grabbed her hand.  “Truce?”
She pulled her hand away but gave him an agreeable nod. They stepped out into the parking lot and to a clump of trees.
“This is my special place.” He led her beyond the trees to a small grassy area.  “It’s where I come when I want to get away from them.” He nodded toward the home.
Elsa sat on the grass next to him. “It’s like a million miles away from them isn’t it? It’s been a long time since I’ve been out in the evening. Thank you for bringing me here.”
 Mike stroked the back of her hand, enjoying the intimacy of the moment. “Why do you steal the water pitchers?” He couldn’t help being curious about the soft-spoken, petite woman with the quick temper, who invoked feelings he hadn’t felt since his wife died
“Just for the fun of it- I get bored. Besides, I can’t sleep at night.” She shrugged
“I took the nurses’ lunches a couple of times,” he said, “but usually I just come out here.”
“That was you?” Elsa giggled. “They talked about it for weeks. Boy, were they mad.”
 Mike liked the youthful sound of her laugh He suddenly felt young and mischievous. “Let’s go back and fill their coffeepot with ice.” He squeezed her hand as he helped her up.
Pushing the door open a crack, he looked down the hall. “Okay, coast is clear, come on.” He led Elsa to the break room, looked inside. Empty. He motioned her inside and followed her in.
“Stand guard, while I fill the coffee pot.” Mike couldn’t help but laugh as he dumped a couple of containers of ice into the pot. “That should do it.”
They laughed so hard, he was afraid they’d get caught. Elsa shushed Mike as they walked to her room. He hugged her goodnight. Warmth surged through him like a tidal wave when she hugged him back. He hurried back to his room, feeling more alive than he had in years.
 Maybe I’ll get up tomorrow, he thought. He chuckled, remembering their conversation, ‘Geriatric Rebel’ they have no idea. He sighed before he fell asleep.


Interview with Cecile Palmer Williams from Destiny's Bride by Ginger Simpson



Today we have a special guest, Cecile Palmer Williams, the heroine from Destiny's Bride, by author, Ginger Simpson.
 
Welcome Cecile. It’s nice to have you with us. I have some questions to ask for our guests about your role in this exciting western historical romance, so let's dig right in.

INT: How in the world did you ever convince your rigid father to allow you to marry a virtual stranger?

CECILE: *Squaring in her chair* You have to remember that back in the olden days, women married young, and sometimes even without the benefit of knowing their groom. Mail order brides were common so I think my father considered that, by some standards, I was well past marrying age and could make my own decisions. Walt simply swept me off my feet and I would have gone anywhere with him. *She smiles with a cocked head*

INT: I read, with great interest, how you perceived your new ‘home’. That must have been a terrible revelation.

CECILE: *Swipes hand across her brow* Oh, you have no idea. Walt had described the perfect setting; he just failed to tell me that he hadn’t yet built a suitable home. My skin was gray from dirt for days… trying to sweep that horrid shack with half a broom someone left behind.  And to be perfectly honest… I didn’t know a thing about keeping house. I guess some might say I was spoiled by my parents. *smile*

INT: I’ll bet you were scared to death when Walt left you alone while he traveled for winter supplies. How did you handle the fear?

CECILE: It wasn’t easy, but someone had to stay behind and tend the animals. *Runs a hand through her long hair*. I never realized how many noises there are once the sun goes down. I just prayed that the lock on that old weathered door worked good enough to keep me safe. God knows, I know nothing about using a weapon. I think if I hadn’t been so exhausted from all the chores everyday, I would have had trouble sleeping. I got used to being alone after a few nights, but I still didn’t like it.

INT: The book couldn’t possibly have captured the terror you experienced when Lone Eagle collapsed in front of you. Tell us how that felt.

CECILE: My heart leapt clear up here *clasping throat*. You understand, I’d never seen an Indian before and I expected to look up into the face of my beloved husband. I thought for sure I was going to die, but Lone Eagle fell in a heap at my feet. Lordy, my heart raced... all those stories I'd heard about scalping and such.

INT: So, of course, being a good person, you did the right thing and nursed him back to health…

CECILE: Of course. I don’t think I could have lived with myself if I’d just let him die. In the end it turned out well for me, but I don’t want to divulge too much to those who haven’t read Destiny's Bride   I would like to address one person's concern about me leaving my home without searching for my husband.  You have to remember, I didn't have any idea where I was or how to get back to Silver City.  I could have either stayed and died of hunger or cold, so I elected what was best for me and the baby I presumed I expected.  You might say we saved one another.

INT: I think you did.  As for your decision, things we so much different in those days.  It's not like you had a car and could drive around looking for Walt. *chuckles*

CECILE:  Car?  What's that?  *Raises brow*

INT: It's a long story.  I'll have to explain after the interview...so without asking questions that reveal the novel's outcome to the readers, I’ll just inquire what life was like in 1867.

CECILE: Oh goodness. *shuddering*. There was a wagon load of difference between my life in Silver City and moving to the prairie with Walt. In town, we bought everything we needed from the mercantile. Mother baked once in a while and cooked delicious meals, but we never had to put up our own vegetables. I was flabbergasted when Walt talked about the garden and the tomatoes, corn and other things we’d grow. I sure never expected that I’d be outside hammering nails in a dilapidated old barn, let alone milking a cow. I think the most frightening experience at first was that darned rooster. Who would have thought that something so small could terrify a body like he did?

INT: *glances at watch* Well, I see we’re out of time, but I truly want to thank you for being our guest. I'm sure that fearing your husband dead, watching an Indian drop at your feet and having to make the difficult decisions you face presented some difficult challenges.  Destiny's Bride was certainly was a page turner for me. Can we look forward to a sequel?

CECILE: Well, as you know, Destiny's Bride is a re-release of Ginger’s 2003 debut novel with another publisher. She’s really improved how the story flows, and I can only hint that you might visit her website to see if anything looks like a continuation of the story. You can find her at http://www.gingersimpson.com and I can give you a hint. Remember Lone Eagle is Lakota Sioux.   I think the title has something to do with the color of skin and heart.  *giggles*

INT: Thanks again, Cecile. This has been fun. Hopefully your fans will Amazon and purchase their own copy of Destiny's Bride.  I believe all her books are on an author's page:  http://www.amazon.com/author/gingersimpson

CECILE: One can only hope readers found this interesting. I know Ginger needs liposuction on her hips and a neck lift, and that's just the emergency necessities.  Poor dear, growing old has its own challenges and every purchase helps with the expense.   Thanks for inviting me to visit with you…  Oh, and Ginger also has a western blog at http://cowboykisses.blogspot.com.  Now...can you tell me about that thing you called a car?

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