Points to Remember AKA Dying Brain Cells by Ginger Simpson

Writing can be a joy and a pain at the same time. Of course, when you're in the middle of writing a story, you have no idea the challenges that await you at the end. I can honestly say I've learned tons since my first book was accepted by publication, but you can never assume what you learn is set in stone. Guidelines for publishing vary from house-to-house and what an author believes is a well-written story may fall victim to the editorial red pen from hell. *lol*

There are some things you can truly believe will enhance your story if you avoid them, and I'd like to share a few with you. I have the 'whip marks' to prove that I previously engaged in using these unsavory writing practices, but no more... or at least I'm trying to train my feeble brain to avoid these pitfalls:

Avoid over use of the word 'that.' You can delete 95% of them from your story without changing the meaning of your sentence. It actually helps with the word count, but does little else to enhance your story.

Avoid prepositional phrases at the end of your sentences. To her, at him, etc., are usually implied and the reader can figure it out. Another tendency to weaken your writing if you engage in this practice.

I tend to be the queen of "Seem." This has been a hard one for me to break. For some reason, everthing 'seems to' rather than actually does something. Now I'm learning to search and eliminate these instances. Rather than saying, "his musty smell seemed to fill the room," I'll use, "his musty smell wafted upward and...." 'Seemed to,' 'tried to,' and 'began to' are considered 'stall' phrases and prevent showing the action as it unfolds.

My good friend, Marie Higgins, has kept me on the straight and narrow with her critiques when it comes to Cause and Effect. I've learned you must have a cause before you can have a reaction. Cause and Effect...Action/Reaction. If someone jumps, something has to happen first. Simple rule, but one I never thought about before it was brought to my attention.

Overuse of 'it.' Using a noun over a pronoun to strengthen the sentence is a much better idea. Of course, you have to try to avoid word echoing in the same paragraph, and you don't want to have too many names back to back. Confusing, but sensible when applied effectively. Example: If I had written the second sentence...It's a better idea to use a noun over a pronoun to strengthen the sentence.  "It" is a mystery sometimes...clarify for the reader.

Predicting dialogue. What the heck is that, you ask. I've recently learned myself. Don't place tags that describe the person's voice before they speak. Simple. Here's an example of predicting: Her voice trembled. "Shouldn't we stop?"
Should be: "Shouldn't we stop?" Her voice trembled.

Sensory details. Another good friend from my critique group, Diane, keeps me on my toes by commenting in my chapters, "what does it smell like?" I'm pretty good at describing scenes, but I often forget to include smells. Touch, Taste, Smell, Sight, Sound should all be included when you write. Reader's want to sense it all.

And my latest discovery, last but not least...Avoid 'to be' verbs. These include is, was, are, were. I wondered most about 'was,' but learned when I use 'was' with an 'ing' word, I'm telling rather than showing. Same with could, would, should. These words make the narrative past tense. Example: was hearing or could hear is better written 'heard.' Could see, was seeing, is better written 'saw.'

There's tons more to share, but I'll save it for another day. By then, I'm sure I'll have even more tips for a well-written manuscript. :) Whatever you do, don't forget to put the punctuation marks inside the quotes. *lol*

A Few Lines From . . . Joan Hall Hovey

This week, a few lines from The Abduction of Mary Rose by Joan Hall Hovey

The teenage girl hurried along the darkening street, head down in a vain attempt to divert attention from herself as she headed for her bus stop, still over a block away. The car behind her was a soft growl in the still, warm air.  The day was fast fading, the sky a light mauve, only a sprinkling of stars yet. Soon it would be dark... Ignore them, she told herself. But it was impossible to do with the car following so close that the heat from the motor brushed her bare legs, like a monster's breath.

 

http://www.amazon.com/Abduction-Mary-Rose-ebook/dp/B005M4W22I/

Victoria Chatham follows me next week.

 

Ginger's Viewpoint on Editing

How many books have you read that are error free?  I've yet to find one that didn't have at least one or two minor errors, some many more, but I don't judge the creative talent and awesome story plot by nitpicking.

  I've read my books until I was thoroughly sick of them, trying to make sure I'd not overlooked anything.  Spellchecker only works if you actually misspell...it doesn't pick up on the differences between words like think and thing, words missing 'ed' or a and an.  Add in the fact that most brains read what is supposed to be there, and we're bound to make mistakes.  Does that make us a poor writer?

Of course not, but finding minor mistakes seems to be a bone of contention with some who leave reviews.  Besides editing my own work as best I can, each manuscript goes through an editing process with the publisher.  We all want to be proud of what we produce, and most brains read what is supposed to be there and don't even notice the slight errors.  I wonder what pleasure some folks get from shredding a terrific story to bits because they discovered something misspelled or misused?

I recently read a review for a fellow author's book which earned one star for the creative talent that went into the writing.  I was stirred to read the book for myself, and I was amazed how cruel and unfair the reviewer had been.  The author wrote such a fascinating story...and remember, we're talking fiction here, so people need to remember that when they criticize the creativity, yet the reviewer focused only on a few misspelled words, or totally missed the point that the author used the broken English of the western era.  In retrospect, and reviewer came across as the real dummy.

Another complaint was too many story lines.  Are you kidding me?  I love authors who add more to their secondary characters than just a name, and introduce you to back story that ultimately plays into the main plot.  I'm thinking some people should just stick to nursery rhymes...short, sweet, and to the point.  :)  I've going to post my own review of the work in question, and in my mind, just as all the other books I've read by this particular author, she's earned five stars from me.  I can't wait to dig into her next book.  I have only one question, and that's why hasn't mainstream snapped her up?

Don't be swayed by bad reviews.  Remember they are only one person's opinion, so read and draw your own conclusions.  You might be totally surprised.  :)

EDITS – ON THE DEFENSE BY RITA KARNOPP

I’ve often heard it said that writers a bit arrogant, they hate anyone making an off-handed comment about their baby.  What you ask?  The truth is, writing is a lot of pressure; demands, deadlines, choices, habits, goals, and don’t forget we must be creative.  That doesn’t always mean an author is arrogant – they are just protective of their work.  J

So let’s face it, edits are a bit difficult to face.  They really shouldn’t be – but our egos get a bit bruised.  I’ve always had the belief you can either handle it the easy way or the hard way.  Choice is yours.  So what do I mean by that?

So I finished my book; I met my deadline. Yippee.  Yet, I had a lot of personal issues (surgery, work demands, worry about children, etc.) at the time and I truly knew down deep – it was a great suspense – but maybe it needed a little more work.  So my editor gets it and points out a few holes, a couple of issues not resolved, and maybe some cleaning up is needed that should have been done- at least must be done to make the book the best it can be.

Hmmm . . . so this is not what I wanted to hear.  Right?  Right!  Now, there are two ways I can handle this scenario.

The Hard Way – When I first started writing it was soooo hard to hear anything negative about my writing.  Why?  I’m not sure – as time went on – I welcomed those comments from editors, so I could learn – improve – grow – and ultimately write better and better.  I believe this is something the novice writer must always experience – and learn from.

So – the hard way.  Well, it goes like this.  “What?  Holes in my storyline?  Not even possible. I was so careful.  I know there aren’t any holes.  How rude!  Issues not resolves – not possible.  I like how the story flowed and . . . and not every problem in life is resolved.  As for cleaning up – isn’t that what an editor is for??

Okay – the knee-jerk reaction is ‘defensive.’  That should never be the case.  If you want to become a better writer, listen to editors with an open mind.  Why do they feel the way they do?  Would the editor’s suggestions make the book better?  I’ll bet 95% of the time that answer is a resounding yes.  Drop that chip off your shoulder and allow yourself to consider the comments your editor is making.  They aren’t making ‘edits’ to point out how smart they are . . . it’s all about making your book better – and the bottom line – help you become a better writer.

Personally – I believe editors are priceless.  I’m so close to my story – I need the outside, unprejudiced review to see flaws for what they are.  I certainly don’t want my readers to point them out to me.  Yikes!

The Easy Way - This boils down to simply being opened minded and above all grateful the editor cares enough to do a good edit of your book.  Yep, how invaluable is that?  I believe it's priceless.

Another way to look at this is – we all hate . . . hate . . . hate . . . bad reviews.  A good editor will minimize those ‘hurtful one star reviews’ just by making edits that resolve issues you might hear about from readers.  Let’s face it; readers today are intelligent and savvy.  You need to be ‘on your game’ to entertain them.

When you receive edits - have a positive attitude with energy and a willingness to work the problems/issues through – resulting in a tighter, absolutely great read.

Don’t worry – The worst thing you can do is worry or be embarrassed about it.  Thrashing edits through ranting and raving to this writer friend … and to that writer friend is unproductive.  So you thought you were done – face it – you just don’t want to sit down and do the re-write.  It’s work and you want to throw a tantrum first.  That is so counter-productive.

I truly don’t know anyone who has written a book perfect the first go-round.  I like to think I write a very tight, high-octane, totally paced story that will require minimal rewriting.  If that isn’t the case, I’m just relieved my editor cares enough to ‘wake me up’ and request changes to make my story better.

You can either waste days with frustration and anger or sit down – tackle the task, and when you re-submit you know – phew! That really needed a face-lift.  Dear editor - thank you . . . thank you . . . thank you!

A Few Lines From. . . Connie Vines

Brede swallowed, trying to ignore the thick, tight feeling wedged in his throat.  He didn't welcome the onslaught of emotion that filled his chest and caused him to stroke her jaw with an unsteady finger tip.  He reminded himself that he didn't need to be involved in her problems; he had enough of his own.  As soon as the roads were passable, he'd get her to a doctor and the police could take care of the rest.

Still, no matter how hard he tried to remove himself from the situation, he kept remembering how fragile she'd seemed in his arms.  he felt as if he'd carried a sparrow, all feathers and tiny bones, out of the gully.

 

 

 

 

 

 

http://www.amazon.com/Brede-Rodeo-Romance-ebook/dp/B00DRPHILY

Connie Vines

Expect the UnExpected!

novelsbyconnievines.com 

https://twitter.com/connie_vines

Stop back next week for a few lines from Joan Hall Hovey.

The Blame Game by Jamie Hill

I've been working on a romantic suspense series for the last two years. Already have the first two covers, absolutely love them, but the stories just haven't rattled my cage enough to come out yet. I finally decided to set them aside and think about something else. What a great decision! In the past couple months, I came up with a new romance series, The Blame Game, and the first book is already available at Amazon. 

Blame it on the Stars
The Blame Game, Book One

Teacher Catlin McCall has second thoughts about dating the father of a student, but listening to his sweet talk one night under the stars, she finds him hard to resist. They stumble into an impetuous, passionate relationship which leaves them breathless and his family less than thrilled. A not-quite-ex-wife who decides she wants her man back, combined with a pair of manipulative teenagers, make for more problems than either of them are prepared to deal with. 

Steve Naughton has no idea when he invites Catlin’s brother to join them for dinner that his fiancée has family issues of her own. Like the old adage, no good deed goes unpunished, and Steve’s surprise backfires when the truth comes to light. 

“You feel like your life got thrown up in the air, and it’s landing as a different sort of life? Yeah, me too.”  Blame it on the stars.

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00EOA5G3I

The first three reviews are each 5 stars.

“This book is an awesome read. Jamie has you hooked from the start! Every time I thought I knew what was gonna happen she brought in something new. I can’t wait for the next book. This book needs read by everyone!” ~ 5 Stars, Lisa, Amazon Verified Purchase

“I have always thoroughly enjoyed Jamie Hill’s writings and this was no exception. This story feels believable about a new romance, but life has a way of throwing the couple a curve ball I did not see coming! It is a fast read, and I love the Midwest setting. I recommend this book.” ~ 5 Stars, Maggie, Amazon Verified Purchase

“She had me from the beginning and I didn't want to stop reading until I finished it! Just when I was thinking "happily ever after" for the main characters, she brought in old relationships for them to deal with. Can't wait to read the next book!” 5 Stars, CMT, Amazon Verified Purchase 

~~~ 

The kind enthusiasm for book one has motivated me to finish book two, Blame it on the Moon, and release it earlier than planned. It should be available at Amazon the first week in Sept. And book three, Blame it on the Sun, is well under way! (My wonderful editor Roxanne has already prompted me to tell a fourth story, so don't rule out a book four.) 

And props to BWL Art Director Michelle Lee for another awesome set of covers. I am totally thrilled with these and have them pasted up on the wall of my home office for inspiration!

If you like sweet romance with a little bit of heat, sassy characters and kids that are too cute for their own good, come on a journey with me and read The Blame Game!

~ Jamie

A Few Lines From… Angel de`Amor

This week, a few lines from His Betrayal Her Lies by Angel de`Amor

 

She moved to her dresser, opened the bottle, and rubbed the lotion all over her body, paying special attention to his two favorite places to nibble—her neck and legs. The butterscotch skin, brown eyes, and petite body that were reflected in the mirror as she massaged her legs made her feel extra sexy. She stood and did a little sensual dance as she opened her underwear drawer, selected a striking red lace thong, and slipped it up her legs.

Some teeny devil must have been sitting on her shoulder urging her on. “Yeah, this thong is all the clothes you’re going to need.” She pulled her four-inch red pumps out the closet and slid them on her feet. “Sorry, babies,” she told her aching feet, “but I gotta look good tonight.”

She snatched her wallet out of her purse off the nightstand and her Blackberry off the bed as she walked to the living room closet. Wrapping up in the long, black, fox fur coat would protect her from the chilly November weather.

                                                                                                                

 

 

http://www.bookswelove.net/deAmor.php

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00CV7GJ00

 

Please stop back next week for a few lines from Connie Vines.

All in the Family - Coming Soon

Taking over the police chief’s job in her hometown should have been easy for Callie Johnson. At least that's what she thought. After working in a big city, small town crime would be a breeze.  What a surprise when she arrives to find her grandmother, the judge, accused of murder. As if that wasn't enough she’s attacked while walking to her car. Between criminal investigations, her nutty family’s antics and her Aunt Beatrice Lulu's matchmaking, Callie definitely has her work cut out for her. Will her grandmother be exonerated?  Can Callie ward off her aunt’s unsuitable suitors? What other surprises are in store for her? More importantly, can she find the person who attacked her? 

EXCERPT:

Usually Callie enjoyed dinner with her grandmother. The judge never ceased to amaze her. She kept a busy schedule, yet still managed to keep house and entertain regularly. Where or how she found the time to clean, cook, and bake was beyond Callie. Lately, though, Gram had been getting on Callie’s case almost as bad as her mother and sister about getting married.

She pulled into Gram’s drive and groaned. Not only would she have to deal with her grandmother, mother, and sister, Aunt Beatrice Lulu was here. Not her favorite person. She eased out of the car. May as well face the music.

Callie’s grandmother greeted her at the door. “How’s the new Police Chief?” Gram’s smile beamed with pride. One thing she’d give Gram credit for, she was proud of her children and grandchildren.

“I’m doing well.” Callie hugged and kissed her. “How are you?”

“Ah, you know how it is. Busy. Jim Landry thinks I should retire.”

“Maybe you should. Take life easy. You've certainly earned it.” Callie suppressed a grin. Truth be known, Jim Landry was sweet on Gram.

“And just what would I do with my time?” Gram put her hands on her hips and frowned at Callie. “You young people think everything is solved by retiring.”

“Well, you could travel. Or you could spend more time with Jim.”

Gram waved her hand, but Callie caught the blush on her cheeks before she turned away. “Posh. What makes you think I need to spend more time with Jim?”

 “Well you’re always telling me I should get married. Maybe you should consider it.”

“I was married, remember? And to a very good man. No way could I replace him. Get married, the very idea.”

“Gramps has been gone a long time, Gram. And Jim’s every bit as good. He’s sweet on you, you know.”

Commotion from the other room saved Gram from answering. Callie followed her into the living room.

Aunt Beatrice Lulu sat in the middle of the floor. Everyone stared open mouthed, looking scared to speak.

“What in the hell are you doing on the floor?” Gram covered her mouth to keep from laughing. “Are you okay? Do I need to call 911?”

“No. You don’t need to call 911. Help me up, for God’s sake.”

“What the hell are you doing on the floor to begin with?”

“I fell. What does it look like?” Aunt Beatrice Lulu took the hand Gram offered.

“I can see that. But what happened?”

At that moment, Aunt Beatrice Lulu spotted Callie. Oh boy, here it came. Her nasally voice grated on Callie’s nerves. Okay, it wasn't her fault, adenoids or something caused it, but it was still annoying. Sometimes Callie thought her aunt exaggerated it. Maybe she didn't, but right now it sounded worse than usual, and Callie wasn't in the mood to listen to her, even if she sounded normal.

Why couldn't everyone just let her live her life? What made them think they could tell her what to do? Aunt Beatrice Lulu wasn't the only one. Oh no, Callie’s mother, her sister, heck even Jim Landry weighed in on what she should do with her life or what man she should meet. Everyone was always setting her up with blind dates.

Beatrice Lulu. What kind of name was that anyway? And don’t anyone dare shorten it to Aunt Bea or Aunt Beatrice. Oh, no. It had to be the whole name, or everyone would catch what for.

Callie remembered when she was little-she called her Aunt Bea once. Wasn't that what Opie Taylor on Andy Griffith reruns called his aunt? Callie thought it was cute. Lord above, you’d of thought she’d put a curse on her aunt or something. She thought she’d never hear the end of it.

That woman ranted and raved for almost an hour about how her name was Beatrice Lulu, not Bea, not Beatrice. It was the name she was born with, the name she was christened, and the name she’d die with. It’s the name she expected people to use. Obviously she was proud of her name, but did she have to go on so? Callie never made that mistake again. No, ma’am. From then on she used her whole name and so did everyone else. All except Uncle Ed, that is.

Callie would never forget when her aunt met Uncle Ed. She about fell out of her chair laughing. Aunt Beatrice Lulu stood there staring at him like she wanted to bash him over the head or something.

Uncle Ed is a big man.  Big--like six feet six or more. Most people are overwhelmed by his height. A giant of a man, he towered over everyone and his shoulders, lord above, they were almost as wide as the doorway. And he had this loud, bellowing voice that vibrated off the walls and back at you. His black curly hair fell in a curl on his forehead, and bushy dark eyebrows sat above the roundest, darkest blue eyes Callie’d ever seen. His straight nose, mustache, square jaw, and creases at the corner of his eyes, as well as his tan, gave him a rugged appearance. Sexy. Ruggedly handsome. Magnum PI or the Marlboro Man. 

Aunt Beatrice Lulu didn't look impressed. Not that Uncle Ed noticed. He just walked right up to her. “Well, aren't you a pretty little thing?” he said. “Bet you got a pretty name to match.”

Callie’d never heard anyone refer to her aunt as pretty before. Or little. Nothing about her aunt was little. Okay, she wasn't huge, but suffice to say she had some added bulk. Nothing Callie’d call pretty about her. Aunt Beatrice Lulu’s nose was too big for her face, her lips too small, and her squinty dark brown, almost black, eyes looked beady at best. She pulled her mousy brown hair so tight into a bun on top of her head-Callie swore it pulled every wrinkle out of her face. She usually sat with her arms crossed over her ample bosom and resting on her paunchy stomach. Nope, nothing pretty about her. Portly, but not pretty. But obviously, Uncle Ed thought differently.

He stood there, admiring her, and she continued to glare at him. “Well, sweetheart, do you have a name or not?”

“I do, and it’s definitely not sweetheart.” She harrumphed and turned away, looking at everyone and everything but him.

Uncle Ed wasn't going to be put off. Oh no, not him. He put his big hands on her shoulders and turned her right back around to face him. “Now, why you wanna be rude like that? I just asked your name.”

The room grew deathly quiet. Everyone focused on Aunt Beatrice Lulu and held their breath, Callie included. No one talked to her aunt that way, and they sure as heck didn't touch her. She just stood there. Speechless. Callie’d never seen the woman speechless before.

“You going to tell me your name, or do I got to ask these other folks?”

“Beatrice Lulu.” Her mouth curved upwards in a slight smile. Aunt Beatrice Lulu hardly ever smiled. “Beatrice Lulu Roberts.”

“Well, now Bea, was that so hard?” He moved his left hand to her check and stroked it.

Aunt Beatrice Lulu flinched from the touch. “I said my name is Beatrice Lulu, not Bea.”

Uncle Ed let out a big hardy laugh. “Ain’t nobody called by their full name these days. What you think people got time to say Beatrice Lulu?” he dragged out the last syllable and slid his finger along her cheek toward her lips. “You think people got nothing better to do or talk about. They gotta waste time calling you by your full name? My name’s Edgar Leroy Eberhardt, but do people call me that? Hell no, they call me Eddie or Ed. And that’s what you can call me.”

Aunt Beatrice Lulu pushed his hand away, planted her hands on her hips, and tapped her foot.

Uh, oh, Callie thought, here it comes.

“Well, Mr. Eberhardt, if you don’t like calling me by my full name, fine. Don’t! Don’t call me nothing.  In fact, don’t talk to me at all. Think I care? My name is Beatrice Lulu.” She started her rant. “It’s the name I was born with…

Next think Callie knew, Uncle Ed pulled her aunt against him and kissed her right on the lips. The whole room let out a gasp. Callie thought she cursed. Someone said, oh hell. Might well have been her. The shock of the moment sent everyone agape.

Finally, he pulled away. Not that Aunt Beatrice Lulu resisted. Not once did she try to push him away. Nope, in fact, she leaned into him and put her arms around him. “Well, now,” he said. “How about you and I go get some dinner, Bea.”

Callie’d never seen her aunt so flustered, let alone speechless. She just stood there staring at him. Everyone held their breath waiting for her usual angry outburst.

“Oh, dear…” She patted her hair as if it were out of place. “Where would you like to go, Ed?”

That was it. No rant. No rave. Just complete surrender and off they went. That’s how their relationship began. Not six months later, they married. Never thought they’d see the day Aunt Beatrice Lulu met her match. Of course, Uncle Ed called her Bea, but he was the only one allowed to call her that. She remained Beatrice Lulu to everyone else.

“There’s someone I want you to meet, Callie.”

“I don’t have time to meet anyone, I’m too busy.”

“But, this one’s different, Callie.”

As usual, Aunt Beatrice Lulu found the perfect man. Right! Callie’d met those perfect men before. Not one of them lived up to her aunt’s description, and not just physically. Sincere, trustworthy, considerate. Ha, the first one turned out to be a crook, the second was married, and the last one so egotistical he didn't even like himself. 

A Few Lines from… Kathy Fischer-Brown

A Few Lines from…

Kathy Fischer-Brown

Winter Fire

"Get back!" he shouted. "The ice won't hold you!"

She whirled around in alarm.

And in that split second, he saw her eyes. Those startled doe's eyes. Zara Grey!

In the next instant, a crack—like a musket shot—echoed through the ravine. She reeled as the ice heaved up beneath her amid an angry surge of black water. And then, her face frozen in a look of surprise, her mouth open in a semblance of a silent scream, she disappeared through the widening breach.

His gaze fixed on the roiling chasm, Ethan hurled himself down the slope. She surfaced—flailing arms and legs, and gasping desperately for air—churning up the black water into an icy froth. She grasped at the splinters of ice.

"Keep your head up!"

Racing along the bank, he ripped off his deerskin jacket and hurled it, along with his rifle and belt into the snow. If she went under again, she'd be trapped. Already the current had taken her, sweeping her like a bobbing cork toward the opposite bank where the ice was thicker.

"Keep your head up!"

But the frenzied movement of her arms had slowed. She gasped at the water along with the air. She could barely keep herself afloat. As if she had made a conscious choice to surrender herself to a stronger power, he saw the spirit drain out of her. An eerie calm settled over her eyes as her gaze met his, then she slipped under again without a struggle.

Without stopping to think, Ethan tore off his shirt and moccasins, and dove through the opening.

Buy from Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Winter-Fire-ebook/dp/B004BA5GMM

Visit Kathy’s website: http://www.kfischer-brown.com

Stop back next week for A Few Lines from… Angel de' Amor

A Few Lines From. . .Jane Toombs

Bride of the Baja by Jane Toombs

After a long ride Alitha was untied, pulled down from the horse and carried to a hut, where she was pushed inside and left alone in the darkness. She lay huddled on the ground for a moment listening to the sounds around her—the pounding of the surf, the drunken shouts of the men, the neighing of horses, the barking of dogs.

Coming Soon! Find this title and Jane's other books at: http://bookswelove.net/janetoombs.php

Please stop back next week for a few lines from 

Kathy Fischer-Brown.

A Few Lines From. . .Janet Lane Walters

A Few Lines from Shattered Dreams by Janet Lane Walters

Without a glance at the waiting patient, she strode to the counter. The aroma strengthened. Hadn’t been her imagination. She turned her head and stared at the man wearing the green cotton examining gown. She gripped the edge of the counter. Blood rushed from her head.

“You’re dead.” The words slashed the silence. This couldn’t be happening.

“Hardly.”

The voice sounded like the one from her dreams. She opened her mouth to ask where he’d been and what he’d been doing for the past twelve years. She sucked in a shallow breath. Asking that question would only stir the emotions she had frozen.

“Don’t bail on me. Sit down.”

Her fingers had no feeling. Waves of darkness dimmed her vision. The edge of the counter disappeared. Her knees buckled. Blackness engulfed her.

* * *

 

“Manon!” Rafe Marshall leaped from the examining table in time to catch her before she hit the floor. He cradled her against his chest. “Didn’t mean to scare you,” he whispered. Why did she think he was dead? He knew news of his accident had been kept quiet because the police believed he’d been deliberately forced off the road. Who had told her? Had the informant been the driver of the dark car his rescuer had seen speeding from the scene?

 

 

 

Find Shattered Dreams here:

http://www.amazon.com/Shattered-Dreams-Moonchild-ebook/dp/B00DPZT6K2/

 

Janet can be found daily at http://wwweclecticwriter.blogspot.com/

 

 

Stay tuned. Next week A Few Lines features Jane Toombs...