A Taste of What's to Come. . .

While I try to Push through to the end of Church Hill I started on the story of the young woman haunting me, imploring me to tell her story.  There's not much done on it yet, but it's a start.  

It's more a a traditional romance story:  heroine with a troubled past, hero trying to get her to open up, both learning a thing or two about themselves and each other in the process.  They will have their fair share of bridges to build and burn.

I will be honest in that I probably won't post this one on the blog.  However, I will post bits a pieces throughout the project.  I'm always up for suggestions, and will probably need readers' help at times.

I've also been extremely distracted by my gourd projects.  I love doing the gourds, and you can find some of my projects on my gardening blog, The Sheepish Gardener.  

One more shameless plug before I give you the first 400 words of Eleni's story.  My little man is a "model" on the VibraDyes website!  He's in the blue t-shirt on the home page.  The little guy with his head cocked and a big smile.  Stop by to see his cuteness, and check out the site.  They have great products that don't fade.

Okay, I'm finished.  Now here is the beginning of Eleni's story. . . 

Chilly water sloshed up Eleni’s chest and neck when the sharp rap sounded at her door.  She had fallen asleep trying to soak away the tension of the week’s work.  She wasn’t used to the manual labor that came with ranch work, but she was determined to stick it out.  She had to.

The know sounded again.  This time a voice pushed through the wood and drywall.  “Eleni?”  It was Ryan.  “Are you okay?”

She pulled the plug from the drain and stood to wrap a towel around her cold body.  “Coming,” she called, hoping he could hear her sleep-drugged voice.  Her hair was already drying, so she slipped into her slippers and went to answer the door.

“Come in, Ryan,” she said as she stepped aside to let him into the efficiency.  

He blushed when he saw her wrapped in the towel.  She didn’t think it was possible for this strong, no-nonsense man.  He ran Quarter Acres with a strong hand, taking no crap from workers, vendors, or clients.  

“I’m sorry.  I didn’t realize you were in the shower,” he said a bit timidly.

“Bath,” Eleni stated.  “No shower in here, remember?”  

“Right,” he replied, running a hand through the loose curls of his hair.

She smiled at him and gestured for him to sit on the worn couch.  “Just give me a minute to get dressed.”

Ryan sank into the faded cushions as Eleni disappeared through the only interior door in the apartment.  He glanced around the small space, realizing that Eleni hadn’t added much in the way of personal touches.  The furnished room was offered to her as an employee of his family’s ranch.  One of five such units built by his grandfather for the migrant workers he took on.  The rooms were built like a motel, connected in a line with a covered front porch running the length of the building.

Only three of the rooms were occupied now.  Eleni was staying in the unit to the far left, closest to the barn.  The two rooms at the other side housed Jake and Owen, two young hands that chose to stay on the property to get out of their parents’ houses.

Eleni had been on the ranch for about a month, and Ryan was noticing she seemed to have a gift with the horses.  She had taken to one gelding in particular.  A horse of mixed breeding with a past as turbulent as Eleni’s own.

Writing Sample

Below are the first 225 words from Church Hill (working title), a novel I've been working on for a while. 

I'll pose a question:  Does this make you want to keep reading?


excerpt from Church Hill. . .

I received the call around eleven o’clock that Sunday morning.  I had to work that day because we were implementing a new program into the computer system at the bank I worked for.  The caller-ID read Church Hill Hosp and the phone number listed below.  I gave a questioning look to the small team working with me before answering.

“Hello.  Church Hill Bank and Trust, how may I help you?”

A man’s soothing voice came through the line.  “May I speak with Mrs. Boothe, please?”

“This is she,” I said as I gave another questioning look to my team.

“Mrs. Boothe, I’m Dr. Sanchez at Church Hill Hospital.  I’m afraid your husband and daughter have been in an auto accident.  I’ll need you come to the hospital.”

I collapsed into a chair, the telephone receiver I held in my hand started to slide from my grip.  I tried to ask the doctor how bad they were, but I couldn’t speak.  My jaw moved up and down, but my lips and tongue were immobile and my throat made no sound. 

Cassie, my assistant, took the phone from my hand.  “Hello?”

“Mrs. Boothe?”

“This is her assistant.  May I help you?”

“This is Dr. Sanchez at Church Hill Hospital.  I need Mrs. Boothe to come to the hospital right away.  Her family has been in an accident.”

A Taste of My Writing

Today I'm going to post the beginning of one of my fiction stories.  The working title is Pulse.  I tried to keep it short, 444 words.  (Please note that I will never post an entire story, but only excerpts.  This is for future publication rights reasons.) 

Let me know what you think of my writing style, the story itself, anything.  I welcome your comments.  If you don't like something, tell me that, too.  I can not improve without honest feedback.

Thanks for reading!


excerpt from Pulse:

We moved to the rhythm of the techno music, pulsing along with the heavy bass and flashing lights.  It was a sexual dance of forbidden lust with a man I didn’t know.

He had approached me on the dance floor, coming up behind me and melting with the movement of my body as I danced.  His hands found my hips and pulled me closer, seaming the length of our bodies together.  We danced thus until he twirled me around to face him.

His beauty, for that’s what it was, was astonishing.  He was the picture of perfection in that atmosphere.  And he had an unearthly aura about him.  It drew me in and held me captive until all I knew was his presence.

            I had a happy amount of alcohol working on me, but I didn’t need it.  He had a sexual power that no amount of alcohol could match.  A power no other man had ever held over me.

            We melted together, face to face, as the music wove its seductive rhythm around us, compelling our bodies to rock, dip, and sway.  His face hovered tantalizingly close—close enough to feel the electrical charge from his skin to mine without actually touching.

            When his hands roamed across the bare skin of my back, I could feel electrical pulses flowing from them.  He traced the line of my spine with his fingertips, under my hair and up to my head.  He gripped me then, taking a handful of hair and pulling my lips to within millimeters of his, teasing me with his sweet breath while his eyes raked my face.

            I was just able to register the minty essence before he crushed my mouth with his.  It was a hard, deep kiss, full of passion and heat.  He tasted like a fresh sprig of peppermint.

            He drew me into a hallway lined with the bodies of would-be lovers.  As he worked me backward toward the wall, couples parted and a space opened to allow us our own piece of vertical support.

            The pounding beat vibrated within my chest.  The pulsing lights etched color into my brain.  The hard body of the man in front of me burned an unfathomable need between my legs.

                        His head dipped, lips meeting my throat.  Gentle at first, his kiss became an intense suckling.  His teeth grated on my skin, evoking a cry of passion from my lips.

            The presence of the others around us began to fade.  The intense colors blurred into a watery spectrum.  We were invisible.  There was only the two of us in our carnal bubble, shielded by the magic this man seemed to weave.