by Sarah | Oct 29, 2013 | Books, Changing Tracks, Dark Territory, Secret Cravings Publishing, Writing
Back to Hump Day Hook!
Another week of [amazon_link id=”B00FE1AVOU” target=”_blank” container=”” container_class=”” ]Dark Territory[/amazon_link]. I’m not ready to give her up just yet. But, this will be the last week for a little bit. My Christmas story will be out in just over a month, so I’ll be introducing you to Ivy and Alan in preparation for its release!
This week we’re supposed to do something spooky…which wasn’t my plan for the last week of visiting Dominion Falls for a while…but…then again, it’s pretty good. This is told from the POV of my villain…as he’s seeing Jane – or is it Constance? Is all of this really happening?
Any thoughts of keeping silent fled as her temper flared. “You’ve killed and hurt innocent people for your revenge. You’re deranged.”
She disappeared into the shadows, reappearing a moment later. No. It couldn’t be. How is it she looked like Constance? Constance was gone. What did she do?
“Constance.” A burning pain ripped through his stomach a moment before he heard the small pop of a gun.
“You will not die easily, Alan, but you will die for the pain you caused me. You wanted me to love you. You wanted me to join you.”
“Constance. You did.” It wasn’t Constance. It couldn’t be.
*~*
Did you like this sample? You can pick up the whole series now!!
Changing Tracks
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Derailed
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Dark Territory
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by Sarah | Oct 29, 2013 | Guest Authors, Top Ten Tuesday, Writing
My top ten reasons for writing and reading paranormal romance.
As a reader:
- I like to travel to new and magical places.
- I love such places as France in the Middle Ages, Scotland, and Ireland.
- I like stories that evoke ancient legends and tales.
- I like that tales that surprise and delight me.
- I love time travel.
As a paranormal romance writer:
- I like to write about professional women who learn to make room for true love in their lives.
- I write strong, sensitive, smart heroes.
- I’m inspired by the earth and ancient ways and weave those mysteries into my stories.
- I like to create sweet romance where the growing relationship is the focus.
- I love time travel.
*~*
| [amazon_link id=”B00DVNC9E8″ target=”_blank” container=”” container_class=”” ]Amazon[/amazon_link] | BN | ARe |
ABOUT GARGOYLE: THREE ROMANCE NOVELLAS
The mysterious lives of gargoyles. They don’t just hang out on buildings. They right wrongs. They wreak havoc. And they change the lives of unsuspecting people who never see them coming.
ON A WING AND A PRAYER BY Kay Keppler (Humorous Contemporary)
The hero…
Craig knows that Bea is in trouble. But Craig can’t do anything about it—because he’s a garden gargoyle and Bea can’t hear his warnings. When unexpected visitors arrive to help, Craig finds the power he had all along. Now the neighborhood will never be the same.
TOUCHSTONE OF LOVE by Beth Barany (Time Travel)
The touchstone…
When a thunderstorm transports software expert Rose Waldman to thirteenth century France, she meets hunky stonemason Julien, who is secretly creating a gargoyle in defiance of his master mason. Can independent gadget loving Rose trust her life and heart to Julien, and can she really never go home again?
THE MILLER’S DAUGHTER BY Patricia Simpson (Historical)
And the freak just trying to get along…
Sentenced to burn at the stake for sorcery, Merofled volunteers to help jaded warrior Alaric kill a gargoyle that threatens her village. But Merofled soon discovers the gargoyle is not a monster at all. It’s a misfit just like her. Can she persuade Alaric to spare the gargoyle–and herself?
*~*
EXCERPT OF “TOUCHSTONE OF LOVE” BY BETH BARANY
Julien of Beauvais stomped through the edge of town, through the fields and the stormy dark. He didn’t care about the wet and wind. He needed to find peace, he needed to find inspiration. It was time that he showed Master Stonemason Bernard de Chantilly all of his skill and artistry and present his master work to the community and get his approval, even if the master stonemason said Julien could not present his work at Michaelmas in five days.
The master stonemason didn’t like him and had not allowed him to present the previous year. But this year would be his. It was time he showed Master Bernard that he was ready to become a master mason and travel as a free man. His training was complete. He’d become a journeyman and done a short trip to Paris with Master Bernard a few years ago. Yet, most men at his age of twenty-six years had already started their own houses and were busy at work on the new cathedrals sprouting all over France.
He wanted to travel to Amiens, or Rennes, and direct his own house, with a woman at his side, and his own apprentices, and a passel of children. The time was now. His time. Oblivious to the cold and the wet, Julien stomped through the field in anger.
Not only was Master Stonemason Bernard a barrier to his dreams, but so was also Marie-Jeanne, his intended. She’d betrayed him with that farm boy from the count’s household. How was he going to create a home when his betrothed was ready to run off with another?
That was why, in his anger, he’d messed up the day’s stone carving work and had been relegated to sorting and breaking granite blocks for the other apprentices.
The rain pelted his face as Julien stumbled over something. He lost his footing and slipped to his knees. He put out his hands to brace himself and felt something soft. Soft and warm.
As gently as he could, as if he were handling a new-born lamb back at his parents’ farm, he felt for the shape of the soft and warm, and unmistakably touched a breast. A woman fallen in the fields. In the cloudy night with no light of the moon or stars, he reached out to learn more about her. She was alive by the warmth of her, and by the strong pulse at her throat, and not long outdoors, as her skin wasn’t completely chilled. He couldn’t leave her, so he scooped up her unconscious, naked form and headed for his workshop hidden in a copse of chestnut trees outside the walls of the town.
Once inside his small workshop, he stoked the fire under the cook pot. He rushed to cover her with his blanket and rubbed the hands and feet of the woman, something he’d seen the old midwife do to women who sometimes fainted in the fields. The woman breathed deeply, but remained asleep.
She was naked, curved in all the right places. Clearly well fed, luscious, but quite improperly dressed for a fall night, as if she’d been bathing and wandered off from her task.
Maybe she was under some spell that made her sleep. While he was a god-fearing man, and worshipped Mother Mary, he knew magic was in the land. He felt it when he worked the stone every day, but never talked about it.
The woman appeared calm, even peaceful as she slept. Definitely a woman, not a girl. Her long golden locks had come loose from her tie. She had rosy cheeks, pink lips, an angular nose, and a long column of a throat. Her chest rose and fell with even breaths.
What color were her eyes? He pulled the wool blanket up under her chin, and tucked it around her body to keep her warm. A tiny waist, a warm shapely rump, long legs, strong feet—he noticed all that as he chastely tucked the blanket around her. He’d noticed that her palms were strong, with callused, long fingers, almost as big as his. She must be a farmhand from a neighboring village, but he didn’t recognize her.
She was almost angelic in how she slept. His troubles forgotten, he made for his worktable on the other side of the one-room shed and picked up his chisel.
He’d found the inspiration he needed to start his work of art.
“Touchstone of Love” is in the collection, Gargoyle: Three Enchanting Romance Novellas. Amazon (international): http://viewbook.at/Gargoyle. More at: http://author.bethbarany.com/books/gargoyle-three-enchanting-romance-novellas/
*~*
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Award-winning author, Beth Barany has been making up fantasy and adventure stories all her life. She writes magical tales of romance and adventure for women and girls to transport them to new worlds where anything is possible. To learn more about Beth and her fiction, visit her site: http://author.bethbarany.com. On Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/beth_barany. On Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/bethbarany.
by Sarah | Oct 28, 2013 | Guest Authors, Top Ten Tuesday, Writing
I’m a movie buff. There’s something about the right combination of screenplay, direction, production, editing, and acting, that I just enjoy discovering. And when a movie is really good, I’ll watch it over and over. Sometimes I catch things I missed before, which is, to me, the mark of a great film. For the most part, I prefer classic movies, but newer ones grab me too. This is my top ten list of movies that are worth watching more than once.
10. [amazon_link id=”B001D8W7EK” target=”_blank” container=”” container_class=”” ]Notorious (1946)[/amazon_link]
Cary Grant and Ingrid Bergman give stellar performances as a US intelligence officer and a woman who’s asked to spy on a Nazi group in South America.
9. [amazon_link id=”B00008LDO3″ target=”_blank” container=”” container_class=”” ]The Ox-bow Incident (1943)[/amazon_link]
Dana Andrews and Henry Fonda star in this gripping study of vigilantism in the Old West and what sort of man would go along with it.
8. [amazon_link id=”079284615X” target=”_blank” container=”” container_class=”” ]Henry V (1989)[/amazon_link]
Kenneth Branagh wrote, directed, and starred in this adaptation of Shakespeare’s play. Standout performances by a cast that includes Emma Thompson, Judi Dench, and a young Christian Bale.
7. [amazon_link id=”B00005A06N” target=”_blank” container=”” container_class=”” ]Some Like it Hot (1959)[/amazon_link]
What do two male musicians who witness a gang slaying do to escape the killers? Disguise themselves as women and join an all female musical troupe, of course. Jack Lemmon, Tony Curtis, and Marilyn Monroe shine in this fun romp by Billy Wilder.
6. [amazon_link id=”B0012KPPP2″ target=”_blank” container=”” container_class=”” ]My Man Godfrey (1936)[/amazon_link]
Carole Lombard died too young. She’s perfect as the flighty Irene Bullock in this classic screwball comedy and a great foil to William Powell’s staid rich man turned forgotten man turned butler.
5. [amazon_link id=”B000J670ZI” target=”_blank” container=”” container_class=”” ]Bringing up Baby (1938)[/amazon_link]
Howard Hawks surely got his wish when he declared he wanted no normal characters in this film. Cary Grant and Katharine Hepburn always played well off each other, and this movie was no exception. Lots of fun, with some great one-liners.
4. [amazon_link id=”B00004RF97″ target=”_blank” container=”” container_class=”” ]The Philadelphia Story (1940)[/amazon_link]
Another fun Katharine Hepburn and Cary Grant film, this time with the added talents of James Stewart and Ruth Hussey. A socialite about to remarry finds her ex husband has returned, with some guests that make her rethink her priorities. Another movie with some great quips.
3. [amazon_link id=”B009L147EE” target=”_blank” container=”” container_class=”” ]The Best Years of our Lives (1946)[/amazon_link]
Three men return home from World War II to find their lives are unalterably changed, some for the good, some for the bad. Dana Andrews gives a great performance as a shell-shocked bomber pilot whose life and marriage are spinning out of control.
2. [amazon_link id=”B000ID37RM” target=”_blank” container=”” container_class=”” ]To Kill a Mockingbird (1962)[/amazon_link]
Gregory Peck is at his best as Atticus Finch in this tale of racism, poverty, and ignorance in the Depression Era South. Two moments choke me up every time: when Atticus is leaving the courtroom after the trial and when Scout meets Boo face to face.
1. [amazon_link id=”B0030MTXKS” target=”_blank” container=”” container_class=”” ]The Lion in Winter (1968)[/amazon_link]
It’s Christmas in Chinon, and that means intrigue, anger, jealousy, and back-stabbing in this adaptation of James Goldman’s play. Katharine Hepburn is great as the imprisoned Eleanor of Aquitaine, and she and Peter O’Toole as Henry II play off each other well. This film marks the screen debuts of Timothy Dalton and Anthony Hopkins.
*~*
North and South: Wild and Wanton Edition, by Brenna Chase and Elizabeth Gaskell
Blurb:
Margaret Hale’s life changes dramatically when her father quits his living as a parson in the idyllic New Forest in the South of England and moves the family to the northern industrial town of Milton, intending to become a private tutor. There, she is appalled at the poverty surrounding her and at first finds the local mill workers too rough, but soon she can’t help sympathizing with their plight.
John Thornton is a magistrate and owner of a prosperous cotton mill. Forced to become the head of the household at a young age and driven to keep his family from becoming impoverished again, he’s had no time for love. He certainly has no time for a lady who looks down on both him and the industry in which he earns his livelihood. Their beliefs lead them to inevitably clash, but their arguments over his treatment of his workers mask a deep attraction neither wants, and eventually, one that neither can deny.
Although it is labeled as a social novel, North and South simmers with sexual tension. Through the backdrop of a labor strike and a riot, through a possible murder and its fallout, through the deaths of loved ones, and the rise and fall of fortunes, the romance between John Thornton and Margaret Hale still entrances readers as it did when first published in 1855. In this updated version, read the steamy scenes that Ms. Gaskell, a minister’s wife, could not include in the original work, from John and Margaret’s first desperate, yet tender, lovemaking, to their sizzling reunion in London.
Sensuality Level: Sensual
Excerpt:
“… You will see Milton without smoke in a few days, I imagine, Miss Hale.” He turned his gaze to her as he spoke, and sure enough, little spots of colour formed on her cheeks. He leaned forward in his chair as he awaited her reply.
“But why,” asked she, “could you not explain what good reason you have for expecting a bad trade? I don’t know whether I use the right words, but you will understand what I mean.”
“Do you give your servants reasons for your expenditure, or your economy in the use of your own money? We, the owners of capital, have a right to choose what we will do with it.”
“A human right,” said Margaret, very low.
“I beg your pardon, I did not hear what you said.”
“I would rather not repeat it,” said she; “it related to a feeling which I do not think you would share.”
“Won’t you try me?” pleaded he; his thoughts suddenly bent upon learning what she had said. She was displeased with his pertinacity, but did not choose to affix too much importance to her words.
“I said you had a human right. I meant that there seemed no reason but religious ones, why you should not do what you like with your own.”
***
“Miss Hale, this is between my employees and me. I’ll thank you to remember that.”
Incensed, she rose and removed the dressing gown, thrusting it toward him. “I had better go. Thank you, Mr. Thornton.”
He stood as well. “It’s still raining.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Then I wish you good day, Miss Hale.”
But she made no move to gather her hat and shawl as she looked up at him. Instead, she found herself wanting to smooth the frown from his brow, and she tore her gaze away, unable to understand the feeling. She cleared her throat and glanced back at him. He was suddenly closer, and his expression had grown more intent, his eyes darting from hers to her lips and back again. Her pulse began to race again and heat flared in her stomach. “Mr. Thornton.”
“John,” he said, his voice a little deeper and more rough than usual. “My name is John.”
Before Margaret could reply, his hands cupped her face, and his lips brushed hers. Her eyes, which had drifted closed, opened wide and she stared at him, her tongue darting out to taste where he had kissed. Mr. Thornton released a harsh breath and his lips covered hers again, moving over them with slow, lingering caresses. Margaret was too astonished to push him away. She was further stunned to realise she did not want to. She liked this kiss: from the light tingling pressure of his mouth on hers, to the soft scrape of his stubble against her face. She liked it very much! Heady excitement rushed through her veins, warming her as it spread through her limbs, her body. She began to kiss him back, answering each ardent stroke of Mr. Thornton’s lips with one of her own as she sought more of the wonderful feelings.
by Sarah | Oct 27, 2013 | Books, Holiday, Tuesday Tales, Writing
The prompt this week is Sweet.
I’m finally back to Deep Fried Sweethearts, my wonderful little Valentine’s story.
Tag (age 21) was hired by Michaela (age 31) as her assistant manager. They both had little crushes on the other, and questioned their sanity working together…but it went really well. After a couple weeks a friendship formed, although Tag almost messed it up with a “crossed the line” flirty comment about being “hot for teacher.” He made his apologies, but didn’t get to say everything he wanted. After the Hockey Game from some time ago, Tag takes his chance…
The game had done everything Tag hoped it would, and more. Somehow, for one night, Kayla had relaxed, had fun, and even stooped to teasing him on multiple occasions. He couldn’t remember a thing about the game, his mind filled with images of her.
The sweet curve of her ass when she’d jumped up to cheer on a score, or even better, a fight, had left him unable to stand on a few occasions for all the ideas it gave him. The way her smile lit up her whole face warmed his heart. For once he’d seen the way she was before her world changed. Whatever had changed it was more than just Gary.
Although if all the stories he’d heard about Gary were true, he couldn’t blame her for being broken. Still, something in those gorgeous blue eyes echoed of a deeper pain.
A sharp whistle and the wave of her glove in his face shook him out of his reverie. “Owen, you in there?”
“Yeah, sorry. You were in there forever.”
“I know. It’s obscene. I was about to skip out of line and head into the men’s room. I forgot that’s the one reason I hate going to games. It’s worse now that I’m old enough to drink, and just older in general.”
“You’re not old.”
She snorted and zipped her coat, falling into step beside him on the walk back to his truck. “I’m ten years older than you. Trust me, I’m old.”
“That’s just a number. It doesn’t mean anything. I don’t know anyone that acts their age. Some behave like they’re far younger, some like they’re far older. Uncle Peter was fifteen years younger than Auntie-M. He still died when I was only six.” He shrugged. “Age doesn’t mean anything. It’s how we act that does.”
“I didn’t know you felt so strongly about that.” Her voice was barely a whisper, he’d almost not heard it over the cheers and whistles of the fans returning to their cars.
“Well, I do.” He glanced at her. “You never let me make my confession.”
“Confessions are overrated.”
“Too bad. I want you to hear it.”
“That’s the problem. Confession might be good for your soul. That doesn’t mean it is for mine, or that I want to hear it.” Her shoulders hunched until she couldn’t see her features past the collar of her coat. “The last confession I heard ended my marriage, and pretty much my life at the time. I don’t care for confessions.”
“Hey.” He caught her by the elbow and stopped her increasing pace. Once she’d finally turned to face him, he smiled. “This is nothing like that.”
“Are you sure?”
“Pretty sure.”
“If you’re telling me you’re quitting because I’m such a—”
“What? No.” Tag pulled her closer and caught her other elbow so she had to face him. “I am not about to quit on you. I like my job, and I like you. Probably more than I should.”
“I…What?” Whether she meant to or not, her hands wrapped around his forearms and held tight like she feared falling over.
“It’s terrible, you’re my boss. Kayla, I had a crush on you for years before you ever hired me. Getting to know you, the real you when you let me in. I don’t think it’s a crush any longer.”
“This isn’t nice.” She whispered. Tears glimmered at the edge of her eyes. When she blinked, several shimmered on her long lashes. “Don’t tease me like that.”
“I’m not teasing.” He released one of her elbows to brush aside a tear with his thumb. “That ‘hot for teacher’ line was crass and stupid. It also wasn’t entirely true. Yeah, I’m hot for teacher, but I’m more impressed with who you are.”
“You don’t—you can’t—I…” She took several deep breaths and her eyes fluttered closed. After a moment she let out a choked laugh. “I can’t even form a sentence.”
“You just did.” The breath he’d been holding released when she laughed in reply. “I’m sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have—”
“Eve and I used to call you jail bait.” In a good sign, she still hadn’t released her grip on his arm, and she hadn’t moved away. “I knew it was dangerous hiring you. I just didn’t realize that it was dangerous because of more than your looks. I think you’re a good guy. I honestly didn’t believe those existed.”
“I’m glad you see me that way. Is there a ‘but’ to that statement?”
“Let me count the ways.” She took a deep breath, and started talking fast. “I’m ten years older, I’m seriously messed up, I don’t trust anyone, not even my friends. I’m also not very good at relationships. Never was. Just because I was married means nothing, in fact it might have made me worse. And last, but not least, I am your boss and I can’t get sued for sexual harassment, I have no money.”
“Breathe, Kayla.” He released her other elbow and wrapped his arms fully around her. “First off, I told you age doesn’t matter. Second, I know you don’t trust easy, and I know you’re messed up. Third, no relationship is the same. Lastly, I am not going to sue you. If anything I was harassing you a little bit.”
“So you were flirting with me? All this time?”
“You bet your sweet little ass I was.”
“This could be a really huge mistake, Owen. I don’t know that I can handle any more of those in my life.” Her lips drew together in a small ‘O’ and she blew out a long breath.
“It could be, but how about this? It’s not a relationship. We’ll just take it a day at a time and see where it goes. If it doesn’t work, it doesn’t.”
“I’m really messed up, so much more than you know. You’ve got so much ahead of you, you shouldn’t be thinking about trying anything with someone so jaded.”
“Maybe I like that you’re jaded.”
Her forehead puckered. “Then you’re messed up.”
“So we’ll be messed up together.” He was rewarded with the sweet sound of her laugh. With one finger hooked under her chin, he tilted her head up. “We’ll try. All I ask is if you have a problem, tell me—and give me the benefit of the doubt.”
“I’ll promise to try.”
“I’ll take it for now.” He bent toward her, close enough to hear her sharp intake of breath when he got close to her lips. A smile took over in the instant before he pulled her into a slow, soft kiss.
Her lips were soft and inviting, drawing him after only a moments hesitation. The sweet taste of cotton candy lingered, and he brushed his tongue across the seam of her lips. Her small gasp granted him the chance he wanted and he swept his tongue through her warm mouth.
The cold chill of the evening was replaced with growing warmth as her arms wrapped around him and she relaxed against his body. Her every response to his kiss was tentative, and he tried to keep himself in check, even as each simple brush of her tongue against his drove him crazy with need.
He retreated slowly from the sweet taste of cotton candy and strawberries that was her kiss and pressed his forehead to hers. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.”
“The feeling’s mutual.”
“What else have you wanted to do?” Once again he was rewarded with the deep hues of a blush. “God, you’re gorgeous when you blush.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes you are. Why do you think I try to make it happen so much?”
She bit her lips and shook her head.
“At least now I know I’m not the only one with fantasies.”
*~*
Hope you enjoyed it! Click on the Tuesday Tales badge to see more excellent entries!!
*~*
by Sarah | Oct 26, 2013 | Books, Publishing Credits, Secret Cravings Publishing, WeWriWa, Writing
Welcome back to the Weekend Writing Warriors!
I’m still keeping you all intrigued with the beginning of the series [amazon_link id=”B00BEMN5SC” target=”_blank” container=”” container_class=”” ]Changing Tracks (The Dominion Falls Series book 1)[/amazon_link].
I’m continuing directly after last week where Cole admitted to Jane that he didn’t know how to do anything close to a relationship, Jane thinks the conversation is over, but it’s not quite yet:
“Whores are all I know.”
“Somehow I doubt that, but I’ll take it for now.” She tried to step out of his embrace, but he held her firm, “Yes?”
“You’re complicating things.” His voice held a gruff note, “I’m used to simple.”
Jane laughed; it only took a gentle tug to pull herself free and spin around, “I thought you liked a challenge.”
“I thought I did too,” Cole’s lips drew up into a wicked grin, “You and your damn words are making me think I could do without.”
“You’d be so bored.”
*Creative editing was used, I admit it…:D
*~*
Did you like this sample, too? You can pick up the whole series now!!
*~*
*~*
*~*
Head back on over to the Weekend Writing Warriors to read many more wonderful offerings!
by Sarah | Oct 26, 2013 | Book Spotlight, Guest Authors, Saturday Spotlight, Writing
| [amazon_link id=”B00EZWT8XY” target=”_blank” container=”” container_class=”” ]Amazon[/amazon_link] |
FIGHT CARD ROMANCE: LADIES NIGHT
L.A. 1954 … gangsters, crime, young love and – murder.
Boxing hopeful, Jimmy Doherty’s in the fight of his life to save his bride, Lindy, from a murder rap before both of them wind up on a slab.
*~*
MY FAVORITE EXCERPT FROM “LADIES NIGHT” IS: when Lindy, the young bride of the boxing hopeful, Jimmy Doherty, arrested for the murder of another boxer, is placed in a jail cell where she meets two “pro-skirts” – prostitutes.
Lindy turned and strained to see into the shadows of the cells further away from hers, toward the laughter. She thought she was alone in the large depressing room.
The voice came again. “Keep you pants on, Bertha May. Don’t mean no harm.”
“Well, watch yourself,” Bertha May said, turning around to stalk back to her post. A moment later, she got up from her chair and left the cell block.
Lindy continued to stare in the direction the voice had come from. “Hello. Who’s there?”
“Hey, chicky, it’s me.”
Two cells across and down from Lindy’s, a woman’s hands appeared through the bars. “Saw you come in today. Guess they pinched you, too.”
“Pinched?” Lindy said confused.
“Yeah, you know. Got snatched up by the heat, put the screws to, given a vacation in the big-house.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“You was arrested, right?”
“Yes,” Lindy said hanging her head until it banged against the hard steel bars.
“So whatcha do? They catch you wearing iron tryin’ to pop one of your johns.”
Another female voice chimed in, “No, Daisy. Miss Priss ain’t never been a night-lady like us.”
The first woman turned around to look behind her at someone else in her cell. “That right, Louella?”
The second woman, who must have been laying down on one of the cots, stood and glanced across the aisle at Lindy through the gloom. “Cain’t you see just by lookin’ at her she ain’t no pro-skirt. That’s a right fine dress she’s a wearing. Classy. Not like you and me. Ain’t that right, honey?”
“No. I’m not a …” Lindy waved her hands looking for the appropriate word.
“It’s all right, honey. We know who we are and what we do. It ain’t no crime.” She and her companion burst out laughing. “Well, I guess it is a crime.”
“That is unless the chief and the squad boys want some.” Both women guffawed.
“Done that one a time or two,” Louella said.
Lindy recognized the women now. They were the two pro-skirts, ladies-of-ill-repute, who were sitting in the waiting area.
Louella, a Negro woman, was dressed much like her companion – short, tight skirt, overly stretched-sweater pulled low exposing most of what the good lord blessed them with. They’d teased their hair up into the mile-high beehives – Daisy’s, fire engine red and Louella’s, an unnatural midnight black.
Even in the dark, Lindy could see their make-up hadn’t survived the day. Most of it had floated south on their faces like a slow-moving river making them look like sad circus clowns. Daisy especially. Or had she been crying?
“So, if you ain’t one of us, who’d you mug or rub out?” Daisy said.
“I was arrested for the murder of Rocko Russo, the fighter.”
“Ain’t no way,” Louella said. “You tellin’ the truth?”
“Yes. Rocko’s dead. But I didn’t kill him.”
“Of course not, honey,” Louella said. “A little thing like you couldn’a hurt a fly let alone that horrible monster. That big brute had some mean muscle on him, went all the way to the bone all right.”
“And a terrible mean fist,” Daisy said, sadness on her make-up smeared face.
Lindy was afraid to ask. She could only guess how they were acquainted with Rocko and she hurt for them.
“So, DeLuca, he’s the one that nabbed you?” Louella said, threading her arms through the bars. “He’s a looker, that one. Um-mmm. That’s right. Mighty fine.”
“You ever do him?” Daisy turned to Louella.
“Nah. He’s a saint. Waiting on Miss Right an all.”
“Say, chickie.” Daisy turned to Lindy. “You and DeLuca …” Daisy winked.
“What?” Lindy felt the blood drain from her head. “Absolutely not. I’m married.”
“That right?” Louella perked up. “Who’s the lucky man?”
Lindy smiled for the first time in many hours. “He’s a boxer and such a wonderful, handsome man.”
“You don’t say? What’s his name? Maybe I know him.” Her smile was sly.
Lindy hoped she was teasing. “Jimmy Doherty. Won his first bout last Friday night.”
Louella shook her head. “Remember, Daisy. We was with Rocko till nearly midnight after his fight before he ditched us and took off.”
There was a deep sorrow etched on Daisy’s face and for the first time, Lindy saw the remnants of what looked like a mouse under Daisy’s eye. “Oh, yeah. I remember.”
Louella broke the somber mood that fell over the cellblock. “So what now, honey? You just coolin’ your heels in stir with us here big-time mama’s?”
Louella shook her dark head and hooted a bawdy laugh. “That just don’t seem right, a pretty little thing like you accused of murderin’ that no good, dirty snake. Not right at all. DeLuca’ll find out the truth. Yes, sir. Ain’t right. At least that bugger ain’t goin’ hurt us no more.”
What had Rocko done to these two women? Lindy could only imagine and she didn’t like what she thought. She couldn’t understand how women like Daisy and Louella could shame themselves and take up the oldest profession. She wished she could help them, take away their troubles and removed them from the filthy, self-degrading way they had to make a living. But what could she do?
*~*
AUTHOR BIO:
Carol Malone successfully combines her three passions – writing, sports, and romance to become the very first woman to climb into the boxing ring of a male-dominated series called Fight Card. Think Rocky meets The Untouchables, Carol’s written a mash-up of happily ever after with kick-in-the-pants, fist-pounding action.
If not hammering out new tales to entice her readers to scramble into a front row seat for thrilling tales of physical endurance and tender passion, Carol’s reading, watching sports on TV, or hanging with her end-of-the-world author husband on the cool coast of California. To talk sports and amour, and learn about Carol’s latest book releases, visit Carol on her website: www.carolmalone.net.
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