Monday, September 18, 2017

TUESDAY TALES - "CRUSH"


Howdy! Welcome. This week the word prompt is "crush." I am posting another, unedited excerpt from Skip Quincy, Shortstop -- a new book in the Bottom of the Ninth series. 
A little background...
In this excerpt, the New York Nighthawks are getting ready to meet the Washington Wolverines in the best of five playoff series. They've just finished their workout and are chowing down before the game. This scene takes place in the dining room. 


*************

Sweat soaked Skip’s T-shirt. He stopped to down a bottle of water, then got on the bike for some cardio. Feeling his body perform, work, stretch, grow stronger stoked his fires. Each session readied him more and more for the contest with the Washington, D.C., Wolverines. Play-offs were next week. He’d be ready, as always.


The men took a break. There was a buffet spread for lunch in their dining room. Bobby got behind Skip in line.
“What happened to that Banner chick? You didn’t bring her last night.”
“Right. I’m taking her out tonight.”
“Big night?” Bobby nudged him in the ribs and wiggled his eyebrows.
“None of your beeswax, jerkoff.”
“Just thinkin’ it might be nice if you got a little, for a change.”
“I’m gettin’ plenty.”
“Yeah? From who?” Bobby picked up a plate.
“None of your damn business.”
“Not from Francie?” Bobby’s voice rose.
“No way. She’s like my little sister.” Skip speared a piece of ham and put it on his dish.
“Good. Leave her alone.”
“Says you?”
“Yeah. She’s too nice for you.”
“Fuck off. I’ll go out with whoever I want.”
“She’s get enough problems, without you messing up her head with your dick.”
“That’s weird, buddy. Very weird.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Okay, okay. But if she wants me, who am I to say ‘no’?”
“Don’t flatter yourself, asshole.”
“She was comin’ on pretty strong last night.”
“School girl crush.”
“She may be goin’ to school, but she’s no schoolgirl.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Hell, she’s twenty-six.”
“So?”
“Back off, Bobby. She’s a big girl. She can take care of herself.”
“As long as you stay away from her brother, I’m good.”
“It’s none of your business.”
The two men had filled their plates to overflowing with ham, roast beef, baked potatoes, brussel sprouts and salad. They took their places at the table.
“If you think I’m such a bad guy, why don’t you sit somewhere else?” Skip scowled at his friend.
“I don’t think you’re a bad guy. But Francie is Elena’s best friend.”
“Hey, I’m not about to hurt her. She’s fun. We have a good time, kidding around and stuff.”
“She flirts with you.”

“So do a lot of women. Doesn’t mean anything,” Skip said, slicing his meat. 


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Monday, September 11, 2017

TUESDAY TALES - PICTURE PROMPT - SKIP QUINCY, SHORTSTOP

      

It's picture prompt week! I'm only allowed 300 words. Here's the pic I selected. We're back with Skip Quincy, Shortstop for the NY Nighthawks', again this week. 



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Walking down Fifth Avenue, Skip stopped in front of a fancy-schmancy ice cream parlor. Looking in, he saw pink walls and wrought iron chairs. They looked uncomfortable. In the window was a giant banana split. He licked his lips. Memories of trying to eat one on his birthday popped into his head. The sundae had been bigger than he had been.

    His father had pledged to help him finish and the two dug into the sweet confection with enthusiasm. Of course, Skip, only nine, crapped out first. His father polished off the rest, then groaned and rubbed his stomach all the way home.

   Sadness at their passing fluttered through his heart. They had been the  most wonderful parents. Of course, he realized that the nostalgia of looking back at them probably colored his memory some. Still, compared to the couple who adopted him, his birth parents were royalty.

   He stared at the ice cream, longing springing up in him. He turned and continued his stroll, denying himself the huge treat. Hell, he had playoff games in a couple of weeks. He couldn’t be loading his trim body down with all those wasted calories. Still it called to him.

   He promised himself he’d come back off season and down one of those – in his father’s honor. After checking his watch, he turned around to head for home. This had simply been another way to exercise. With all the interesting shop windows, he didn’t even notice how far he’d walked.

   On the way back, he stopped in the ice cream shop and had one scoop in a sugar cone, in honor of his dad. Mint chip had been his father’s favorite and Skip’s, too. He slurped on the cone all the way to the subway, finishing it just before the train arrived.

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Monday, September 4, 2017

TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT "BONE" - SKIP QUINCY, SHORT STOP

This week, we start a new story. I'll be sharing some of my next baseball romance book, "Skip Quincy, Short Stop". Here's the beginning of the first chapter. 
Thanks for coming. Scroll down for the link back to Tuesday Tales and some great stories!


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It was too cold, on a particular September night, to be running around naked on a baseball diamond. With a towel tucked around his waist, Skip Quincy, ace shortstop for the New York Nighthawks, padded barefoot out to the field. Since there was no game, the stadium was dark. Mimi Banner, photographer, had bright lights set up on the grass.
Skip gripped the towel with both hands, keeping it in place. Too cold to worry about popping a boner in front of this lady.   
“How many women have you slept with, Skip?” Mimi asked, as she examined her camera.
“I don’t know. Enough.”
“Then being naked in front of me shouldn’t be a problem.”
“I’ve never posed for pictures. You’re not gonna take a picture of my dick, are you?”
“Nope. Art becomes porn if I’m not careful.”
“What are you going to do with these?”
“Exhibit them. In a gallery.”
“Why me?”
“I told you. Your body has just the shape I’m looking for.”
“What about the rest of the team?”
“I took their photos for Nelson Hingus. He’s paying me a mint. Those portraits are going to hang in the stadium.”
“I mean what about some of them, uh, naked?”
“Nope. You’re the only one who’s got what I’m looking for.”
Ordinarily, those words would be music to his ears, and he’d move right in on her. But not this time. He shook his head. “Let’s get this over with. It’s damn cold out here.”
“Don’t worry. I told you I’m not shooting your, uh, private parts. Let’s get started.”
He stepped in front of the lights and dropped his towel. “Did Rowley know you did this? Take shots of naked men?”
 “I didn’t do it when he was alive. He’d have killed me.”
“Can’t blame him. Where should I stand?”
Mimi instructed him, then adjusted the lights, looked through her lens, readjusted the lights and took a couple of shots. He diverted himself by memorizing her body. His gaze scanned her curves again, and again, settling in the most inappropriate places when she wasn’t looking. Finally, the chill wind got to him.
“Got enough? I’m freezing.”
“I know. It’s showing.”
“Hey, nothing I can do about that. Besides you said my dick was off limits.”
“Not that, your skin, your arms, belly. Goosebumps are visible.”
“That means we quit?”
She nodded. “I guess so. Can we do this again?”
“Nope,” he said, heading back to the locker room.
“Okay, okay. You’ve been pretty good about it.”
“Damn right. Now how about I take you to dinner Saturday?”
“Okay.” Her lips formed a half-smile.
“Well, don’t fall all over yourself with enthusiasm.”
She laid her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry. I haven’t been dating since Rowley passed.”
He shrugged his shirt over his impressive shoulders and hugged her. “I’m sorry. Of course. If it’s too soon…”
“It isn’t. Everybody’s been telling me I need to get back up on the horse,” she said, then stopped, blushing. “I mean start dating again.”

“And I’m just the horse for you.” He shot her a grin. 


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Monday, August 28, 2017

TUESDAY TALES - BEAN - "BREAK MY HEART"



Welcome! This week the word prompt is "bean". Since the book will be published in a few weeks, we have the last installment of "Break My Heart." Scroll down to return to Tuesday Tales and read all the amazing stories there. Thank you for stopping by. 


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Dani leaned down to kiss him through the open window of the limousine. Her brow furrowed and a frown drew the corners of her mouth down.
“Don’t worry. Everything’s good.”
“We’ll see,” she said, stepping back. “Safe trip.”
“I’ll be back in a couple of days.”
She nodded as the driver put the car in gear and eased out of the driveway. Rick settled back. His mind raced. He had so many things to do in a few days. Federico had created a three-thousand dollar, Italian suit after Rick swore his measurements hadn’t changed.
As the car drew closer to the city, his anxiety intensified. Sure, he looked better, a whole lot better –normal, in fact. Except for that little cheek scar. But did he still have the drop dead gorgeous looks from his past? He doubted it. Not that he’d even considered modeling again, but how would he look on television during the interviews? Makeup was a wonderful thing. He rubbed his cheek, baby-butt smooth from his careful shave. Would he ever have again that sexy scruff women wanted?
With a slight shake of his head, he remembered that he had the best woman in the world and was not in need of another. There couldn’t be another woman like Dr. Dani Henderson. A smile brightened his face. He’d won her, and looking bad, too. So it wasn’t just his looks, although she tended to go on a bit about his body. His grin turned to a snicker. She was one hot chick.

As he neared the city, his stomach flipped. His confidence of days past had flown. Maybe Breaker Winslow was truly dead, leaving only the insecure Rick in his wake. He tried to muster the swagger of his alterego. Breaker assumed every woman wanted to sleep with him and every man wanted to be him, which wasn’t far from the truth. He’d played the part of a celebrity, Mr. Cool, with ease. It fit him like one of Federico’s custom suits. But what about now? Was it just like riding a bike? Would it come back to him after two years away? 
He chuckled. Like a magic bean, the selfish, vain model still lived inside Rick and could be called upon at any moment. An interview on national television was the perfect setting for the resurrection of Breaker Winslow, sexiest man alive. 
If he played it well, smooth and sophisticated, perhaps something might come from this performance? Did he want to return to his old world? No one was asking him to, so why decide now? But he didn't, did he?   


Watch here and on Fb for news of the publication of "Break My Heart." Thank you for coming and following Rick's story. 
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Monday, August 14, 2017

TUESDAY TALES - PICTURE PROMPT "BREAK MY HEART"




Welcome to picture prompt week! We continue with "Break My Heart" and Rick's turn at the kissing booth. Only 300 words are allowed!
Scroll down to return to Tuesday Tales and the great writers there. Thank you for coming.

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By now, he’d downed five bottles of water and his lips had begun to tingle. Bracing himself on the counter, he shifted his weight to his hands. He still had fans, dozens of fans. Who would have thunk it? All he wanted was to belly up to the local bar and throw back a couple of martinis, even wine would do the trick.  
“Say, buddy. You still in business?” asked a gruff, female voice. His head snapped up and a smile spread across his face.
“It’s about time, Dani. Where the Hell have you been?”  
“Pucker up, Buster.” She waved twenty-five tickets back and forth.
“Still got a little energy left?” She shot him a flirty look.
“You, my dear, are the fuel that makes the engine run. Come here,” he said, grabbing her shoulders. He jerked her toward him and they locked lips. Heat flowed through his veins. The longer he kissed her, the more blood pumped to his dick. Fortunately, the counter was waist high. He didn’t give a damn. He was going to kiss Dr. Dani until she knew she’d been kissed.

“Hey, lady. Save some for us!” Came the cry from the crowd lined up behind her. Rick barely heard the words over the pounding of his heart. Her fingers closed around his biceps. He swiped his tongue over her lips and she opened for him. He deepened the kiss, his fingers twining in her long hair.
“That’s more than twenty-five tickets worth,” some woman piped up.
Rick released her. “I agree.” She fell back a step, grasping his hand to steady her.
He eased her hair off her face. She trained her beautiful blues on him, her mouth slightly puffy, her lips still open a bit. He cupped her cheek, gave her one final, tender kiss.

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Monday, August 7, 2017

TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT "BUSINESS"




Welcome! This week the word prompt is "business". We are back with "Break My Heart" and at the carnival with Rick and Amber, as the kissing booth opens. 
Scroll down to return to Tuesday Tales and the fine authors there. Thanks for coming.

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Rick ignored the growing lump in his stomach and wandered through the carnival. Lured by the smell of hot oil and sugar, he bought a funnel cake. The nostalgic sounds of tinny music joined perfectly with the smell of onions sautéing and cotton candy returning him to his youth. He ambled along to the impressive 4H projects, including the biggest rabbits he’d ever seen. He finished his tour with his favorite carnival treat, a caramel apple. He munched as he returned to his booth. Checking his watch, he barely had time for a trip to the men’s room.
With breath freshened, hair combed he manned the booth. Amber was already there.
“Hi, I’m Amber. You’re Breaker, right?”
“Rick, to my friends.”
They shook hands.
“Ever do this before?” He asked.
“Every year. My dumb-ass sister volunteers me then blackmails me into agreeing.”
“You, too? I’m here under duress, too.”
She shot him a quizzical look.
“Against my will,” he explained.
“Oh, yeah.” She nodded.
“Any tips, secrets or anything?”
“Yeah, make it fast if someone’s got bad breath. And don’t let the old men touch you. Once they get their hands on your arm, they think that gives them free rein, you know?”
“I’m not exactly worried about that.”
“Aren’t you going to take your shirt off?” She asked.
“That wasn’t part of the deal. I thought this would work,” he said, referring to his skimpy tank top.
“It’s fine. But bare is better.”
He eyed her. “You’re buttoned all the way up. No cleavage?”
She shook her head. “These dirty old men don’t need encouragement. Last year my husband had to flatten one guy who kept getting ‘handy’.”
“Where is he?” Rick glanced around.
“By the men’s room. He stands nearby and any guy who gets touchy-feely, well, he takes care of him.”
“What about women?”
“I don’t think he’d hit a woman,” she chuckled. “You’re on your own.”
He smiled, but dread of having no takers grew in his belly.
“Here’s a box for the tickets. Don’t forget to take ‘em. Otherwise the ladies will just get back in line.”
“Are you numb afterward?”
“Yeah. My mouth, my lips. I don’t want to kiss my honey for at least half an hour afterward.”
“He’s a patient man,” Rick replied.
“Are you kidding? He’s a saint!”
At the sound of a throat clearing, Rick turned away from Amber and almost lost his footing. He again checked his watch. Eleven ten and there must have been a line of ten women in front of his booth.
“Pucker up, Mr. Winslow,” said the roly-poly woman with a baby in her arms.
His heart swelled.
“Sweetheart, call me Breaker.”
She plunked down five tickets. He put them in the box and closed his hands over her shoulders. “Come here, you luscious thing,” he said, bending down to kiss her. After one kiss, she giggled so hard he had to wait to plant the second one. Then he did the other three in quick succession, leaving her breathless.
“There you go, the Fire Department thanks you.”
The next woman stepped up. A blonde in her early twenties, he guessed. Nice rack, too. She put two tickets on the counter, herhand trembling. He slid the tickets away, then took her hand in both of his.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart. This won’t hurt a bit.”
She laughed, then leaned in as he bent down.
He couldn’t believe how many women clamored to touch his lips. Tall, short, chubby, thin and downright obese –they all waited patiently for their turn. Most had anywhere from one to five tickets.

The first hour passed in a flash. The shyness and giggles of the women charmed him. He’d never believed how many knew who he was and wanted to kiss him. They simply kept coming, minute after minute, hour after hour, until four o’clock. The business of kissing was thriving.

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Monday, July 31, 2017

TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT "BOX" #romance #shortstory #kissingbooth



Welcome! We've got another episode of "Break My Heart" this week. Scroll down for the link back to Tuesday Tales. Don't miss the great authors' works there. 
Thanks for coming. 

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He spied Drew, Mindy’s husband, struggling with a wooden structure. One glance at the front, which sported a pair of bright red painted lips and many hearts on a white background. He ground his teeth. That must be the kissing booth his cousin-in-law was assembling. Rick ambled over.
“Need a hand?” He asked, hands in his pockets, smug smile on his face.
“Sure do. Would you mind?”
“Yes, I would. Go ahead. Sweat yourself into a coma. Your wife got both of us into this. Now you can feel the pain, just as I’m going to,” Rick hissed.
“Hey, look! I told her this was a mistake. I told her you’d be pissed as Hell.”
“And what did she say?” Rick arched an eyebrow.
“She laughed,” Drew said, mopping his face with a handkerchief and not meeting Rick’s gaze.
“Sounds about right.”
Rick patted Drew on the shoulder. “What do you need me to do?”
“How about getting me some water?”
“That’s easy. Be right back.”
Rick located a vendor with a giant cooler. He bought three bottles and returned to his booth.
“There you go. It’s set up. There are a couple of chairs around here somewhere,” Drew said, looking around. “There they are.” He retrieved them from behind a tree.
 Rick straddled a chair backwards and opened his water.
“You got one hot chick in here with you. Ohh, man. That Amber Walker. She’s like Miss America,” Drew said, gesturing to his chest with cupped hands.
“But she’s married, right?”
“Yeah. And her husband’s a bruiser with no sense of humor.”
“I’ll keep my distance.”
“I’m bettin’ you’ll have plenty of women to keep you busy,” Drew snickered, before taking a long drag on the water bottle.
Rick didn’t know which he dreaded more, having a lot of women wanting to kiss him or having none.
“We’ll see,” he said, shrugging. His fear oHe spied Drew, Mindy’s husband, struggling with a wooden structure. One glance at the front, which sported a pair of bright red painted lips and many hearts on a white background. He ground his teeth. That must be the kissing booth his cousin-in-law was assembling. Rick ambled over.
“Need a hand?” He asked, hands in his pockets, smug smile on his face.
“Sure do. Would you mind?”
“Yes, I would. Go ahead. Sweat yourself into a coma. Your wife got both of us into this. Now you can feel the pain, just as I’m going to,” Rick hissed.
“Hey, look! I told her this was a mistake. I told her you’d be pissed as Hell.”
“And what did she say?” Rick arched an eyebrow.
“She laughed,” Drew said, mopping his face with a handkerchief and not meeting Rick’s gaze.
“Sounds about right.”
Rick patted Drew on the shoulder. “What do you need me to do?”
“How about getting me some water?”
“That’s easy. Be right back.”
Rick located a vendor with a giant cooler. He bought three bottles and returned to his booth.
“There you go. It’s set up. There are a couple of chairs around here somewhere,” Drew said, looking around. “There they are.” He retrieved them from behind a tree.
 Rick straddled a chair backwards and opened his water.
“You got one hot chick in here with you. Ohh, man. That Amber Walker. She’s like Miss America,” Drew said, gesturing to his chest with cupped hands.
“But she’s married, right?”
“Yeah. And her husband’s a bruiser with no sense of humor.”
“I’ll keep my distance.”
“I’m bettin’ you’ll have plenty of women to keep you busy,” Drew snickered, before taking a long drag on the water bottle.
Rick didn’t know which he dreaded more, having a lot of women wanting to kiss him or having none.
“We’ll see,” he said, shrugging. His fear of having no one in line shivered through him.
“Are you kiddin’? Your booth will be the busiest.”
“Are you going to buy a ticket for Amber?” Rick turned a harsh eye on him.
“Are you kidding? I like living. Mindy’d skin me alive.”
Rick laughed. “Pussy-whipped.”
“She’s the finest babe in three counties. I may be dense sometimes, but I’m not stupid.” He shook his head.
Together the men straightened the old-fashioned sign and dusted off the booth. They place the chairs in position. It was ten thirty.
“I’m gonna take a look around.”
“Yeah, I know. Get your courage up,” Drew snickered, placing a box for tickets on the booth’s counter.  
Rick ignored the growing lump in his stomach and wandered through the carnival. Lured by the smell of hot oil and sugar, he bought a funnel cake. The nostalgic sounds of tinny music joined perfectly with the smell of onions sautéing and cotton candy returning him to his youth. He ambled along to the impressive 4H projects, including the biggest rabbits he’d ever seen. He finished his tour with his favorite carnival treat, a caramel apple. He munched as he returned to his booth. Checking his watch, he barely had time for a trip to the men’s room.f having no one in line shivered through him.
“Are you kiddin’? Your booth will be the busiest.”
“Are you going to buy a ticket for Amber?” Rick turned a harsh eye on him.
“Are you kidding? I like living. Mindy’d skin me alive.”
Rick laughed. “Pussy-whipped.”
“She’s the finest babe in three counties. I may be dense sometimes, but I’m not stupid.” He shook his head.
Together the men straightened the old-fashioned sign and dusted off the booth. They place the chairs in position. It was ten thirty.
“I’m gonna take a look around.”
“Yeah, I know. Get your courage up,” Drew snickered, placing a box for tickets on the booth’s counter.  

Rick ignored the growing lump in his stomach and wandered through the carnival. Lured by the smell of hot oil and sugar, he bought a funnel cake. The nostalgic sounds of tinny music joined perfectly with the smell of onions sautéing and cotton candy returning him to his youth. He ambled along to the impressive 4H projects, including the biggest rabbits he’d ever seen. He finished his tour with his favorite carnival treat, a caramel apple. He munched as he returned to his booth. Checking his watch, he barely had time for a trip to the men’s room.