TRUE-TO-LIFE FOOTBALL ACTION! IS THIS REAL NFL OR GRIFF MONTGOMERY, QUARTERBACK? #NFL #QUARTERBACK

Here's the scenario:

 The ground was soft and slippery from the rain three days earlier. He hated playing in muddy conditions, but it was part of the game. He won the toss and elected to kick off now and receive in the second half. He paced and watched from the area around the bench.

They were playing the Delaware Demons, and he wanted to see if he could learn anything from their quarterback, Mark Davis. Davis was good. He had won the Super Bowl in his rookie year.

The Kings defense was in top form, and Griff was on the field before long. He called the first play. Buddy got free, and Griff threw a bullet right to his favorite receiver, who caught it and took it for a fifteen yard gain and a first down.

The next play, the Kings’ offensive line screwed up. Griff ran a few yards then had to slide to avoid a tackle. A fumble recovered by the Demons meant a turnover, and the Kings lost the ball. Davis came back with a long pass that enabled them to score.

The Kings bounced back with impressive blocking from the offensive line. Griff completed a pass to Homer Calloway, who ran it in for a touchdown. The score seesawed back and forth. It was tied then the Demons inched ahead with a field goal. Griff and the Kings leapfrogged over that score with a touchdown.

It was close at half time. Coach Bass tried to buck up the men in the locker room, as the Kings were behind by three. When they got back on the field, they redoubled their efforts and squeaked ahead. The defense fought to hold the Demons back, but they eked out a field goal to tie the game.

A rough tackle sent Homer to the showers. The pressure was on Griff. One more field goal for the Demons meant that only a touchdown could win the game. Griff nodded. It was a signal that indicated the quarterback was about to fake to another receiver and shoot the pass out to Buddy.

It's GRIFF MONTGOMERY, QUARTERBACK. But it could be real life football. This book has such realistic scenes you'll think you're reading about a current NFL team, not a fictional one. Football + romance = a great reading experience!

To find out how this scene ends, you'll have to buy the book. Now available in ebook, paperback, and audio, too!)

Two people, two tragedies, two deep, devastating secrets….  Griff Montgomery is the headline-making, heart-breaking star quarterback of the Kings – a  6’4”, 33 year old womanizer. Lauren Farraday is a beautiful young interior designer, bitterly scarred by divorce, whose life is falling apart. Though they violently oppose one another in court over her beloved pug (she thinks he’s arrogant and  conceited, and he thinks she’s a bitch on wheels), something happens....

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AMAZON PAPERBACK

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Tuesday Tales - Purple - #NFL, #football #romance

Welcome! The word prompt this week is "purple". I continue with Trunk and Carla's story from "Overtime" -- last book in the First & Ten Series. 

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“You know what they said, Ma?” Carla repeated the story her siblings told. Then she laughed. “What? What does he owe?” There was a moment of silence as Carla listened to her mother. “How much? Figures.”

She took off her purple apron and hung it on the hook on the wall, glanced up at Trunk and threw him a smile.

“Thanks, Ma. I knew you’d understand. Have a great time in Florida. Did you get my letter? Yeah. As Pop would say, don’t spend it all in one place.”

Carla hung up the phone. She leaned back and rested her feet on another stool.

“So? Don’t keep me hangin’ here.”

“Ma’s fine. In fact, she’s going on vacation, driving to Florida with my dad. They’ll be gone for two weeks. With most of the kids out of the house, they saved a little money.”

“On vacation? Doesn’t sound like she’s dying.”

Carla took his hand. “She’s fine. I sent her fifty bucks. She’s keeping that to get a mani-pedi or her hair done. I send her a little money from time to time. Whenever I can spare it.”

“You never told me that.”

She shrugged. “It never came up.”

“So what’s your brother’s problem?”

“He lost some money gambling and his wife’s gonna kill him. Gina wants new clothes. Thought they’d take a ride over here and shake me down.”

Trunk laughed as he shook his head. “Relatives.”

“Yeah.  Ma knows about our wedding. She was sad for a bit, but said she understood.”

“You had a rough time growing up?”

“It wasn’t exactly a piece of cake. Ma’s always felt bad so much landed on me. So she cuts me a lot more slack than she does the others.”

“Can I give you some money to send to her?”

“It’s not necessary.”

“Maybe we could bring them here for Christmas or something?”

“They’d like that.” She grinned. “Once I told Ma what kind of man I was marrying, she got that I didn’t want to wait. Some other girl might take you away.”

Trunk lifted his wife into his lap. “No other woman in the world could take me away. You’re the best, baby.”

“Goes double for you, big guy.” 

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TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT "HUG" - FROM THE BOOK-TO-COME "OVERTIME"

“Al Mahoney here, are you two from the Herald?”

“Nope. I’m Mario Ricci and this is Gina. We’re Carla’s brother and sister,” he said, shaking Trunk’s hand.

“Relatives? Great! Welcome. Sit down. Can I get you something to drink?”

Carla shot him a hostile glance and shook her head. “They’re not staying.”

“How inhospitable of you, dear sister,” Mario sneered.  “I’ll have a beer. What have you got on tap?” He took the seat next to Gina.

“I’ll have a Margarita,” Gina said. “And don’t be stingy with the tequila.”

Carla put her hand on Trunk’s forearm. “I said they’re not staying.” She shot a warning glance at her husband and then turned hostile eyes on her brother. “What do you want?”

“Why do you think we want something?”

“Because that’s the only time you come around.”

“Don’t be bitter.”

“Really? You’ve got some nerve, Mario.”

“Oh, you mean that little incident with the car?”

“Leaving me stranded in the middle of nowhere, by myself at midnight with a broken down car? Yeah, that, for starters.”

“So you have a list of grievances?”

“Enough to fill a roll of toilet paper.”

Trunk’s eyebrows shot up.

“What the fuck?” Gina said, swiveling to face her sister. “What’s your problem? You got out. Got your own business. Looks like you’re doing great.”

“I am. But it wasn’t easy. And when I needed help? Where were you? Nowhere to be found. You didn’t give a shit about me, why should I care about you?”

“Because we’re family.”

Carla opened a bottle of water. “Family? Who changed your diapers? I did. Who walked you to school? I did. Who picked you up? I did. Who helped with your homework, chased the bullies away, braided your hair and taught you how to dance? Huh? Huh? I did. And when I needed five hundred bucks to make it through the winter? Where were you? Off on some fucking vacation in Puerto Rico.”  She hugged herself.

“I didn’t have any money, Carla,” Gina said, her tone whiny.

“Really? Enough to buy new clothes and take a big trip.”

Gina picked at a cuticle.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought. It got pretty cold in here when I couldn’t afford oil for heat.”

“You have a fireplace,” Mario put in.

“Oh, yeah? Thanks a lot. Firewood costs money, too. And it doesn’t heat this place. One measly, stinkin’ little fireplace for this whole joint and the apartment upstairs? Fuck that.”

“Mama wouldn’t like those words.”

“Get out.” Carla turned her back on them.

Thank you for coming. 

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PICTURE PROMPT! 300 WORDS, MAX.

This week, we go back to Trunk Mahoney and Carla from the First & Ten series. This is from the book I'm writing now, "Overtime", the last book in the series that will tie up all the stories of the men playing for the Connecticut Kings. 

Thank you for coming. Scroll down for the link to return to Tuesday Tales. 

***************** 

From "Overtime":

Carla pulled the hot pasta dish from the oven. She stuck her head outside and hollered.

“Al! Dinner! Come and get it!”

She set the table, putting the main course on a dish towel. She checked her watch again. It wasn’t like him to be late for a meal. She smiled as she recalled the many compliments he lavished on her cooking. She wiped her hands on her apron and looked out back. When she glanced at the barn, she was surprised to find the door closed. Smoke was seeping out from under, and through cracks where the old wooden windows no longer met the frames.

Panic seized her.

“Al!” She cried, taking off at a gallop for the barn.

Her pulse thudded in her ears, her breathing was rapid as her body went into crisis mode. Carla shook her head. Can’t panic now! She pulled on the door, but it was stuck. She took a deep breath and marshaled all her strength, yanking on the old piece of wood. It flew open knocking her to the ground. She jumped to her feet, only to be hit in the face by a tornado of black smoke. She started choking immediately. Turning away, she cleared her lungs. She heard someone coughing.

“Al? Al?”

“Here,” came a weak voice.

“I’m coming.”

With one hand, she felt in her pockets for her phone, with the other she fanned smoke away, clearing a path as she searched for her husband.

Her fingers dialed 911.

“Help! The barn is burning and Al’s trapped inside!.”

She gave the address. “Hurry, my husband’s in here, but

I can’t find him.”

Just as she dropped her phone into the apron pocket, she tripped over Trunk, and fell, bruising her ribs, forcing the air out of her lungs. 

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Jackie followed the elderly lady up the stairs. At the top, she turned left down a long hall.

“The best room is in the back, but you’ll have to walk much farther all the time. I’ve put you in here instead. Closer to the stairs.” Maxine opened a heavy-looking wooden door and entered. She went to open the windows.

 Jackie stepped across the threshold into another world. The room was lovely, obviously a girl’s, with white antique furnishings, and a soft pink and white hand-made quilt on the bed. There was a large fireplace with a white marble mantle and hearth. A wing chair and small round table sat by one of the two tall windows.

“This was my daughter’s room. You’ve got a view of the side and a bit of the street. Keep these curtains closed or you’ll be putting on a show for the whole town,” Max warned.  

A small, round painted metal tray on the vanity held an antique comb and brush set, several gorgeous pillboxes and a few rhinestone combs.

“Don’t mind that stuff. It belonged to my grandmother. I leave it here for decoration. Can’t really use the old brush. Bristles fall out sometimes. Like an old lady’s hair,” Max chuckled.

“The room is beautiful. And the light coming in. It’s perfect.”

“It’s kinda small, but it should do.”

Max headed for the door. “I’m going downstairs for a bit. Get yourself settled in.”

Jackie touched the antique items, running her finger over the engraved initials, AMF, on the brush. She wondered what the woman’s name had been. But there wasn’t time to waste. She unpacked her bag, putting her meager belongings in the large armoire in the corner. She rested for a moment the wing chair. Today she’d stepped into a time machine and emerged in a different era. It was strangely comforting to live in the past, since her present was fairly well a blank.

************************ 

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TUESDAY TALES - PUSH - TOO LATE FOR GOODBYE

Welcome! Thanks for coming. This week the word prompt is "push". I have another installment from "Too Late for Goodbye". 
I hope you enjoy it. Scroll down to return to Tuesday Tales.

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The living room in the old Victorian showed remnants of splendor of days gone by, the same as it's owner, Maxine Wentworth. The mahogany paneling made the massive room shrink to a cozier, less formidable size. Max stood by the huge window.

“Gardens are better than children.”

“How so?” Jackie joined her employer.

“You can put a lot of effort in at the beginning and then walk away.”

“Most gardens need tending, like people do.”

“Look there. See? My crocuses are coming up. Soon the tulips and iris’s will follow. I planted them a long time ago and they keep blooming, no matter how much I neglect them.”

“Perennials do that.”

“The garden is a mess. Will you help me with that, too?”

“Of course.”

“Good. I’ve got a green thumb. Much better at plants than kids.”

“How many do you have?”

“Plants?” The older woman turned and cocked an eyebrow.

Jackie laughed. “No, kids.”

“Three. Two boys and a girl. They live far away. Two are abroad. One on the West coast.”

“I see.” Jackie nodded.

“I’m not complaining. We were never close. I tried, but mothering wasn’t my strong suit.”

“Really?” Jackie shifted her weight, suspecting the discussion was about to get too personal. She searched her brain for appropriate words.

“I was too pushy. Insisted they do well in school. Made them dress properly. Have good manners. I’m afraid I wasn’t much fun.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself.”

“Of course all three are highly successful now. They don’t need anything from me. Money, time or especially this house.”

“None of your kids wants this grand old place?”

Max shook her head. “They wouldn’t be caught dead living here. They hate the house and Pine Grove, too.”

“That’s a shame.”

Max wandered over to the sofa and eased herself down. “I suppose. Can’t blame them. They are big, important people now. And this town is simply the dust on their heels.”

Jackie joined Max, sitting at the opposite end.

“The place is old and broken down. But now that you’re here, that’s going to change.”

“It is?” Her eyebrows shot up.

“Oh, yes, my dear. You and I have our work cut out for us.”
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TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT - PHONE #shortstory

Welcome! This week, we continue with "Too Late for Goodbye" as Jackie begins her new job as a companion to an elderly woman. Thanks for stopping by.

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

As if she had stepped back thirty, no forty years, Jackie stood in the kitchen and rested her hands on her hips.

Maxine cast a critical eye toward the young woman.

“What do you like?” Jackie opened the fridge door and bent over to peer inside. She spied a carton of eggs.  

“What do you suggest?” Maxine countered.

“How about an omelet?”

“There’s cheddar in the cheese drawer and some rye bread in the back somewhere. I like my toast buttered, not too dark. And put up water for tea.”

Jackie took out the ingredients, filled the kettle then searched for a way to light the stove.

“Starter doesn’t work. There are wooden matches on the back.”

“Thanks.”

Jackie hunted out utensils and a pan. While the food cooked, she stole a moment to sit down. Her leg ached. When she was teaching, she sat whenever she could. Hugh Crawford, the principal, would wander in and shoot her a disapproving look.  

“Would you say you’re a good cook?” Max asked, as Jackie placed a full plate on the table.

“Fair.”

“Your letter said you can cook.”

“I can. But I’m no gourmet chef. I can follow a recipe and whip some stuff on my own.”

“The kettle is whistling.”

Jackie pushed to her feet, grimacing in pain.

“I take half a teaspoon of sugar and milk. I’ll have the Earl Grey.”

When the beverage was made and brought to the table, the younger woman returned to her seat. Her food was cold, but she ate it anyway.

“I didn’t intend to hire an invalid. What’s wrong with you?”

Fear of being fired on her first day sent a wave of panic through Jackie. “I had an accident. I’m almost all better.”

“You’d better be. There’s a lot to be done in a house this size. And climbing stairs is part of it.”

“I know.”

“Good. I’d hate to fire you so soon.”

Jackie dropped her fork on her plate.

“Besides, you make a pretty fair omelet. One of my favorites. Clean up in here then join me in the living room.”

The older woman pushed up from the table and made her way out of the kitchen. 

Jackie sat back, her gaze traveling over the old appliances, faded counter tops, and ugly linoleum flooring.

 There was even a rotary phone attached to the wall. It was the first one she’d seen. After piling the dishes in the sink, she turned on the water, and went to work.         

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