Tuesday, October 24, 2017

TUESDAY TALES - "SEEDS" - Skip's story continues...



Welcome to Tuesday Tales. Sorry I had to skip a week, but my computer died. This week the word prompt is "seeds". We're back with Skip Quincy. This is his first date with Mimi Banner, widow of Rowley Banner. Thanks for stopping by.

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He raised his glass. “Here’s to getting to know you.” She joined in the toast.
“Of course, you already know a lot more about me, than I do about you,” he remarked, his gaze hot.
“Photographers usually leave their clothes on when they take pictures.” She shot him a sly glance.
“Unfortunately.”
Now it was her turn to laugh.
“How are you doing, now that Rowley’s gone?” He took her small hand in his large ones.
“I’m all right. It’s been an adjustment. But things weren’t great between us.”
“I understand he got nailed for domestic violence a couple of times.”
“Yes.” She lowered her gaze and slid her hand from his.
“Hey, we don’t have to talk about that if you don’t want to. I don’t want to pry.”
“It’s old news.”
“Just curious. Why did you stay with him?”
Her gaze connected with his. Her eyes were cold.
“Do you really expect me to tell you in fifty words or less?”
The conversation was going south and he’d better do something fast.
“Excuse me,” the waiter said, setting down a plate with a large steak on it. Relief flowed through Skip. After the server left, Mimi picked up her utensils.
“Have you ever hit a woman?” She asked, in a quiet, nonchalant voice.
“No! And I never would.” He needed to get that on the table.
“Good.”
“Do you feel uncomfortable with me because I’m bigger than you?”
“A little. Rowley was a lot bigger than me, too.”
“Let me tell you right now. You have nothing to fear. I’d never, and I mean, never, hit you.”
She stabbed a scallop with her fork, avoiding his gaze.
“I mean it!” He shook her hand.
Her face snapped up and her eyes flared. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing.”
“You yanked on my arm.”
“A gentle shake, just to make my point.”
“You did make a point, but not the one you wanted.” She withdrew her hand from the table.
“Aw, come on. You’re not going to say that hurt, are you?”
She answered slowly. “Almost.”
“Almost doesn’t count. Hey, I’m a strong guy. It was a little tug. I didn’t mean for it to injure you.”
“You didn’t.”
“Good.”
Skip focused on slicing and eating his steak, sneaking a look at her from time to time. Perhaps dating Mimi wasn’t going to be as easy as he thought. If she felt this way about his touch, simply used to emphasize his words, then how could he make love to her? Lovemaking sometimes included a grip here, or a strong thrust there. Would he have to worry that his lovemaking was too rough? He’d never had that complaint before –not from one single woman. He considered himself to be a gentle guy, especially with women. She'd planted seeds of doubt about their future. His brain mulled over the problem while his mouth chewed his food.
“Look, Skip. I like you. A lot. But I’m not ready for any hot and heavy romance.”

“You’re here with me. As a friend?” His heart sank. 


Sunday, October 22, 2017

BREAK MY HEART

If you've been following the bits and pieces of the "Break My Heart" story, the book is in editing and is up for pre-order! Order it now on Amazon:



   When fire ripped through his home, trapping his beautiful golden retriever, Breaker pushed firemen aside to rescue his beloved dog. While heading for the stairs with the canine in his arms, a falling beam crushed them, killing the animal and scarring Breaker’s face.
   Life, as the famous Breaker Winslow, disappeared. With his career finished, Rick appealed to his friends –who turned their backs on him.    
   Broken, despondent, and alone, he takes refuge in a decrepit farm house in rural Pine Grove. Can the man who had success and love around every corner rebuild his life or is escape the only answer?   

LINKS:


AMAZON U.K.

AMAZON CANADA

AMAZON AUSTRALIA

Monday, October 9, 2017

TUESDAY TALES - PICTURE P[ROMPT - SKIP'S STORY CONTINUES...





Welcome! This week is picture prompt week. We continue with Skip's story. Scroll down for the link back to Tuesday Tales. Thanks for coming.

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“Don’t increase the weight on that, Quincy!” Vic barked. “For Crissake, all we need is an injury to your arm! This is the playoffs. We can’t afford to lose you.”
Vic Steele, the trainer, watched the men carefully, making sure to keep them fit and healthy.
While he worked out, Skip’s mind wandered back to high school. His adoptive father had invested in a set of weights. Skip had struggled with them at first.
“Nah. Forget it. You’re not cut out to be an athlete.” He had walked away, making a dismissive gesture.
That was all the motivation Skip had needed. He had readjusted the barbell and worked out, secretly, every day until he could do the maximum with no sweat.
At the stadium, as he lifted, he remembered the day he had wanted to show his dad what he’d achieved. The older man had brushed him off. Skip had grabbed his upper arm in a vise-like grip. His father had yelped in pain, then raised his gaze to his son. Skip had let go, surprised at his own strength.
“Sure, you can lift that now. How long did it take you? Months. But you’ll never do the next level.”
He’d kept working out, but had never showed off for his father again.
“Good job, Skip. Keep it up,” Vic said.

As he lifted more than he had back then, he smiled. Vic Steele and the manager, Cal Crawley, had replaced his dad when it came to Skip’s baseball career. Was it possible two men paid to run the team cared more about him than his own father? It’s a question the shortstop hesitated to ask himself, as he dreaded the answer.   

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Monday, October 2, 2017

TUESDAY TALES - PROMPT "CHAIN" - SKIP'S STORY RETURNS.


Welcome! The word prompt this week is "chain". We are returning to Skip Quincy's story. Scroll down to return to Tuesday Tales and read all the stories there. Thanks for stopping by! 

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Skip sat facing the door. His mind drifted back to his senior prom. Overhwhelmed with baseball and studies, he didn’t have much time for girls. He got laid after that prom --lost his virginity at the same time as his date. He chuckled remembering how ignorant he had been. She had been no help, either. The blind leading the blind. They’d been two kids fumbling around in the backseat of a car on a warm night in June. 
Glancing up, he spied Mimi, hesitating at the front of the restaurant. She wore a low-cut black dress. His gaze zeroed in on her chest. He marveled that such a petite woman could have such large breasts. He wondered if they looked bigger because she was so tiny. When he finally looked up at her face, he frowned. She looked lost. Skip raised his hand, catching her eye.



She smiled and headed for his table. He rose and pulled out her chair. She spread her skirt and sat down.
“No one’s done that for me in a long time.”
“Rowley didn’t pull out your chair?”
She shook her head.
“You were his wife.”
“So? Didn’t seem to make much difference.”
“Don’t mean to speak ill of the dead, but he must have been kinda stupid.”
“Thanks.” She shot him a warm smile.
The conversation was going exactly where he wanted. He needed to come off as a thousand times better than her dead husband, if he wanted to warm her bed. Soft, brown curly hair caressed her shoulders. He wanted to touch it, but suspected she was skittish and would freak out if he reached across the table to comb his fingers through her locks.
Rowley had smacked her around a couple of times and been suspended for it –and for steroid usage. In the end, steroids had killed him, the coroner had said.
“You must miss Rowley,” Skip said, signaling for the waiter. “What do you want to drink?”
“Just ginger ale.”
Skip raised his eyebrows. “I have a game, but you have no reason to avoid a drink.”
“I stopped drinking two years ago.”
“Why?”
“Alcohol made Rowley worse, more violent. I needed to be sober, keep my wits about me when he was drinking. It just became a habit.”
Switching to her choice, Skip ordered two ginger ales. He couldn’t imagine what it was like to be chained to a guy like Banner.
“Makes sense. Are you hungry? All the food here is good. Trust me. I’ve eaten everything on the menu.”
“All at once?” She asked, a twinkle in her eye.
He laughed. 
 “What are you going to have?” She asked.
“This close to a playoff game, I usually have steak. The biggest, juiciest one I can find.”
“Steak? I’m more of a seafood person.”
“Lobster? Order whatever you want.”
She smiled up at him.
His adoptive father had drilled into him to be careful with his money. As a consequence, Skip had plenty of money put away. One thing, though, he never skimped on food.
 “The lobster’s too much. Just a few scallops. And, maybe, a salad?”
The waiter arrived with their beverages and took their orders.
“Why is it women always eat like birds?” Skip asked, taking a sip.
“Always watching our weight.”

“And if you put on a few pounds, just more to love.”

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