TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT "PLUG"

Howdy Doodles! 

   This week the word prompt is "plug", and it's the last week with excerpts from "Too Late for Goodbye." The book releases today, so if you want to find out what happens between Jen and Marty, you can buy the book on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, and Apple Books. 

When you've finished with my story, hop on over to the wonderful authors of Tuesday Tales and read their excellent stories. Find them HERE. 

Thank you for reading my stories. Have a great day!

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“Baseball is all Ethan can talk about since we got home from Pine Grove. He’s begging me to take him to a game.”

“Really?” Marty said.

“You had quite an impact on him.”

“We have a local minor league team. The Jefferson Jaguars. If you want to go to a game, I’ll scout up tickets.”

“That would be fantastic,” she said.

“Consider it done. Just give me a couple of dates,” he said. “I’ll text you.”

Marty lost track of time. Playing ball with Ethan, helping set the table, and cleaning up afterward ate up his afternoon. By nine o’clock, he was on the bus. His phone rang.

“I’ve texted you twenty times. Called you five. Where the fuck have you been?”

“Oh, Flint. Sorry. I had my phone in my briefcase.”

“Wonderful. I was ready to call the FBI! Listen, you dick, don’t ever do this to me again.”

“You’re right. I should have called. I’m on the bus now.”

“I hope the sex was good. Tell me at least the sex was good.”

“There was no sex. I played ball with Ethan, laughed at Sophie’s jokes, explained printing, and ate homemade soup and stew. Oh, and a brownie and a glass of milk.”

“Jesus! A glass of milk? No sex?”

“You heard me.”

“Sounds like you had a great time.”

“And I brought in some business. I think she’s going to use us.”

“You didn’t give her a quote yet, did you?”

“Nope, but whatever you figure, we’re going lower.”

“Oh really?”

“Even if I have to plug up the difference myself.”

He heard laughter. “From my tight-fisted brother, that’s love.”

Marty chuckled. “Can’t talk. I’m on the bus. Pulling in at eleven.”

“I’ll be there.”

TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT - DIE

 

Welcome! This we we're writing to the word prompt "die." I have more of Marty and Jen's story in an excerpt of "Too Late for Goodbye." When you're finished, hop on over to the wonderful works by the other authors. Find them HERE. 

Thanks for stopping by. 

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“Guys, you remember Mr. McKay from Pine Grove, don’t you?”

“Please call me Marty.”

“Is Marty coming home with us?” Ethan asked.

“He is. And staying for dinner. We’re having stew.”

“Oh boy, stew!” Sophie clapped her hands together.

“Will you pitch to me when we get home?” Ethan asked.

“Sure. You trying out for Little League?”

“Yeah.”

“Then you need to practice.” When they arrived back at the house, Marty stepped back and let the others enter first. The kids ran ahead to the kitchen. The plate of brownies to die for awaited. 

Jen went to the refrigerator. “Milk?” She met his gaze with her pretty blues.

“Sure.”

“Goes great with brownies.” Ethan took down glasses and Jen poured.

Marty couldn’t remember the last time he’d drunk a glass of milk. What the hell was he doing? Staying at her house after their meeting? Accepting an invitation to dinner?

He could hear his brother’s words already.

“What the hell are you doing, Marty? She’s got two kids. Somebody else’s kids. I get you want to sleep with her but do it and leave.”

However, Marty didn’t want to leave. He liked brownies and milk. Sure, she’s as hot as beach sand at high noon, but she’s simply so goddamn nice as well. Nice wears well, it lives well. You could still love nice a hundred years from now.

Stop getting ahead of yourself. Have a good time and don’t overthink it, like you usually do. He vowed to listen to his inner self this time. 

TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT "BLACK"

Welcome! This week we have another episode of  "Too Late for Goodbye," written tot he word prompt "black. When you're finished, don't forget to stop by the other authors blogs and read their fabulous stories. You'll find them HERE. 

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“I’m so sorry for your loss.” 

“He left me money to do something. Start something. A business. And this is what I want to do. I want to give people a reason to get out of bed in the morning.” 

 He raised her hand to his lips. “Brilliant. Noble. Wonderful. Original. How can I help?” 

“Give me a rock bottom price on the printing.” 

“Can I take the mock-up with me? I have to show it to Flint, my brother and partner. He’ll know what it’ll cost to print. I do the sales, accounting, and other stuff. I promise to treat it like fine china.” 

“Sure sure. Take it. Then get back to me.” 

“First some particulars,” he said, opening his briefcase and drawing out an Ipad. He fired it up. “Let’s get the details down. Are you printing this in black-and-white or color?” 

 When he finished taking down the information on the project, he checked his watch. Time to leave. He sighed.

Jen put four brownies on a plate, then covered them with plastic wrap. “I have to pick up the kids from school. Why don’t you stay and have an early dinner with us.” “What?” 

“Come on. The kids know you. I bet Ethan would love to throw a ball with you, and Sophie has new knock-knock jokes.” 

“I have to catch a bus.” 

“We’ll have an early dinner. I can heat up some stew from the freezer.” 

 Damn he wanted to stay. What would Flint say? Fuck Flint. “Okay. I’d love to. If it’s not too much trouble.” 

“No trouble at all. Come on, let’s go.”

That's all for this week. Thanks for stopping by. 

TUESDAY TALES - FINISH

 

Hello, and welcome! 

This week our word prompt is "finish". I swore to myself that I would keep the excerpt from "Too Late for Goodbye" clean, heh heh. So here it is. Marty learns more important info about Jenny this week. I hope you enjoy it. When you're done, hop on over to read the fabulous pieces by the other Tuesday Tales authors HERE. Thanks for stopping by. 

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“This is just a mock-up done by the art director. We haven’t gotten all the articles in yet.”

“May I?” he asked reaching for the front page.

She nodded.

Marty turned the pages carefully. He had only been polite before when he said it was brilliant. Truth was he thought it was a little wacky. Kind of like her, but in a good way. As he read the headlines each one grabbed his attention, made him want to read the story. Maybe she had something? Sure, it was a little cuckoo, but who wouldn’t prefer good news with their morning coffee?

 When he finished, he met her gaze. He could see anxiety in her eyes, the desire for his approval. He spoke. “To be honest, at first I thought the idea was a little, well, strange? Odd, maybe. But after reading the headlines, it sucked me in. I’d definitely read this. Much better way to start my day than reading about crooked politicians and mass murderers, right?”

“Exactly what I thought.”

Her face lit up like someone trained a theatre spotlight on it.

“I mean, some days it’s hard enough to get out of bed. Then to face the morning paper?” Tiny lines next to her mouth deepened. “You start your day ticked off, angry at the world. Not a good thing.”

“What would you know about angry? You’re the most cheerful person I know.” He finished his soup.

“Me? You have no idea. I know deep depression from the inside out.”

“How? A divorce? What idiot guy would split from you?”

Her face clouded over. Her eyes wetted and her hands fiddled with the trim on her apron. “You have no idea how low I’ve been.”

He took her hand in his. “Why?”

“My husband died in a car crash. Two years ago. I know what I’m talking about. It took me three months before I could get out of bed.”

There had been times in his life when Marty had felt like an idiot. But this time he knew he was an idiot –the biggest, dumbest kind. Of course, no man in his right mind would leave this lovely women unless taken by the Grim Reaper. How could he be so blind and stupid?

That's it. See you next week! 

TUESDAY TALES: WORD PROMPT "MIRROR" - "TOO LATE FOR GOODBYE"

 

Howdy Doodles! It's time for another episode of  "Too Late for Goodbye." Today's word prompt is "mirror." When you're done, hop on over to the other authors fabulous posts. Get there from HERE. 

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“Be right back.”  She left the room again.

Jen called in from another room, chattering away. He couldn’t make out most of what she said, so he took the minute to check his reflection in a small wall mirror, then combed his hair back with his fingers.

“Here it is. Here. Look at this.” She came in carrying a huge folder and laid it on the table. “It’s a newspaper.”

“A newspaper?” He raised his eyebrows. “You want me to print a newspaper?”

“Not just any newspaper. It’s only for good news. See?  The masthead? It’s says ‘Good News’.”

“Did you write this?”

“Oh no. I wrote the editor’s column. My friends, parents at the kids’ school, wrote the rest. It’s really good. We gathered stories from all over. Only happy stories. Stories with good endings. Nothing negative.”

“A good news newspaper? Brilliant.” He broke a piece of toast in half.

She shot him a smile that would melt a glacier. He felt heat all the way to his toes.

“A lot of people thought it was dumb. But I did it anyway.” She put a second piece on each plate.

“I don’t think it’s dumb at all.” He picked up the toast.

“Good. Then you can help me. I can pay. I have money.”

‘Okay. Let’s talk specifics.”

She plopped down on a chair. “I’m glad you’re taking me seriously. Not everyone does.”

Marty finished chewing a piece of toast. “Who said a beautiful woman can’t have brains, too?”

That's it for today. Thanks for stopping by. 

Tuesday Tales - Picture Prompt

 

Welcome!! It's time for Tuesday Tales and more of "Too Late for Goodbye," Marty's story. This week is picture prompt week. I've chosen a picture of Cedar Lake, the lake in the town where Marty met Jenny and her kids. We are restricted to only 300 words during picture prompt week. 

When you've finished my story, hop on over to the great Tuesday Tales authors and see what they have to offer. Find them HERE. Thanks for stopping by. 

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She plunked down a big envelope on the sideboard and approached the stove. “It’s mushroom and barley. I threw in some leftover meat, too. I hope you’re not vegetarian.” She ladled out a big bowl and placed it in front of him.

“I’m not. This looks great,” he said.

She popped some bread into the toaster.

“I’ll be right back.”  She left the room again.

The steaming bowl smelled heavenly. He filled his spoon, then blew on it. The first taste was amazing. Jen returned, buttered the toast, put it on a plate, then filled her own bowl.

“Mushroom and barley is my favorite,” Marty said, crossing his fingers under the table.

“Is it? Mine, too,” she replied. “You know my kids can’t stop talking about Pine Grove.”

“Oh, really?” Marty raised his eyebrows.

“Yeah. Ethan goes on and on about Cedar Lake. Every week he doubles the amount of fish he’s going to catch when we visit next time. And Sophie…” Jen stopped and blushed.

“What did Sophie like most?” He took another spoonful of soup.

Jen filled hers and blew on it, avoiding his gaze.

“Come on. The suspense is killing me.” Marty put down his spoon.  

“She liked dancing with you best.”  Jen blushed.

“Oh, come on!” He laughed. “I’m a terrible dancer.”

“Not according to Sophie. She said she’s going to marry you when she grows up.” Jen’s face turned a deeper shade of red.

He shot her a crooked smile. “That’s the nicest proposal I’ve ever had.” He touched her hand briefly.  

She met his gaze. “It is?”

“Actually, it’s the only proposal I’ve ever had. But I’ll take it. She’s a heartbreaker, a little charmer, for sure.”

Jen shot him a warm smile. “I agree.”

“Takes after her mother.”

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That's all. Thanks for stopping by. 

TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT "SOFT"

 Welcome to Tuesday Tales where authors write stories to word prompts. This week the word prompt is soft. Welcome back to the continuing story of Marty McKay in the book "Too Late for Goodbye." Click HERE to go to the other authors blogs and read their fabulous stories!

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The door swung open. Jenny stood there, wearing jeans and a snug T-shirt. Her silky blonde locks rested around her shoulders. As she pressed her phone to her ear, she gestured to him.

“Yes, yes, Roberta. I know. But I need your column by tomorrow morning, latest. The printer is here now. Yes. We’re going to go over the layout. No. I can handle it. You just get your butt in the chair and write that column!”

Clicking her phone off, she faced him. “Sorry about that. Come in, come in.” She took his arm and led him inside. Eyeing him, she remarked, “What happened? Close encounter with a mud puddle?”

He laughed. “Maybe I’d better take my shoes off.” He thanked God he was wearing new socks with no holes in them.

“Sure. We never wear shoes in the house anyway.”

He shucked his shoes and glanced down. She had slender, delicate feet with toenails painted a lovely pink. A shiver shot through him.

“Come into the kitchen. I’m making soup.” She took his arm and led him toward the back of the cozy, charming townhouse.

Something smelled damn good. Beautiful, funny, and she could cook. The trifecta. No, better yet, the Mega Millions Lottery of women. He tramped along beside her.

“Sorry if I’m late.”

She checked her watch. “Nope. Right on time. Do you like soup?”

“I do. But I thought maybe I could take you out to lunch.”

“Why? We can have soup and talk about the paper.” She shot him a soft smile.  

Marty tried to hide his disappointment. Why? Because he didn’t give a damn about her printing project, he just wanted to sit and gaze at her over a glass of wine.

“Okay. What’s the project.”

“Sit down. Be right back.”

Did he stare at her cute butt as she left the room? Damn right he did.

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That's all for this week. Thanks for stopping by. 

TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT "WICKED" - TOO LATE FOR GOODBYE

 

        Welcome! This week we have another snippet from "Too Late for Goodbye."   The word prompt is "wicked".        

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Soon Marty would be living on his own –for the first time. He swallowed. Watching his brother drive away, he wondered how it would be to have total privacy. Would he miss Flint or be happy to be alone? He checked his phone, then opened his pocket calendar. The bus ground to a halt before the George Washington Bridge. An accident? He hadn’t expected a traffic jam. Being a planner, he’d built in plenty of time for his appointment with Jenny.

A twinge of guilt shot through him. He’d been wicked, lied to Flint. He only had one appointment to discuss printing –with that luscious blonde he’d met at the Harvest dance. If Flint knew, Marty would never hear the end of it.

But Jenny had taken his card and called for an estimate for their printing services. It wasn’t from the ad, but hell, it was a business meeting. His nerves kicked up as he checked his watch again. Their meeting was scheduled for eleven thirty. He hoped to take her to lunch after. Hell, if she’d have dinner with him, too, he’d give her the printing services at cost. But he couldn’t tell Flint.

Jenny had two children, a boy and a girl. He’d always shied away from dating single women with kids because he didn’t want the responsibility. But when he saw Jenny laughing and dancing and singing with hers, his heart melted.

He stared out the window at the traffic inching along. It was a gray, windy day in March. Dirty old buildings rose up, blocking his view. Verging on being late, he hailed a taxi that crawled through a snarl of cars and trucks. Sweat beaded on his forehead as the hands of the clock moved faster than he did.

The yellow cab stopped in front of a small, two-story building, sandwiched between an older ten-story apartment house and a well-kept, proud, four-story townhouse. He checked the address, paid the driver, and stepped out of the vehicle, right into a patch of mud.

Sliding on the slippery stuff, he fell on his butt on the street.

“Hey, Mister! You okay?” The cabbie turned in his seat.

“Yeah, yeah. Fine. Fine,” Marty muttered. He prayed Jenny hadn’t been looking out her window. What a clumsy fool! As the cab pulled away, he brushed himself off. 

Now there was mud drying on the sides. What about mud on his butt? Great. And he couldn’t even see how much dirt was on the back of his pants. Wonderful impression he’d make. Like some rube from the sticks. And he’d probably wrecked his new suit, too. Stupid dumbass move. With a sigh, Marty approached the front stoop. He pressed the buzzer.

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That's it for this week. Stop by the other Tuesday Tales talented authors. You'll find them HERE.  Thanks for stopping by.

 

PICTURE PROMPT - NEW STORY! TOO LATE FOR GOODBYE

 

Welcome! Sorry about leaving you hanging on The Kicker's Story last week, but it was necessary as the book is almost finished. So we start a new story today, "Too Late for Goodbye." 

It's picture prompt week. Stories are limited to 300 words. The picture I picked illustrates how close brothers Flint and Marty McKay are. They have always had each other's backs -- and engaged in a bit of rivalry growing up, too. You'll meet them now. Thanks for stopping by. (Scroll down for the link to the other Tuesday Tales stories.)

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Pine Grove

“Whoa! Who died?” 

“What?” Standing in front of the mirror, Marty McKay straightened his tie and glanced at his brother, Flint.

 “I mean, you’re wearing a suit, shirt, and tie. Going to a funeral?”

“Very funny.” Marty combed his short, brown hair over and over until it was perfect.

“I thought so.” Flint chuckled. “Seriously, what’s up?”

“I’m going to New York’s all.” He picked up his wallet and shoved it in his back pocket.

“Why?”

“I’m meeting a couple of clients.” Marty sensed heat in his cheeks at the lie.

“Clients? In the Big Apple?”

“Yes.” He fastened a watch on his wrist and faced his brother. “Remember the ad I put in the paper there? We got a couple of phone calls. I’m going in to see what the projects are.”

“Oh, yeah. I remember. Good idea.”  

“It’s business, so get off my back.”

Flint narrowed his eyes and stared at his brother. “One of ‘em wouldn’t be a pretty girl, by the name of Jenny, would it?”

Marty turned away so his brother wouldn’t see his blush. “Maybe.” He glanced at his watch. “I’m late. Give me a ride to the bus?”

“Sure.”

The two young men rode in silence. Marty stared at the new spring green leaves emerging on the trees. The caw of a crow caught his ear.

“I mean, if you’re going to see her, it’s okay with me.”  Flint turned right.

“I don’t need your approval.” Marty continued to stare out the window.

“I know. Just sayin’.”  

“I’m moving over to the Barrett house this weekend.”

Flint slowed for a stop sign. “You don’t have to leave, you know.”

“I’m not going to make a career out of being a third wheel. You’re married now, Flint. Everything is different.”

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Click HERE to go to the wonderful Tuesday Tales stories!

 Hello, 

 This will be the last excerpt of The Kicker, Part 1 that I post here on Tuesday Tales. I'm sorry about this. Please don't be mad. It's longer than usual and you'll know why when you read it. The book will be out in a few weeks, and you'll be able to read the end of this story then. In the meantime, with out further adieu...Dale & Robbie: 

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Dale’s stomach flipped as she depressed the gas pedal harder. She had to beat him to The Beast. Sweat broke out on her brow. Maybe Trunk wouldn’t even be there? There was no game that afternoon, so where else would he be but in his wife’s bar, right? Maybe he went to a movie. As much as she tried to convince herself he wasn’t there, her heart knew the truth. Her pulse raced and her stomach turned queasy.

Racing into a space on the street, she jammed on the brakes and bolted out of the car, not bothering to lock it. Once inside, she glanced around and didn’t see Robbie. Tuffer sat alone at a table in the back. She let out a breath she’d been holding. Thank God! Trunk lounged against the bar, chatting with Bull Brodsky, an offensive lineman for the Kings. Dale rushed over. She wrapped her hand around his upper arm.

“Hey, Dale! Happy Thanksgiving, hon. Tell me, how was Robbie?” Trunk snickered.

“Look, the bet is off. Okay. It was a mistake. I never should have agreed.”

“Why? The guy didn’t fall for you? I find that hard to believe.”

“According to Demson, he fell hard. So you win!” Bull chimed in.

“Yeah. Now all that’s left to collect the dough is to break up with him,” Trunk added.  

Dale raised her hands. “No, no. No bet. I didn’t win. He didn’t fall for me. Call it off, okay? Honestly, it wasn’t...”

“Dale,” Robbie called.

She turned in time to see him come out from the men’s room to join Tuffer.

“There he is. Lover boy. Tell him Dale,” Trunk said.

“Tell me what?” Robbie approached his teammates at the bar.

“No. Nothing. There’s nothing to tell,” Dale said, grabbing his arm and dragging him toward the door. “I’m hungry. Let’s go eat.”

Robbie freed his arm and walked up to Trunk. “Tell me what?”

Dale edged between them. “Trunk, don’t!”

“Come, Dale. Don’t steal the moment. I’ve been waiting for this for years.” Trunk pushed her aside.

“What’s he talking about Dale?” Robbie looked at her.

“Don’t believe him. Don’t believe him.”

“She doesn’t love you, pal. You think she does, but it’s phony,” Trunk said, pushing his finger into Robbie’s shoulder.

“Of course, she does.” Robbie shoved Trunk’s hand away.

“It’s all a bet.”

“Trunk, don’t!” Dale wailed, her eyes filling.

“What do you mean, a bet?” Robbie’s eyebrows lowered.

“I bet her she couldn’t break your heart.”

Robbie shot a quizzical look first at Trunk, then at Dale.

“That’s right,” Bull chimed in. “He said you didn’t have a heart to break.”

“And she said you did and laughed.”

“So, I bet her a hundred bucks she couldn’t break your heart.”

“Really?” Robbie’s eyebrows rose.

“Yep. She’d have to get you to fall in love with her first. And then she’d dump you, like you dumped all those women who fell for you. Then she’d break your heart. If you even have a heart to break,” Trunk said.  

Robbie faced her. “Dale? Did you make that bet?”

With tears streaming down her face, she nodded.

“Did you dump him yet?” Bull asked.

A hush fell over the bar as the patrons listened.

“No,” she whispered.

“I guess his finding out about the bet is as good as dumping him, right Bull?”

Brodsky nodded.

The color drained out of Robbie’s face. “So this was all a gag?”

“No,” she whispered, reaching for him. He sidestepped, avoiding her grasp.

“Yeah. It was. There you go! That’s the payoff,” Trunk said, pulling five twenties from his wallet. She ignored him. Her heartbeat doubled, sweat broke out on her brow. “Don’t. Please Robbie. Let me explain.”

The light in his eyes turned cold and hard, his expression to stone. “Your performance over the last two nights deserves way more than a hundred bucks.” Robbie yanked out his wallet from his back pocket. He grabbed a fistful of bills and threw them at Dale.

She gasped, drawing her hand over her mouth. Her eyes grew wide and wet. The bills floated to the floor.  “Please Robbie. Can we go somewhere and talk?”

As he shook his head, Robbie’s eyes filled. A tear slid down his cheek, but he caught it and wiped it away.

“She had to make you cry to win the hundred bucks. Bingo. You win, Dale.” Trunk shoved the money into Dale’s hand. She pushed him and the bills away. 

Robbie shot her a wounded stare, “Congratulations,” he choked out, then turned on his heel and strode out of the bar.

“Robbie! Wait! It’s not true!” Dale called, following him to the door.

He jumped into his car and sped off. Dale sank to her knees, burying her face in her hands. What had she done? Oh God, what had she done?

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That's it until the book releases. I apologize for leaving you here, but there was no way around it. I will post here when the book is up for preorder. Thank you so much for reading Robbie's story. Don't forget to hop on over to the wonderful Tuesday Tales stories. You'll find them HERE.