Welcome to a new installment of Tuesday Tales. This week we're writing tot he word prompt "butter". I have started a new story. It's the 4th book in my Catskill Saga series and the title is "Josiah's Destiny." It's a sweet historical romance. I hope you enjoy it.

          When you finish this excerpt, jump over to read the other Tuesday Tales stories. Find them HERE. 

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May, 1791

The sun shone unusually hot for a day in early May. Josiah loosened the bandanna around his neck.

As he passed a stream, he succumbed to the lure of the water. Slipping off his shoes, he rolled up his pants and sat very still on a flat rock, dipping his feet in the coolness. Movement caught his eye. He looked up to the right and there she was, that new girl, Caroline Edwards. His gaze swept over her as she bent to pick wildflowers.

She walked with a purposeful stride, stopping to pick daisies, poppies, and butterflyweed. Although she didn’t see him, he sat close enough to see the sun make auburn locks among the dark brown gleam like strands of reddish gold.

His fingers itched to run through them and feel their soft silkiness. He shifted his weight and adjusted the bandanna. The movement caught her eye. She jumped back, her eyes wide with fear, her free hand covering her silent mouth. She froze.

 “Hey, don’t be scared. It’s only me. Josiah,” he said, standing then approaching her. He reached his hand out.

The young woman shrank back, clutching the flowers to her chest.

“I won’t hurt you. Promise,” he said. “You’re Caroline Edwards, aren’t you?”

She nodded, but her dark eyes were still large with fear. Josiah’s gaze met hers. He’d never seen prettier eyes. She immediately averted her gaze.

“Honest. Don’t be afraid.”

She took a deep breath, but still stood rooted to her spot.

“Whatcha got there?”

She stiffened like a statue. Josiah felt like a fool. He’d expected an answer even though he knew she was a mute.

“Daisies and butterflyweed?” he supplied the plant names.

She nodded.

“It’s okay for you to pick ‘em. But you shouldn’t be alone here. Sometimes coyotes come through here looking for rabbits. And there are snakes…” he said.

She jumped back, losing her grip on the flowers which fell to the ground. Her hand shook as she bent to pick them up one-by-one.

“Wait. Let me help you,” he said, bending down.

He joined her, retrieving a handful. “Why don’t I hold them, while you pick ‘em?”

She drew her eyebrows down and shot him an uncertain stare.

“I run the sawmill. I’ll be workin’ with your father. No need to be afraid of me.” I could go with you. I can keep you safe and hold the flowers. There are all kinds in this field,” he said.

She gave a nod.

“I come through here all the time on my way home from the Inn. I know a shortcut back to town. Come on,” he said, once again, offering his hand.

She stared at his long, calloused fingers, chewed her lip for a moment while she considered her position.

“You can either take your chances with me or with the snakes,” he said.

At the mention of snakes, her brows shot up and her hand flew out and gripped his hard.

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

TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT - SCREEN

 

        

      Welcome to Tuesday Tales! This week, we're writing to the word prompt "screen". I have one last episode of "Someone Like You." Next week, we'll be traveling back to 1792 and catching up with Josiah Quint. 

       When you've finished reading my story, check out the others HERE.

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Mark Garrett closed the screen on his IPAD. “Here is the written assignment for next week,” he said as Mary handed out papers. “Today we’re going to have a discussion. Which American novelist had the greatest impact on American literature during their lifetime? I want your opinions. And back them up with examples of the writer’s work and your analysis, please. Who wants to start?”

After his announcement, he selected a student, sat back with arms crossed, and listened, congratulating himself on finding a way out of being totally unprepared for class because he couldn't think of anything except Charlotte. 

The discussion was lively. When the minute hand reached twelve, the students stood up and filed slowly out of the classroom.

Mary Rhodes appeared in the doorway.

“Great class today,” she said, smiling too broadly.

“Thanks,” Mark said, paying her no mind as he gathered his books and notes together. He had a light day and couldn’t wait to get back to Charlotte.

Mary didn’t budge.

“Something you want, Mary?” Mark asked, impatient to get going.

“No, no. Nothing.” Again she smiled the smile he found so irritating. He figured she thought she was flirting, but all it did was make her unattractive and obvious as hell.

 “Okay, then. I’ve got to be going,” he tucked his books under his arm and stopped at the doorway. “Please move back and let me by,” he said.

“Oh, sure,” she said, moving a tiny bit.

As he went out, she accidentally on purpose brushed against him. Damn, she gave him the creeps. Was she up to something? While he hated to be suspicious of people, after all his years as a professor he’d learned to expect anything from female students. By the way, that included teaching assistants, too.

He swallowed and strode quickly to the parking lot. The sooner he got home and contacted Charlotte the better he'd feel. When he walked into his house, his feeling of unease didn’t evaporate. It continued to beat slowly but steadily in his brain. He looked out the front window. Nope. No one there. Had he dissolved into paranoia? He picked up his phone.

“Charlotte? Good to hear your voice. Yes, tonight. Let’s go to Pine Grove for dinner.”

He paused.

“Why? Because I simply feel the need to leave town for a few hours. New scenery. And to be with you. Can you do it?”

That's all, folks. I'll let you know when the whole story is written and published. Thanks for reading. Please leave a comment. 

TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT "SUNSHINE"

 

Welcome! It's time for Tuesday Tales again. Today we have the "morning after" scene from "Someone Like You."  After you read my snippet, stop by and read the stories by the great Tuesday Tales authors. You'll find them HERE.  

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The first rays of sunshine poked through the curtains and warmed Charlotte’s face. She awoke first. After stretching her arms above her head and yawning, she became aware of a man’s arm slung across her waist. She smiled.

She pulled the covers up, closed her eyes, and remembered. What a night! Mark Garrett certainly knew his way around a woman’s body. She had felt things she’d never felt before. Derek could use a whole lot of lessons from Mark!

He stirred. She stilled not to wake him. It was only six and neither one had to be up yet. He rolled onto his side and slid her across the bed, then tucked her up against his naked body. His breath warmed her ear.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” whispered a slightly raspy male voice.

“Morning,” she replied, melting into his embrace.

He closed one arm around her and rested his chin lightly on the top of her head.

“Best dessert ever,” he mumbled with a chuckle.

“Yes, but how can I put the recipe online to share?” she replied.

He laughed, deep and hardy. She felt it in her back, and it resonated through her bones. He kissed her bare shoulder.

“What time is it?”

“Six fifteen. We don’t have to get up yet.”

“No, but soon. I have an eight o’clock seminar.”

“Really? Damn.” She couldn’t bring herself to say she’d like to stay just the way they were for the next two or three years.

“Let’s get dressed. I’d like to take  you to Doc’s for breakfast.”

“Works for me,” she said, slowly untangling her body from his.

“No showering together. If we do, I’ll never get to class,” he said, ripping the covers down.

He bounded out of bed and turned on the hot water. Charlotte only had some painting and woodworking to do so she didn’t need to shower. Instead she dressed in leggings, a tank top, and one of her favorite shirts of her dad’s. Since he moved to Florida, he didn’t need any long-sleeved flannel shirts. Sure, it was summer, but the mornings were cool.

They fairly skipped down the stairs, Mark  put his arm around her shoulders and drew her to him as they walked to Doc’s. She snaked hers around his waist. Wasn’t it remarkable how well they fit together, she mused to herself. Then she blushed. Yes, a good fit in every way possible.

 

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

 

       Welcome to Tuesday Tales! This is the place where a talented group of writers post stories written to word prompts. This week the word prompt is "Flowery." We have more of "Someone Like You," this week. It's a bit steamy, so be forewarned! 

       When you're done, hop on over to read the other authors works. Find them HERE. 

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Sunday morning, Charlotte arose with music in her heart. After dressing and scarfing down a quick breakfast, she got preparations that evenings dinner with Mark started. First there was preparing a marinade for the meat. Then washing and peeling potatoes. She prepared Brussels sprouts, Mark’s favorite vegetable, for baking, sprinkling garlic powder on them and drizzling honey. 

Next, she set the table, fussing over just the right napkins to use. She flitted down the stairs and outside to hunt for wild flowers for the table. Everything had to be just right because this would be the night they took their relationship to the next level. 

Once she finished in the kitchen, she changed the sheets, then took a shower and brought out her most expensive perfume. The one she saved for special occasions. This would be the most special of occasions, wouldn’t it, she said to herself.

She put the meat in the oven and the potatoes in a pot filled with water. The radio played Vivaldi’s Four Seasons. She dressed in a simple white sundress.

He was right on time!

“Something smells wonderful. Can’t tell if it’s dinner, or you, or both,” he said with a chuckle.

She moved away so he could enter. He closed the door and took her in his arms for an ardent kiss. The feeling of his strong arms around her warmed her heart and stirred desire. Losing herself in his embrace would be her dream come true.

The dinner came off without a hitch. The roast was perfect, he loved everything. After dinner, he helped her clean up, but made no move toward the door. It was nine o’clock.

He put one hand on her waist and pulled her to him.

“Now, for dessert,” he said, bringing his mouth down on hers.

He fairly crushed her, making his growing passion obvious. She melted against him.

Without any silly, flowery language, he got right to the point. In a husky voice he whispered in her ear. “I want you, Charlotte. I have for a long time.”

“Me, too,” she breathed in his ear.

He raised his head and made eye contact. “Yes?” he asked.

“Yes,” she replied. 

Surprising her, he whisked her up in his arms and carried her to the bedroom. He closed the door with his foot and laid her gently down on the bed. 

Sorry, folks. That's all for today! Thanks for stopping by!

TUESDAY TALES - SAUCE

 Hello and welcome. This week, the writers of Tuesday Tales are writing to the word prompt "sauce." I have another excerpt from "Someone Like You." There will only be a few more from this book. Then I will be switching to the 4th book in my historical romance series. 

Once you've read my story, please stop by and read the wonderful works by the other authors. You'll find them HERE. 

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He went inside, locked up, stripped down, and washed up. Then he slid naked between the sheets. Lying there with his head propped up on his arm, he thought about Charlotte. Of course she was pretty, in a unique way. But what drew him to her was her empathy. And that she was a good listener. Boy, that was the hardest thing to find. Even in a friend. Someone who listens, who cares about you, your feelings, your triumphs, your tragedies…it was what he missed most about the loss of his wife. Nancy had been an excellent listener.

One dark thought interrupted his mental exercise of putting Charlotte on a pedestal. She wasn’t telling him everything. He sensed her reluctance to speak honestly about her life. She kept something back. He knew it. Her body language gave her away. Obviously, it was something she felt he wouldn’t like or approve of. Some dark secret. Some mystery. Had she killed someone? He laughed to himself. Uh, no, not Charlotte. She didn’t have a violent bone in her body. Still, there was something. Something she thought too dark, too bad to disclose to him. He liked that she cared enough not to want to lose him, but he frowned at the idea that she was not being totally upfront with him.

He had a pathological distrust of liars. He’d met too many in his life. Somehow liars always ended up causing you pain. It scared him to think Charlotte might be a liar and that trait might hurt him. Too in love to admit any such possibility, he shoved that thought out of his mind. Whatever Charlotte wasn’t telling him, it certainly couldn’t be evil. Might simply be something that embarrassed her. He vowed to himself to let it go. She’d tell him in her own sweet time. When she felt safe enough with him to come clean. And, if he truly loved her, he’d have to let it go at that. Trust. It was all about trust. 

   After all, fessing up, which is what he had done, was, how did the saying go, "what's' sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander?" or was it the other way around? 

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

Tuesday Tales - Smug

 

    Welcome! This week the Tuesday Tales writers are writing to the word prompt "smug."  

I have another snippet from "Someone Like You." When you finished reading my post, please click on the link to go to the other posts. Find the link HERE. 

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Mark stopped by a tree in Charlotte’s front yard. He leaned one hand against it, bent over and breathed in the night air. He needed to recover from their makeout session. His body fairly quivered with the need to make love to that beautiful woman. 

A bit confused at the overwhelming surge of desire he hadn’t felt in years, he questioned his own intentions for a moment. It quickly became clear that he needed to make love to her. Tomorrow night after dinner at her place would be the perfect opportunity. He could hardly wait to give in to his growing passion that refused to be denied.

She gave all the signs of wanting more from their make-out session. He sensed her body molding to his. Heat emanated from her and her kissing matched his in intensity. Still, the time, the place – tonight didn’t seem right.

Not to be smug about it, but tomorrow would be different. Because then he’d be prepared. He’d have the confidence that comes with knowing your partner wants the same thing. He shivered for a second at the sheer delight that awaited him. When his breathing returned to normal, he hurried to his car and drove home. 

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

TUESDAY TALES - RAINY

 

Welcome! This week we're writing to the word prompt "rainy" or any derivation of that word. After you finish reading my story, visit the other authors and read their great works. You'll find them HERE. 

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As things with Charlotte returned to normal, Mark breathed a sigh of relief. Although he hadn’t dated much, especially in the last year, he’d never been taken for Jack the Ripper before. Worry creased his brow. How could he handle that? Charlotte had such quiet confidence, he’d never suspected her of being afraid of him. These days with so many stories in the news of men raping and killing young women, a woman couldn’t be too careful. After all, what did she really know about him?

Her fear had set him back. He’d figured they were a lot farther along in their relationship than she did. He’d have to scrap plans to make any kind of a pass or move to more intimacy for now. The last thing he needed to do was make an inappropriate move and scare her off.

Instead of being angry, he wanted to surround her with security, and make her feel safe. He’d do anything to make that happen.  

He pulled into the park’s entrance and turned left for the parking lot, avoiding the secluded spot he'd scoped out before. He picked a spot and pulled in. After shutting off the car, he retrieved the basket and bags from the trunk.  

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“This way,” he said, pointing toward a small lake. “There are picnic tables just beyond those bushes.”

“I hope I didn’t offend you,” she said, her voice hesitant.

“You mean about that other spot? No, oh no. Hell no. Women need to protect themselves. Regardless of our chemistry, we don’t really know that much about each other, do we?” he said, tramping over weeds to get to the mowed lawn.

“No, no, we don’t.” She followed along.

As he pushed through the bushes, a scattering of picnic tables came into view.

“Which one?” he asked.

“That one,” she said, pointing “It’s close to the lake.” 

With his long stride, he reached the table first and plunked the bag and basket down. He scanned the area. There was a small family at a table quite a distance from them, and two couples at another table. But none of them were close. He breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps if she had picked a table near other people it would have been a sign of her being uncomfortable being alone with him. That truly would have rained on his parade. 

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