In the twenty-year-old photo attached, her sister Marcie in a princess costume and brother Jared in a Superman suit grinned excitedly at the camera. Eva, sandwiched between them with cat whiskers painted on her face, scowled ferociously. She remembered when this was taken. She’d been reading Harry Potter for the first time and just gotten to the wizard’s chess scene when her mother had dragged her away to go trick-or-treating. She didn’t look cute. She looked angry. Because she had been. “I’m guessing you were the grumpy cat.” Eva immediately flipped her phone over to hide the screen and glared at her seatmate. “Mind your own business.” The woman’s eyes twinkled. She was decked out in glittery makeup, shimmery wings, and a sparkly rainbow-coloured dress. What was a grown-ass woman doing dressed up like the tooth fairy, even if it was Halloween? Her get up made her hard to ignore, though Eva hadn't noticed her getting on the bus. Eva’s rudeness didn’t faze her. “I love Halloween, don’t you? It’s a chance to relive our childhoods. Forget the rules and routines of being an adult.” She’d never really looked at it that way. She’d thought it was just a candy-grab. And Eva didn’t like candy. Weird, she knew, but there it was. Sweets weren’t her thing. And don’t get her started on pumpkin spice. What was it that made people go crazy for nutmeg and cinnamon? “What was your favourite costume when you were a child?” the fairy asked. Eva had no intention of getting dragged into a conversation but found herself responding anyway. “I didn’t have one.” “Sure you did. Everyone does.” A memory from another Halloween floated into her consciousness. “I was a ghost, once.” And not just a sheet-over-the-head ghost. Her mother had looped glowsticks around Eva’s neck and arms and waist and then wrapped her in layers of tulle from her head to her toes. Eva had felt truly invisible, as if no one could see the real her. It had been magical. The fairy beamed, as if she knew exactly what Eva was feeling. “See? I knew you’d think of something. Halloween is the one day we can pretend to be someone or something else and no one blinks an eye.” Maybe it wasn’t the worst holiday ever. Now she'd thought of one good memory, others followed. Getting to stay up late on a school night. Watching neighbourhood fireworks. Eva looked out the window. Her stop was next. She turned to the fairy to ask her to move so she could get off. She wasn’t there. Eva craned her neck, searching the bus. Her skin rippled with goosebumps. The fairy was gone. *** What did you think of my spooky story? I'd love to hear from you in the comments. Then hop over to PG Forte to see what she came up with this week.
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*** Penta protested as Cash pulled her to her feet. “I am not getting a tattoo.” She found his sexy and loved to trace them with her fingers—and her tongue—but was certain one would look ridiculous on her. What about the kids? Delilah had already been hinting she wanted one and she was only fourteen. What kind of example would it be? “It’s only temporary.” Cash cupped her elbow and licked a rivulet of ice cream that had escaped from her cone off her wrist. “Mmmm. That’s delicious. I want more.” She didn’t think he was talking about the icy treat. Her entire body shivered at the swipe of his warm tongue and goosebumps rippled on her flushed cheeks. She struggled to corral her straggling thoughts. “How long do they last?” Cash tickled the inside of her wrist with the tip of his tongue and then released her. “I don’t know. Probably a couple weeks, depending where you put it. Come on.” He strode down the hill and she followed reluctantly. “I don’t think we have time for this.” She ate the last of her ice cream and detoured to a garbage can to toss in her napkin. “It’s going to rain and I didn’t bring an umbrella. We should go back to my house.” Cash tilted his ruddy head to look at the sky and then raised a skeptical eyebrow. “There are four clouds and none of them look like rain. Nice try.” He stopped in front of a canvas tent. The inside walls were covered in images depicting all the designs available. Two middle-aged men hovered protectively over not-quite teenage girl as a woman with short blonde hair drew a rainbow on the girl’s forearm with a fine ink pen. A stir of interest replaced Penta’s concern. If these parents thought it was okay for their daughter... “You promise it will wash off?” “I promise.” Cash looked at her with a smile hidden in his eyes, the one she was sure only she could see. “Penta Unleashed, remember? Be a bad girl and get a tattoo.” She straightened her spine and made her decision. “What would I get?” “What do you want it to say about you?” He lifted his hand, the one with the phoenix tattoo across the back. “Make it meaningful, even if it only is temporary.” Just like us, Penta thought with a sudden stab of sorrow. The tattoo wouldn't last, just like her relationship with Cash. Just like us. *** Now hop to Leslie Hachtel and see what flash fiction she's come up with!
Rafe’s nerves were being rubbed raw by the need to smile and chat and generally appear like he was having a good time. He woke early on the day of his sister’s wedding, determined to work off his tension by swimming several laps in the resort’s largest pool. An open-air stairwell provided a view of his destination. He hesitated at the first landing, arrested by the sight of Sunflower Woman exiting from the corresponding stairwell on the opposite side of the pool. She had a spring in her step that he envied, as if she hadn’t a care in the world. Her colourful loose wrap fluttered as she practically danced on the tiles, pausing at a park bench placed to overlook the ocean. Above her, the rising sun stained the fronds of the palm trees orange. Her dark hair gleamed bronze and copper. She didn’t stand still long. He had noticed she rarely did. Moments later she stepped onto the beach and vanished from view. Even though she had been alone, she hadn’t seemed lonely. He used to feel that way, too, preferring his own company to any other. So why did a solitary swim no longer seem like the solace he needed? What did you think? I’d love to hear your comments! Then hop over to Jenna Da Sie for her flash fiction composition
We’re getting into the home stretch of 2022. Next week will be our last blog hop of the year, and then we’ll be taking a break for a couple weeks to enjoy some rest, relaxation, and family fun. To get into the holiday spirit, this week we’re sharing flash fiction with the keywords stockings, gingerbread, and lamppost. And go… *** Virginia leaned against the lamppost, the icy metal searing the skin of her unprotected palm. Lifting one leg, she struggled to straighten the seam of her uncomfortably tight red and white striped stockings. The bells on the toes of her pointed slippers jangled as she tugged. A particularly frustrated yank unbalanced her and the next thing she knew, she was sitting on her butt on the frozen pavement. The thin velvet of her red Mrs. Claus skirt did little to cushion her fall or keep out the chilly dampness. Tears burned behind her eyes and she pressed her lips together. Ignoring the cold seeping into her bones, she pulled her feet up and dropped her head onto her raised knees. It had been hard to admit she needed a second job to supplement her pay as a teacher-on-call if she wanted to give her kids the Christmas they deserved. It had been humiliating to apply to be a mall elf and be relegated to Ms. Claus because she was over forty. It had been downright devastating to be clad in her ridiculously unattractive curly grey wig and padded costume when her ex-husband and his new twenty-something wife had appeared in the line up with their two-month-old son. Somehow, she’d managed to pretend everything was fine. She’d smiled until her cheeks ached, cooed at the annoyingly beautiful baby, and played her part exactly as she was paid to do. But the moment it was time for a break she’d fled to the back entrance of the mall for some much-needed solitude. The heavy fire door behind her opened with clang. She curled tighter into herself. Maybe whoever it was wouldn’t see her in the dim afternoon light. “Are you okay?” So much for that. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a black, shiny, knee-high boot with a red velvet pant leg tucked into it. Great. It was Santa Claus. This was her first shift with this particular jolly old elf. She didn’t even know his real name. He’d already been dressed and ready to go when she arrived, so had no idea if his rounded belly was as real as the full white beard he sported. He’d dealt with teary children and weary parents with bonhomie and patience, giving every indication he actually enjoyed the role. It was almost enough to make her believe in Christmas miracles. Almost. “Virginia?” A large, warm hand pressed her shoulder and she caught a whiff of gingerbread. “I’m fine,” she lied, keeping her chin pressed to her knees. “It can be a tough time of year.” The comment was so unexpected—especially coming from him—she jerked her head up. He was smiling down at her, no trace of pity in his eyes, just warmth and understanding. “The expectations can be overwhelming,” he went on. “To do all the things, buy all the things, make all the things. Especially when you have children.” “Yes!” The word burst from her and she jumped to her feet. “I have such amazing kids. They’ve had a tough few years and they’ve been champs. I want to give them everything.” She didn’t mention how tight money was or that they’d be spending the holiday with their dad, stepmom, and new half-brother instead of her. None of that was their fault. “They’ll know you love them, even if there aren’t dozens of presents under the tree.” She waved a hand. “I know that. But it’s still hard, not being able to give them what they want. And it’s not like they’re asking for the moon.” She told him what her son and daughter had wished for on their own visit to Santa few days ago. He nodded, the lips behind the silver whiskers upturned in a small smile. “What about you? What do you want?” That brought her up short. What did she want? “Is a peaceful life too much to ask?” She laughed wearily. “I feel like I’ve been scrambling just to stay sane the last few years.” “That might be a little hard to put under the Christmas tree.” Santa’s eyes twinkled. “But I believe in you. You’re a strong, resilient woman. You’ll be okay. I promise.” She wanted to ask him why he thought so, since they’d only just met. How could he say such things with such confidence? But break was over and they were expected back at Santa’s workshop. She clung to his words through the rest of her shift. You are strong. Resilient. Maybe she could make it true if she pretended hard enough. At the end of the day, he waved goodbye and headed out of the mall, still dressed in his costume. She changed out of hers in the small room allocated for the purpose and dragged herself to her car. Snow had fallen while she’d been working, blanketing the windows. She opened the rear door, grabbed the brush, and shut the door. Then opened the door again and stared. On the backseat were two unwrapped items. The exact items that she’d mentioned to Santa just a few hours ago. She blinked. They were still there. If he was responsible for the gifts, how had he managed it? He hadn’t moved from his seat in the workshop all afternoon. And though he’d left the mall before her, she’d only been a few minutes behind. Not nearly long enough for him to search out the items and buy them let alone sneak them into her car. Besides, how would he know which car was hers? And it had been locked, she was sure of that. Also, the snow covering it had been undisturbed until she’d opened the door. She was still puzzling about it when she arrived for her shift the next day, determined to ask him if he was the person she should thank for taking some of the load off her shoulders. But she never saw that Santa again. *** I'd love to know what you think of this little Christmas story. Do you believe in the magic of the season? Then hop over to Jenna Da Sie and see what she's come up with! NOW AVAILABLE in Kindle Unlimited…the NEVER TOO BUSY Anthology! What's that saying? Never too busy for love? The characters in this limited-edition anthology have been—until they come across the Never Too Busy Dating app. It caters to professionals thirty-years of age and older and promises to match them with the person of their dreams. After all, workaholics deserve a happily ever after, too. Enjoy sultry, sexy stories featuring strong female leads and their determined partners in this brand-new collection! Includes my story, MARGIN OF RISK. His heart isn’t ready to heal. Her soul isn’t ready to trust. Neither is ready for a fake wedding date to restore their fractured spirits. (Heroine 42, Hero 41) Sorry I’ve been MIA in September. This is my first blog of the month. To be honest, I’ve lost a little bit of my writing mojo, so I’m hoping this week’s challenge will kickstart me. It’s Flash Fiction time! A.S. Fenichel says… Let's celebrate the equinox. Write a scene set in autumn using the words leaf, water, and coffee. Try to keep it to 500 words. Here we go… Fog draped the golds and oranges of the birches in the park across the street. She stood at the window and sipped her coffee. The quiet of the house still rang with the echoes of the kids banging and bickering their way out the door as her husband shepherded them to the van. He would drop them off at school on his way to work. As much as she enjoyed the unstructured, spontaneous days of summer, getting back to regular routines in September was its own delight. Despite the misty morning, the sun was supposed to shine this afternoon and the temperatures reach an unseasonable high. Many of the baskets and containers she’d planted in the spring had already been composted, but a few were clinging to life, and she should water them if she wanted the enjoy their blooms a little while longer. It seemed pointless, though. Hard frosts weren’t far off, and the first snowflakes would appear soon after. With a sigh, she headed to her home office. She always felt a little melancholy in the autumn. In the spring, the lengthening days held the promise of summer wonders. In the fall, the dark drew in earlier and earlier, mourning the end of yet another year. Maybe not by the calendar, but by the rhythm of her life. At her desk, she pushed aside her laptop. She didn’t feel up to staring at a fierce white screen and blinking cursor this morning. Instead, she opened her journal and turned a leaf over to a new page. After a few moments chewing on the end of her pen, she set the nib to paper, and began to write. “The fog draped the golds and oranges…” *** I’d love to hear what you think! Leave me a comment below. Then hop over to Jill Haymaker to see what she wrote about fall.
It’s been a while since we did flash fiction, but it’s back today! Write a story (500 words or less) about the worst Valentine's Day ever but give it a happy ending. Here we go! *** Note to self: attending a speed dating event on Valentine’s Day was stupid. More than stupid. Pathetic. But she hadn’t wanted to spend the holiday alone, not again. So when Lynda had suggested they sign up for the evening at a local hotel’s ballroom she’d agreed. Not without reservations—Lynda wasn’t known for having the brightest ideas—but it had sounded better than spending the most romantic night of the year bingeing Seinfeld and eating ice cream from the bucket. She should have stayed home. Lynda had assured her that a speed dating event wasn’t for losers. Everyone was busy these days, especially professionals like themselves who had spent their twenties and thirties climbing the corporate ladder and were just hitting their stride in their forties. These get-togethers were simply more efficient than trolling bars and restaurants every week hoping for lightning to strike. She hoped lightning would strike now, just to put her out of her misery. Maybe other speed dating nights had a better crop of possibilities, but this one on Valentine’s Day seemed to be scraping the bottom of the barrel. And, yes, she knew what that said about herself. How depressing. The bell rang and her current visitor—a retired dentist who talked way too much about teeth—moved on with no apparent regret. It was obvious she wasn’t the only one finding the pickings slim. And she was one of the “slim pickings.” Suddenly she couldn’t take it any longer. Without a glance at her next “date” she jerked to her feet, raced through the scattered tables, and fled to the wide outer hallway. With no regard for the snow lashing the windows, she opened the door and stepped outside, taking huge, gulping breaths of frigid air. She’d left her coat in the ballroom. Clutching her bare arms, she huddled into herself and let self-pity flood her. Moisture filled her eyes, not just from the bitter, biting breeze. Suddenly her shoulders were enveloped in warmth and softness and a deep voice said, “You must be freezing.” Startled, she spun around, automatically gripping the open edges of the coat to keep it in place. “Ryan! You scared me. What are you doing here?” The skin around his warm brown eyes crinkled and her belly fluttered. “I had a business meeting. But isn’t a better question what are you doing without a coat in a blizzard?” He had just transferred from head office two months ago and set her department buzzing with his acumen, intelligence, and energy. She’d done her best to focus on that, and not the silver threads at his temples lending him gravitas and his trim, wide-shouldered body filling out his suits just fine. His eyebrow quirked. “So? What are you doing out here?” She contemplated lying, but what the hell. It would be a funny story one day. Might as well start now. “I was at a speed dating event. It was not going well so I escaped.” “Why do you need a speed dating event? Are the men around here that blind?” His open admiration warmed her almost as much as his coat around her shoulders. A light on the wall of the hotel spangled on the snowflakes in his hair and sharpened the shadows in his cheeks. “Do you want to have coffee?” She bit her lip. “I know we work together but—” “I would love to have coffee.” He pulled the collar of his coat higher up on her neck. His smile held a hint of shyness she’d never noticed before. “I’ve been wanting to ask you, in fact.” He pulled open the door and waved her in. “Lead the way.” *** I hope you enjoyed my Valentine’s flash fiction! Now hop over to Leslie Hachtel for another quick read! Leslie and I, as well as A. S. Fenichel (another member of Romance Writers Weekly) all contributed to Love in the Mix: A Cookbook for Romance Readers. It's a unique Valentines' Day gift...and even better, proceeds support the ProLiteracy charity. More than 70 of your favorite romance authors shared recipes and anecdotes to this great collection. Find it at all major retail sites. Jenna Da Sie has set up as FLASH FICTION challenge this week! Write about someone who unexpectedly comes into $20,000 and include this detail: a small black notebook. Here you go! *** Gerard opened his small black notebook, flattened the pages at the correct entry, and licked the end of his pencil. Yuck. Why did people do that? He thought about it as he smacked his lips and tongue trying to get the taste out of his mouth. Come to think of it, he’d only ever seen it on TV or in movies. Maybe no one really did it in real life. On the pristine page, in precise letters, he wrote Devlin J. - $20,000 – paid in full followed by the date. It gave him a lovely thrill to see it there in black and white. He hadn’t expected to collect that fee so easily or so quickly. Usually it took multiple attempts to convince his clients that non-payment was a non-option. Devlin, on the other hand, had handed over the twenty grand with barely a whimper. Maybe I should have asked for more. Gerard prided himself on knowing exactly how much his clients could afford, and how hard to push to get what he wanted. His clients might disagree—no one liked to be blackmailed, after all—but it was just business. And a very fine business it was. *** Now I’m wondering who Gerard will blackmail next… That was fun! Be sure to hop over to Leslie Hachtel and see what she came up with.
I’m afraid I’m going to cheat a little this week. A.S. Fenichel has assigned us FLASH FICTION: About 500 words and the prompt is “first kiss.” Give us a short and sexy first kiss. If you joined me from Leslie Hachtel, welcome! Usually I love writing flash fiction, but I’ve got a lot of things on the go right now and am going to cut myself a little slack. But I’m definitely sharing a first kiss scene! This is from Richly Deserved, my new release. Enjoy! *** Claudia straightened, her attention still absorbed by the painting, her face softly lit by the single bulb clipped to the easel, her profile outlined against the wall of windows. “Come here.” Titus took her arm and urged her toward the middle of the room, snagging one of the barstools as he went. “What are you doing?” she asked but went willingly enough. He set down the stool, placed his hands on her shoulders and pressed her onto it. “I’m going to draw you.” “Don’t be silly.” She shifted as if to stand, and he held her down. Even in his furor to get a pencil and paper, he kept his touch gentle. “I have to. I’ve been thinking about it for days. And now, with the moonlight streaming in…” He gestured to the nearly full moon glowing outside the window and she lifted her chin to look where he pointed. “Don’t move!” he said urgently. He wanted that exact tilt of her jaw, the angle of her head over her shoulder. She ignored him and turned to look at him again. “I am not going to model for you, Titus.” Desperation to create welled up inside of him, fierce and strong in a way he rarely experienced. He didn’t have time to argue. So, he kissed her. His palms on her cheeks, he pressed his mouth softly to hers, doing his best to wordlessly convey his need. She gripped his wrists but as he deepened the kiss her touch grew slack. Her mouth opened, welcoming him in, and her hands slid up his arms to his chest, and then wrapped around his neck. He’d wanted to distract her, bewilder her so she’d sit for him without complaint. Instead, the heat of her passion was like a backdraft, the fire he’d set roaring out to consume him. He dragged his mouth away reluctantly. Her eyelids fluttered open, and raw satisfaction filled his chest. Her gaze was dreamy and dazed. She didn’t resist when he took her chin in his fingertips and placed her exactly where he wanted her. “Look at the moon,” he said. “And think about me.” He went to get his sketchpad. *** What do you think? I’d love to read your comments. Then, hop over to Jenna Da Sie and see what she wrote. So, I'm doing a thing on Thursday. I'm joining author Kellie Coates Gilbert in her Facebook group, She's Reading, to talk about Richly Deserved, writing, reading, and more! There may even be giveaways... We'll be going live at 4pm Pacific. Why not join her group now and come along for the ride? I also did a thing yesterday (Monday). I did a live author event in the Seasoned Romance Salon, also on Facebook. If you aren't a member, you can join here, and watch the video. I also have a few giveaways that are open until 7pm Eastern today (Tuesday, April 13). I took a few weeks off from the weekly blog hop to celebrate the end of 2020 and welcome the beginning of 2021. But it’s time to get back into the groove (especially since I have a new release coming up in March. More on that in future blog posts!). This week, I challenged our members to write Flash Fiction using the phrase/words: Happy New Year, cigars, and orchids. If you joined me from Clair Brett, welcome! Here is my contribution: Eloise had never felt the slightly hysterical excitement so many others did watching the seconds tick down to the new year. It was a completely arbitrary distinction between one moment and the next, something dreamed up by whey-faced administrators centuries ago. There was no magic in it. Nothing ever changed. It was the same old same old, just with a new number next to it. She had planned to sleep away the last hours of the year, much as she'd slept the last week away. Instead, she found herself curled in bed, the glow from her phone the only light in the room, streaming the countdown from New York City that had already happened three hours ago but was being replayed for those in the Pacific Time Zone. Just one more indication of how fake the whole celebration was. Like another version of the movie Groundhog Day, only without the saving grace of Bill Murray’s comic insanity. “Happy New Year!” the crowd in Times Square shouted. “Yeah, yeah,” she mumbled. “Happy freakin’ New Year.” The doorbell rang. Eloise blinked. Had it really been the doorbell, or was it one of the bells and whistles shrieking from the video on her screen? She muted her phone. The doorbell rang. Who could possible be at her door at midnight on New Year’s Eve? Well, it was New Year’s Day, she supposed, but midnight New Year’s Day was still twenty-four hours away technically, so it seemed calling it New Year’s Eve made more-- The doorbell rang a third time, cutting off her dribbling thoughts. She flung back the covers, trod barefoot through her darkened home to the front door, and peered through the sidelight. Jax stood on the stoop and she recoiled, pressing her back against the wall, her heart racing. Rapid knocks thudded on the wood panels of the door. “Eloise! I know you’re in there. Please, I just want to talk.” “Go away!” The words blurted out and she shoved her fist against her mouth. Damn it. If she’d stayed silent, he would have left eventually. Now she’d given him proof she was home, he’d never leave. “Please, Eloise.” His tone softened. “I made a mistake. It’s a new year. Can’t we start over?” A mistake. Hah! That’s what he called it? “Go back to your whiskey and cigars or whatever it is you rich people do on New Year’s,” she said bitterly. “I’m just the poor waitress you had a fling with. No need to worry about me.” “It was more than a fling,” Jax said. “Really? Then why did you pretend you didn’t know me?” What they’d had was still so new, they’d agreed that meeting each other’s families over the holidays would put too much pressure on their relationship. But that meant they wouldn't see each other for a few days, so when she’d gotten off work earlier than expected on Christmas Eve, she’d gone to his apartment, hoping to surprise him before he joined his family that evening. Instead, she’d been the one stunned when he’d opened the door with a tall blonde in a sleek, simple black sheath that screamed expensive draped over him. He'd stared at her in shock as the heavy scent of orchids had wrapped itself around Eloise, the woman’s perfume as cloying as the smirk on her face. “Who’s this, Jax? A friend of yours?” she’d said. Which was when Jax had broken Eloise’s heart. “No,” he’d said, “she’s not a friend.” She hadn’t stuck around to hear more, simply spun on her heel and fled. Now, in the silence of a new year, his voice came muffled through the door. “I was surprised to see you,” he said, “but I didn’t say what you thought I did.” “Oh, trust me, I heard exactly what you said.” The words were branded on her brain, still sizzling and smoking more than a week later. “You heard the words, Eloise. But you didn’t hear what I meant.” “What the hell does that mean?” “You aren’t my friend. You’re so much more.” Eloise realized she was standing with her palms pressed against the door's surface as if she could reach through to Jax’s warmth and strength. “I’m wh-what?” she stuttered. “I love you, Eloise. Please, let me in so we can talk properly.” “If you love me, then who was that with you on Christmas Eve?” “My sister.” Eloise closed her eyes. “I don’t believe you.” “Her name is Helene. We were driving to my parents together that night.” “If that’s the truth, why didn’t you call me to explain? Why did you wait until now to come see me?” “Because I was scared. I was scared you wouldn’t listen. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. I didn’t realize how much it would hurt, to have the person I love distrust me.” They came from such different worlds. The dress his sister had worn was probably worth more than Eloise’s monthly rent. But when she was with Jax, all she could feel was how right they were together. Did she love him enough to work through her issues, to find the trust he deserved? She opened the door. I hope you enjoyed this little story. Now hop on over to Jenna Da Sie https://jennadasie.com to see what she came up with! Happy August, everyone! We are finally getting some summer-like weather here in Northern BC and my mood has improved along with the temperatures. This week on the blog hop, it’s Flash Fiction time! Write 500 words and include Pickle, Letter and Looking Glass. If you joined me from Clair Brett, welcome. And without further ado, here is my short but (hopefully) sweet contribution. Jacinta was in a pickle. And it was her own fault. What had possessed her to read the letter? It wasn’t her fault she’d opened it—it had been in a stack of office mail, and it was her job to open everything addressed to her boss. Once she’d realized it was a personal letter, she should have immediately folded it away and put it aside. But she hadn’t realized until she’d read the first few lines, and by then it was much too late to stop. And now that she’d read it once, she couldn’t help but read the short missive over and over. Dear Alexander, I know you told me never to get in touch, but I am hoping you might have found a little forgiveness by now. You will never be able to forget the hurtful things I said. That is too much to wish for. And yet I do wish it. If a reconciliation between us is at all possible, please meet me Thursday at one o’clock at the park. You know where I mean. If you do not appear, I will never bother you again. With love, Mom “Jacinta? Can I see you for a moment?” She looked up, flushing guiltily. As if summoned by the words on the page, Alexander McIntyre stood in her doorway. She’d been his administrative assistant for two years now, and their relationship was strictly professional. Other than the fact her toes curled when she looked at him. Every. Single. Time. Reading the letter from his mother had been a horrible violation of that trust, and she had no idea what to do about it. “Jacinta?” He frowned. “Are you okay?” Her blush deepened and sweat prickled between her shoulder blades. “Yes, I’m fine. What do you need?” His glance narrowed. “Are you sure? You look a little feverish.” Maybe it was better just to get it over with. She had to give him the letter, and there was no way to seal the envelope again to make it look unopened, as she’d slit the seam with a letter opener. She held it out. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have opened it, but I didn’t know.” He took it from her and slid the single page out. His entire body seemed to freeze in place. Fury replaced the confused expression her words has sparked. “Did you read it?” The words were clipped and cold. “I’m sorry,” she repeated helplessly. “I couldn’t help it.” “You had no right.” “I know. I’m so, so, sorry.” For a moment she thought he was going to throw the page to the floor and stomp out. But as quickly as his fury had flared, it faded, leaving him looking lost and lonely. It gave her the courage to speak. “Is there anything I can do?” she said softly. He shook his head. “This isn’t anything my administrative assistant can fix.” His gaze locked on hers. “No matter how wonderful she is.” Feeling like Alice stepping through the looking glass, she said the words that would change their relationship forever. “What about your friend? Is it something she can fix?” Well, I’m over the 500-word limit, so I guess I’ll have to leave you hanging. 😊 But I hope you enjoyed this little scene. Now hop over to Leslie Hachtel to see what she came up with. Why not check out Leslie's paranormal romance, THE DREAM DANCER, only 99 cents right now! Lady Bryce has a gift. She can enter dreams and persuade her will onto others. It has served her well, especially in eliminating unsatisfactory suitors of her father's choosing. But when she encounters Lord Rowland she wants him more than anything and decides to visit him in his sleep and make him desire her above all others. When she has driven Rowland to the edge of longing, she extracts a promise that he will marry her. As time passes, Bryce and Rowland fall in love. But will their love be able to conquer all once Bryce’s secret is revealed? Rowland must decide if he truly loves her or has been bewitched. Available to purchase here! |