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Saturday, June 18, 2011

Six Sentence Sunday, a taste of "Sunny Days, Moonlit Nights"

Here is a snippet from "Sunny Days, Moonlit Nights". 
Last week, Sunny got her first kiss from Mike. We join them just after that kiss:

Sunny wrapped her arms around his neck and melted against
him, lost in the feeling of longing, longing for him mixed with a
sense of safety inspired in her because it was Mike.

“I’ve waited twenty years for you to do that,” she breathed.
Mike burst out laughing.
“You had that big a crush on me?” he asked her, still
“You’ve no idea.”
“Where have you been all my life?” he asked, pulling her
close again.

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Friday, June 17, 2011


It's Sneak Peek Saturday again and here is more of the sequel to "Sunny Days, Moonlit Nights" tentatively titles, "April's Kiss in the Moonlight".  If you missed the first chapter, read it here: 
Chapter One

More of April's Kiss in the Moonlight

Chapter Two
She slept until Sunny pulled up in front of a large Victorian house where Sunny’s husband, Mike, was waiting to help her out of the car. When the car stopped, April woke up and smiled weakly at Sunny and Mike. She checked her wrist. The shimmering, glittery narrow band was still there. The band-turned-bracelet was made from the collar of her beloved cat, Sasha. When the cat died at fifteen, five years earlier, her mother fashioned a bracelet out of the collar for April who rarely took it off.
Mike picked up her suitcase and hauled it into the guest room on the first floor. April, grimacing n pain, slid out of the car with Sunny’s help.
            “I have a prescription for pain meds I’ll get filled for you. In the meantime, your doctor gave me some medication for you. Let’s get inside and I’ll give it to you.”
            April climbed the stairs slowly.
            “Would it help if I carried you?” Mike asked.
            He went over and picked her up but put her down quickly when she screamed in pain. Taking the stairs slowly, April was able to make it into the kitchen. She smelled a fragrant pot of fresh coffee. Sunny made lunch. They all sat down to eat. April’s face was banged up with a black eye, cuts and bruises on her face, shoulders and chest, one wrist was in a small cast. She suffered a concussion, too.
            “What happened to you?” Mike asked, taking a swig of his coffee.
            “An explosion…I was too close,” she said quietly.
            Sunny handed her two pills and pushed a glass of water over to her.
            “Your mom was my mentor when I was studying art at Kensington State, quite a while ago,” Sunny said.
            “She called you?”
            “The hospital called her and I am much closer, so she called me. We’re happy to have you here with us, April…wish it was under different circumstances,” Sunny said, taking the young woman’s hand.
            Her finger came up against a ring on April’s finger. She glanced at it.
            “You were engaged?”
            Tears clouded April’s eyes as she nodded.
            “He asked me to marry him about a week before the explosion,” April explained.
            “Your mom didn’t tell me you lost your fiancĂ©.”
            “She doesn’t know.”
            “You didn’t tell her you were engaged?”
            “They wouldn’t have liked Rusty…now it doesn’t matter,” She said, two tears slipping down her cheek.
            Sunny was overwhelmed with emotion and gave April a gentle hug.
            “Stay with us as long as you need to, April,” Mike said.
            “Thank you. I don’t know what I would have done without you two,” she said.
            April spent most of the next week sleeping. When she was awake she was weepy, thinking about Rusty and her life, writing her thoughts and feelings in her diary. While she was in bed, Missy, Mike’s black lab mix lay down on the floor next to her bed and Trixie, Sunny’s pug climbed into bed with her, curling up next to the injured woman’s legs. Missy licked the tears off her face. Crying made her ribs hurt, so she tried hard to control her emotions, with help from the dogs who often were silly enough to make her laugh, which caused equal pain.
             Miles away, in Allentown, Juan sat in a booth in Googie’s Diner facing his friend.
            “Says here …our guy, Rusty, was killed when his car exploded.”
            “Yeah? Rusty’s dead?”
            “That’s what it says.”
            “So where’s the money?
            “Good question, Caleb.”
By the middle of the second week, she was feeling stronger and the bruises started to fade. Saturday morning she got under a hot shower which made her aching body feel better. She could hear the sounds of construction coming from the room across from hers. Mike and Sunny were turning it into a nursery because they were planning to have a child.
April dried long lustrous dark brown hair, which fell to her shoulders in loose curls framing her bruised oval face perfectly. Her eyes, so dark they were almost black, looked troubled. Her black eye was turning yellow and the bruise on her delicate chin matched it.
She wrapped a towel around her body and tucked the corner in between her breasts, picked up her hair dryer and opened the bathroom door. She walked into the living room and ran smack dab into Gavin Dailey who was coming around the corner. She bumped into him and grabbed her towel to secure it. He steadied her with his big hands on her elbows as his gaze met hers. They stopped and stared. April felt a sizzle, like an electric current rise up her arms and shoulders from the touch of his hands.
Read "Sunny Days, Moonlit Nights" before the sequel comes out. 
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Thursday, June 16, 2011

Father's Day Tribute

I am posting a Father's Day tribute for a friend, Bennet Pomerantz, to his dad Thursday and Friday:

Father's Day

Writer’s notes

Its funny when I wrote this piece years ago, It echoed how I felt with the loss of my father David.
 I read this poem over my Father’s gravesite with family and friends present. My brother and I wanted to say something special to speak of our love for our father, who died four days after his 67th birthday. As a writer, I thought the best way to give him a tribute was a poem. Not to be rude to my brother, but I forgot what he said. I think it was the lines to Cats in a Cradle by Harry Chapin. I am unsure, I could be wrong

With the holiday of Father’s Day looming over me again, as It does every year. I have no children, so I feel very  empty. So this year for Father’s Day,  I wanted to share something about my father. Note this poem appears in  the collection Loving Hearts Live Forever.

 My heart go out to those whose parents are long gone, as my father is. Father’s day is a hard holiday to face for me. I hope your Father’s day is a happy one.

The Fisherman's Son

By Bennet Pomerantz

What I learned from my father . . .

People grow old, we all will die

and most of us truly never understand why.

Mysteries belong in novels.

Questioning why does not really help,
There are so many unanswered volumes,
which lay dormant upon the book shelf.
Death is for the living. Dying is the ages.
Blood isn't always thicker than water,
flowing like leaves from pages.

Promises are broken numerous times.

Too many opportunism are forsaken.
Work is power, money buys the finer things.
Life isn't forever and time is too quickly taken.

Day to day tends to become more morbid,

 so hard to comprehend.
You need to grown up fast, my son
and push as hard as you can.

I also learned is my father was a fisherman,

in both the land and the sea.
However his big catches were not fishes mounted on a wall,
but his family, friends and a wayward son, me.

I knew he wrestled and reeled in and out  the time with me,

casting, waiting, jostling with me all through my life . . .
Venturing boldly, many time with nothing gained,
sometimes day after day,  night after night

Love isn't measured in a teacup,

nor a saucepan, an eyedropper or a Swiss bank.
Riches are how you make them with the people in your life,
Good or bad, heartfelt or heartsank.

"Remember respect is earned, my son." my father said

"Learning is always done on a curve"
"Tomorrow's lessons you should learn today
by knowing what you are to watch, learn and observe."

I watched him leave on his boat, while I was sitting at the shore

he is still fishing without me as, I wait for the boat to dock today.
Watching the waves, hoping the boat Safari will come in soon,
as I sit perched myself  on the dock of Xanadu Bay

His boat still fishes upon the waters of his beloved Grand Bahamas.

knowing he is departed, awaiting for his return.
Time passes, his words still echo, some  hurtful and some wise.
Whereas I, the fisherman's son, still have so much to learn.

@Pen & Ink inc

Tuesday, June 14, 2011


Tuesday Tales continue today. Join me and other Astraea Press authors as we write short stories to a word prompt. The prompt this week is "flowers". To read the full stories, click on the author's name. Scroll down for my story, "Mint Chip" . We hope you enjoy our stories.
Roses, and a card reading “Happy Birthday Mom” in rather fancy cursive. Someone is in town. I'm not sure how I feel about this. I mean, why now? Especially since this is the first time anyone has bothered to show up for five years?
(To read more, click on the author's name)

Kay Springsteen
Apparently she wasn't thrilled with being compared to a substitute anything, let alone a substitute some folks considered less satisfying than the real thing. "Not the root," he corrected. "The flower. Your eyes are the same blue as a chicory flower. It's what I first noticed. Out there on the road the other evening."
(To read more, click on the author's name)

“Please tell me whatever you can,” Stoner said.
Mercer drew a deep breath. “We found her in the Dark.”
“Was it an accident?”
“No, sir.”
“Some wild beast?”
“A male one.”
(To read more, click on the author's name)
Chapter Four
        Nina felt nervous as she walked up the steps to Clint’s rented house. She shook her head and laughed, which turned into a giggle when Clint opened the door.
            “Laughing already and I haven’t even given you a punch line,” he said, opening the door wide to let her in.
            His eyes widened to see her. She never looked as beautiful. The dress showed her shape to perfection. He liked the print, feminine but not obvious. The neckline was sufficiently low to give him a great view of her breasts and he couldn’t stop staring.
            “Did I spill something?” she said, looking down at the neckline of her dress.
            Clint’s face turned bright red. Then Nina figured out what he was looking at and she turned bright red, too. It had been a long time since a man stared at her breasts, she didn’t expect it. She was out of practice. How long has it been since a man made a pass at me? She smiled to herself. Can’t remember. Her blush faded to a soft, attractive pink and Clint’s smile widened.
            “So where is that champagne you promised me?” she asked.
            Clint bounced out of his reverie and closed the door behind her.
            “Right in here,” he said, taking her elbow and leading her into the living room.
            She felt the warmth of his hand on her and it made her tingle in places that had not tingled in a long time. She blushed. Clint looked at her with a quizzical expression, as if he was wondering where her new blush came from, which made her blush more. Nina hid her face and walked through French doors out onto the deck. The sun was still bright and the garden beautiful with orange, pink and white summer flowers blooming .
            “I have a black thumb. Everything I plant dies,” she said.
            “Not true. You’ve made the play grow,” he said, following her.
            “The play is all yours,” she said.
            “It isn’t. Who gave it the name, ‘Happy Family’?”
            “You’re going to use that?”
            “It’s perfect and it’s yours.”
            Nina couldn’t hide her pleasure at his use of the title she created. She wanted to be part of this play…not just reading the part of Eve, the leading lady, but part of its production, part of whatever would keep her near Clint.
            “Now it’s yours.”
            “It’s …ours,” he said, slipping his arm around her shoulders. He balanced the bottle of champagne and two glasses in his other hand. They walked to the table on the deck and Clint put the bottle down. He popped the cork and pour out two flutes.
            “To you…” he said.
            “To you…” she said.
            “To us!”
            They clinked glasses and drank. The bubbles tickled her nose and Nina remembered how much she liked champagne and how Henry would ply her with champagne whenever he had bad news about a three week business trip or a late evening at work coming up…never for a celebration.  This was different. She looked at Clint’s eager, happy face and raised her glass for another toast.
            “To ‘Happy Family’, may it play for five years.”
            “Five? How about ten?”
            Again they drank, keeping eye contact. Nina recognized the hungry look on Clint’s face and felt amused it should be directed at her. Amusement turned to excitement when she realized it wasn’t something passing across the face of a man with two glasses of champagne under his belt, but something lingering in his eyes, his smile, the way he looked at her, like she was Little Red Riding Hood and he was the wolf. It gave her goosebumps and a chill ran up her spine.
            The heat she felt for him spilled out through her gaze…flirting came back so easily, like riding a bicycle. She looked right into his eyes. He stepped closer to her, eying her lips as she raised her chin to make eye contact, his mouth came down on hers, softly, gently, testing the way, waiting for her response.
            Nina could not believe the electricity traveling through her body at the touch of his lips. She grasped the table to steady herself but it was unnecessary as his arm snaked around her waist and held her fast, pulling her slowly up against him. Then he stepped back.
            She put her finger on his lips and he stopped talking. Her hands grasped the lapels of his shirt and pulled him down to her. She closed her eyes and his lips found hers again. A soft kiss progressed to a passionate kiss as she melted in his arms. He angled his head and deepened the kiss. Nina relaxed as his arms pulled her flush up against him, crushing her breasts into his chest. She drove all thought from her mind and allowed her senses to take over. He tasted like champagne and smelled woodsy. Her hands touched his neck and creeped up into his hair, the strands tickling her palms. His hands slid down over her behind and squeezed gently. She uttered a soft moan as her excitement grew. She wanted him, wanted him as she had not wanted a man in a long time.
            Clint broke from her and stood back. They stared at each other, waiting for their breathing to return to normal. Nina could see the fire in his eyes and knew hers matched his.
            “Dinner,” he said.
            “Must we?”
              Nina clapped her hand over her mouth, surprised at her aggressive suggestion. A wicked grin spread across his face.
            “You’re my guest. Choice is up to you…if you would like to start with dessert first, who am I to interfere…”
            She reached up and gently moved a lock of hair out of his eyes. She has mussed up his carefully combed hair so she felt responsible for righting it. He took her hand and kissed the palm.
            “The choice is yours, my lady.”
            “Am I?”
            “Are you what?”
            “Your lady?”
            “I hope so.”
            Keeping hold of her hand he slowly pulled her closer until she was in his arms again. She rested her cheek against his chest, listening to the rapid beat of his heart. He tilted her chin up for another kiss. No holding back.
            While their tongues danced, his hand circled her breast, feeling its weight, the fingers closing gently around the soft flesh. Nina gave a tiny gasp but didn’t change her position.  His fingers came up to caress the exposed top of her breast and she moaned at the contact. Her small hand unbuttoned one button of his shirt and slipped underneath to feel the hardness of his chest and the soft hair there. A groan escaped from his throat as his passion became evident to her.
            Feeling heat consuming her, Nina stepped back from Clint and took his hand.
            “Dessert first,” she said.
            He smiled at her and moved toward the stairs, keeping hold of her hand, pulling her gently along behind him.
            Nina thought of all the things she should say, the excuses about her body and what breast feeding does to ones breasts and how ten more years of gravity pulls things down…but she held her tongue. After all, this was Clint. He knew all that and she saw by the heat of his gaze he didn’t care. She was his lady and he wanted to make love to her.
            So she shut her mouth, smiled and followed him up the stairs.