Ginger Simpson's Blog, page 64

Rita is hitting the dusty trail...sniff

As I've already mentioned, Rita Karnopp will be leaving the blog, except for the times I can twist her arm to return as a guest, but the good news is that Jamie Hill will be replacing her as my partner.  I've sent Jamie an invite and she'll be adding her stuff to the blog even though Rita is still here and has posted into the month of April.

I know, you as well as I, will miss Rita and her fantastic posts, but at least I can keep in touch with her by phone, text and email.  Don't forget, she'll still have some wonderful reads out there, so keep her in mind when you are making those all important selections.

Help me welcome Jamie Hill.  She's another awesome author with great reads which I'm sure you will learn more about.

God's Wife

I especially liked number 5!
Author and lecturer Leo Buscaglia once talked about a contest he was asked to judge.  The purpose of the contest was to find the most caring child.
The winner was:
A four-year-old child, whose next door neighbor was an elderly gentleman, who had recently lost his wife. Upon seeing the man cry, the little boy went into the old Gentleman's' yard, climbed onto his lap, and just sat there.
When his mother asked him what he had said to the neighbor, the little boy just said, 'Nothing, I just helped him cry.'
*********************************************
2. Teacher Debbie Moon's first graders were discussing a picture of a family. One little boy in the picture had a different hair color than the other members. One of her students suggested that he was adopted.
A little girl said, 'I know all about Adoption, I was adopted.'
'What does it mean to be adopted,’ asked another child.
'It means', said the girl, 'that you grew in your mommy's heart instead of her tummy!'
************************ *********************
3. On my way home one day, I stopped to watch a Little League baseball game that was being played in a park near my home. As I sat down behind the bench on the first-base line, I asked one of the boys what the score was 'We're behind 14 to nothing,' he answered with a smile.
'Really,' I said. 'I have to say you don't look very discouraged.'
'Discouraged?' the boy asked with a Puzzled look on his face...
'Why should we be discouraged? We haven't been up to bat yet.'
*********************** **********************
4. Whenever I'm disappointed with my spot in life, I stop and think about little Jamie Scott.
Jamie was trying out for a part in the school play. His mother told me that he'd set his heart on being in it, though she feared he would not be chosen.
On the day the parts were awarded, I went with her to collect him after school. Jamie rushed up to her, eyes shining with pride and excitement. 'Guess what, Mom,' he shouted, and then said those words that will remain a lesson to me....'I've been chosen to clap and cheer.'
*********************************************
5. An eye witness account from New York City, on a cold day in December,
some years ago: A little boy, about 10-years-old, was standing before a shoe store on the roadway, barefooted, peering through the window, and shivering with cold.
A lady approached the young boy and said, 'My, but you're in such deep thought staring in that window!'
'I was asking God to give me a pair of shoes,' was the boy's reply.
The lady took him by the hand, went into the store, and asked the clerk to get half a dozen pairs of socks for the boy. She then asked if he could give her a basin of water
and a towel. He quickly brought them to her.
She took the little fellow to the back part of the store and, removing her gloves, knelt down, washed his little feet, and dried them with the towel.
By this time, the clerk had returned with the socks.  Placing a pair upon the boy's feet, she purchased him a pair of shoes.
She tied up the remaining pairs of socks and gave them to him. She patted him on the head and said, 'No doubt, you will be more comfortable now.'
As she turned to go, the astonished kid caught her by the hand, and looking up into her face, with tears in his eyes, asked her:

'Are you God's wife?'

Friday Freebits with Ginger #Frifreebits

Today, I'm starting with a new release, The Well , which is my foray into self-publishing. 

  I also want to share a special announccement with you: After this month, Rita Karnopp is retiring from writing, and I'll be joined by Jamie Hill, a fellow Books We Love Author and friend.  I know you'll enjoy Jamie's posts and work and I feel certain you'll help me welcome her to Dishin' It Out.

My darling Rita has posted all her final blogs into April on her usual days, and after April 9th, Jamie will be blogging on Mondays and Fridays and I will blog on Wednesdays and Sundays.  I'm going to change Friday Freebits to Sunday Snippets and share 6 paragraphs from work (mine and guests), so I hope you'll continue to come read just enough to tease you.  :)  Speaking of teasing...here's six paragraphs from The Well .

Cover by Charlene RaddonHarlee cranked the bucket up and shielded her eyes against the sun while looking longingly at the sky for any hint of rain. A few wispy white clouds drifted across a sea of blue, and in the distance, vultures circled some poor critter either dead or dying. Her heart ached for such a gruesome end to life. 
“Are you gonna take all day getting water?” Hannah poked her nose outside. “I’m mighty thirsty, just in case you care.” 
“Hold your horses, would ya? If you think you can fetch a bucket full any quicker, you’re welcome to try.” 
Hannah stuck out her tongue then disappeared back inside the house. No surprise, she wouldn’t put forth any effort. As the baby, she was spoiled rotten. 
Harlee turned her attention back to the chore at hand. The bucket crested the well’s top, only half full this time. The water used to be so high, she often bent over and stared at her reflection.  Doubtful she could see it now; she crawled up on the stone ledge and peered over, searching for any hint of her likeness. Stretching more…she still saw nothing but emptiness. The old stone beneath her grip gave way, sending her tumbling into the black abyss. Numbed by shock, her scream froze in her throat. 
She hit the water, creating a splash, although not a very big one. Pain shot through her head, and she grabbed her scalp to soothe the ache and found a huge lump had already formed. Something dripped down the side of her face. Was it water? She licked her hand and confirmed by the salty flavor—blood. Her attempt to choke back tears failed when the throbbing intensified and matched each beat of her heart. She cried until she got the hiccups, and leaned her head against the wall, waiting for them to stop.


Hope you'll come back next week for another installment.  Just in case you can't wait...The Well is available on my Amazon page. 

“FRIENDS ARE GIFTS WE GIVE OURSELVES” BY RITA KARNOPP

First I’d like to say . . . “it’s great to be back!”  There are times we hit a wall in life and we know we need a break.  Yep, not want a break – but need a break.  If we love ourselves, and we all should, we need to listen to our ‘self-talk.’
I knew it was time to take a break from writing, something I haven’t done since my sister, Diane, passed over six years ago from throat cancer.  I kept telling myself after I finish ‘this book’ I’m taking a month or so off to get caught up on the housework, the kitchen cupboards, etc.  But that next book would scream at me . . . and before I knew it – I would be engulfed in a new plot.
2014 was a great year . . . but it had a few hiccups that have incited me to count my many blessings.
My brother-in law, only 66 years old, had a massive stoke on both sides.  An active rancher all his life . . . and now . . . he’ll never sit-up, walk, take a stroll down the hallway and go to the bathroom, or even feed himself without help.  It can happen to any of us . . . any time. 
I started 2014 with a hole-punch retinal tear and of course I was still doing therapy on my right wrist – that torn ligaments and cartilage – separating all eight bones requiring surgery.  After much therapy and pain - instead of having no use of my hand – I now have 96% – I’m so grateful.
My husband and I struggled with helping our son go through a disastrous divorce (are there any other kind?) and there were the usual life’s struggles of car breakdowns, new tires, and twice a two-year-old frig/freezer malfunction!
The final straw in 2014 was my 63 year old sister committing suicide in November.  She chose to hang herself from a tree on a lonely hillside in California ~ rather than face life.  My heart breaks for her and I wish I could have helped her make a different choice.  I now respect her decision – because it will eat me up if I don’t.  Sometimes things are beyond our control and that’s why we have God . . . to help us get through the tough stuff.
As I’ve grown older, I realize it’s not just family that gets me through the good and tough times in my life.  It’s my friends.  We hit a time in our lives when it becomes apparent how important all those friends are.  True friends who are there for me when I really need them . . . and it goes without saying – I’m there for them when they need me.
It saddens me when I hear people say ‘how lonely they are.’  That’s when I start counting my blessings.  I feel all the more grateful for my husband ~ who is my best friend.  And there are our couples-friends we share.  Great times gold panning and dinner parties together.  But, let’s face it – us gals need more than that.
I have only one friend from my high-school days.  I’m incredibly grateful to have Carolyn in my life.  Someone who knows me from eleven years old to now . . . how wonderful! 
I’m overwhelmed with the sensitive, caring, and loving ‘writer friends’ I’ve been blessed with over the years.  And these are the ‘friends’ I’m talking about.  One lady (Ginger) has moved into the ‘sister’ title and the rest are in the ‘I can’t do without’ category.  The Internet has radically redefined the concept of friendship. I’m not talking about bogus Facebook ‘friends.’  I am talking about how the internet has allowed easy access and connection with others - so we’ve been able to nurture friendships as the years go by. 
Isn’t it amazing to have incredibly strong relationships with some writers, yet we’ve never met each other in person?  Yet we regularly talk to each other about some of the most intimate and important aspects of our lives. We are truly friends and a significant part of each other’s social life.
There is always time and room to add another friend, be it a new reader who emails to chat about one of my books, or a new writer needing some ‘advice,’ or even that established writer who is reaching out for someone to ‘just listen’ for a moment or two.
I realized how many friends I’ve been blessed with when I shared my sister’s suicide.  The amount of support and love I read in those emails put me to tears.  When I started my writing career - little did I know I’d stumble onto a support system that invests more heart than I could ever imagine.
So . . . to all my friends . . . thank you for being there for me during the good, bad, and even ugly times.  Know one thing ~ I’m here for you, too. 
As a teen I once received a fortune cookie . . . one that I’ve always remembered and hold dear.  “Friends are gifts we give ourselves.”
Friends   Me and you are friends . . .   You fight, I fight . . .   You hurt, I hurt . . .    You jump off a bridge . . .
   I’m gonna miss your dumb ass. 

A Page Straight From Tricia McGill #apagestraightfrom

The Laird- Wild Heather Book 1 byTricia McGill
       Suddenly the door opened wide.
He blinked as light streamed in. Before them a wide staircase led down to a cavernous hall. Immense soot-laden beams held up a ceiling of what appeared to be tightly packed straw, and the walls were timber pylons reinforced with mud or clay.
A fire roared in a fireplace large enough to roast a whole cow. Two large soot-encrusted pots containing what smelt like some sort of stew hung over the fire. Peat blocks were stacked up at one side of the hearth and enough wood to keep a fire going for a week was piled up on the other side.
People sat around on stools or rough wooden benches. It was impossible to estimate at first glance how many there were. Everyone stopped talking at once, and a sudden eerie silence filled the hall as they all gazed up at them.
Liz crumpled in a heap at Andrew’s feet.
“Liz, for heaven’s sake!” Andrew went down on his haunches beside her, pulling her into his arms. The boy who’d opened the door stood with his mouth agape, staring at them as if they were apparitions.
      A giant of a man slowly lifted himself from one of two throne-like chairs that flanked the fireplace and, taking the steps two at a time came to tower over them, mouthing words Andrew couldn’t understand.
“I’m sorry, but you’ll have to speak English.” Andrew wondered how he’d managed to get the words out, as picking Liz up, he went down the stairs and looked about for a soft place to set her down. The man followed him, and then faced Andrew, his hand on a deadly looking dagger-type weapon that was thrust through his belt.
The only likely place Andrew could put Liz was on a wide bench. It didn’t look much more comfortable than the floor, which was strewn with heather, lavender stems and rushes. As Andrew set Liz down he glanced up. The man’s scowl was ferocious as he scratched at his dark head.
His mass of thick black wavy hair reached past his shoulders, and his beard was just as black. He babbled on in the same strange tongue, and the rest of the crowd began to mutter and whisper, moving closer and doing little to disguise their almost childlike curiosity.
They were dressed in an odd assortment of clothing. Andrew had never seen anything quite like it. The men wore a sort of kilt without pleats. They all had leggings or bindings around their calves. Some, including the giant, wore shirts, others a sort of sleeveless vest. Most of the women wore ankle-length long sleeved shift-like dresses, belted at the waist. The children, even the boys, sported similar knee-length shifts, tied about the middle with cords or leather thongs. None of the children had shoes on, but the adults all appeared to be wearing soft leather moccasin type slippers. A tall woman rose gracefully from the other high-backed chair.
Liz stirred, opening her eyes, muttering, “He wants to know what the blazes we’re doing in his home. He seems to suspect we’re more spies sent by some enemy or other. A guy named MacGriers. And he thinks you’re my bodyguard.” She giggled. Andrew sensed a touch of hysteria in her laughter. This certainly wasn’t amusing. “He’s telling the tall woman with the grey hair that you’re an odd-looking sort. He’s wondering where you got such fine footwear and that skirted garment. He can’t make out your trousers. He reckons they’re like nothing he’s seen before.”

“How the bloody hell can you understand him? I can’t.” Andrew glared at the man, whose strange kilt had a large clump of gathered material flung over one shoulder. The garment was cinched at the waist by a belt with a buckle bearing a design similar to the one on the cape Liz had draped round her shoulders.

Link to buy page: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00PKOZ6C8

Sunday Snippets with Ginger Simpson #Sundaysnippets

FROM CULTURE SHOCK THIS WEEK:

NOTE:  Someone is still watching.  Have you guessed who yet?  And things are about to get humorous.


Hereturned to his dreary apartment and sagged onto the couch. His gut fisted with anger. The two of them were together again. As much as he despised cops, he hated the blonde bitch more. Images of them embracing and sucking each other's tongues turned his stomach. The idiot probably wasn't even aware how she worked her wiles to entice him into a passionate frenzy. Pounding his fist on his knee, he grimaced, not at the pain but with determination. There was only one way to save his fellow man and it fell directly in his lap.
***
Alex's fork clanked against the bottom of his empty salad bowl, and he wiped his mouth with his napkin. Cynthia tensed, waiting for him to comment on dinner. "Do I have any charcoal in my teeth?" He displayed his pearly whites in a wide smile. Cynthia threw her napkin at him. "Oh, it wasn't that bad ... was it?" "No." He grinned. "Everything tasted fine. I was just kidding because I knew you were stressing over the chicken." "I'm usually a pretty good cook, but someone was distracting me." Making a face at him, she stood, cleared the dirty dishes from the table and put them in the sink. "Are you saying that you burned the chicken because of me?" Alex called after her.She turned and put her hands on her hips. "Make up your mind. Either it was burnt or it tasted okay. Which is it?" She started to fill the basin with water, but after holding her hand under the faucet for a time, decided waiting for hot water might take forever.  She swished the soap around in the half-filled sink and gave up.  Besides, she hadn’t planned to wash them now, anyhow.  She had a better way to spend her time.Alex pushed his chair back and stood. Taking his beer with him, he walked to the sofa. "Let's just forget about the chicken. Really, it tasted great." He patted the cushion next to him. "Come and sit." Cynthia dried her hands then walked to the divan. Alex's arm rested along the back, a definite invitation to snuggle. She sat and pulled her feet up, tucked them beneath her and leaned back in the crook of his arm. "I really am sorry the chicken got a little overdone. Promise you won't hold it against me." He closed his hand over her shoulder. "The only thing I plan to hold against you is me." "Oh, really?" she said, not sure if he kidded her or not. He put his beer on the table and pulled her into an embrace. "Yes, really.”  The sexy timbre of his voice made her shiver. Before she could speak, he kissed her. Her eyes closed and her lips parted to allow him access. She shuddered when their tongues touched. Words of caution played in her mind, but any restraint she had melted away as his kiss deepened and stirred her embers of passion into flame. She had waited all week just to savor his kiss. Alex stretched out alongside her and snaked a cradling arm under her head. With his free hand, he traced her body's curvature, slowly moving his hand along the side of her breast, to her waist, and along the swell of her hip. A warming sensation lingered wherever he touched. For propriety's sake, she should push him away and get up, but every nerve in her body tingled with want for him. When his body arched away, she opened her eyes. With lips still locked to hers, he stretched toward the end table with a reach not quite long enough to turn off the light. The lamp craned in the opposite direction, and while grappling to keep it from falling, Alex's fingers grasped the ancient fixture's frayed cord. Amidst flickering light, shooting sparks, and the shattering of glass, Cynthia contorted. She closed her eyes as a stinging electrical current coursed through her, arcing her against Alex. The powerful discharge bound them together by pure force. Her eyes, the only part of her body she could voluntarily move, flew open in wide amazement. Nose-to-nose with Alex, she stared helplessly at him. Moments ago his luscious, blue eyes had been filled with desire, now they bulged in protest against the wattage. Suddenly, the room went dark. At last, the breaker had interrupted the current's flow.
Available on Amazon

Sunday Snippets with Ginger Simpson Replayed on Friday -

Sorry for the confusion, but next month, Rita is going to be blogging on Fridays.  I'm in the midst of a move and today is my last day of Internet until next week.  Needless to say, I haven't had time to post a new blog, so you get a rerun here as well as TV.  Rita is only going to blog one more month then I'm not sure of the fate of the blog.  Don't know if I can keep it going by myself.  So...enjoy this scene from Culture Shock, and I'll be back on line as soon as I get service at our new place.  I'll be so glad to see no more boxes and bins.  :(
This Week from Culture Shock:



Alex stood in front of his locker and changed into his uniform, then checked his gear. He loaded ammunition into his nine millimeter, and fastened the gun in his holster. His thoughts constantly strayed to Cynthia. He couldn't get her off his mind. "Hey, Alex!" His patrol partner, Mike, interrupted some pleasant thoughts. "I can't help but notice a smile on your face this morning. Usually, you're grumpy as hell on Monday." He dropped his jeans and changed into his own uniform.Alex finished adjusting his tie and turned. "So, grumpy am I? How come you never mentioned it before?" "I just figured it was your normal Monday routine, but you shot that theory all to hell. So, tell me…what’s changed?”Alex closed his locker and started toward the exit. "None of your damn business!" "Aha! A woman. I knew it!" “You think you're so smart. What makes you think it's a chick?" "What else could it be? You got laid didn't you?"  He tagged after Alex through the rows of metal cabinets, yapping at his heels like an annoying dog.Alex snorted. "I wish. It's been so long, I'm not sure I'd remember what to do." Mike caught up with him at the door and grasped his shoulder. "That’s something you never forget, partner. It's like a bicycle…you just get on and pedal as fast as you can." The sex talk made Alex uncomfortable only because it brought visions of Cynthia lying beneath him. He shook off the image. "It's no big deal. Besides, I think your  time and attention would be better spent focusing on our assignment. We've got to uncover something to lead us to the killer. C'mon, it's time to hit the road and catch the bad guys." He pushed through the door. After roll call, Alex handed over a sheet of paper to Mike which had addresses they were supposed to check out.  He hoped to avoid any further discussion of his personal life and concentrate on their job.  His hope was short-lived, when Mike grabbed his arm just outside the meeting room.
"Wait a minute. You aren't going to get out of this so easy. What's her name and where did you meet her?" Alex shrugged off his grasp, and continued outside to their patrol car. "What does it matter? You don‘t know her." "Come on, Alex. Spill." Mike followed on his heels, still yapping. "You've been celibate for almost two years ... or is it longer? I'm your partner. I need to know these things." He laughed. Alex stopped with his hand on the door handle. "Okay, okay. She lives in my apartment building and her name isn't important. Are you satisfied?" "You lied didn't you? You did it. Was she good?" Alex opened the car door, but before he got in, he peered over the roof at Mike. “You’re a pig. It's not like that. We've only seen each other a couple of times and she’s a real lady.  Just get in the car." As the passenger, Mike pulled his seat belt forward and inserted the buckle into the latch. "Well, if  you didn't get laid, and you're this happy, I don't know if I'll be able to stand you when you do." Alex fought a smile and, leaving the Bayview Police headquarters, drove across Oakdale, in the direction where the latest victim had been found so he and Mike could go over the crime scene one more time in hopes of finding overlooked clues. The Crime Scene Investigation team made a thorough sweep of the area already, but the Chief wanted to make sure they missed nothing.  The pressure from the public over this case weighed on everyone’s shoulders.  Alex wasn’t one to leave things to chance so he was fine with a follow-up despite his partner’s complaining.Alex made a quick right turn into a narrow alleyway and stopped the cruiser directly in front of the yellow police tape that still marked the spot. They'd have to walk to where the victim's body had been discovered. A sick feeling crept into the pit of Alex's stomach when he stood over the spot where the young woman's lifeless body had been dumped. The chalk outline on the asphalt served as a grim reminder that someone had lost a loved one. He knew what that felt like. His jaw tightened with the growing need to catch the son-of-a-bitch who obviously enjoyed torturing people. He turned to his partner. "Let's canvass the area one last time. You start at that end of the alley and I'll start at this end." Mike sighed. "Alex, you know the area has already been gone over with a fine-toothed comb. What do you expect to find?" "Look for anything that might have a bearing on the case. The perp's eventually going to screw up and leave something to lead us to him." Mike stomped to the alley's opposite end. Head down, he took measured steps, but his low grumblings echoed off the brick walls. "Any luck?" Alex called from halfway. "No." Mike held up his hands. "But I don't know what in the hell I'm supposed to find." "I‘m not finding anything either. I guess you're right. We may as well give it up, at least for now. We have the addresses of other nearby alleys. The perp seems to like them." Back in the car, Alex started the engine. He glanced over at Mike. "Thank you for humoring me. At least I feel like we've really done our best." Mike smiled. "No problem, partner. I might come across as a jerk when you ask me to do certain things, but your devotion is what I like about you. You always give a hundred-and-ten-percent."  He read off the next address for Alex.
Buy on my Amazon Page.

A Page Straight From Tricia McGill #apagestraightfrom

Lonely Pride—Beneath Southern Skies Book 1 byTricia McGill
“You didn’t have to put yourself out on my behalf,” she thought to tell him as they walked across the car park.
In a way she knew was deliberately lustful he eyed the curves of her body before he said, “No trouble.” His gaze turned cold as he raked his eyes over her, from her wind-tossed hair to her ankles. They reached an off-road vehicle and he opened the back door, tossed her cases in, then held the passenger door open for her. “I’d do the same for any old friend,” he added as, with slight difficulty, she got in. He didn’t offer her a helping hand and she wouldn’t have accepted it if he had. Once in the driver’s seat, he flicked on the air conditioning, and Sam sat back with a sigh as the cabin filled with cool air.
Tears pricked at the backs of her lids. It took all her willpower to hold them back. He turned to stare at her profile. The last person in the world who would see her cry would be him. How she wished she knew what was going on in his head. Once she would have known--or thought she had.
Once she would have come right out and asked him.
Instead, she asked tautly, “Just how is it the successful town vet can take time out to pick up old friends anyway?” Turning to glance at his weather-creased face she swallowed a sigh when his lips curled tauntingly. Quickly she returned her gaze to the hands twisting in her lap.
“It is Sunday. And even successful vets can take a few hours off some weekends. Especially when they have a partner who can take care of emergencies if they arise.” They’d stopped at traffic lights and he gave her the full intensity of his dark brown stare, causing her to shift in discomfort.“Oh yes, I almost forgot. The reliable Clare.” The air in the cabin, if possible, became even more strained with tension. “Your partner. How is she these days?” With a fingernail Sam scratched at an imaginary fleck of dust on her skirt. “Mum told me she’d joined your practice. There must be a great deal of work around to need the services of two vets in such a small town.”
“Come off it, Sam! You know as well as I that my practice encompasses a vast area and there’s always more than enough work to keep two vets occupied.” With an uncustomary jerk he changed gears, then shot off so fast she was sent jolting forward into her seatbelt. “And if you’re really interested in Clare, she’s as she’s always been; ambitious and able.”
“Too ambitious by far I should think for such a small town in the back-blocks of Tassie.” Lifting her hair she flicked it back with a careless motion. “Who would have thought she would return to her hometown. The enticements must have been enormous to encourage her to come back to stay.” Why didn’t she shut up? She was treading on dangerous ground. But they both knew; where Clare was concerned she’d never known how to conceal her dislike and disgust.
“Clare keeps her own counsel, as always.” His voice was terse. “Despite what you may think I didn’t ask for her reasons and she hasn’t volunteered the information. I needed a partner and she was in need of a position.” The glance he tossed at her was full of censure and they travelled for a few miles in tension-packed silence.
Buy Link:  http://amzn.com/B00NXKAXLK 

Friday Freebits with Ginger Simpson #frifreebits

This Week from Culture Shock:



Alex stood in front of his locker and changed into his uniform, then checked his gear. He loaded ammunition into his nine millimeter, and fastened the gun in his holster. His thoughts constantly strayed to Cynthia. He couldn't get her off his mind. "Hey, Alex!" His patrol partner, Mike, interrupted some pleasant thoughts. "I can't help but notice a smile on your face this morning. Usually, you're grumpy as hell on Monday." He dropped his jeans and changed into his own uniform.Alex finished adjusting his tie and turned. "So, grumpy am I? How come you never mentioned it before?" "I just figured it was your normal Monday routine, but you shot that theory all to hell. So, tell me…what’s changed?”Alex closed his locker and started toward the exit. "None of your damn business!" "Aha! A woman. I knew it!" “You think you're so smart. What makes you think it's a chick?" "What else could it be? You got laid didn't you?"  He tagged after Alex through the rows of metal cabinets, yapping at his heels like an annoying dog.Alex snorted. "I wish. It's been so long, I'm not sure I'd remember what to do." Mike caught up with him at the door and grasped his shoulder. "That’s something you never forget, partner. It's like a bicycle…you just get on and pedal as fast as you can." The sex talk made Alex uncomfortable only because it brought visions of Cynthia lying beneath him. He shook off the image. "It's no big deal. Besides, I think your  time and attention would be better spent focusing on our assignment. We've got to uncover something to lead us to the killer. C'mon, it's time to hit the road and catch the bad guys." He pushed through the door. After roll call, Alex handed over a sheet of paper to Mike which had addresses they were supposed to check out.  He hoped to avoid any further discussion of his personal life and concentrate on their job.  His hope was short-lived, when Mike grabbed his arm just outside the meeting room.
"Wait a minute. You aren't going to get out of this so easy. What's her name and where did you meet her?" Alex shrugged off his grasp, and continued outside to their patrol car. "What does it matter? You don‘t know her." "Come on, Alex. Spill." Mike followed on his heels, still yapping. "You've been celibate for almost two years ... or is it longer? I'm your partner. I need to know these things." He laughed. Alex stopped with his hand on the door handle. "Okay, okay. She lives in my apartment building and her name isn't important. Are you satisfied?" "You lied didn't you? You did it. Was she good?" Alex opened the car door, but before he got in, he peered over the roof at Mike. “You’re a pig. It's not like that. We've only seen each other a couple of times and she’s a real lady.  Just get in the car." As the passenger, Mike pulled his seat belt forward and inserted the buckle into the latch. "Well, if  you didn't get laid, and you're this happy, I don't know if I'll be able to stand you when you do." Alex fought a smile and, leaving the Bayview Police headquarters, drove across Oakdale, in the direction where the latest victim had been found so he and Mike could go over the crime scene one more time in hopes of finding overlooked clues. The Crime Scene Investigation team made a thorough sweep of the area already, but the Chief wanted to make sure they missed nothing.  The pressure from the public over this case weighed on everyone’s shoulders.  Alex wasn’t one to leave things to chance so he was fine with a follow-up despite his partner’s complaining.Alex made a quick right turn into a narrow alleyway and stopped the cruiser directly in front of the yellow police tape that still marked the spot. They'd have to walk to where the victim's body had been discovered. A sick feeling crept into the pit of Alex's stomach when he stood over the spot where the young woman's lifeless body had been dumped. The chalk outline on the asphalt served as a grim reminder that someone had lost a loved one. He knew what that felt like. His jaw tightened with the growing need to catch the son-of-a-bitch who obviously enjoyed torturing people. He turned to his partner. "Let's canvass the area one last time. You start at that end of the alley and I'll start at this end." Mike sighed. "Alex, you know the area has already been gone over with a fine-toothed comb. What do you expect to find?" "Look for anything that might have a bearing on the case. The perp's eventually going to screw up and leave something to lead us to him." Mike stomped to the alley's opposite end. Head down, he took measured steps, but his low grumblings echoed off the brick walls. "Any luck?" Alex called from halfway. "No." Mike held up his hands. "But I don't know what in the hell I'm supposed to find." "I‘m not finding anything either. I guess you're right. We may as well give it up, at least for now. We have the addresses of other nearby alleys. The perp seems to like them." Back in the car, Alex started the engine. He glanced over at Mike. "Thank you for humoring me. At least I feel like we've really done our best." Mike smiled. "No problem, partner. I might come across as a jerk when you ask me to do certain things, but your devotion is what I like about you. You always give a hundred-and-ten-percent."  He read off the next address for Alex.
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A Page Straight From Roseanne Dowell

Deadbeat Dads byRoseanne Dowell

Does everyone start out married life with rose colored glasses? I'm sure no one expects their marriage to end in divorce. I certainly didn't. Mine was the perfect love, the perfect marriage, I was going to have the perfect life, and it was an absolutely perfect day for a wedding. The sun streamed through the window as I walked down the aisle on my father’s arm. Johnny looked so handsome standing at the altar waiting for me.  Oh, I knew we'd have our ups and downs. I've always been a realist. I know nothing in life is perfect. But we came darn close. At least that’s what I thought. So how did I end up divorced, fifteen years later? If anyone would have told me about the turn my life would take I’d have laughed at them.Oh, I’m Erica Morris. I was Mrs. Erica Morris until recently. Now I’m divorced and left to raise two kids. Johnny, my husband left me for a younger woman. Not a new story, I know, but that doesn't make it hurt less. To top it all off, he cut himself off from our kids and left me to be the bearer of bad news. To make matters worse, he refuses to pay child support. Not that he can’t afford it. Believe me, he could well afford it, and then some.   But he left us penniless?  I need to back up a bit.  I remember calling the meeting of other single mothers to order. *** “Okay ladies,” I looked at the women gathered around me. Lisa Daly, who encouraged me to start this group, was here and Nicole Brown. Poor thing never went out while she was married. Oh, and Louise Conners, I still couldn't believe her husband ran off with his receptionist, and now they were going through a nasty divorce. Not sure why that surprised more than the others. It shouldn't. There was quite a turn out. Half the women I didn't know.I brought my attention back to the meeting. “First order of business, a name for our group, any ideas?”“Deadbeat Dads Anonymous,” someone called out. “Wives of Deadbeat Dads,” someone else yelled. “Or Women Against Deadbeat Dads.”“Better yet, how about Mothers Against Deadbeat Dads.  MADD!” Lisa Daly shouted.I laughed. I couldn't help it. There certainly wasn't a shortage of names. “We’re mad for sure but that sounds too much like Mothers Against Drunk Drivers.”“ADD,” someone else yelled. Against Deadbeat Dads.”Nicole Brown’s hand went up. “Nicole, what’s your idea?”“How about Wives Enraged at Deadbeat Dads. W.E.D.D.?” Nicole’s voice barely reached above a whisper.Poor Nicole. Her ex-husband had knocked her self confidence so low. I was surprised to even see her here.  I met her at a school function. Nicole’s daughter, Cindy, was in the same class as my Josh. I had heard through the grapevine that Bob, Nicole’s ex, had run off with a stripper. Talk about humiliating. I shivered at the thought. 

Deadbeat Dads is available from Amazon