P.G. Forte's Blog, page 35
November 13, 2023
Musical Monday: Someday at Christmas RaVaughn
This song has been a favorite of mine forever. But this might be my new favorite version. I think it's so perfect and poignant this year. Perhaps because "maybe not in time for you and me," has never seemed more probable.
But still: SOMEDAY!
I know it's early for Christmas music, and I apologize if you hate that I'm jumping the gun, but I'm up to my eyeballs in Christmas Angel re-writes and edits, so if I have to listen to Christmas music, so do you! Sorry, not sorry. It's a beautiful song and peace should never be out of season.
Christmas AngelAn Angels in the Afterlife Story
Being fully transparent is good for a relationship, right? Well, maybe not when it’s literal.
Christmas Angel is a second-chance, holiday romance with a celestial twist. Probationary angel Jake Hennessy's been sent back to earth to mend fences with his ex. Or has he? Certainly Tony doesn’t seem to think that's the case.
Tony DiCecco might have ninety-nine problems—and then some—between dealing with his meddlesome family AND running the family business (a Christmas tree farm in rural Texas) but he's pretty sure that playing catch-up with his ex-husband isn’t supposed to be one of them.
And what would even be the point? It’s hard to imagine what kind of future the two of them could have when one of them is alive and the other...isn't.
Pre-Order here: https://books2read.com/Christmas-Angel
November 9, 2023
Thankful Thursday for November 09, 2023
I'm getting to this VERY Y late in the day! But I'm thankful for the reasons. Earlier today I attended a fabulous marketing session with the amazing Angela James. And then I spent the evening with my grandson. I'm grateful for the rain we're receiving, because the drought here has been hard on all of us. I'm grateful that the weather isn't cold--because I don't like the type of winter weather I grew up with in New Jersey. That being said, however, I'm still very grateful to have grown up in New Jersey because learning to deal with all types of weather--hot and humid, cold and icy, rainy, muddy, windy, etc--and even more importantly, learning to DRIVE in all of them is invaluable. Also tomatoes. My condolences to anyone whose experience of tomatoes does not include fresh Jersey tomatoes. You will never know what you're missing. Pretty much anything else can be replicated (yes, even pizza and bagels) or shipped (thank you, Goldbelly!) but not tomatoes.
Moving on...
I'm grateful for all the really good books I've been reading--including a sneak peek at Kelly Jamieson's new Christmas book due out next week. It's soooo good!! I'm grateful for Tuesday's late night zoom and wine session with Kelly. So much fun, as always. And I'm grateful in advance for our planned California writing retreat.
I'm grateful that writing is going so well. I've finished the annotations on Sound of a Voice That is Still, and am half-way done with the revisions on Christmas Angel. The playlists are lagging, however. But I am grateful for Spotify because I get to listen to even the unfinished playlists while I drive or charge my car.
Can I mention being grateful for my Tesla, again? I love that car. And I love living less than a mile away from a super-charger. I'm grateful there's a Starbucks in the same mall as the charger. I'm extremely grateful that Starbucks has (supposedly--haven't checked yet) brought back Gingerbread Lattes! Because they are the BEST!
But right now, it's getting late and I want to get a few more words in before I go to bed, so I'm grateful that I can write and I'm grateful that, if I stay up too late doing it, I can sleep in tomorrow morning.
November 8, 2023
Wine Wednesday: Caymus Cabernet
I have another Napa Valley wine today...actually another RUTHERFORD wine. Which is weird, actually. The Napa Valley APA is pretty small to begin with, but Rutherford is just one tiny little part of it.But I digress.
So this is my second time trying Caymus' Cabernet and I like it as much as I did the first time. It's got great legs. Which doesn't count for all that much in the grand scheme of things, but it's something that I personally look for in a wine. I'm not even sure why, to be honest.
There's a lot of dark fruit in the aroma. I thought blackberry, my husband--Yes! I got him to try ANOTHER wine with me! --thought cherry. And perhaps he's right because the taste is definitely black cherry along with tobacco. Which, if you don't smoke or drink probably sounds horrible, but it really isn't. Also hints of vanilla.
It's a very nice wine--full bodied, not as aggressively tannic as some Zinfandels...well, it wouldn't be, would it? I had it with a steak and a caesar salad and some honey-balsamic roasted Brussels sprouts and it complemented all of that perfectly.
It's a good wine and I would definitely recommend it, and I'm sure I'll order it again. But I'm not sure it goes on my Must Visit winery list. Visits are $50. per person, which isn't high, but it's by appointment only and apparently you can only stay for an hour and a half. Now...I might not want to stay any longer than that, but on the other hand...I might?
Anyway, I was searching for another excerpt to post, but decided to just link to this FREE novella. It's a prequel to the Oberon series. It's actually a really long excerpt from A Taste of Honey that I expanded by adding a few extra scenes.
Life wasn't always strawberries and cream for Dan and Lucy Cavanaugh...or was it?
In this prequel novella, we travel back in time to see how Oberon's hottest couple got their start.
When he left Oberon for college, Dan Cavanaugh vowed he’d never step foot in his family’s nursery again. And yet here he is; twenty-three years old, and about to temporarily take over as manager while his parents went off on a long-anticipated tour of Europe. Five minutes in, he’s already identified what his biggest challenge will be this summer: Lucy Cavanaugh.
After messing up as a teenager, Lucy has been trying hard to get her act together and rebuild her life. Working at Cavanaugh’s for the past three years has been an important part of that. She’s been a model employee: loyal, hardworking, knowledgeable, indispensable. Everyone there loves her. Everyone, that is, except for her temporary boss, Dan God’s-gift-to-women Cavanaugh. But that’s okay with Lucy. She hates him, too. Or does she?
This prequel novella is yours for free when you sign up for my newsletter or join my readers' group. Links below:
https://dl.bookfunnel.com/5xxljdbblb
https://www.facebook.com/groups/TheCronesNest
November 7, 2023
Romance Writers Weekly ~ Supporting Character Sketch ~ #LoveChatWrite
This week, on the Romance Writers Weekly blog hop, we're asked to "Talk about the supporting characters in one of your stories. What inspired their name, personality, characteristics, etc."
I LOVE talking about my characters. In fact, on my Oberon Blog I have a weekly(ish) feature called "The People You'll Meet in Oberon" in which I discuss some of the characters. Usually I talk about the main characters, however, and why I think they're at the heart of the series. Or why some of the other characters might think that they are...looking at you, Gregg and Cara!
But one of the nice things about long series with large casts is that everyone eventually gets a chance to shine. A lot of my supporting characters turn into main characters, at some point, and vice versa! That also explains why the Oberon series starts out as a seasoned romance type of series and ends with several books focused on teenagers!
The most amusing supporting characters from the Oberon series who don't yet have (and probably won't ever get--sorry, guys) their own book are Marsha's twin sons from her first marriage, Frank and Jesse James. Yep. She went there. The in-laws (and her own mother, as well) were not amused.
What inspired their names? I would guess whatever drugs Marsha was given during labor were at least partially to blame, but honestly I think faced with twin boys with the last name James (and whose father couldn't be bothered to BE THERE while she'd been giving birth to them) she just couldn't resist.
The boys are twelve or thirteen when we first meet them. Frank is the more serious and reserved of the two, but they're both "Wild Irish" at heart. They're very protective of their mom and older half-sister. And fairly dismissive of their father (he deserves it, believe me). Frank's into computers, Jesse is into cars, and they're both into sneaking around and eavesdropping. Which I figure is a reaction to the fact that their mom's a psychic. She tends to know what they're up to even when they don't tell her. However, there's also a lot she'd rather not tell them. So I think they're looking for a way to level the playing field, so to speak.
There are other kids in the series whose actions end up impacting and/or involving the general population of Oberon. Frank and Jesse's influence is confined to their immediate family. They're particularly interested in their mother's relationship with Sam.
Here's a brief snippet from A Sight to Dream Of . This is from the night Sam first came to dinner at their house.
Sam watched as Marsha hurried out of the room. He had no idea what she was planning. What was she going to fix him up with? A can of pepper spray, perhaps? A spare pit bull? Maybe she’d just gone to call him a cab. They had to have cabs here, didn’t they? That at least would make sense.
“Now you’ve done it.” Jesse shook his head at him sadly, looking up from his homework. Sam gazed at him questioningly. “She’s gone for the magic potions,” his informant continued. “You might want to get out of here while you still can. You know, while you’re still human.”
Sam chuckled. “Magic potions, huh? Is that a common occurrence?”
“No.” Frank, buried behind the computer answered; his voice even colder than it had been when he’d answered the door. “Of course, it’s not. Don’t listen to him.”
Jesse rolled his eyes. “All the time. Potions, spells, seances. We’re the West Coast supplier of all sorts of voodoo.”
Sam smiled at them both. “Well, that’s okay. I guess I can handle a few spells. What is it you think she’s fixing for me, anyway?”
Frank studied him for a moment, and then shrugged. “Protection amulet, is my guess.”
For once, Jesse agreed with his brother. “Oh, yeah. Definitely an amulet. Probably something to do with garlic.”
“Garlic?”
“Sure.” Jesse’s smile held more than a hint of mischief. “It’s not just for vampires, anymore, you know. In fact—” he broke off as Frank let out a yelp.
“You lousy piece of crap!” Frank slammed his fist down on the computer in frustration.
“Problems?” Sam inquired.
“Computer virus,” Jesse said. He shook his head at his brother. “I told you that’s why they got rid of it. What’d you expect, anyway?”
“I’d expect them to fix something like that before they go and sell this piece of shit to anyone, that’s what.”
“Sell?” Jesse shook his head again. “You thought Dad gave us something he paid actual money for? Get real. You oughta know better’n that.”
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November 6, 2023
Musical Monday: No Good for Me
I used to used listen to the Corrs a lot during the early 00s, but then I kind of forgot about them. However I re-discovered them while I was putting together playlists for the Oberon series. Their music always seemed a perfect fit for Oberon with its large Irish American families. No Good for Me is the first song on the A Sight to Dream of playlist. it plays over the prologue and, truly, the words and sentiment couldn't be more perfect. You can read/listen below. And see if you don't agree.
PrologueOberon, California
Three days ago
Paige Delaney sat at her same old table on the patio of the Beach Hoppers Cafe, drinking her same old double-tall-caramel-low-fat-latte, and contemplating her life. The prospect was not a pleasant one. Her thoughts were as gray and as gloomy as the day itself.
Paige had first come to Oberon as a student at nearby UC Abraxas. She had stayed at first, for all the usual reasons. Because she’d been charmed by the climate and the scenery, the open-minded tolerance, and the laid-back, relaxed lifestyle she found there. And, when those reasons had all worn thin, she’d continued to stay because she’d been spoiled by the big fish/little pond fame she’d achieved as a reporter here. And because she’d fallen in love.
Hopelessly, disastrously, unrequitedly in love.
And even though the affair itself had been brief, and she had, in most respects, moved on with her life since then, it was still the one that got away that kept her tied to Oberon.
For too long. For way too long.
Paige took another sip of her coffee. Usually all the breakfast she had, the sweet, frothy drink had never before failed to raise her spirits and rev her engines. Until today. Today, not even the sight of bright-blue flowerpots overflowing with California poppies, Mexican primroses, and red and blue columbine, all set against the whitewashed walls of the patio could cheer her.
It was time for a change.
For years she had been reasonably content with her life and her career. She hadn’t ever really craved the big-city celebrity status she knew she could have achieved elsewhere. She had carved out a life for herself here, and it had been enough. Or so she thought. Until two months ago when the first really big news story to hit Oberon in years was stolen—right out from under her nose—by someone she’d once considered a friend. Now, the idea of reporting on even one more two-bit local festival left her feeling as if she wanted to scream at the top of her lungs.
Men. They were the source of all her problems. They took what they wanted, and then walked away. They acted as if their careers, their goals, their needs were all that mattered. And if she had mostly behaved the same way herself, well who could blame her? It was a dog-eat-dog world, even here in Oberon.
She’d had to be tough, hadn’t she? She’d had to fend for herself, stand on her own two feet, look out for her own best interests—all those stupid cliches that had the nasty habit of proving themselves true.
Because there was always some man who would make her feel loved, or at least wanted. Who would pretend to be her friend. And each time she made the mistake of thinking one of them was different, he’d always end up doing the same damned things.
When the chips were down, there was always some other woman who he’d end up being loyal to. Some other woman who he’d want to marry, and protect and have children with.
Some other woman who he would always, always, always choose over her.
Well, she’d had enough. It was time to stop settling for table scraps when, God only knew, she deserved the whole damn banquet. Time to stop waiting for some man to come to his senses and give her what she wanted. Time to go out and get things for herself.
Fantastic. More cliches.
It was time to get out of Oberon, too. Now, all she needed was a plan.
A familiar honking, flapping sound made her look up. A platoon of Canada geese flew fast and fearless in from the south to buzz the patio. As she watched, they made a low swooping turn through the parking lot and then disappeared behind the bank of scrub brush and low trees that stood to the west of the lot and separated it from the narrow beach that rimmed the bay. Paige looked at her watch and smiled. Regular as clockwork.
“Well, aren’t you beautiful?” A man’s low voice, rich with appreciation, caused her to look around, quickly. But it was clear from the man’s gaze—still locked on the western horizon—that his appreciation was for the geese, and not for her.
Which pretty much summed up the way her life had been going lately. Upstaged by a flock of geese. Un-fucking-believable.
She glared at the man. There was something vaguely familiar about him, although she couldn’t quite place him. Which was not altogether surprising. Although it was a small town, she’d lived here for a lot of years, and dated a lot of men—many of whom she had very good reasons for wanting to forget. She was just about to dismiss him completely from her thoughts when her journalistic instincts took over.
Something told her that, had she actually met this man before, she wouldn’t have forgotten him that easily. If she thought she recognized him now, it had to be because he was Somebody Important. She narrowed her eyes and observed the man more closely.
He was dressed entirely in black—motorcycle jacket, jeans and boots—with touches of silver showing at his neck and wrists. Despite his neat ponytail of silver-gray hair, he looked to be no more than mid-to-late forties. And the motorcycle he was straddling—a beautifully restored, 1948 Indian Chief Roadmaster—exhibited signs of loving care, excessive recent use and, most curious of all, New York plates.
Interesting. Paige reached for her notebook, as she automatically memorized the license number.
As if he were aware of her scrutiny, the man turned a quick glance in her direction as he donned his helmet. She saw a wary, watchful expression enter his eyes just before he snapped the dark visor down over his face and kicked the bike into gear. In another minute, he was roaring off in the direction of town.
Paige lounged comfortably back in her chair. He could run, but he couldn’t hide. Not for long, at any rate. She remembered now where she’d seen his face before—on the cover of Time Magazine. And she couldn’t imagine it would take more than a couple of phone calls to New York before she managed to locate a local number for him.
She might not know what Sam Sterling was doing here in Oberon—yet—at a time when all the financial papers were hinting at rumors of big trouble at Sterling and Vaughn, but she meant to find out. Her gut told her that there was a story here. A big one. And even if it was only the second biggest story to hit Oberon this year, this one, at least, would be all hers.
She tossed back the rest of her latte with the first hint of good humor she’d felt all morning. This just might turn out to be more than a great story, she thought, happily. It just might be her ticket out of town.November 2, 2023
Thankful Thursday for November 2, 2023
Todoay I'm feeling thankful for the cooler weather. I say "cool" even though most of the people I've been in contact with this past week seem to classify the weather now as "cold". It's not cold. Just sayin'. It's actually perfect, IMO. Not too cold or too hot. so, like I said:I'm thankful. I'm thankful to have grown up in New Jersey. In large part because I got to experience real, actual seasons. So I learned early what I like and what I don't like. Also, I learned to drive. Everyone should learn to drive in New Jersey. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.
I love Fall, so I'm thankful that it's Fall now. I've heard a rumor that Starbucks is bringing Gingerbread Lattes back--VERY thankful if that's the case, but I'll believe it when I see it.
I'm actually very thankful to the people who first hinted that I might have ADHD. I have executive function issues--which I knew, but never had a name for. In related news: I'm thankful that I'm both old enough and secure enough that the occasional accusation of "laziness" simply rolled off my back. I knew I wasn't lazy because the obsessive hyper-focus (another marker, apparently. Who knew?) has always been incompatible with any definition of laziness that I was aware of.
No. I just didn't like to do the things that I didn't like to do. Which, just makes sense, if you know what I mean.
But enough about that. I'm thankful that I get to watch my son and DIL's crazy dog. Alamo is a Frenchie. Today, he seems to have mistaken one of my 5 lb. weights for a bone or a chew toy and is running--RUNNING--around with it in his mouth. Quite the workout for a little dog! But I can't remember the last time I laughed that hard and I suspect I will find a way to put it into a book, at some point.
I'm having a great day today, so can I just say I'm thankful for all of it, and let it go at that? Because I'm very thankful that I get to spend so much of my time writing fun stories for you all to read, and now I'd really like to get back to it.
November 1, 2023
Wine Wednesday: Becker Vineyards' 2019 Reserve Merlot
Today's wine is a Texas wine--grown and bottled just outside of Fredericksburg--a cute town that for some reason reminds me of Calistoga. Probably wishful thinking on my part since I miss Calistoga something fierce (and also because none of the other ex-Californians I know see the resemblance at all.What can I say? They're all wrong, of course.
Anyway...it should surprise NO ONE who knows me even slightly that I love California wines. But, aspiring locavore that I am, I've been trying to drink more, and learn more about Texas wine. And, let me begin by saying that--in general--I think it's a mistake for wineries in Texas to attempt to grow Bordeaux Valley grapes. I've said the same about wineries in Temecula. I mean, seriously, wtf? Spanish Grapes. Sicilian grapes. Sangiovese, Tempranillo, Montepulciano, Albariño, Vermentino--maybe some Rousanne. That's what this climate is crying out for.
But, no. I'm sitting here looking at a glass of Merlot. And, to be fair, if I were eating Texas BBQ, this might be the perfect wine. It's light and dry and a little smoky with no legs whatsoever. Although at four years old, maybe that's not so surprising?
I would definitely let this wine BREATHE, which is not something I typically care about but in this case? Hell, yes. There was no discernible nose at all for the first ten minutes. A small amount of spiced fruit, maybe hints of dried blueberry, leather and cranberry.
I'd rate it quaffable for a meal centered around BBQ, queso, or pizza. All of which I'm suddenly very much in the mood for.
All that being said, however, I should perhaps point out that mine may not be the most reliable opinion in this instance. Merlot has never been my go-to for red wine. And now, it's not because of Sideways. I love Paul Giamatti but I worry that there's a special place waiting for him in the afterlife because of the way in which he caused Merlot sales and reputation to plummet.
No, I stayed away from Merlot because during the 80s and 90s it was my sister's red wine of choice. And I love my sister! And share her tastes in wine in many respects. In fact, when we lived near each other we used to have quarterly wine tasting dates at Frisby Winery in Lake Forest, CA. In fact we were there on March 15th, 2020 when the rumor went 'round that California was temporarily closing all bars in the state. And we LAUGHED because it was the most absurd idea! Ah, sweet Summer child...
But, in any case, she really likes Malbec right now so you can guess what wine I tend to steer clear of--only God knows why. Although I imagine a competent psychiatrist would have a few thoughts on the matter.
But to continue, I did a search for Merlot-themed excerpts from my books and found a couple. And, just so we're clear, by "Merlot-themed" I mean there's a mention of someone drinking Merlot. So if you were hoping for something deep and meaningful....ya ain't gonna find that here.
The scene I chose to share this All Saints Day, is a foreboding little piece that appears in the ninth Oberon book, which is not currently available.
It will be back next year, however, and in the meantime...
You can purchase the first two books in the series now. Book three is coming out in three weeks and is currently available for pre-order. Links for all three can be found on my website: https://www.pgforte.com/the-oberon-series along with all sorts of information, free reads, and fun extras. PLUS, if you care to join my FB reader group The Crone's Nest you can download an Oberon prequel--Such Fleeting Pleasures--for free.
Oh!! And I'm forgetting there's an odd little Christmas story available for a few weeks starting today. And I post about the various characters, locations, events, etc on the Oberon blog. So, if this excerpt sparks your interest, I promise to find ways to keep you entertained until you can get the entire series.
The following excerpt is from And Shadows Have Their Ending, the final book in the Oberon series. It's probably not as grim as that little picture might lead you to believe, but the last three books have their own story arc, so I picked line breaks in the same series for all three of them.
So, this scene...it would be hard to explain everything that's going on in this scene, because you'd have had to have read all the other books first. And then you wouldn't need to have it explained. So I'm simply going to leave it here. I call it, A Lawyer, an Angel, and a Cop Walk Into a Bar...
* * *
It was family night at Genovese’s Pizza and Pub and the whole place was abuzz with noise. Children ran about between the tables while pizza, the animated film that played on both TVs, and the menagerie of balloon animals being produced by a rainbow-costumed clown who’d set up shop in the rear of the restaurant vied for their attention. Jack observed the scene with distaste. Genovese’s was not his usual hangout––for precisely this reason. But, tonight, nothing was as usual.
The punk had been right. It hadn’t taken more than a couple of phone calls to confirm that the girl wasn’t dead. Even worse, she appeared to have gone missing. Now, in order to escape Gregg’s wrath, Jack would have to find her before the cops did and silence her in a way that wouldn’t look suspicious.
“Just how, in God’s name, am I supposed to do that?” he wondered angrily.
He wasn’t even aware he’d spoken aloud, until the stranger seated beside him replied, “You know, I would not have said there was anything that could not be done in His name. I see now that I was mistaken. I thank you, friend. I am indebted to you for showing me the error of my thinking.”
The noise around him seemed to recede as Jack favored the wise guy with a quelling scowl. “Do you mind?”
The stranger smiled genially. “No. Not at all. I’m just doing my job.”
“Your job?” Jack’s gaze swept over the man; taking in his long hair and the clothes he was wearing, shorts, sandals, Hawaiian shirt, with a single glance. “Why? Is the circus in town?”
An eager expression brightened the stranger’s eyes. “Is it? I haven’t heard. I hope so. I like the lions.”
“Whatever.” Not wishing to be suckered into any more of this absurd conversation, Jack turned back to his Merlot. The wine was just barely passable and he doubted that even consuming an entire bottle of it would produce the desired, anesthetizing effect. He’d have much preferred a good scotch, or a vodka martini. But he’d eschewed his usual choice of drink for the same reason he’d steered clear of his usual bar. He did not want to be seen drinking heavily tonight. He did not want to appear distressed or concerned. Apparently, however, that plan was not working out quite as well as he’d hoped.
“Perhaps there’s a reason you do not see your way clear in this endeavor, Jack. Perhaps your heart is urging you to turn away, to choose another path?”
Annoyed, Jack turned and glared at the man. “I’m sorry, have we met before?”
The stranger’s smile turned wistful. “Once. But, it was long ago. I do not wonder at your not remembering.”
Jack shook his head. No, he didn’t remember but, given the other man’s apparent lack of years, it couldn’t have been that long ago, either.
“Consider this,” the young man recited softly, “that in the course of justice, none of us should see salvation. We do pray for mercy, and that same prayer doth teach us all to render the deeds of mercy.”
“The Merchant of Venice.” Jack stared, as much surprised that he could recall the passage’s provenance as he was by the memory of the first time he’d heard it read aloud, back when he was still in junior high. His teacher’s voice, laden with emotion, had stirred Jack’s young soul. ‘It is an attribute to God, himself; and earthly power doth then show likest God’s when mercy seasons justice.’ It had made his father’s profession seem suddenly so noble..
The stranger smiled. “I thought, being a lawyer, you’d appreciate the wisdom of Portia’s offer. ‘Be merciful, take thrice thy money, bid me tear the bond’.”
Startled, Jack stared more closely at his companion. Despite the firm, and definitely masculine, angle of his jaw, there was something incongruously gentle, almost feminine, about his expression. Perhaps, it was just his youth. Though he’d appeared, at first glance, to be in his mid-twenties at most, but there was something in his eyes, an odd awareness that made Jack reconsider his initial assessment. The man beside him seemed somehow...ageless.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jack said, as he rose from his seat. Hands shaking, he pulled his wallet from his pocket, counted out some bills and tossed them on the bar. “I have to go.”
“Wait.”
Jack froze. He eyed the other man warily. What now?
Deliberately, the stranger extended his empty hand, closed it into a fist and then slowly re-opened it. A small box of matches lay nestled in his palm. The glossy yellow paper and green type of its label caught Jack’s eye and kept his gaze riveted as, one-handed, with motions that were suddenly too swift and dexterous for Jack to follow, the stranger rotated the box, extracted a match and struck it. Fire flared. Jack felt his eyes widen in fright, as he continued to stare, not at the match, but at the box itself, which bore the logo of the coffee shop where the girl, Deirdre, had worked.
No. Jack’s throat spasmed, he worked to clear it. “You know, given your obvious sleight of hand skills, and your choice of clothing, I’m surprised you’re not plying your trade at The Temple Garden. I think the atmosphere there would be more to your liking.”
“Perhaps you’re right.” The flame’s reflection danced in the stranger’s eyes as he smiled. “Thank you. I shall take your advice. Might I hope that you’ll take mine, as well?”
“What advice is that?” Jack asked. Despite the quailing of his heart, his voice sounded surprisingly calm.
“Choose again,” the young man urged quietly. “Turn away from this path. There is still time.”
Chills raced across Jack’s skin as, his head spinning, he turned and stumbled away from the bar and out into the street.
* * *
“Hey! Put that out,” the bartender called to the man with the match. “There’s no smoking in here.”
Smiling, the magician in the Tiki shirt closed both hands into fists, clapped once, and then re-opened them to reveal...nothing.
The bartender shook his head and returned to his work.
Impressed, Liam watched as the other man picked up the pint glass in front of him. He regarded it thoughtfully for a moment before taking a sip. Then, as though aware that he was being scrutinized, he turned his head and met Liam’s gaze.
“Nice trick,” Liam said. Despite the bad mood that had dogged him ever since his encounter with Cara, he found himself intrigued.
The other man shrugged modestly. “A small matter. Not at all in the same category as, say...extricating yourself from bondage.”
Liam felt himself grow momentarily lightheaded as a memory surfaced. Freeing himself from ropes was something he knew a little about...
It was a technique he’d taught himself when he was still a boy, and as useful as the skill had proven to be, he’d never before felt an urge to give thanks for the events that had forced him to master it. But, right now, all the tortures he’d endured as a kid seemed worth it and he was more than thankful, he was glad for those years he’d spent trapped in his stepfather’s private hell. The lessons he’d learned back then just might spell the difference between life and death. Not just his, but Cara’s, as well.
It had been years since he’d tried anything like this, and for a moment he was afraid he might have forgotten too much. It was more difficult than he recalled and it took longer than he could afford, possibly because he was larger and less limber than he had been. Or perhaps because Gregg and his goons had just gotten through using him as a punching bag.
His head felt woozy and it was enough of a struggle staying conscious, but he had no choice. He had to stay awake long enough to free himself. He had to find a way out of the compound. He had to get to Cara. The thought of that mad man on her trail scared him like nothing he’d ever known. He only hoped that he could find her before Gregg did. And the likelihood of that happening was so slim, he couldn’t bear thinking of it. He had to get to her first. He had to...
For an instant, Liam felt blinded by his rage. Because he hadn’t found Cara in time, had he? Despite his best efforts, Gregg had gotten to her first.
“Fret not,” the man at the bar murmured quietly. “Just because things do not turn out the way you hope or expect them to, that doesn’t mean they don’t turn out as they should. Sometimes you just need the right perspective.”
“No,” Liam muttered savagely. “You’re wrong.” There was no perspective that could make sense of this, or make Cara’s being hurt any less tragic.
“There are many kinds of lessons, you know; including some that are only reached through hardship. There are gifts that must be won at great price. Places you’d never willingly go. Understandings you’d never arrive at, if you weren’t brought to them by force.”
Too heart-sick to respond this time, Liam merely shook his head. Theoretically? Sure, that made sense. But in practice? No. It was a nice thought, nothing more. If things had turned out the way they ‘should’ have done, if the universe was really just, then Gregg would be dead by now, Liam would be in prison for his murder.
And Cara would be alone.
Could it be the stranger was right? Maybe there was a reason Liam had been prevented from killing Gregg. Maybe Cara’s supposed to be with me, after all?
Bullshit, the jealous little voice he’d never been able to completely silence whispered; that’s just what you want to believe. She wouldn’t be alone, she’d be with Seth.
But, bullshit or not, Liam decided to take it as a sign. The world was full of young women, let Seth find someone else.
His companion smiled gently. “Be of good cheer. Seize the day. Embrace uncertainty. It’s part of what makes life so interesting.”
“Interesting?” Liam repeated, finding his voice again, with difficulty. “Like the Chinese curse, you mean? May you live in interesting times. Well, they certainly were that.
“Even so.” Still smiling, the other man leaned closer. “Can I let you in on a secret?” he asked, lowering his voice conspiratorially.
Liam nodded.
“They’re all interesting. To the people living through them, each age is the most interesting time of all.”
October 31, 2023
Romance Writers Weekly ~ Halloween Flash Fiction ~ #LoveChatWrite
This week, on the Romance Writers Weekly blog hop, we're asked to contribute a piece of "Halloween Themed flash fiction--500 words or less using - pumpkin spice, ghost, and costume."
Annnnd...I might have messed up. I saw the list of words to use and said, yes! I've got the perfect idea! And then, when I was mostly done, I realized that it was supposed to be Halloween-themed.
Does it count that I didn't have time to start over because I had to attend a Halloween party? No? Well, it is what it is. I've written plenty of Christmas stories that have skimped on the actual Christmas part...maybe this is just the same. It's a Halloween adjacent kind of thing. It's giving Halloween vibes. I'm calling it, Coffeehouse Blues.
A good coffeehouse is a wonderful thing. And I ain’t been in one of those in a while. Ever since my usual hangout—Cup O Joe’s—closed down. They say it’s just for remodeling. But that seems sus to me. I mean, why’s it taking so long? What could they possibly be doing to the place that would justify my having to make my own coffee for the last few months…or weeks? Yeah okay, probably just weeks. But it feels like months. Because coffee at home is just not the same.
A coffeehouse is not just about the coffee. It’s the community, the vibe. It’s that feeling you get when you push through the door and the barista catches your eye and smiles and says, “The usual?”
My cousin, who gets all the tea from the Chamber of Commerce, assures me I’ll be happy when Joe’s reopens. That it’ll be ‘worth the wait’ and ‘better’ but I’ve got doubts. It’s practically Halloween! The TSMs (that’s Typical Suburban Mom’s, in case you’re cheugy or weren’t sure) have already togged their babies out in the most basic of costumes (low maintenance stuff, without a lot of chewable pieces) ghosts and pumpkins and baby bats. Which means I’ve missed half of Pumpkin Spice Latte season!
There is such a thing as diminishing returns, I tell my cousin. And ‘better’ is a relative term.
He laughs when I say it and tells me to stay in school. Right, because the idea of me, with my coupla semesters at community college, tryna tell him about matters of economics is ridiculous. But that’s not what I’m saying at all!
If I miss out on too much, if I have to wait too long, then how much better will better really be? I’m living in a post coffee apocalypse dystopia here. A postcoffalypse? Dude, I don’t know: something.
Anyway, I’m feeling kind of down as my ramble takes me past the graveyard…I mean the coffee-shop-that-was. And then I stop in my tracks. I smell coffee. Real coffee. Good coffee. I glance up and see that the paper that’s been covering Joe's windows has been removed. And…it's not Joe's anymore. In its place is Whole Latte Love. And the sign says Open!
Feeling hopeful, I push through the door. I glance quickly around, and freeze once again. Because it is better. It’s a coffeeshop-slash-wine-bar-slash-bookstore now. And I’m just so happy I want to cry.
But then my gaze tracks back to the counter and I want to cry for real because the barista’s a ghost. No, not that kind. He’s bussin—a total snacc, and yummy af. But he’s a ghost from my past and, in that moment, all I can think is, "Of all the coffeeshops in all the towns in all the world, he walks into mine."
It time to get in the Christmas spirit. Hallmark Christmas movies have begun, and now’s your chance to get new Christmas novels as well. Christmas in the Montana Pines brings you to the mountains of western Montana for this seasoned romance that proves it is never to late to fall in love, especially at Christmas.
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FREE Today Only!Going Back to Find YouA Children of Night Halloween Story
Because even a vampire deserves a second chance.
When Jason Cook boarded the train to San Francisco, he didn't plan on coming back. He never expected to see Nebraska or Lizbeth Petersen ever again. But when an unexpected turn of events threatens the woman he'd been forced to leave behind, he has no choice but to go back and try to make things right.
Warning: This is not a drill. Vampires are invading your favorite, small Nebraska town this Halloween. Does this mean Type-O flavored Booze will soon be the new rage in Sapphire Falls? Hopefully, it won't come to that. But you never can tell...
***This story was originally released as part of the Sapphire Falls Kindle World. It takes place between books six and seven in the Children of Night series.***
October 29, 2023
Musical Monday: Season of the Witch
In honor of Halloween, here's a witchy little number that I stumbled across while writing Hungry Hearts. It's not a new song--which I think is why I love it. But it is a new rendition. New to me, anyway.I won't say it's necessarily better, but I have been listening to it on replay for awhile now, so I think it's fair to say that I like it a lot!
It's not the version I used in the playlist--but that was a timing decision. I think this version fits Cara a little bit better. So feel free to swap it out, if you want. And don't forget you can download the story for free for the next few days.
Then it's into the crypt with it for another year. So what are you waiting for?
Hungry Heart
An Oberon Halloween Story
Cara Matthews is trouble—with a capital T. That's one thing that pretty much everyone in Oberon can agree on—parents, teachers, other students, her on-again-off-again boyfriend, Seth Cavanaugh.
Well, if you give a dog a bad name, they’ll probably try and live up to it, right?
This Halloween, after receiving one insult too many, Cara's hellbent on wreaking revenge—no matter who gets hurt in the process.
October 27, 2023
This Week on Freebie Friday: Going Back to Find You!
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HERERE
It's almost here!!! Be sure to join the Worth The Wait Seasoned Romance Readers group in order to participate in their fun fall event, Never Too Late To Fall In Love, on October 28!
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