Cindy A. Christiansen's Blog, page 21

Have You Had a Near Miss?

Recently a friend sent me the link to this Youtube clip of near misses.  It is really amazing!  You should watch it.  It reminded me of a near miss I experienced. 
I had been shopping and was headed home.  I signaled to make a left hand turn.  Several cars ran the yellow light, and even another the red.  There was a car still coming, but my brain said, “Surely, they won’t run a solid red light.”
I was out in the intersection so I started to turn.
Wrong decision!The driver ran the light.
My heart shrunk and dropped into my stomach.  The next few seconds were surreal.  To this day, I can’t tell you exactly what happened.  I know his car hit my truck.  I know I pulled off the road and stayed in my seat, blinking and trying to figure out what had just happened. The man finally came up, and I got out to look at the damage with him.
All I could find was a dent in my right rear bumper.  My mouth drooped open. It just didn’t make sense.  The car was coming at me.  The front bumper of the man’s car was totally mangled.  For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out how my truck’s right backend got hit when he was on my left, and certainly not behind me. I kept rubbing my arms and looking between the damage to his car and then my truck. All I could think about was that few seconds that didn’t feel real.
The man had no insurance and didn’t want to report the accident.  Because there was very little damage to my truck and I felt fine, we agreed not to call the police but to just trade information.
To this date, I’m not quite sure what happened.  Was I saved by angels?  In the video it sure seems like some of these people were.  Have fun watching.






Have you had a near miss?  Share it with us.


Cindy A. Christiansen
Sweet Romance, Humor, Suspense…and Dogs!
Fly into a good book at:  http://www.dragonflyromance.com

Dog image credit: damedeeso / 123RF Stock Photo

Cindy A. Christiansen
Sweet (clean) Romance Author

Who Would Regret a Ride in a Classic White Corvette?

Who would regret a ride in a white Corvette? Well, me actually.
Some odd number of years ago (seems like yesterday), I was outside in the evening air at a dance with a couple of girlfriends when this tall, good looking man pulled into the parking lot in his white Corvette.  Nowadays, you would compare him to Brad Pitt. My girlfriends got all giggly.
“What a car!” one of them said.
“What a guy!” the other said.
“I’d love to go for a ride in that.”
“Me too. I’d love to go for a ride in anything with him.”
Being the farm girl that I am, I was much more impressed with the maroon heavy-duty Ford work truck two rows away. (Ouch, that actually stung a little.  I’m a Dodge girl now.)  Anyway, I couldn’t see what the fuss was all about.  You could only seat two people in that car, and you certainly couldn’t haul hay in it.
“Here he comes,” one of my friends squealed.
He walked right up to me, reached out his hand, and said, “Wanna go for a ride, sweetheart?”
Um, actually I didn’t, but all the envious looks got to me. Wow!  Me—coveted. Even some of the other girls in the parking lot looked disappointed they hadn’t been chosen.
I knew I should feel honored he selected me, but frankly he appeared a little too cocky for my taste.  I mean, where was his cowboy boots, broad shoulders, muscles, moustache, and farmer’s tan?
I couldn’t resist though.  “Sure,” I said, taking his hand.
Multiple shoulders drooped, and I smiled.
I got settled into the passenger seat and he sped off.  Seriously.  I mean he SPED off, like in breaking the speed limit.  He headed down the street, talking mainly about himself and his car.  I knew I was supposed to be impressed, but the heavy metal rock music did nothing for me and neither did he. I felt like I was sitting in a trash compactor.  The car was so low to the ground, I could feel every bump and hole in the road.
John began cursing at all the other drivers on the road.  He swerved around a blue Trans Am with reckless abandonment. The oncoming car honked at him.  My breath caught in my throat, I half-covered my face with my hands, and my abdomen knotted as he veered back into the right lane, barely missing the front end of the Trans Am.
The Trans Am’s horn blared.  John cursed, slammed on the brakes, and slowed. The car almost rear-ended us.  Could it get any more uncomfortable? I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping the whole nightmare would go away. I wanted to escape my captor, but so far all the lights were in our favor. Then John veered off the road, his body totally tense, his left leg bobbing up and down, and him mumbling under his breath. The Trans Am passed us, horn honking.  John flipped him off.
Yes, that’s what I said.  He flipped him off.  So, I’m looking around for a phone booth. (Yes, some of us are still alive who remember before cell phones.) Did I dare get out in this part of town?  Did I even have a quarter to make a call? 
I could hear the conversation now: “Hey, Dad, I got in this total stranger’s white Corvette to make all my girlfriends jealous, and he flipped out with a bad case of road rage.  Can you come and get me?”
My head hit the back of the seat as John took off after the driver of the Trans Am.  (This car really could do zero to sixty in ten seconds flat.)
“Okay,” I said.  “Thanks for the little jaunt.  Would you please take me back to the dance?”
John was hell-bent on teaching the Trans Am owner a lesson. He never even bothered to respond.
“Yeah, this is a great car.  Now will you take me back, please?” I said again.
I’d done a few other careless things in my life at that point, but I really regretted getting in that car.
John turned onto State Street and a race ensued.  No matter how much I begged and pleaded, he wouldn’t stop.  The jerk totally had no respect for me or anyone else on the road. 
Of course he won the race, but at that point, I was completely disgusted.  He took me back to the dance, asked for my phone number, and finally let me out.   Pretty sure I gave him the wrong number.  
On wobbly legs, I crossed the parking lot to my friends, trying to act like taking a ride in a Corvette was the highlight of my life.  I vowed right then and there to never climb into another car with a lunatic.
Yeah, it might have happened again, but that’s another story.
Any regrets you've had?
Cindy A. ChristiansenSweet Romance, Humor, Suspense…and Dogs!Fly into a good book at:  http://www.dragonflyromance.com
Corvette image without dog: Cindy A. Christiansen
Sweet (clean) Romance Author

Terror of the Missing Roo

We’ve all experienced that moment of sheer fear in our lives.  One of those times for me was during a very difficult, stressful period when my brother unexpectedly died at the age of forty-nine and left me in charge to handle my family’s estate, including a twenty acre farm. (A momentous, disastrous obligation that lasted five years.)
My boys were only two and six at the time.  The minute we would get to the farm on the weekends, some sort of beacon went up letting everyone know that we had arrived.  We were there to sort through things and make decisions, but people poured in trying to snap up what they could. I was elected to deal with them.
On one particular day, rain drizzled down and reflected my gray, dark, cold, gloomy mood.  I didn’t want to do this.  I didn’t want my brother gone.  I asked my two nieces (ages nine and ten) to keep an eye on my boys while I handled the buyers.  I didn’t know what I was doing.  What did I know about the price of farm equipment?  But these men were after what they wanted, badgering me and prodding me to sell and arguing amongst themselves over who got what.  My heart ached.  I wanted to be responsible, but I felt like curling up in the fetal position and weeping.
Every decision was difficult, but finding homes for my brother’s animals, and especially his three dogs, weighed heaviest on my mind.  As much as I wanted to and loved them, we already had three dogs and just couldn’t take on more, especially work dogs—a Blue Heeler and an Australian Cattle dog. His third dog was a sweet Schnauzer named Smokey.  Everyone wanted to adopt him.
As I passed by my nieces, I noticed my youngest wasn’t with them.
“Where’s Roo?” I asked.
The girl’s looked at each other and shrugged.
My heart dropped into the boiling acid suddenly spurting in the pit of my stomach.  I frantically scanned the area to no avail.  Racing to the house, I informed everyone to begin searching.  We combed the house, the barns, the sheds, the shops, the milk barn, the stockyard, the pens and the fields.  No Roo.
How far could a two-year-old get?  Him in his little cowboy hat, boots and leather vest.  Him who adored his uncle, emulated him, and would only take off his cowboy hat when my brother did. The rain soaked through my clothes and skin and chilled my bones.  What was the cold rain doing to my baby?  Was he calling for me and I wasn’t there? A gut-wrenching moment ensued. Tears pooled in the corner of my eyes, and I shook uncontrollably. Images of what could have happened flashed in my mind, and I could barely hold back the scream trying to escape my lips.   Where could he be?
And then my husband noticed that one of our dogs was also missing—Asta, our Wire-haired Fox Terrier.  I raced down the quarter-mile muddy road leading to the farm and eventually found a visible paw print.  Farther along, I found a tiny cowboy boot print meandering behind the paw prints.  They continued down the road and up the hill to a wooden bridge covering a canal.  My heart nearly exploded in my chest.  No, there wasn’t water in the canal at this time of year, but with all the rain, there were fairly deep puddles in the bottom.  The fall alone could have left him…dead. Bile rose to my throat.
I crossed the bridge, looking down both ways as far as I could see.  No dog. No precious little boy.  I picked up their trail farther down the dirt road.  The tracks continued toward the city street and houses.  Despite the chill in my bones, sweat poured from my head, and I had to keep wiping my eyes.  I held my breath as I looked up and down the street with busy cars moving in both directions. No dog. No Roo.
All that I had been burdened with and felt so responsible for meant nothing compared to the thought of losing my son. I wanted those minutes back.  I wanted him in my arms.
A woman approached me.  “Are you looking for something?”
“Yes, yes, our son, our dog.  Our two-year-old must have followed our dog off the farm.  Have you seen them?”
“I’ve called the police,” she said, glaring at me like I was the worst mother on the planet.
“Fine.  Are they all right? Where are they?”  My mind whirled with all the implications, but I didn’t care.  I just wanted them to be safe.
A police car rolled up and the woman rushed over to him, frowning and pointing at my husband and me.  The woman headed up the street, but the police officer detained us, asking all kinds of questions.  Who can remember what he asked?  I wanted to scream, “Give me my son.”  But, I didn’t want the police officer to think I was unstable.
Yes, I admitted to myself, I am a horrible, awful mother.  Just please let me see my son and dog alive.
And then there came our tri-colored dog, trotting out of one of the box houses up the street.  Behind him came a little boy in a cowboy hat, vest and boots.  He ran toward me with his arms out, calling, “Assa, walk.”
I dropped to my knees, sobbing, grateful and exhausted. The woman told us she had seen them wandering down the middle of the street with cars coming and had taken them home. I’m so thankful that Heavenly Father watched over them and were taken in by someone who took good care of them until they were found. Cindy A. Christiansen
Sweet Romance, Humor, Suspense…and Dogs!
Fly into a good book at:  http://www.dragonflyromance.com

Cindy A. Christiansen
Sweet (clean) Romance Author

Recent Reviews

RECENT REVIEWS

Worth The Wait (A Sweet Romantic Mystery Novella)(A Merchant Street Mystery Prequel for FREE)
"A great novel. So glad I had a chance to read it. I rated it as a 5 because it was a great book full of action. The book also had romance and true emotions." ~Darlene Larmore, 5/5 Stars



A Clean Romance 
(A Sweet Romance Novelette)
 "Very cute! This was an adorable short book. I really enjoyed it."  ~Kindle Customer, 5/5 Stars



Hunting for Happenstance (A Merchant Street Mystery #2)
"Duston Cooper has two beliefs that shape his life.
Fate will decide his future, and his genes could make him act in the evil way that put his brother in jail. So he avoids decisions and keeps his hopes and desires secret, just running his gun shop in Merchant Street, training his two working dogs, and dreaming unproductively about Daniela, the girl he can never have.
The police are advised of a body, found in the wilds of the Utah mountain ranges. Duston’s skill with his dogs is seen as an asset and he is invited to join the expedition. Unknown to Duston, the self-willed Daniela is determined to come along, and after an uncomfortable ride they reach the investigation point and soon set up camp. Mysterious tracks there suggest there is more going on than anyone suspects.
Camping in the autumn in this location is clearly a challenge only the hardiest of heroines and heroes should try. It’s freezing, the wildlife is aggressive, and a can of bear spray isn’t much to stop a 250lb angry bear in its tracks. Not only has a body been discovered, but Daniela’s favourite uncle Benito has fallen foul of ne’er-do-wells who have no hesitation as they kick, punch and shoot their victims into submission.
So what’s going on? There’s a crime to explain, a capture that leaves Duston and Daniela helpless and in danger. But these are no weak victims. Their solutions to Cindy Christiansen’s impossible challenges and the fast and furious pace keep the pages turning and the reader baffled by the ingenuity of the captives. The story ends happily, of course. It’s a romance!! The endearing characters of the Merchant Street series gather for a group celebration where love is in the air for more than one couple. This is a book to leave you smiling and contented with the world."  ~Margaret Sutherland, Author, 4/5 StarsCindy A. Christiansen
Sweet (clean) Romance Author

Who Me? Stressed?

Who Me?  Stressed?

College. I was 18 and right out of high school. I'd turned down a scholarship in art and turned down Valedictorian. No sense making a fool of myself.  I just wanted to escape high school with my As and be done with it. At that time, a career in computers was the “thing”, although the internet and graphics and gaming were not hot on the market yet.
Being the novice that I was, I assumed college was the same as high school and signed up for seven or eight classes, one of them being BASIC computer programming. Yeah, I thought that was a typo.  BASIC…all caps…and these were college professionals. As you guessed it, BASIC turned out to be a programming language, and I was totally lost.
To top it off, there was a student in an electric wheelchair in several of my classes. With frazzled nerves, I would wait for each class to start. Then I would hear the buzzing of his wheelchair as he ever so slowly came down the hall. The sound was much like the annoying zzzzzzz of a fly. Every day the poor guy was late to class. Billy would finally get parked behind me and the professor would continue. But could I concentrate? No. All I could hear was the agitating sound of his oxygen concentrator. I would grind my teeth, rub the back of my neck, try to slow my rapid breathing, think of something else…
I knew it wasn’t Billy’s fault. I knew I was being totally unfair, self-centered, a jerk!  But, all I could hear was that machine—suck, suck, pshhh, suck, suck, pshhh.  Maybe it was because everything that I had learned in high school, the professor surpassed in the first week. Maybe it was my fear of failing.  Maybe the reason I wanted to take both Billy’s wheelchair and his oxygen concentrator and throw them over the balcony railing was because they represented machines and that computer down in the computer lab was a machine that was my enemy. Yeah, I was a little stressed.  
One day the professor had just started off the class by asking me a question.  Me!  And there it was.  That electric motor, buzzing slowly down the hall, growing louder and louder and Billy’s oxygen machine going, “suck, suck, pshhh, suck, suck, pshhh.” My lips moved rapidly but nothing sensible came out. I had reached a mounting frustration that caused my brain to go vacant.  I looked for a route of escape, but here came Billy through the door, temporarily blocking my path.
And then it happened.  I started to laugh, uncontrollable laughter.  I flopped in my chair, covering my mouth, trying desperately to stop laughing but couldn’t.  The shocked look on the professor’s face is ever engrained in my memories.  The students sitting next to me slid their chairs away.  Poor Billy had no idea what was going on and just smiled at me. I finally had to excuse myself in order to regain my composure.
Yes, it was probably some sort of mental breakdown. But from then on, I didn’t take college as seriously as I had.  Billy’s wheelchair no longer bothered me and his concentrator didn’t echo in my head any longer.  Learning to not take myself so seriously is hard for me.  I still struggle with it.  I see other bloggers with witty posts and wish I could open up, let my guard down, shoot from the hip…but, I guess there will always be a bit off that uptight college girl inside me.  I just have to throw her over the balcony once in awhile.
Cindy A. ChristiansenSweet Romance, Humor, Suspense…and Dogs!Fly into a good book at:  http://www.dragonflyromance.com

Dog Image: http://www.123rf.comCindy A. Christiansen
Sweet (clean) Romance Author

Terry Fator: What's Your Impression?

Wishbone doing an impression of Sherlock Holmes 
Maybe some of you remember the 1970s show The Kopykats with Rich Little, Frank Gorshin, George Kirby and more. Every week these talented impressionists appeared in comedy skits spoofing old movies and TV shows. I was fascinated and in awe of all the talent!


Rich Little
With no VCR or DVD recorder, I used a cassette player and taped the audio. Unfortunately, it was on during dinner time and dishes. I remember grabbing a dish from the drainer and dashing into the living room long enough to dry and watch.  (I really annoyed my sister.)

I began practicing and practicing until I had worn out the tapes and even got pretty good at a few--both male and female. In middle school, I got bold enough to do a few in front of friends. Word spread and I was soon doing impressions in class and in front of crowds in the lunchroom. I look back on the memories fondly. But with all things, practice makes perfect and my life moved in a different direction.

When I first say Terry Fator, the ventriloquist, impressionist, comedian, singer, my throat grew thick, my heart raced, and my nerve endings tingled. I'd never seen anyone with so much talent in my entire life.

The fact that he does over 100 impersonations with 16 different puppets is enough to boggle my mind. I have such adoration for him and his talent. Wow! What a gift. Someday, I hope to catch his live show, but for now, enjoy this Youtube clip with me.

   

Tell me, whose talent do you most admire? 

Cindy A. Christiansen
Sweet Romance, Humor, Suspense…and Dogs!
Fly into a good book at: http://www.dragonflyromance.comCindy A. Christiansen
Sweet (clean) Romance Author

In The Dog House With Me: Author Valerie Holmes

CINDY:  Thank you so much for joining me today, Valerie. Is Phoebe's Challenge your first book?
VALERIE:  No, Phoebe’s Challenge is one of over thirty published novellas (30k-50k words) I have had published by www.ulverscroft.com. I am in the process of converting them to ebooks, working with a professional illustrator to give them all a themed style.


CINDY:  Wow! Over thirty. Impressive and very nice. What inspired you to write your very first full-length book? What kept you going to the very end?  How did you feel when you completed it? 
VALERIE:  My children were still at school and I wanted to do something to enable me to work from home. I had written a novel for a friend as a personalized Christmas present as a surprise. They suggested I should do it for real and try and find a publisher. It was an amazing experience to reach a figure of 90,000 words and feel happy with it.
CINDY: There is no other feeling like typing THE END on a book. What genre is Phoebe’s Challenge ?  Tell us a little about it.

VALERIE:   Phoebe’s Challenge is an historical, romantic adventure. It is set in early nineteenth century North Yorkshire, England, against a backdrop of smuggling and intrigue. Phoebe and her brother, Thomas, have to flee the evil regime of mill overseer Benjamin Bladderwell when an accident results in them being labeled machine breakers. Hunted with nowhere to run, the mysterious Matthew saves their lives. He is a man of many guises who Phoebe instinctively trusts, but Thomas does not.
I love this period because of the great changes: socially, scientifically, politically and also within the church.  It was the time of Jane Austen, a great void between rich and poor with ‘new money’ growing to fill the social gap, wars with France and advancements in industry, farming; therefore, an excellent period for conflict and adventure.
CINDY: Very exciting and it must take tons of research. What part of the writing process do you enjoy the most?  What part do you dislike?
VALERIE:  I absolutely adore beginning new adventures, developing a character and giving them their head to show me the way forward. It seems an odd thing to say, but as a character and a story develops it breaths a life of its own. There is not a stage in the process that I can say I dislike. I prefer writing to proofing the words, but then my proofreader does this and I enjoy finishing the edits for the final draft.
CINDY: What motivated you to write Phoebe’s Challenge particularlly?
VALERIE:  Each one of my stories was inspired by a place that I have been to. With Phoebe's Challenge  it was an old smugglers’ inn on the North Yorkshire coast. Chloe’s Friend came from a visit to www.nationaltrust.org.uk/beningbrough-hall/; with Sophie’s Dream I visited a workhouse and then went to Sydney, Australia and saw the old harbor buildings.
CINDY:  I've never traveled like that. Must be very exciting. A lot of authors listen to music while they write. Do you? Do you have any rituals you do before, after or during writing?
VALERIE:  I began writing around the chaos of family life. Therefore, I learnt to grab time whenever I could, so rituals did not develop – just write. If I do listen to music then it will vary to match what I am writing at the time. If I need to really focus then I will concentrate on my words and listen to orchestral tracks so that lyrics do not catch my attention.
CINDY: If you could write yourself into one of your books, what kind of character would she be? (The heroine, the best friend, the antagonist, strong, funny, supportive, etc.)

VALERIE:  Good question. Something of the author must transcend to the page, but generally, I do not think of myself in the stories. I’d like to say I would be the heroine, but sometimes the antagonist might be better suited. Villains can be fun to write, but in my stories the good guy will win. The contemporary title Moving On (shortlisted for the Love Story of the Year 2011 by the www.rna-uk.org/ ) was about a carer who suddenly has time to think about her own life. I could relate to her issues as I grew up looking after my mother who had Multiple Sclerosis, but the story is pure fiction and Hailey is nothing like me.
CINDY:  Obviously you do research for the time period. How much research do you do for one of your books?  How much of your book is fact, and how much is fiction?
VALERIE:  I have read about this period and the area where most of my stories are set for many years and will continue to do so. Research is an ongoing process to me. The Internet is a huge asset for anyone bringing up children who are unable to travel. However, most of the places that are real within them: York, Whitby, Harrogate, London and Sydney I have been to, as well as many old halls, castles and period buildings. The historic detail needs to be accurate, but the fiction is just that.
CINDY: What has writing a book taught you about yourself?
VALERIE:  That if you are dedicated and determined to do something you can. Also, that I am still in touch with my ‘inner child’ – I love to play and making up stories is such fun for the imagination.
CINDY: So true. What do you want your readers to gain from reading one of your books?
VALERIE:  I want them to lose themselves in a place, which is a world away from their reality. To enjoy the adventure, be warmed by the way the protagonist does not give in to the problem but works through or around it. To follow the friendship and love that develops in a more traditional way and to finish my books with a hopeful feeling for their future.
CINDY:  That's wonderful. Do you have any plans for another book?  Can you give us any details?
VALERIE:  I always have plans for more stories. I am just over a third of the way through uploading my titles to ebook formats, so this is still an ongoing process. I am working on a new contemporary title at the moment, I also have an outline for the second in the Nicholas Penn history mystery to follow Dead to Sin , which is not a romance, and I always have work out in the market place.
CINDY:  How can readers find out more about you and your books? Do you have a website?  Where can we buy your books?
VALERIE:   They can find me at:https://valerieholmesauthor.wordpress.com/https://www.facebook.com/valerie.holmes.311http://www.pinterest.com/ValerieHolmesUK/https://twitter.com/ValerieHolmesUK

CINDY:  I'm so impressed with all you have accomplished.  It's been great getting to know you. Thanks for joining me.
VALERIE:  Thank you, Cindy, for inviting me to your blog and asking such interesting questions.


Cindy A. ChristiansenSweet Romance, Humor, Suspense…and Dogs!Fly into a good book at:  http://www.dragonflyromance.comDog Image: http://www.123rf.com

Cindy A. Christiansen
Sweet (clean) Romance Author

My Fillings: The Whole Tooth and Nothing but the Tooth

A trip to the dentist:  pain, anticipation, anxiety, fear, shots, numbed face, sound of drilling, gripped fists, burning smell, nausea, close and rinse, splatters, bite down, slurred speech, wearing off, pain.
Yeah, we’ve all been there. Some folks have so much fear they never make it to the chair. For me, I was twenty-one before I had my first cavity. As someone who must always know what direction they’re facing, outside and even inside, I’ve always been good at figuring out my location. I’m always making a mental map in my head. Even when I fly to a new city, I picture the flight, the drive, the walk to my hotel room and never lose my sense of direction. My head has this photo of the world and I'm the "you are here" sticker.
My good friend, however, can lose her sense of direction going out to the mailbox.
Maybe it was the anticipatory anxiety of my first filling. Who knows?  But...I lost my sense of direction.

I knew the dentist, but he had recently moved his office into the basement of a new building. My appointment was scheduled for after work, and he was running behind. The appointment went well, except maybe for the permanent indentations I left on the arms of the chair where my fingers had dug in deep.
Not accustomed to dentists, adrenalin shot through me when they handed me the bill, wanted cash, and insisted on full payment. I didn’t carry that kind of cash with me. My body heat rose; my stomach fluttered. Not only had the anesthesia numbed my mouth, it also numbed my brain. I couldn’t think or communicate. I had no idea how to handle the situation. Flustered and upset I pleaded with them to take my check. Unhappily, they finally accepted. My hand shook wildly as I tried to fill out the check. I even spelled my name wrong when I signed it. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
I stumbled out into the dark hallway, noticing only very dim lighting and that all the other businesses appeared closed for the evening. I headed through a set of glass doors and continued down the hall, turning right and racing ahead until I spotted a solid wooden door. Something didn’t seem right. This didn’t feel familiar. My mental map was gone. I headed back to start over again. I reached for the handle of the glass door. It wouldn’t budge. I tried the other. Frantic, I tried them each again. Locked?  Locked.
I tore back down the hallway and continued on through the other door. The building got darker, quieter, and more ominous. I once again rushed back the other way. This time, the wooden door was locked. How could I have been so thoughtless? The air thinned, my head whirled. Trapped! Was someone purposely locking the doors behind me, setting a trap within the bowels of this cold prison? Did I dare continue on, not knowing where on earth this darkened maze would lead me?
“Help,” I yelled, pounding on the door. “Help!”
Despite the door being locked, and my being uncertain who lay in wait behind me, my feet wouldn’t carry down the hall to the next closed door. I couldn’t face getting further trapped behind locked doors. Besides, I was certain I’d open it and there would be no floor, no walls, no anything. Only a black hole.
My mind whirled with confusion. I had no sense of direction at all. The thought terrified and paralyzed me. I had never known this feeling before. I crumbled to the floor up against the door, shrinking into a numb world of helplessness. The walls closed in, and I strangled for each breath.
The lights went out!
A scream escaped my lips.
Trapped! Alone! Desperate!This couldn’t be happening.
And, stop what you’re thinking. No, I didn’t have a cell phone. Cell phones didn’t exist in the everyday world then.
I heard a muffled sound and cried out again, pounding furiously on the door. I’d made up my mind that it didn’t matter who opened the door. My sheer fright would scare them away as I went screaming and tearing out of the building to fresh air.
A key sounded in the door, and I scrambled to my feet. The dental assistant opened the door and peered at me like I was crazy.
“I juz ot urned awound,” I said, my lower lip still numb.
I dashed through the door and followed her safely out of the building, thanking God for a loud voice, hard knuckles, the evening air, and that east was east again.

So tell me: Can you relate to any of this?  The fear of dentists? The odd compulsion to know where you are relative to the rest of the world? The fear of being trapped? General confusion? Leave a comment and tell me your story.
Cindy A. ChristiansenSweet Romance, Humor, Suspense…and Dogs!Fly into a good book at:  http://www.dragonflyromance.com

Image credit: damedeeso / 123RF Stock PhotoCindy A. Christiansen
Sweet (clean) Romance Author

Recent Review: Hunting for Happenstance

Duston Cooper has two beliefs that shape his life.

Fate will decide his future, and his genes could make him act in the evil way that put his brother in jail. So he avoids decisions and keeps his hopes and desires secret, just running his gun shop in Merchant Street, training his two working dogs, and dreaming unproductively about Daniela, the girl he can never have.

The police are advised of a body, found in the wilds of the Utah mountain ranges. Duston’s skill with his dogs is seen as an asset and he is invited to join the expedition. Unknown to Duston, the self-willed Daniela is determined to come along, and after an uncomfortable ride they reach the investigation point and soon set up camp. Mysterious tracks there suggest there is more going on than anyone suspects.

Camping in the autumn in this location is clearly a challenge only the hardiest of heroines and heroes should try. It’s freezing, the wildlife is aggressive, and a can of bear spray isn’t much to stop a 250lb angry bear in its tracks. Not only has a body been discovered, but Daniela’s favourite uncle Benito has fallen foul of ne’er-do-wells who have no hesitation as they kick, punch and shoot their victims into submission.

So what’s going on? There’s a crime to explain, a capture that leaves Duston and Daniela helpless and in danger. But these are no weak victims. Their solutions to Cindy Christiansen’s impossible challenges and the fast and furious pace keep the pages turning and the reader baffled by the ingenuity of the captives. The story ends happily, of course. It’s a romance!! The endearing characters of the Merchant Street series gather for a group celebration where love is in the air for more than one couple. This is a book to leave you smiling and contented with the world. ~Margaret SutherlandCindy A. Christiansen
Sweet (clean) Romance Author

Have You Ever Been Criticized?

No kidding! Teddy wrote this just for me—for writers everywhere!
“It is not the critic who counts, not the man who points out how the strong man stumbled or where the doer of good deeds could have done better.
The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena; whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again; who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, and spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement; and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat.” ~Teddy Roosevelt

Well, obviously he didn't write it for me.  I wasn't even born yet. But his words rang true with me, and I’m sure they will ring true with other writers as they face bad reviews and criticism by people how have never attempted to write a book in their lives. However, I’m sure this will resonate in other people’s hearts as well.
How about you? What have you attempted to do in your life with which you have received criticism? Does Teddy’s words help you to press on? Drop me a comment and let me know.  
Cindy A. ChristiansenSweet Romance, Humor, Suspense…and Dogs!Fly into a good book at:  http://www.dragonflyromance.com
Image from: http://www.cardcow.com

Cindy A. Christiansen
Sweet (clean) Romance Author