Jean C. Joachim's Blog: Stories of Love and Passion, page 13

Tuesday Tales - Word Prompt "Gray" - Maggie's Story continues...

 Welcome! Thank you for stopping by. Maggie's Story continues this week. Last week she and John were caught in bed by Mr. Roberts, their employer. Will he fire them? Read on and find out.
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            Maggie’stomach s soured and she lost her appetite.            “I can’t afford to lose my job,” she said over coffee at the kitchen table.            “You won’t.” He took a sip.            “How can you be so sure?”            “They need us. We provide a nice life for them. They don’t have to lift a finger.”            “Help is cheap.”            “Not good help. Besides, we could go to work lots of other places.”            “Really?”            “As a team. Probably get more money, too,” he sniffed.             Maggie liked working for Mr. and Mrs. Roberts.  But she’d never give up John, just because her employer caught them in bed together.            “So you’re sayin’ you’d leave if I got fired? These things are always the girl’s fault.”             John took her hand. “You’re my life, Maggie.”            “Pish, tush, John Elderidge! Stop your sweet talkin’.” She fiddled with the hem of her gray apron.             “You don’t believe me? I’ll bet the Mister calls me in as soon as they get back. It’ll be okay. You’ll see.”            He leaned over to kiss her. Maggie wanted to believe him, but the last time someone said they’d fix things for her, it hadn’t turned out well. She figured she’d always be on her own.
**** The couple worked readying the apartment for the Roberts’ return. Exhausted, Maggie went to bed early. John picked them up at the airport. He noticed a slight difference in the Mister’s attitude. After John carried the bags into the bedroom, Mr. Roberts called him into the study.            “Drink, sir?”            “A shot of brandy, John. Why don’t you join me?”
     The manservant swallowed, being offered a drink with the master was not a good sign. He’d heard from others that it meant termination. John poured with a shaky hand. He placed one glass on the end table next to the leather wing chair.            “Sit, John,” he said, closing his fingers around the glass. The servant did as he was told and took a healthy gulp of his drink, steeling himself. Mr. Roberts cleared his throat.             “Mrs. Roberts and I talked about you and Maggie,” he said, pausing for another sip.            John’s nerves kicked up. He’d never been sacked before.            “Yes, sir?”            “Well, we think. Wait. Weren’t you dating some other young woman?”            “I was, sir. But I prefer Maggie.”            “I see,” he said, nodding. “You have good taste. The only thing is, well, we don’t want a steady stream of women in and out of the apartment, if you get my drift.”            “I do, sir. And there won’t be.”            “Maggie’s it? The one?”            “Yes, sir.”            “And does she feel the same?”            “I think so, sir.”            Mr. Roberts grinned. “That’s what we’d hoped you’d say.”            “Thank you, sir.” Relief washed through John.            The men finished their drinks and retired to their rooms. Now John had to get Maggie to agree to marry him. And quickly.
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Welcome! Thanks for coming. We're back to Maggie's story ...

Welcome! Thanks for coming. We're back to Maggie's story this week and the word prompt is "catch." 
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Maggie rolled over in bed, turning her back to John. His warm hand touched her bare skin, making her smile. It was Sunday and they were both off for the afternoon. The Mister was heading to the airport to catch a plane to Chicago for business and the Missus and little Penn were to visit her mother in Westchester. John would drive each to their destination, but after that, his day was free. Maggie was off duty after breakfast.“What do you want to do today, milady?” John asked.“Stay in bed and have the Queen serve me breakfast.”“It’s a bit late for me to ask Her Ladyship. But please stay here a while,” he said, closing his arms around her.  She pushed back against his chest, and snuggled down in the blankets. A sharp rap on the door was followed by it being opened.“John! Maggie! Oh my God! What are you doing?”Maggie pulled the blankets to her chin and sank lower until only her eyes were visible. “Sir!”“You two? In bed together? I didn’t think you even liked each other.”John cleared his throat. “I guess you were a bit wrong there, Sir.”“I guess so. Does the Missus know about this?”“I doubt it,” John said, reaching for his bathrobe. “Really, John. I don’t know what to make of, of you. And you, Maggie?” Mr. Roberts shook his head. “I’m over twenty-one and not married, Sir.”“I know, but, well, it’s so unsuspected.”“Please Sir, a moment? I’d like to get dressed.” “Yes, of course. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have barged in, it’s just that I’m forced to take an earlier plane. I never thought. Well, I’m surprised. You know what I mean. I’ll be outside.”He gestured with his hands, then closed the door. John threw down the covers and jumped into his clothes as fast as possible. “John, do you think we’ll get sacked for this?” Maggie’s brows knitted. “I sure hope not, darlin’. Who’d a thought he’d catch us together?” “I feel like a teenager caught getting’ it on in the backseat of a car.”John chuckled. “Don’t worry, Maggie. We’re together and that’s all that matters.”“I don’t fancy being together on the unemployment line,” she sniffed.
He leaned down to kiss her and was off.   
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OVERTIME, the Final Touchdown -- book 8 in the First & Ten series #nfl #football

The final book in the First & Ten series is here -- OVERTIME, the Final Touchdown. Here's a bit about the books:


What happens after the last concussion? How long does an engagement last without turning into marriage?  Is an unplanned pregnancy a dream come true or a nightmare? Real life takes over for the Connecticut Kings when the football season ends. 
Catch the “play-by-play” for each Kings’ player in this book, the final in the series. With a chapter for each team member, and a few surprises thrown in, you’ll be on the edge of your seat, but satisfied when the final whistle blows. No First & Ten book would be complete without an action scene. But can you guess who’s playing? Read Overtime,the Final Touchdown, and find out. 
With a different chapter for each couple, here are a couple of snippets. First, Harley:
He removed his hand, ripped her panties down and off, and bounded from the bed. He shed his boxers in an instant. Latching on to her ankle, he pulled her to the edge of the mattress, scooped her up in his arms, and headed for the door.“What? What?”“Time for a swim.”“Oh, no! You’re not? Harley? No, No…,” she screamed, as he tossed her in the pool.Leaping in, he knifed into the water next to her. She came up sputtering. Once she had her breath, he was on her, kissing her, pulling her body to his.“This…this is why we’re here?” she managed when he came up for air.He nodded. “The most romantic thing I could think of.”“Really?”“It’s like that night. Our last night together on the show—in the hot tub. That was so romantic.”
From Pete Sebastian's story:
The slamming of the car door alerted Jo to Pete’s return. A blast of cold air mixed with his energy hit her as he banged through the front door and barreled into the house.“They were having a sale, so I got Butch all three sizes. Wait ’til you see!” Pete sported a wide grin as he set down a large shopping bag. “Where is the little slugger?”“Napping. Keep it down. He’s got another half hour to go.”Her husband nodded as he ripped the bag open. He pulled out the tiniest baseball glove she’d ever seen, then one larger, then one bigger than that. She counted four gloves and uniforms in sizes from eighteen months through 4T.“What the hell?” She looked askance at Pete.“I know. Baseball. But that’s what’s in season now. Don’t worry,” he said, raising his hand. “I’ll get the same stuff in football in September.”“That’s not what I meant.”He raised questioning eyes to his wife.“I mean, so much sports stuff? What if he’s a scholar instead of an athlete?”Pete burst out laughing. “Honestly, Jo. You crack me up. Look at his hands. Huge. Long legs too. Definitely quarterback material.”She chuckled while she carted the clothing to the laundry room. She always washed all of her son Trevor’s outfits before he wore them. She glanced at the receipt and shook her head. It pleased and scared her how much money Pete lavished on their child. But he was making a fantastic salary, so it wouldn’t put a dent in their life style, or Trevor’s college fund, either.Pete had conceded on the name while she was in labor. He’d called it a “sissy name” and had taken to calling his son “Butch.” Jo was afraid the nickname would stick. Pete’s daughters, Alissa and Alexia, had picked it up too. Jo would have compromised on another dignified name, but “Butch” was not on her list.

Get this final story here: 
AMAZON
BARNES & NOBLE
ITUNES/APPLE
KOBO
SMASHWORDS
Or begin at the beginning with Griff Montgomery, Quarterback. Only $.99 

“Even better.” Carla licked her lips. “I’ll bet she has no idea you’re having sexual fantasies about her.”“I’m not. It was an accident,” he hissed.“Sure, sure. Keep telling yourself that. Wonder what she’d think if she knew?”“Don’t, Carla. Please don’t. I’m begging you.” Griff reached for her arm, but she shook him off.Buddy faced the quarterback. “What the hell did you do?”“You don’t wanna know.”“Oh no. You didn’t?” His eyebrows rose.Griff nodded. “Guilty.”“Whoa, stand back, Tony. There’s gonna be some fireworks in a minute.” Buddy pushed Hastings to the wall.“You wouldn’t be lying, now, would ya?” Carla asked, directing her stare at Buddy.“See for yourself.” He gestured to the brunette at the corner table.“Lauren!” Carla cupped her hands and yelled.Lauren stood up, turning to face them.“You Lauren?”“Please, please, Carla. I’m sorry, so sorry,” Griff whispered. “Don’t do this.”
Get it here:
AMAZON
BARNES & NOBLE
ITUNES/APPLE
GOOGLEPLAY
KOBO
SMASHWORDS
AMAZON U.K.
AMAZON CANADA
ALL ROMANCE EBOOKS
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#outlander

TUESDAY TALES, PICTURE PROMPT - MAGGIE'S STORY CONTINUES...

Welcome to another Tuesday Tales selection. We are continuing with Maggie's Story today. Oh, that John. What a rascal! This week we have a picture prompt and a limit of only 300 words.  Please scroll down for the link back to Tuesday Tales where you can read some wonderful stories by talented writers. Thanks for coming. 
********************************John brought the empty cocktail glasses into the kitchen.  “That looks like enough food for an army,” he said.“Missus said if I made dinner ahead, I could have tomorrow night off.” Maggie wiped the sweat off her forehead with a paper towel. “Hot date?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow.“You think  I’m sleeping with  you and dating someone else, too?”“What are you doing tomorrow?”Her eyes watered. “It’s me birthday. I just wanted to have the night off. Maybe go to a movie or something. Sit in the café and have a coffee?” She rested her hands on her hips and surveyed the four bubbling pots. “Run along, darlin’. I got work to do.”After cleaning up from dinner, she crawled into bed at eight, exhausted. Sleep came quickly. Late afternoon, as Maggie rode the elevator, a deep sigh surfaced. She was all alone on her birthday. Feeling sorry for herself, she counted her cash. Twenty dollars –not enough for a meal and a glass of wine. On the corner, someone came up behind her. “Stick ‘em up, lady,” came a rough voice as something hard poked her in the back. She raised her hands.“Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot! I’ll give you my money.”“Gotcha!” She turned around to find John laughing hysterically. She smacked his shoulder. “John Eldridge! You dirty so-and-so. You scared me to death.”“The tone of your voice. What a hoot! My finger was my ‘gun’.” She frowned at him and folded her arms across her chest. “What’re you doin’ out?”“Mister owed me some time.”“Oh?” John took her elbow. “I’m takin’ you to a birthday dinner. Right down the street. See the sign? Can’t let my best girl buy her own dinner on her birthday, can I?”
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MAGGIE’S STORY – TT – WRITEWelcome! Thanks for stopping b...

MAGGIE’S STORY – TT – WRITE

Welcome! Thanks for stopping by. We continue with Maggie's Story today, with a little surprise at the end. Scroll down for the link back to Tuesday Tales and some fine writers. 

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Maggie yawned and stretched. The antique grandfather clock in the hall chimed five, time to get up. No. Vacation. Forgot.  As she relaxed, her hand hit a warm, naked body. She turned her head and spied John lying next to her, sound asleep. Her expression softened as she touched his shoulder, then his short, dark, wavy hair. He stirred and she whipped her hand back to her side. He cracked an eye open.“Mornin’ darlin’,” he whispered. John had made love to her twice the night before. She pushed her toes down and smiled. “Mornin’.”“A right passionate one you are, Maggie.”“Look who’s talkin’”“That was nothin’. You get me blood goin’.” He rolled onto his side, his hand cupping her cheek. “Don’t blame it on me, Mister.”He chuckled. “Blame? Nothing to blame, sweetheart. It’s a good thing.”Warmth and satisfaction flowed through her. Last night was just what she needed. It bucked up her spirits to be wanted, desired. “I coulda gone all night.”“Why didn’t ya, then?” She rolled on her side.“Didn’t want to wear ya out. Not on the first night.”She giggled. “It’s a faker you are, John Eldridge.”He slid out of bed and her gaze follow his fine form to the dresser. He picked up a pen and wrote a few words, then opened a drawer and took out a rectangular box.

“This is for you my lady,” he said, returning to the bed.She read what he’d written, “To thank you for the first of what I hope to be many nights together. Love, John.”
Her hand trembled a bit as she opened the box. Inside lay the stunning emerald necklace she’d seen the week before.


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TUESDAY TALES - SMUDGE - MAGGIE'S STORY

    


Wecome! We return to Maggie's Story with today's prompt "smudge". Thank you for coming. Scroll down to return to Tuesday Tales. 

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 With only three nights left of their vacation in the Roberts’ splendid apartment, Maggie didn’t know what to expect. John had been as attentive as a suitor, yet he hadn’t even kissed her. Maggie had no intention of taking any vows with such an a-sexual man.            She secured the feather duster under her arm as she padded into the master bedroom, muttering, “The Mister and Missus take a holiday, but dust doesn’t.” 
     John followed her. “True enough.”        
     She kept her back to him, but he was right behind her, so close, she felt the heat from his chest. She knew she should tell him to move back, but she didn’t. A pair of warm hands cupped her shoulders. She put the feather duster down and turned to face him.     “Look, a smudge.”                                                                               “Where?”                                                                                            “On your nose. I’ll get it.”          
                                   He stepped up and wiped it with his handkerchief. Maggie smelled the scent of his aftershave. It was clean, fresh and a touch piney. She liked it. Before her gaze met his, he lowered his mouth to hers. Maggie had wondered what it would be like to kiss him. He was gentle, but passionate, his lips soft. She melted in his arms. He drew her closer, crushing her against him.                   
“I want you, my girl. Come to bed with me.” He broke and took her hand. She followed him into his room. The bed called to her. It had been so long since a man had touched her, kissed her or made love to her. John was handsome, gallant, and good to her. 
“What do you say, Maggie?” John asked, his eyes aglow with desire.                                              
“I say, ‘yes’.” She peered shyly up at him through her lashes.                                                          
"You make me one happy man, my darlin’,” he said, unbuttoning her blouse.
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TUESDAY TALES - NECKLACE

Welcome! This week's word prompt is "necklace." We continue with Maggie and John's story. Thanks for coming! Scroll down for the link back to Tuesday Tales. 


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Maggie didn’t mean to pry, but the delicate chain with a small emerald in the middle caught her eye. The necklace was beautiful. She’d taken to cleaning John’s room, since they had become friends. She never expected to find something so lovely on his dresser.“Probably for Gladys,” she murmured to herself. John had been dating Gladys, Mrs. Upton Myers maid for some months. Still, she couldn’t resist holding it up to her neck and glancing in the mirror. The sound of a door closing in another part of the apartment jarred her back to reality.The last thing she wanted was to be caught admiring something that was intended for someone else. A touch of sadness sprang up in her. She and John were only friends and that was the way it had to stay. He had someone else and she was afraid of getting into trouble. Maggie had to be careful as she was alone in the States, and there was no one here to take her in if she got knocked up again.Returning to the kitchen, she almost bumped into John. He shot her a warm smile, which she did not return. Why get any closer to a man who was already taken? He caught her arm. “Whoa. Wait up a second, Maggie. Where you off to in such a hurry?”“Got rooms to clean.”“On vacation?”“The Mister and Missus may have left, but it’s never a vacation for me. If they get back to a dirty and dusty house, it’ll be my last day off.”“Can’t you take a break for a cup of tea?” He bent down to make eye contact. “I guess.”“I put the kettle on.” He guided her into the big, warm room. “You sit. I’ll get it.”When the whistle sounded, he turned off the flame and filled a pot he had ready. Maggie took four biscuits from a canister and put them on a plate. He joined her with the hot beverage and took the seat across. “So, when you steppin’ out with Glady again?” She asked, stirring her drink.John choked on his saliva. “What do you know about Gladys?”“I know you’re sweet on her and she on you. You’ve been seeing her for quite a while, haven’t you?”He cast his glance down to his cup. “That’s over.”“Over? Why?”He cleared his throat. “I’ve changed my mind. She’s not the girl for me.”Maggie raised her eyebrows. “Oh?”“Yep. Found someone better.”“Who?”“You.” He raised his eyes to hers.
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TUESDAY TALES - PICTURE PROMPT

We continue with Maggie's Story this week. Using this picture as a prompt, I'm limited to only 300 words. I'll try to make each one count.

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“I want to go there someday,” Maggie said, running the duster over the stunning oil painting.
“Tuscany?”She nodded. “The green reminds me of home. I didn’t grow up in London like you. I miss it in this city of concrete and brick.” “I’ll take you there,” John said, pulling the implement from her hand and laying it down.“You? On what? A chauffeur’s salary?”“Put on your coat. The fur one the Missus gave you.”“What for?”“I’m taking you out. We’ve seven more days before they get home. I don’t plan to spend it rattlin’ around this ole place. Come on, girl. Let’s have an adventure.”A soft snort escaped her throat.  “Adventure? On what? Two dimes and a nickel?”“Not everything’s about money, young lady. Let’s go.” He held the old beaver coat Maggie had received as a hand-me-down from Anne Roberts.John laced his fingers with hers as they walked briskly through the park. The biting wind stung her face, but her body was warm. “Here it is,” he said, turning left. They climbed the stairs. Inside, John paid for admission.
“Now, pretty lady, where do you want to go? France to see Van Gogh and Monet? Egypt to see the tombs? Japan, China or Mexico?”Maggie turned around slowly, taking in the foyer of the Metropolitan Museum of art. “All of ‘em, I think.”“Good lord! Then we’d better get started.”
“What about lunch?”  She pushed in her belly a bit to hide a low rumble.“They’ve a lovely restaurant here, milady. Will you be my guest?”Maggie’s cheeks heated. “Good. We’ll start there then,” John said, offering his arm. “You’ll be spoiling me, John Eldridge. Best stop now.” But she took his arm and followed along.“That’s the idea, Maggie. That’s the very idea.”


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10 WAYS NOT TO MARKET YOUR BOOK

I spent 30 years in the corporate direct marketing world, working for large ad agencies. People think I'm a marketing guru. I don't see it that way. I'm more of a try-it-and-see-how-it-does type. While I don't have any quick fixes for selling more books, I absolutely have the real skinny on how not to. 

(With a nod to two of my dearest friends, Kathleen Ball and Vicki Locey, for contributing to this list.)


10 WAYS NOT TO MARKET YOUR BOOKS

1) Gather a street team together and have them post phony one-star troll reviews on the books of all your competitors. Don't worry about being discovered. When someone figures it out --and they will -- you can simply blame it on your street team run amok.

2) Have a series comprised of 8 books? Make the first seven free. After all, you'll keep them reading and you'll make it up on book 8. If you believe this, I have a bridge you might want to buy. It connects Manhattan with Brooklyn.

3) Post all about your book in a comment on the Facebook thread of another author. Steal their thunder right from under them on their own turf. Authors love that. Raising the level of competition makes everyone try harder. Then again, when you get unfriended, blocked and blacklisted, don't blame me.

4) When you leave a review on a competitors book, be sure to put in a few words about how your book on the same topic is so much better. Don't forget to include a buy link to your book, too. Makes it easier for the reader to find. Be careful not to use your real name or there might be repercussions.

5) Post the same promo copy about your book in 250 Facebook groups --every day! Out of sight, out of mind. Right? You need exposure. Don't forget to post controversial opinions about religion and politics. You'll get some "lively" discussions going and attention on your Fb page. 


6) Offer ten bucks to anyone who will agree to give your book a good review. Everyone says how important good reviews are. And why shouldn't you offer the reviewer some compensation? Wait, make that twenty bucks. If  you're too cheap you might end up with only four stars.

7) Never support another author. If the author is famous or even moderately successful, post nasty, snarky comments on her Facebook page, send out critical tweets about her. Let the world know you are soooo much better than she is. Much classier, too. Don't forget to add links to your books in those comments. Why should the reader have to hunt for your precious tomes?

8) Never buy a book from another author who is competing with you in the same genre. Unless you intend to plagiarize it, of course. Otherwise, why should you spend money on her books? Do you think she'd ever become your friend and buy your book, too? Nah. Doubt it. Everyone knows it's a cut-throat business. 

9) Whatever you do, don't waste your time and money on a professional editor. Write that book and slap the sucker up for sale before the ink is even dry. Yep, editors and proofers are a total waste of time and money. The sooner you get your books out there, the sooner you can be fleecing readers who think you might have written something worth reading. Too bad for them. You know what they say -- the best marketing is writing another book! 

10)  Last, don't bother with a professional cover artist. Tell your nephew, Herman, you'll bake him a batch of brownies if he'll create a cover for you. And don't buy pictures. Steal them from the Internet. What are your chances of getting caught? One in a thousand, right? And if you do -- take down the cover, "borrow" another picture and do a new cover. Plenty of people will think it's a new book and your sales will soar. 


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While these ideas may sound crazy to you, most of them are based on real actions my friends and I have observed.  

Don't be a low-class jerk. Take the high road. Support other authors, even those with competitive books. A little class can go a long way toward building a fan base and growing book sales.

Please feel free to leave a comment. Any comments with buy links to your books will be taken down. Lol!

Jean Joachim
Stories from the Heart
Contemporary Romance
www.jeanjoachimbooks.com 

Tuesday Tales - Toes - #British #English #Love

Welcome! This week, I'm continuing with Maggie & John's story. The word prompt is "toes". Scroll down for the link back to Tuesday Tales. Thank you for coming.
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When Maggie tucked a small, stuffed hedgehog under Penn’s arm, the little boy stopped sniffling. He turned the tiny beast over and over. “What is he?”“ A hedgehog.”“Hedgehog,” Penn repeated. “Can I have him?”“Yes. He’s a present. Take him on your trip. Be good to him.”The tyke nodded. Maggie leaned down and wiped his tears away with her thumb. She kissed his cheek. He hugged her neck, dropping the new toy, then promptly let go to pick up the creature. With the gift, Maggie’d diverted him from the pain of leaving. Anne Roberts shot her a grateful smile as she headed for the door, Penn in hand. The Roberts’ were jetting off for ten days to the Virgin Islands. Maggie breathed a sigh of relief. After having cooked for huge crowds for Thanksgiving and Christmas Eve parties, she was exhausted.  
 She and John, the butler and chauffeur, had the luxurious apartment to themselves. Anne told them to charge their groceries to the Roberts account and have fun. Maggie noticed a twinkle in John’s eye when he got the news. She had twisted a tissue in her hand. Ten days alone in the house with handsome John scared the crap out of her.

After the family left, Maggie faced him. “Are you going home for the holiday?”“No. Thought I’d rather enjoy New Year’s in New York instead of London. You?”Maggie shook her head. “No money. Besides, doubt they miss me.”“I can’t believe that!”She fidgeted for a moment before heading to the kitchen. “Tea time,” she muttered.“Let me help,” John said, tagging along. She stopped dead. “Look. Don’t be thinkin’ I’m gonna be your cook and slave, waitin’ on ya hand and foot while the Mister and Missus are away. You go your way and I’ll go mine.”“Of course. I’d never ask you to do that.”“Good.” She made her way to the stove. “But you’ve got to eat. And I’ve got to eat.”Swinging around with hands on hips, she glared at him. “John Eldridge! After what I just said…” “But I’ll help. I can cook, too. Not like you, but I make a mean scrambled egg or French toast.” His hazel eyes danced.Maggie cooled down. Cooking for one bored her. Besides, she hated to eat alone.“I’m a great dishwasher, too. I promise to clean up, if you cook. You’re a way better cook than I.”“That I am.”The kettle whistled. She turned off the flame and took down one of the Roberts’ elegant porcelain teapots.“Which do you fancy?” She asked over her shoulder. “Whatever you wish, milady.”“Early Grey, then, and I’m not your lady.”

Maggie measured the loose tea into the pot, then poured the hot water. When she turned around, her eyes widened and her mouth fell open. The tiny nook where she and John ate was set with the best plates, cups, and silver. In the middle was a small platter filled with scones, petit Madeleines and cookies. John pulled out a chair and stood waiting. “Where in the blazes did this come from?” She placed the teapot on a hotplate.“I bought it.”“On their account?”“Nope. With me own cash.”“Why?”His tone softened. “For you.”
She eased onto the chair and he pushed it close to the table before he joined her. She took his cup and poured. John held the plate while she took one of each of the delectable treats.She fixed her tea the way she liked it with some sugar and milk. “Spending ten days alone here with you, Maggie, is a dream come true.” She looked up, her brown eyes meeting his. John took her hand and placed it to his lips, sending a tingle all the way to her toes.   
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