Jean C. Joachim's Blog: Stories of Love and Passion, page 17

TUESDAY TALES - PICTURE PROMPT - TRUNK'S STORY CONTINUES

Welcome! This week we had a choice of two picture prompts. I chose this one for the continuation of Trunk's story. We are limited to only 300 words with a picture prompt, making it a challenge. 
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***************    Trunk sat at a table in The Savage Beast cradling a beer and staring at the fire in the fireplace. If he hadn’t been sitting alone in a bar, it might have been a romantic setting. He narrowed his eyes and imagined a glass of wine joining his own, an ottoman, a loveseat and a willing woman.   Willing woman. Someone he hadn’t encountered in a long time, despite being married. Mary had retreated from their sex life some time ago.  Trunk missed it and romance, too. Gone were the dinners holding hands at The Sweet Magnolia. Mary had her life and he had his. He did have a life, didn’t he?    He sat back, ignoring that unanswered question and letting his imagination loose. As the sweet scent of the burning wood met his nostrils, he raised his hand. Carla, the barkeep ambled over.   “Red wine, please?”   “Sure.” She returned and set it down in front of him.Trunk stretched his legs toward the fire, letting the heat warm the soles of his shoes as he took a sip of the dark red liquid.  He folded his arms across his impressive chest and tried to conjure up the image of a woman to complete the scene. His mind thumbed through the myriad images of strippers from the clubs he’d frequented when on the road. He could remember bodies, but the faces were a blur. A voice interrupted his reverie.   “Will that be all, Al?”    He looked up into Carla’s beautiful, dark eyes. She was the only one who called him by his given name.    “Yeah. Thanks.”   She put a check down on the table. Trunk gazed into the fire as an image of the dream willing woman came into sharp focus --gorgeous Carla Ricci, proprietor of The Savage Beast.  

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Thoughts on Thanksgiving

   Thanksgiving is a holiday that makes me pensive. I'm fortunate this year, as I was last, to be in a happy place with a  healthy family all doing well and making their way in the world.  
   As I walk the streets of Manhattan on the various errands necessary to complete our dinner plans, I come across evidence that not everyone is in the same place I am. 
   I pass empty stores, the wine shop where the people were so friendly, my favorite shoe store --both closed. 
   A fancy gluten-free Italian food place replaced our beloved deli, run by immigrants who had, over the 30 years they were there, become our friends. 
   We had watched their kids grow up and they watched ours. No trip home from college was complete for Stevie unless he stopped in the deli. They were glad to see him. They are gone. My security blanket if I need anything on Thanksgiving day left with them. 
    There are a few homeless people, asking for money. People who live in buildings next door, are there through the generosity of The Coalition for the Homeless. What are these people planning for tomorrow? Will they be dining at a beautiful table with loving family or friends? 
   The sights I see make me depressed, melancholy. I feel the sadness of in the air around me. Some people don't have much to be thankful for except for the fact that they are alive. 
   Then there are some small shops doing a thriving business, bustling with people --the little flower shop, the small grocery store, and others. There is good cheer there. 
   One thing I hate in life, change, is inevitable. I hang on to a small piece of sameness every year by recreating the Thanksgivings we've always had. We're a small crowd, just five this year. And that suits me fine. Less work and more food.
   Outside our door, on the day before, hordes of people pass, eager to stand in an interminable line of hundreds of kindred spirits, to see the balloons being blown up for the parade. We are on the very block where that begins. It's insanity here for 24 hours. 
   Twenty years ago, no one knew about it. We'd take the kids over to watch Spiderman being inflated. It was our secret. It was an Upper West Side "thing". Now it belongs to the masses. 
   As I head toward home, I do stop to wonder about others less fortunate and what the holiday means to them. 
  I know that someday our holiday will change. Things will continue to be different in my neighborhood every year. I may not like it, but I accept it. Eventually we'll be traveling to our kids' homes for Thanksgiving, when we get to old to host it. 
   But for now, it's one thing on the Upper West Side of Manhattan that isn't changing. And I'm thankful for that. 

  

TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT "NASTY" - TRUNK MAHONEY'S - Pt. 2

Welcome! This week, the story comes from Al "Trunk" Mahoney, Defensive Lineman, book 6 in the First & Ten series. The prompt is "nasty."  Don't forget to return to the TT blog and read the stories from the gift writers there. Scroll down for link.


************ 
The team was warming up in the workout room before practice when they heard a commotion. Cursing, hollering and the banging of metal, the breaking of glass, stopped all activity.

“Who’s in the locker room?” Griff Montgomery asked.“Trunk,” Bullhorn Brodsky responded. “Shit!”Griff and Bull rushed into the room, followed by several teammates. There was Al “Trunk” Mahoney, trashing the locker room. He’d already busted his own locker, now he was starting on an empty one. He’d thrown a chair through the window and busted a mirror with his fist, which was bleeding from a nasty cut.
“Holy shit, Trunk!” Griff said.“What the hell?” Bull asked.“It’s Mary!”Trunk yelled, closing his injured fist, making ready to take another swing at the locker. Tuffer Demson, another defensive linebacker, lunged at Trunk. Demson and Bull tried to subdue the big man. The linebacker fought hard, but the others pinned Al’s arms to his sides. His eyes watered. In a moment he was sobbing. His teammates let him go and he sank to his knees. He picked up a busted cell phone. “It’s Mary,” he choked out. “She’s leaving me. In a text.”Silence clothed the room. The men glanced at each other, then stared at Trunk. Pete Sebastian, known as Coach Bass to the team, ran in. He stopped short at the sight. The destruction made him gasp. “I’m sorry, Coach,” Trunk muttered.
“Come on, Trunk. Get him up, guys. Bring him to my office,” Coach instructed. “Break it up. Show’s over. We have a game to get ready for.”Devon Drake and Bull eased the wounded linebacker to his feet. They followed him to Coach’s office, then left and closed the door. Coach was on the phone with security. Jo stuck her head in, but Coach waved her away. Trunk sank down onto a chair like a deflated balloon. “Almost four years of marriage. Down the toilet,” he sighed, wiping his eyes.Coach handed him a handkerchief. “Want to talk about it?”­
************
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MEET BULLHORN BRODSKY! ENTER TO WIN A GIFT CARD.

Meet the Kings' sexy offensive lineman, Sly "Bullhorn" Brodsky, known as "Bull' to his friends. Leave a comment and your email address & be eligible to win an a $10 Amazon Gift Card. Drawing will be held on Sunday night.

Here's his 20 questions quiz:
BULLHORN BRODSKY TAKES THE 20 QUESTION QUIZ   Chocolate or vanilla? Strawberry. I like to be different. 
.   Airplane or train? Airplane. I hate to waste time.
.   Walking or driving?  Running.
.   Red or Blue?  Green. I like to be different, remember?
.   Country or Rock? Country.
 Dog or cat? Dogs. Big ones. Retrievers. 
.   Lemonade or Iced Tea?  Girl stuff.  Beer or Scotch.
   Vodka or Whiskey? Vodka. Straight.
.   Mounds or Almond Joy? Whose mounds? Samantha’s? All right!
   Action movies or Thrillers? Action all the way.
  Men – brunette or blond? Neither. I don’t swing that way.
  Women – brunette, blonde or redhead? Brunette, like Sam.
  Steak or lobster?  Both. Bring it on, I’m hungry!
  French fries or Salad? Is this a trick question? Fries, of course.
  Pistachios or Peanuts?  Mcadamias. Different, remember?
   Beer or Wine? Beer. On tap.
   Beach or Mountains? Beach. Love to swim.
  Oatmeal or scrambled eggs? Eggs. Oatmeal? Mushy. Ugh.
   Sausage or Bacon? Both, with those scrambled eggs.
   Pretty or Witty? Smart & pretty, like Samantha. Sexy, too.



  A bit about the book: ­Sly “Bullhorn” Brodsky wished winning the heart of Samantha Drake was as easy as protecting his quarterback.

 A top offensive lineman in the NFL, Bull tried to live down his rep as a womanizer. Locker room chatter had elevated him to the level of “player” in more than football. But Samantha Drake, dark-haired, stunning sister of a teammate, didn’t want to have anything to do with him. Or did she? On his best behavior, Bull pulled out all the stops to woo the reluctant beauty. He was making progress until a woman from his past reappeared. Tiffany, the one woman who broke his heart, is in trouble. Is Bull the only man who can help?Samantha is overcoming her doubts about Bull until Tiffany arrives. Is the blonde really in hot water or does she just want another chance with the man she discarded? Enjoy the return of your favorite First & Ten characters in this book, too. Surprises, twists, and football action scenes will keep you turning the pages. 
********** Samantha Drake was quality. No slut, no easy chick, no woman to toy with. She was of the “bring ’em home to mom” variety. He was lucky to have her attention. How many bruisers like him ended up with classy women? None he knew of.Maybe Bullhorn Brodsky, whose booming voice could be heard in the next county, and who could bring a three-hundred-pounder to his knees, had a shot at a relationship with this exceptional woman. Don’t blow it, Sly, he’d told himself a thousand times.
**********“We don’t have to do this. I can take you home if you don’t want to be with me. I understand. Devon’s done a number on me with you. I get it. No hard feelings.”He put on his turn signal and backed up, getting ready to make a U-turn when she put her hand on his arm.“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”“Do you want to be with me or not?” His eyes were hard. “Because I’m done fooling around with this bullshit.”“Do you want to be with me?” A deep breath didn’t keep her voice from shaking.“Of course. I thought I made that damn clear. How many different ways do I have to say it, show it?” He put the car in park.
Find the book here:
AMAZON AMAZON U.K. AMAZON CANADA BARNES & NOBLE ITUNES/APPLE KOBO
FIRST & TEN, THE SERIES

With all the terrible things happening on in France and a...

With all the terrible things happening on in France and around the world right now,  I thought it would be healing to remember the men who are our heroes, many in small, but unforgettable ways. 
So I'm reposting my blog on everyday heroes. I hope it gives you a smile and a memory of an encounter with an everyday hero in your life.  EVERYDAY HEROES Although we sometimes berate men for not communicating more, most men share their love by doing, not talking. Today I honor those men, the ones who help for the sake of helping...the men who do small unselfish acts everyday. 

Today is your day guys as I dedicate this blog to my everyday heroes, men I know and don't know who have touched my life in positive ways...you know who you are:
1) To the two gentlemen who stopped, briefly, to pick me up, one guy on each arm, when I slipped and fell at the bottom of the wet subway stairs on a rainy day.
2) To the man who stopped in the parking lot of Peck's grocery store in Narrowsburg. The second I put my hands under the hood of my car, he was there, asking me what was wrong and if I needed help. Then he proceeded to show me where to put in the wiper fluid, unscrewed the cap to the little tank and left before I even made eye contact!
3)  To all the men on the streets of New York who have stopped to pick up whatever I dropped before I even bent my knees. Klutz that I am, that number is huge.4)  To my friend in the community who came down to the lake because I told him I was going there to swim by myself and he felt it was unsafe.
5)  To all the men on airplanes who, when seeing me with a large carry-on bag, stood up and put it in the overhead rack for me without even being asked. And also, to those who took it down when we landed.
6)  To the thousands upon thousands of men who have held doors open for me, allowing me to pass through first.
7)  To the two young men on line in the grocery store who offered their frequent buyer cards to me so I could get the discounts, too. 
8)  To the man who took the dead mouse out of my mousetrap and disposed of it for me. Yucky! And to the second man who did that, too.
9)  To all the young men in high school and college who politely took "no" for an answer and either still continued to date me or became my friend.
10) To all the men who got up to give me a seat on the bus or subway when I was pregnant.

11) To the men I met on countless vacations who danced with me, bought me a drink at the bar and didn't hit on me.
12) To the man who came to the emergency room with me on a first date, waited forever and held my hand while I got a tetanus shot. 
13) To my friend in West Africa who unselfishly shares his wealth of knowledge about international book marketing and encourages and supports me at every turn. Thanks, Mark, for helping me get published in China -- in Chinese!
14) To the man who took two hours out of his day to show me how to do my website for the price of a bagel.15) To the two men who designed book covers for me just because they are my friends.
16) To the man who walked me home after dark when I ducked into a bar because someone was following me...and took "no" for an answer with charm and grace. 
17) To the man who drove me through a blinding snowstorm and back so I could bring a stray cat with an infected paw to the vet.
18) To Doug, our guest, who surprised me with a Tiramisu cake just because I had admired it in the bakery window. 
19) To the man who jumped into a Facebook group to defend me when several people attacked my opinion.
20) To all the chivalrous men who let me go first...from the checkout counter at the grocery store to the bread counter at Zabar's. 
21) To the unknown young man who gave me a lift 60 blocks up Madison Avenue to Mt. Sinai Hospital when the subway wasn't running and my father was in surgery.
22) To my two sons who travel to visit me, listen to me, laugh with me, and always end a phone conversation with "love you".
23) To DH who sometimes fixes things before I ask.

To all you everyday heroes, thank you. Thank you for all you've done and continue to do quietly without fanfare...and for the shy smile you give me when I acknowledge your help. Love you all!

Who are the everyday heroes in your life?To find out about my books, visit my  WEBSITE

TUESDAY TALES - TRUNK MAHONEY'S STORY

Due to the Tuesday Tales rules, I can't continue to share Bull's story with you because, I'm happy to say, his book has been published!! Only unpublished stories are allowed in Tuesday Tales.

I share with you a section from the next book in the First & Ten series, which is still being written. It's about the quarterback's wife, Lauren Montgomery. Her husband is playing a game in another city when she goes into labor. The one person available to ride through this terrifying experience with her is her husband's father, Hank. Only problem is that Hank wasn't very nice to her when he first met her. So she has been stand-offish, not trusting him. But what can she do now? She needs help and he's the only one around.


Monroe County Hospital, three o’clock
Hank was in the visitors lounge on the phone. “She’s been up and at it for twelve hours. I don’t know how much more she can take.”“Stay with her. The doctors’ll know what to do.”“How’s Chip?”“Awful. We had a hard day. He cried for his mom and was whiny for two hours. I thought I’d lose my mind. I took him outside, then we had lunch, then a nap. He was fine in the afternoon. We watched TV and had dinner. He’s asleep now. I’m pooped.”“Lie down and rest.”“You should get back to Lauren. She’s like a frightened doe.”
"Don’t worry. I won’t leave her. I’ll give you a progress report when I have more news.”“You must be tired.”“After eight cups of coffee, I don’t feel a thing,” he chuckled.“Good job.”“Love you, Verna.”“Back at ya.”Hank shut off his phone and returned to the birthing room. Lauren was sweaty and tearful. She appeared to be exhausted. “We’ll begin pushing soon. As soon as she’s fully dilated. Won’t be long now,” the nurse said. “Good thing, too. She’s worn out. I hope she has the strength.”“Women are a lot tougher than you think,” the woman chuckled. “I don’t doubt that one bit.”The nurse handed him a fresh cup of ice chips. He eased into the chair beside Lauren. She stared at him with hostile eyes. “Hey, I’m not the guy who got you into this,” he said, raising one hand. “Got some fresh ice chips.”
Lauren took one. “If I never see another ice chip, it'll be too soon,” she mumbled.Hank took her hand. “I think you’re the bravest woman on Earth.”“Don’t bullshit me, Hank,” she shot back, removing her hand.“I mean it. Going through this without Griff. You’re something else, lady.”She looked into his eyes, then she took his hand. “I’m scared,” she whispered, her eyes watered. “What?” He leaned closer.“Scared. Scared silly. Scared shitless. Terrified.”     "I get it. You're not alone. I'm not leaving. I'm with you all the way."
     She squeezed his hand.  
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TUESDAY TALES - PROMPT "FLAVOR"

Welcome! We're continuing with Bullhorn Brodsky's book this week. The word prompt "flavor" fits perfectly into the story. This book will be released within the next two weeks. 
***************
He put his turn signal on and backed up, getting ready to make a u-turn when she put her hand on his arm.“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”“Do you want to be with me or not?” His eyes were hard. “Because I’m done fooling around with this bullshit.”“Do you want to be with me?” A deep breath didn’t keep her voice from shaking.“Of course. I thought I made that damn clear. How many different ways do I have to say it, show it?” He put the car in park.“I’m sorry, so sorry, Sly. I never meant to. I mean, I don’t want you to think I don't want you. I do.” Words failed her. She leaned over, placed her hand behind his head and guided his mouth to hers. Bull leaned in. She pressed her lips to his, holding him to her. She slipped her tongue in. As soon as they touched, he jumped to life, pulling her closer. He took over, hugging her chest to his, ravaging her mouth. Desire flew through her veins. Her body heated as his fingers combed through her hair. She wound her arms around his neck as best she could with the gearshift in the way. His hand slid up her ribcage to cover her breast. Samantha’s breathing increased and she tightened her grip. Need rose in her, erasing all thought, leaving only the feel, flavor and scent of Sly Brodsky. He pulled back and dropped his hand.            “I guess you do,” he croaked out, his voice dry, his gaze warm.Color seeped into her cheeks. Losing control with a man in the front seat of a car wasn’t her style.   “Sorry. I didn’t mean to take advantage, but I needed to know.”“Know?”“How much you want to be with me or if it was just lip service.”“And now you know, what, exactly?”“Our physical connection is mutual.”
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TUESDAY TALES - PICTURE PROMPT

Welcome! This week is picture prompt week. We can only write 300 words. I'm continuing with Sly "Bullhorn" Brodsky's story this week. Hope you enjoy it. Click on the link below to return to Tuesday Tales and the excellent stories that await you there. 


Strolling home from The Savage Beast, they chatted. “Don’t like virgins?” “I prefer my women experienced.”“Your women? I thought you weren’t a player?”“I’m not. I don’t mess with virgins. Too many regrets, too many girls thinking it means a marriage proposal. Too complicated.” “I’m glad we got that out of the way.”“So am I,” he chuckled, shooting her a sexy look.“I’m being sarcastic, Sly. How many things do you have like that?”“Like what?”“Things that disqualify a woman from dating you.”“None. I don’t have any.”“Not true! You just said virgins are out.”“What the hell’s going on, Sam?”“It’s just what you said about virgins.”“I said I’m choosy. I don’t go with just any girl. I’m picky. I don’t want to spend my free time with a girl just for sex. She’s got to be someone I want to talk to, go places with, bring to games. You’re right. I do have a list. Here it is. No virgins, no dumb chicks, no alcoholics, no druggies, no smokers, no animal haters, no kid haters, no prissy girls fooling with their makeup all the time, no girls who spend their days shopping, no mean girls, no gabby girls, no girls who hate football. There. That’s the list. Satisfied?”His eyes glazed over and his lips compressed into a tight frown. He knit his eyebrows. Samantha held her breath for a moment. She tried to make eye contact, but he appeared a million miles away. Sam picked at a nail. Her mouth got dry and her eyes watered.  
“We don’t have to do this. I can take you home if you don’t want to be with me. I understand. Devon’s done a number on me with you.  I get it. No hard feelings.”
*************
Thank you for coming. Look for more of Bull's story next week. 
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RAMBLINGS OF A ROAD TRIPPER

   Since I don't intend to be on the road, driving, in the winter weather, I'm adding a subgenre to my road trip posts: road tripping in New York City. Even though I'm a native --born and bred heree, there are so many places I haven't been. 
   I will be making forays into new places by subway. That's right, getting off at a stop that's brand new to me, poking around the neighborhood, eating lunch and reporting back on what I've found --complete with my own pictures. Here are some I've taken today, at the Museum of Natural History --down the block from me.
    To kick this off, this week I'm posting about those who are road-tripping TO New York City for the marathon. 
  I'm going to be checking out my block to find the car that's traveled the farthest. Today I did see a Delaware license plate and a Maryland one. But they're small potatoes. The winner is...drum roll please:

MONTANA! Parked right on my block.
   Tourists are clogging the city. Central Park was mobbed yesterday afternoon. It's impossible to walk down the sidewalk without making way for runners, preparing for the marathon. 

   I shouldn't complain. The marathon brings a ton of revenue to the city. So, yes, welcome, you out-of-towners, and don't forget your credit cards. 
   I won't be trying to get into my favorite restaurant. I'll be content to stay inside and hawk the street looking for the rarest license plate --one that's traveled farther than Montana. 
   And taking pictures of our glorious fall trees. 
  Watch for my post on Sunday with the final count on the car that came the longest way to my fair city. 

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TUESDAY TALES - PROMPT "GOLD"

Welcome! This week I continue with Bullhorn Brodsky's story. Thanks for coming. Don't forget to check out the fantastic stories on Tuesday Tales, use the link below. 


************************ 
The waiter seated them at a table in the corner. The furniture was bamboo with green and white print tablecloths depicting all sorts of plants. There were huge potted palms and other flora decorating the restaurant. Bull like the atmosphere, almost like a tropical rain forest. They ordered raspberry iced tea and a plate of hearts of palm and olives as an appetizer.
Samantha picked up the dish with the gold sun design in the center. “I don’t have dishes. So much to buy. I forgot how expensive it is to set up an apartment.” She sighed.“Let me help you. I can give you whatever you need.”She took his hand. “I can’t do that Sly. The point of moving out of my brother’s house was to be independent.”“Okay, so call it a loan. You can pay me back, uh…never. How’s that?”She smiled at him. “That’s so sweet. I just can’t. The director at the shelter is having surgery She asked me to take over while she recuperates. It’s only part-time, but that extra income along with my job at the Kings should do it.”“You’ll be working all the time. When will we get a chance to hang out?”He raised her hand to his lips.“I’ll still have time for you.”He gazed into her eyes and caught a glimpse of something warm. Was it desire? His heart beat a little faster. “I’ve never been to a place like this. Do you know anything about this kind of food?” He asked, his brow furrowed as he read the menu.“A little. I see those sweet potato fries,” she said, arching her eyebrows as she studied the offerings. “I’ll have those. What else?”“A veggie burger?”“With enough catsup, you can eat anything,” he said, but his voice didn’t ring confident.Sam laughed. They placed their orders, two veggie burgers and two sweet potato fries. While they waited for their food, Sam sipped her drink. Bull took her small hand between his. “What did you do before you worked for The Kings?”
“I worked in a small fashion boutique.”“I can believe it.”“What does that mean?” She raised her eyebrows.“I mean, you dress real nice. Beautiful. I can see you working in fashion.”“Oh. Thanks.” She looked down at their hands entwined.He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. “You don’t think I’d say something nasty, do you?”“I’m still wondering why my brother doesn’t like you.”Sly sensed his face heating. “It’s just guy crap. You know we say stuff. Stuff about women. It doesn’t mean anything. I mean I’d never say anything like that about you.”“Did you say stuff about old girlfriends?”He shook his head. “Most guys just make stuff up.”“So you’re saying you’re a liar?” The waiter arrived with their food, interrupting their conversation. Bull shifted in his seat, looking for a way to change the subject. When the waiter left, she raised her eyebrows at him. “So?”“It’s not lying, exactly. Guys exaggerate.” He loaded a third of the catsup jar onto his burger.“Devon doesn’t do that, does he?”Sly laughed. “Oh yeah? If he doesn’t, then he’s been dating a couple of female gymnasts,” he chuckled. Samantha’s face reddened as she turned her attention to her food. They ate in silence for a while. He wolfed down the fries, then attacked the burger. Change the subject, muscle head.“Movie tonight?”

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