Jean C. Joachim's Blog: Stories of Love and Passion, page 19

BAD BOY BLOG HOP

Welcome to the Bad Boy Blog Hop! I'm awarding a $10.00 Amazon Gift Card to 1 person, selected at random, who leaves their email address, and a comment. Here's my favorite bad boy -- Gunther Quill, the hero of Lovers & Liars.


LOVERS & LIARS - ROMCON FINALIST FOR READER'S CHOICE AWARD, 2014!
Alone in the world, Erica Wheeler needed a job or face eviction. The aspiring actress harbored a lifelong dream of movie stardom. She knew she had the talent, all she needed was a chance. Her roommate, Amy, plotted revenge on her former boss, sexy, bad-boy producer, Gunther Quill, for firing her. Together she and Erica bent the truth like a pretzel to get her a job working for Quill. He surprised her. Was he the same meanie Amy described or was he simply a smart, ambitious man on his way to the top?
One thing Gunther Quill hated was a liar. Tough, seductive and brilliant, he prided himself on being truthful. With his sharp, new assistant, Erica Wheeler, he’d soon be the most powerful producer of musicals in Hollywood and on Broadway. Nothing could get in his way, except maybe, falling in love. Buy the book here:
Amazon
Barnes & Noble
iTunes/Apple
Kobo
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TUESDAY TALES - PICTURE PROMPT - UNPREDICTABLE LOVE

Welcome! Skipping the Tuesday Tales logo this week because it's picture prompt week. I'm continuing with Jory's story, Unpredictable Love. Don't forget to go back and read all the fabulous stories by the TT authors. Link is below.

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At midnight, Jory sat cross-legged on her bed, holding her pen in her teeth. She looked out her window, pondering what to write to SSGT Trent Stevens. A storm was coming, clouds curled around the moon.She gave a short laugh. “A romantic setting and the closest thing to a man for me is at the other end of this paper.” She took a deep breath and let it out, taking the ballpoint in her right hand, then returning it to her mouth. Words didn’t come. “Write about what you know. That’s what they say.”                   Dear Trent,I love scary storms. Spooky nights with clouds rolling in make me want to curl up with a bottle of wine, a fire and a good man. Am I crazy? What floats your boat? What are the storms like in Afghanistan? I’m sorry if that’s a stupid question. I guess all storms are the same. I’m staring at the moon and feeling sorry for myself that the only man here with me is you, on paper.Sorry again! I’m a downer tonight. I hope you’re not down. But you probably are. None of this is coming out right. Wish you were here with me. Then you’d be safe and I wouldn’t be alone.                                      Wishing you a safe journey,                                      Jory
I shouldn’t send this. But she signed it, folded it and put it in the pink envelope. She addressed it by heart, this being her seventh letter to Trent.
She slid between the sheets and turned on her side. Closing her eyes, she imagined what it would feel like if Trent was in the bed, right behind her.  He was much taller than her, making it hard to visualize. How can I imagine a man I’ve never met?   
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TUESDAY TALES - UNPREDICTABLE LOVE 2

Welcome to Tuesday Tales - word prompt "hardy". We are continuing with the story, "Unpredictable Love." Thanks for stopping by. Don't forget to click on the link below to return to the great authors at Tuesday Tales. 


***********As soon as her sister turned on the supportive heat, Jory melted. She always did and knew her little sister was manipulating her. But she was powerless to resist. Ever since their parents were killed in a car crash ten years ago, Jory had taken her silly sister under her wing. They had moved in with their widowed aunt, Nan Edwards, leaving their old world behind. Jory snatched the envelopes from her sister’s hand with a snort of disgust and returned to the house. Lily waved goodbye and slid behind the wheel of her car. The sisters moved from New York City. It had been traumatic for the much younger girl, Lily, but Jory's hardy, she had adjusted well. She loved Pine Grove, a small town on Cedar Lake in upstate New York. Lily was a different story. She had dreams of beauty pageants and Hollywood. Jory, thirty, wrote for the Pine Grove Independent, the local bi-weekly newspaper. It didn’t pay much, but she used her journalism skills learned at Kensington State. The job didn’t take up all her time, giving her time to plant a garden and read.  Lily worked for the local pharmacy, doing makeovers and hawking makeup for the small store. She didn’t make much money, but had access to tons of new products. She loved her job.
Jory tossed the envelopes on the kitchen table, in front of her aunt, who sat sipping her second mug of coffee.“She’s done it again. Damn it.”“Done what?”“Roped me in.”“How?”“Remember Laura’s drive to get penpals for guys in Afghanistan?”Nan raised her gaze to Rory. “Lily signed up.”“What’s wrong with that?”“She had no intention of writing more than one letter to this guy, Staff Sergeant T. Stevens.”“That’s not great but not the worst crime either.”“It is when she signs my name.”Her aunt sprayed coffee on the table. Her eyes bugged out.“Oh my God! She signed your name?”“Yep. And here are three letters from this poor sap, probably wondering why I never answered his first one.” Jory shook her head and tossed a sponge to her aunt.
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TUESDAY TALES - UNPREDICTABLE LOVE

Welcome! This week, I'm starting a new story, actually the continuation of a story I started here some time ago. It has a new title and a few new twists. It's called "Unpredictable Love" and it will be the first in my small town romance series. 


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Jory Walker headed down the flagstone path to the mailbox. She took out three letters. Two bills and one envelope that looked like it had been through a war. It had. The return address said:
     “SSGT. T. Stevens”
Anger bubbled up inside her. She made a beeline for the house, only to collide with her sister, Amber. “Amber! What the hell?” She waved the envelope in her sister’s face.
“I just sent him one letter.”“This is the fourth you’ve gotten from him. When are you going to write back?”“It was a mistake…”“You can say that again. Especially the part about you signing my name!”“Laura was so convincing. I thought she meant one letter. Only one letter.” “She asked people to sign up to write to guys in the military. Not write only one letter and include a lewd photo?”
“It wasn’t lewd, whatever that means. Just me in a bikini. I’m not good at letters. Much better at pictures.”  Her beautiful redheaded sister with a Miss America figure grinned at her.“And the reason you signed my name?”“I always liked your name better. Besides, if he wanted another letter, I knew you’d write it for me. So it might as well have your name on it.”“Don’t give me that bullshit smile. I’m on to you. And the answer is ‘no’.” Jory shoved the envelope from T. Stevens into Amber’s hand. “Please? Pleeeaassseee, Jory. You’re the writer. Not me.”“That’s right. You’re the pretty sister and I’m the smart sister.”Amber nodded. “I don’t mean it like that. You’re so much better than me.”“Than I.”“See?”“Forget it.”Amber’s jaw jutted out. “Okay. Disappoint some poor guy out there at war." She waved a photo in her sister's face. "Look at his picture. He’s hot, even with a buzz cut.”
Jory brushed the snapshot aside, but not without glancing at it.         
“He’s expecting you not me.”“Yeah, the picture I sent. But he’ll never know. He’s in Afghanistan somewhere. Just write one or two letters, then tell him you got engaged.”“What a mean thing to do. I’ve no plans to get engaged and I’m not going to lie about it.”“That creep, Archie. Why do you go out with him?”“He beats what’s on tv.”


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DEVON DRAKE, CORNERBACK, TAKES THE 20-QUESTION QUIZ!

Meet Devon Drake. Oops, we're interrupting him while he's getting dressed. Didn't think you'd mind that, he certainly doesn't!


I gave him the 20-question quiz. Here are his answers:

   1.      Chocolate or vanilla? Strawberry, actually.      2.     Airplane or train?    Airplane. Love the take-off, kind of like sex. Can I say that?
   3.     Walking or driving? Driving. Preferably a Maserati.
   4.     Red or Blue?              Blue, like the ocean.
   5.     Country or Rock?     Rock. 80’s rock.
   6.     Dog or cat?                 Pug – Brodie. Smart, obedient pup. 
   7.     Lemonade or Iced Tea?  Texas Iced Tea.
   8.     Vodka or Whiskey?    Gin. Or vodka.
   9.     Mounds or Almond Joy? Who’s mounds? (laughs)
   10.   Action movies or Thrillers? Bruce Willis or Will Ferrell movies.
   11.   Men – brunette or blond?    Brunette, that’s brown hair, right?
   12.   Women – brunette, blonde or redhead? Redhead, nice boobs, not huge. A nice handful. Yeah. Blue eyes, too.   13.    Steak or lobster?  Lobster. Steamed, boiled, broiled, in a lobster roll, in an omelet. Lobster for sure.
   14.    French fries or Salad? Fries, but I eat salad. Have to keep my weight down. Stormy makes the best salad.
   15.    Pistachios or Peanuts?  Peanut butter but pistachios in nut form.
   16.    Beer or Wine? Beer. Ice cold.
   17.    Beach or Mountains? Beach. Love the waves. Great place for sex, if you’re careful.
   18.    Oatmeal or scrambled eggs? Eggs. Oatmeal sucks.
   19.    Sausage or Bacon? Bacon and sausage. Why should I have to choose only one?
 20.    Pretty or Witty? Both – Love a funny woman. If she makes me laugh, she’s got my heart.
Here's his childhood friend, Stormy. She's his sister's best friend. Is she dating him? You'll have to read the book to find out. 


















A bit about the book Devon Drake, star cornerback, has it all: hot super model girlfriend and pro football career, or does he? A childhood friend wanders back into his life, upsetting his ideal existence. Is it finally time to  tell her the truth about what happened fifteen years ago?Stormy Gregory is on the run from an abusive man. Her best friend offers her a safe place at the shelter for abused women and children. Grateful to be out of harm’s way, Stormy helps with a charitable event, not expecting to run into Devon Drake, her friend’s brother. Will she run again rather than face rejection? Cracks in his perfect world threaten the cornerback’s starting lineup status. An unwelcome surprise short-circuits Stormy’s attempt to build a new life. Can they pull together or will the secret that separates the former friends keep them on a downward spiral?   
RELEASEING 8/24 - PREORDER IT HERE:
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TUESDAY TALES - MAGGIE'S STORY - LAST INSTALLMENT

Welcome! The word prompt this week is "writing". This will be the last installment of Maggie's Story until the novella comes out. Thank you for stopping by and reading this emotional story. 
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 Maggie slipped her hand into John’s as the Judge asked Penn to take the witness stand. The magistrate turned to face the boy. He asked questions and scribbled notes. Maggie was sure she had broken John’s hand, she squeezed so hard.          After Penn stepped down, John, then Maggie took the stand. She twisted a hanky when she answered questions, but wasn’t able to hold back tears.           She gripped the railing for support as she pushed to her feet. Uncle Alfred followed her. There was a brief recess. John and Maggie flanked Penn. Though he was taller than she, Maggie slipped her arm around him.           They were called back into the courtroom. The judge cleared his throat.           “I have your statement in writing, Penn. I’ve read it carefully and heard the answers of all the parties. It may be unorthodox, but I’ve decided to let you stay with Maggie and John for the next year. Your uncle will manage your financial affairs and provide an adequate income for you to live on. After a year, the court will revisit your living situation. If, at that time, the court finds that you are not receiving proper supervision, your custody will be transferred to your uncle.”          Maggie gasped and reached for John.           “Do you understand, young man? If you seize this chance to live with these caring people as an opportunity to run wild, the court will put a stop to it. They will be dismissed and you will be moved to your uncle’s home.”          “I do, Your Honor.”          “You’re willing to abide by their rules?”          “I am, sir.”          “Keep up with your schoolwork, stay away from drugs and alcohol?”          “Yes, sir.”          “And you, Maggie and John? Are you willing to take the duties of parenting seriously? Are you willing to be available to Penn?”          “We are, Your Honor,” John said.           “Be with him day in and day out?”          “Yes, sir,” Maggie said, her voice barely louder than a whisper.           “Take full responsibility for Penn, as if he were your own flesh and blood?”          “We gladly accept that, Your Honor,” John said.           “Very well. Then it’s is the opinion of this court that Penn Roberts shall remain in the custody of John and Maggie for one full year –at which time custody will be re-evaluated based on the boy’s progress. Court is adjourned.”          Maggie let out the breath she had been holding, and the tears as well. Even John misted up as he grinned broadly.  Penn joined them in a group hug. His eyes were full. Arthur stopped on his way out.           “Good luck raising a teenager,” he harrumphed.           “Thank you, sir. I’m sure we’ll need it,” Maggie replied.           The older man frowned. “Don’t know how I’m going to tell your aunt, Penn.”          “You’ll figure out something, Uncle Alfred. You always do,” Penn responded.           The threes piled into their car and John drove them home. Once inside, Penn went to his room and closed the door. Maggie started dinner while John poured them each a glass of wine. They clinked glasses.           “Our boy. He really is our boy now, old girl.”          “That he is.”          “Of course, when he’s eighteen, he’s his own man. No custody then. Is three years enough?”          “The court’s only giving us one. But they’ll see. Yes, three years would be heaven. Parent teacher conferences. Mother’s Day. Oh, John, three years is a dream come true.”          She wiped her eyes before raising her glass.           “To Penn. Our boy. Our son. Even if only for a little while.”
“Amen, my lovely.”
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TUESDAY TALES, PICTURE PROMPT - MAGGIE'S STORY CONTINUES

MAGGIE’S STORY 

          Penn’s door opened. When he joined the others in the living room, Maggie saw that his face was streaked with tears.           “Hello, Penn. So sorry about your parents,” Alfred said, shifting his weight.           “Now you get dad’s business, don’t you?” Penn eased down onto the sofa.          “Your dad left his half of the business to you, with me as your trustee until you’re twenty-one.”          “Really?”          “He had faith in you my boy. I have custody papers here. If you’ll just sign them.”          Maggie held her breath.           “We can look after him, “ John piped up.           Alfred snorted. “You?”          “I’m going to call a lawyer,” Penn said, pushing up from his chair. “That’s what dad would tell me to do.”          “Don’t you want to move in with me and your Aunt Muriel?”          “I don’t know what I want. Right now, I want to stay here.”          “I’ll leave you here then. After you’ve consulted an attorney, have him call me.”          Alfred handed the boy a business card and left.           Maggie brought out a sandwich and a glass of milk from the kitchen, but Penn wouldn’t eat. The doorbell rang. John went. He returned with a large vase of pink and white roses and a fat box of chocolates that he placed on the coffee table.           “Oh, Christ, it’s Mother’s Day,” Penn moaned, after reading the message. He tossed the card on the table, then picked up one of the beautiful flowers. . The housekeeper retrieved the card . It was from the Mister to his wife.“She was beautiful, wasn’t she?” He asked.           Tears clouded Maggie’s eyes. “She was, lad. The most beautiful.”          Penn fell into her arms, sobbing. In a few minutes, he managed to pull himself together. He handed Maggie the box of chocolates.
          “You’re my mother now.”
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TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT "PEN"

Welcome to Tuesday Tales. The word prompt is "pen" and MAGGIE'S STORY continues. Thank you for coming. Click HERE to return to the awesome stories of Tuesday Tales.

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Maggie turned pleading eyes to John. He took a deep breath and placed his hand on the young man’s shoulder.“Sit down, Master Penn.”“Stop kidding around, John.”“You know I never kid about things like this.”The boy paled as he sank into a chair in the kitchen. John took another breath and cleared his throat. He sniffed and blinked before he spoke. “There is news, son. I’m afraid it isn’t good.”“What the?” Penn rose from his chair until John’s hand eased him back down.“There was bad weather. A storm. The plane went down before they could land on St. Thomas, somewhere between Florida and the Caribbean.”A gasp from the boy tore at Maggie’s heart. “I’m so sorry to say, no one survived.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “No!”Penn leaped out of his chair. “You’re lying!” The boy swung, but John sidestepped before the fist connected with his jaw. Penn pushed John out of the way, stopped to stare at Maggie with wild eyes, then ran to his room.Maggie started after him, but John grabbed her arm. “Let him go. He’s got to come to terms with this.”“But we can help.”“Not this time.”The intercom from the lobby sounded. John answered.“That’s Uncle Alfred. He’s coming up.”A tremble seized Maggie. “He’ll take him. He’ll take Penn. We’ll lose our boy.”John wrapped his arms around her. “Get a grip, my girl. Get a grip. Penn will always be ours, no matter where he is.”Alfred opened the door.“Where’s Penn?”“In his room,” Maggie responded, straightening her dress. He pulled a pen from his breast pocket. “He’s got to sign some papers.”“Please, Mr. Alfred. The boy’s upset. He needs time.”
“There’ll be plenty of time for that later. Right now, I’m taking custody.”
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TUESDAY TALES - BLOOM - MAGGIE'S STORY CONTINUES

Welcome! Today's word prompt is "bloom". Maggie's story continues. Thank you for stopping by. Please return to the fabulous Tuesday Tales authors HERE . 

**************MAGGIE'S STORY“Bloody hell, you say,” Maggie said, dropping the empty bucket.Before he could move, the phone rang again. He answered it, his voice shaking. All she heard was his side of the conversation, which consisted of “ yes” and “no”. When he hung up, his eyes filled. He looked straight at her, grasped the table and muttered, “Bloomin’ hell. It’s gone down and they’re all dead. Passengers, crew. The lot.”“Oh no. No, John, no, no, no. Say the Missus is okay. She’s in hospital, right?” A shiver mixed with a tremble and shot through Maggie’s body. John simply stared at her, his face as white as snow, and shook his head.“Gone, Maggie, my girl. Gone. I’m sorry.”A lump formed in her throat as she tried to wrap her mind around the truth. Her knees wobbled. John caught her as she pitched forward. Once in his arms, she sobbed into his shirt. His chest heaved as he cried with her. When she could take a breath, she closed shaking fingers around his biceps. “What are we gonna do?” “That was Alfred, Mister’s brother. He’s coming over.”“When?”
“I don’t know. Seems as if he’s got to call the lawyer.”“Penn will be home from school in half an hour,” she said, chewing on a nail.“Good lord, Mr. Penn!” John lowered his head to his hands.“We’ve got to tell him.”“I don’t know. Maybe we should wait for Alfred,” John said.
“We can’t. He’ll know. We can’t lie.” Tears broke through again as she realized Penn had lost both his parents at once. “My poor boy, my poor boy.” Maggie shook her head. John poured two snifters of the Mister’s private stock of brandy and handed one to Maggie. “Bottom’s up, old girl.”The liquid went down smooth, warming her on its way. When they finished, she washed the glasses, glad to have something to do. Maggie glanced at the clock and her heart raced. The lad will be here any moment.Terrified, she retreated to her quarters. The front door opened. A male voice sang as the lock clicked closed. Maggie clung to John, squeezing him around the middle. He tightened his embrace. They stood totally silent.
“Maggie?” Penn called from the kitchen.Her breathing shallow, she slid their door open and ventured into the hall. Penn came by, carrying a plate sporting half a ham sandwich. He carried the rest in his hand and took a bite. With a full mouth he greeted the housekeeper. She nodded, attempting to smile. When he had swallowed the food, he spoke. “I didn’t get a text from Mom that they landed okay. She’s silly about that stuff. But she always reports in. Like something might happen? Yeah, right,” he sniffed.Maggie froze, the blood drained from her face. Penn glanced at her, then stopped. “I don’t mean to be a wuss, but did you hear from her?”  

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TUESDAY TALES - PROMPT "TIGER" MAGGIE'S STORY CONTINUES

“Maggie, which should I wear? This pants outfit or the dress?”“Traveling in a dress? Not too comfortable, I’d say,” Maggie replied, as she dusted the lampshades in Mr. and Mrs. Roberts’ bedroom. “You’re so right. I’m nervous about this trip. We’ve never been away from Penn for three weeks.”“We’ll watch over him.”“I’m sure you’ll take good care of him.”“He’s a teen. Good lad, but rebellious. He’ll get over it.”“I hope so. Pants outfit it is.” Maggie packed Anne’s clothes in a chic, tiger-striped suitcase. The women chatted, comparing notes, piecing together the tidbits Penn shared about his life and his feelings.“John says he saw Penn talking to the same redheaded girl three afternoons in a row, when he picked him up. Said her name's Emma,” Maggie said, folding a blue nightie. “Emma, huh?” Anne smiled.“He’s gonna be a real ladykiller. Such a handsome boy.”“And sweet, too. Don’t you think?” Anne brushed her hair, then handed the brush to Maggie.“The sweetest.”“At least he was until he hit puberty. I’m hoping he’ll return to the child I adore, and soon,” Anne said, grinning. When the bags were packed, Maggie retreated to the kitchen to tend the special dinner she was preparing. Roast duck and pan roasted potatoes, a family ritual meal before his parents took a trip. Penn breezed in with John after school. He opened the fridge.“Your plate is on the table,” Maggie said. “Now don’t be gettin’ in my way.”Penn picked up the plate with a grilled cheese sandwich, carrot sticks and two homemade, chocolate chip cookies. He grabbed the glass of milk with his other hand.“Thanks, Maggie.”The dinner went off perfectly. The Roberts’ were leaving at six the next morning in a private plane bound for Central America. John was up at five, sipping coffee. At five thirty, he left to bring the car around.“Have a safe trip,” Maggie said, when Anne gave her a hug. A sleepy Penn yawned and scratched his chin as he joined them. There were hugs, kisses and promises made all around before they left the apartment. Maggie and Penn went back to sleep. The alarm went off at eight as usual. When John returned from dropping Penn at school, Maggie had made Eggs Benedict. “Quiet day,” John said, sipping his coffee.“Got some cleaning to catch up on.”“Can I help?”“Finish that book you’ve been readin’. I can manage.”He helped clear the table and shooed her away from the dishes. As she gathered her cleaning things, the phone rang. John answered it. “Roberts residence.”Maggie glanced up, but stopped what she was doing when she saw his face turn pale. “Right. Thank you.” His voice was almost a whisper. “What? What?” Maggie stopped moving. “Their plane’s gone down.” 

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