Jean C. Joachim's Blog: Stories of Love and Passion, page 27

TUESDAY TALES -WORD PROMPT SEA

Welcome to Tuesday Tales. This week's word is "sea". I'm continuing Pete "Coach Bass" Sebastian's story. He's head coach of the football team, The Connecticut Kings. This will be a story in my upcoming First & Ten series of football romances.
COACH BASS
Coach Bass was in a foul mood all day, after witnessing Dev Drake moving in on Jo Parker. While muttering to himself about what a lowlife Drake was, the Coach shuffled papers around on his desk, couldn’t concentrate and left early.

Whenever Pete Sebastian was overwhelmed by being Head Coach for the Connecticut Kings and raising twin daughters on his own, he went to the beach. He thanked God he owned a house three blocks from the sea.
Running on the beach helped Pete work out his problems. The fresh, salty, ocean air cleared his head. Away from the demands of his kids, his players and the team owner, the Coach could think.
He stretched his leg muscles, then took off at a moderate pace. 
Need to do distance today. Not gonna solve this problem with a sprint. After fifteen minutes, tension slowly drained out of his body. He smiled. One roll in the hay with Jo Parker would have done the same thing.
The few dates he’d had over the years hadn’t led to much. He couldn’t commit to a woman because he worried about taking time away from his girls. Now that they were in college, a new freedom washed over him. Time to get active in the bedroom again. After another forty minutes, he had made up his mind what to do and returned home.
The next day, he dressed with care and went to the office early. When Jo arrived, he sauntered over, attempting to appear nonchalant. After a little meaningless chitchat, he made his play.
“You’re new in town, aren’t you?”
“I am. It’s very charming here. I love tNew England.”
“There’s a terrific restaurant, Kerry’s Catch, down by the water.
How about joining me for dinner there on Saturday?”
“Saturday?” She bit her lip and consulted her phone. “Hmm. Can’t Saturday. Dev Drake is taking me to The Savage Beast for karaoke night.”
“Sunday then?” Pete shifted his weight.Jo skimmed her finger over the screen. “Sunday’s wide open.”“Great. Pick you up at six?”
Jo scribbled her address on a piece of paper and handed it to him with a smile. “Six works for me.”
Pete stuffed the paper in his pocket, grinned back at her and returned to his office. Fuck you, Drake. This old quarterback isn’t going down without a fight.

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FAVORITE PICTURES!

HERE ARE SOME FAVORITE PICTURES FOR A SLEEPY, SUMMER SATURDAY. ENJOY!




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TUESDAY TALES - RIDE

 Welcome! Today I'm posting another snippet from my WIP in my football series, First & Ten. This is the Pete Sebastian, Coach Bass, story. Scroll down to return to Tuesday Tales.

                                        COACH BASS  
Pete shaved with care, thinking about the stats he got from Carl about Jo Parker. Age: 33, single, never married, B.A. degree, magna cum laude. That she was beautiful, curvy and classy he could figure out for himself. So, I’m a little older than she is. So what? Ten years. Today –that’s nothing. He smiled as the razor glided through the thick coating of cream on his face. Words from his daughter, Mikki –the fashionista—echoed in his head. Dad, gotta dress better or you’ll never get a date. He’d let her pick out clothes and show him how to put together the best suit, shirt and tie combination. With his light brown hair and hazel eyes, Mikki would have chosen green, his best color.
He shrugged the shirt over his broad shoulders and picked a dark gold tie from the rack. He pulled on khaki pants pressed to knife-sharp creases. A forest green wool jacket completed the outfit. He looked in the full length mirror as he combed his thick hair. Never cared what I wore to work. But now there’s a goddess in the office next to me.
Mikki would approve. He smiled as he plucked his keys from the ceramic bowl filled with loose change. He entered the front office section of the stadium, whistling. Blood rushed through his veins.
Coach Bass was feeling sexy. Jo’s office was around the next bend.
Feminine laughter greeted his ears, making his grin wider. But the smile melted into a frown when his eyes beheld the scene before him. Jo, at her desk, a pen in her mouth, gazed up, laughing with Devon Drake, running back and womanizer.  Pete followed Dev’s gaze, which rested on Jo’s cleavage.          

Shit! He’s gonna take her for a ride. Coach Bass scowled at the young player as he flirted with Jo. Fuck. Twenty-four hours and I’m already too late.  BACK TO TUESDAY TALES TO MY WEBSITE

SUMMER VACATIONS AT FIRE ISLAND! COME HOP WITH ME! #MFRWave #MFRWauthor

Welcome to the Summer Vacation Blog Hop!! Summer vacation memories...
    In my single days, I spent many summers on the beach at Fire Island, New York. Young men and women rented houses and lived together on weekends all summer long. 
  You didn't need much clothing, just a couple of bathing suits, a pair of shorts and a T-shirt or two. Oh, and flip-flops!

   There's nothing on Fire Island -- no roads, no cars, hardly any stores, maybe a couple of restaurants and bars. 
That's it. Some towns had only a small store. You had to take a water taxi to get from town to town.  The island was beautiful, with glorious sunsets, clear clean water, bright sun and cloudless, blue skies. The ocean was on one side and the bay on the other. I had my first shower in the sunshine in an outdoor shower! And, no, I'm not going to tell you if I was in there alone.
The main drag is a wood path. The houses sit on sand. The front lawn is sand and the trees are scrub pines. The atmosphere is laid back. We played cards, drank cocktails, and cooked together.  We went to the nude beach and made love with whoever we wanted. It was a free era, a long time ago.
I adored my time there. I made friends and broke out of my shell. 

I've put aside my privacy rule and written about Fire Island in my book, LOVE'S LAST CHANCE, from my series, Hollywood Hearts.
Please leave a comment and your EMAIL ADDRESS for a chance to win a copy, or any other copy of one of my books. Please say "yes" if you'd like to receive my new newsletter. 
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TUESDAY TALES - FATHER

Welcome! This week I'm exploring another character from my new series, First & Ten. Meet Pete Sebastian, a/k/a, Coach Bass.
****** Pete Sebastian looked forward to Father’s Day. His twin daughters, Emily and Mikki, were Daddy’s little girls from the minute they were born. They cooked up something special for him every year, always taking him by surprise. After his wife left the girls with him to “find herself”, he had to become the disciplinarian and the nurturer. Neither role suited him naturally, but he learned and adjusted, priding himself on a job pretty well done for a man starting at square one. Hell, coaching a football team was a piece of cake compared to raising two girls on his own.
Now they were in college and his job at home wasn’t quite so full time. He wondered if he could find another woman, a better one. Pete turned forty-three and had no idea where to begin when it came to dating. 
He knew what he wanted. This time he’d choose I.Q. over bra size. No more flighty, self-absorbed women, no matter how willing. No sir. Had to be an intelligent woman. But pretty.
Sexy wouldn’t hurt. Did he remember how to make love to a woman? Yes, it had been that long because his daughters came first and that didn’t leave much time for a sex life.Pete watched his men spruce up in the locker room for dates. He envied them the beautiful women on their arms. Carl Woodley, owner of the Connecticut Kings, patted him on the shoulder.
“Now the girls are out of the house, when are you gonna get a woman?”
“Not many women looking for an old man like me.”
“You’re not old. Hell, even I’m not old at sixty-six!”
At five o’clock, the administration offices cleared out. He’d been hoping Carl might hire some bright young woman in the front office, but no such luck. A new P.R. guy, Joe-something was due to start soon.
Plucking his jacket off the hook, Pete resigned himself to another night at The Savage for a couple of brews and a burger.  Totally preoccupied, he walked out of his office and smacked into someone coming down the hall at a good clip. He looked up with tired eyes.Huge, startled, green eyes blinked.“Excuse me. I’m so sorry,” she stammered. “I’m looking for Mr. Woodley.”
“Carl? Just missed him.” Pete’s gaze flew down the slim, female body wearing a dark gray suit and a blue shirt. He noticed lovely curves and had to stop staring before he began to blush.
“Can I help you?”
“You are?” She straightened, pulling her jacket down, revealing a little cleavage. Pete’s gaze went straight to her chest.
“Uh, um. Pete Sebastian, Coach of the Kings,” he said, feeling like a schoolboy with his first boner.
“Josephine Parker. Please call me, Jo,” she smiled and extended her hand. The room got several thousand watts brighter. Pete took her small, soft fingers in his and didn’t want to let go. “I’m the new P.R. Director.”
“So you’re Joe? Well, well, what a surprise.” 
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BEST OF...EVERYDAY HEROES

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 for me 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! 
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 my male writer friends in NRW who encourage me every day and still flirt with me.
12) 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.
13) 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. 
14)  To my writing partner, Ben, who encourages me every day, never tells me my ideas are dumb or gives me a hard time about my typos or lack of punctuation…and listens, patiently, to me rant about life.
15) 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.16) To the two men who took my pictures and designed book covers for me just because they are my friends.
17) 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. 
18) 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.
19) To Doug, our guest, who surprised me with a Tiramisu cake just because I had admired it in the bakery window. 

20) To the man who jumped into a Facebook group to defend me when several people attacked my opinion.
21) To all the men who let me go first...from the checkout counter at the grocery store to the bread counter at Zabar's... simply because I'm a woman. 
22) 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.
23) To the men in IRM who are never stingy with hugs or encouragement.
24) To DH who sometimes fixes things beforeI 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 - PICTURE PROMPT

 This week we are continuing with our football series, tentatively titled "First and Ten". This is Griff Montgomery's story. This post is limited to 300 words as are all the Tuesday Tales picture prompts. Thank you for stopping by. *****      Leslie Ferraday looked up at the sky as she walked from the parking lot to the courthouse. Do I still have an umbrella in the trunk? She chewed her lip. This silk suit will be ruined. 
   She came to appear in civil court for a suit she brought against Griff Montgomery. She was trying to get her pug, Zander, back.
Griff had taken possession of the dog. Claimed to have saved his life. Told the police she had neglected the dog. But it was all wrong.    Her ex-husband, Bob, was to blame. When she heard about her dad being hospitalized, she asked Bob to put Zander in the doggie hotel. She was gone for three weeks, much longer than she expected. Seems in his rush to move to L.A., Bob forgot about Zander, an animal he never liked anyway.    Tears gathered in her eyes as she considered the possibility of losing the suit. Zander and a half empty house were all she had. She sighed a deep shuddering breath as she approached the courthouse.    When she turned the corner, she almost ran into Griff Montgomery. The six foot six football player stood, looking devastatingly handsome in a perfectly tailored navy blue suit and white shirt.    Cameras clicked and reporters swarmed around the charismatic quarterback. Her heart sank as she watched him smile with confidence. Even his stance shouted “winner”. He’s famous. I’m nobody.  I don’t stand a chance.    A loud crack interrupted her thoughts. The clouds moved in swift, angry bunches, then the heavens opened up. She ran inside in time to avoid being drenched.     Her shoulders drooped. She blinked rapidly as her gaze connected with Griff’s. His eyes narrowed as she brushed away a runaway tear, before she turned her back and escaped to the ladies room. Return to Tuesday Tales Go to my website   

BEST OF...10 THINGS NOT TO SAY TO A ROMANCE WRITER… AND THE SNAPPY ANSWERS YOU MIGHT RECEIVE IF YOU DO.

TEN THINGS NOT TO SAY TO A ROMANCE WRITER… AND THE SNAPPY ANSWERS  YOU MIGHT RECEIVE IF YOU DO.
  1.     Did you model that character after me? 
        No, you’re too boring to be a character in my book.
  2.     Did you get your plot from a TV program?
        No, that’s called theft of intellectual property.
  3.     Are you going to put what I just said in a book?
        Maybe, but you’ll never know, will you?
  4.     Who did you fashion your characters after?
        No one, they are fiction, remember?
  5.     Did that really happen?
        No, that’s called nonfiction.
  6.     Where do you get your ideas from?
       I buy them at the corner store along with my crack, Oxycotin and  diet pills.
  7.     Does your mother know you write this stuff?
      Yes, and she’s buying copies for all her friends for Christmas.
  8.     Do people actually buy your books?
       Yes, I’ve got the royalty checks to prove it.
  9.     I could write something like this…it isn’t hard. 
      Go ahead…I dare you 
  10.  This isn’t real literature, you know. 
      Really? That’s what it’s classified as by the government (when you file for a copyright) 
   Thank you for stopping by. Which was your favorite? I love comments. Have a great day. 

BEST OF....REJECTIONS LETTERS WE'D LIKE TO SEE...

 Welcome to a week of The Best of my blogs. I've resurrected what I think are my best shots at engaging blogs. No, none of them are touting books, so you can relax. Hope you enjoy them. There's the first.  REJECTION LETTERS WE'D LIKE TO SEE…


Great Expectations by Charles Dickens
Dear Mr. Dickens,
So who has great expectations? Is this Miss Havisham chick expecting a roll in the hay with Pip or what? Cougar stories are hot right now but this kid is underage…don’t want to bring the feds down on us. So make him older and add a few hot scenes and resubmit.
 
A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens
Dear Mr. Dickens,
“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times”? Really? Make up your mind, Mr. Dickens. Which was it, the best or the worst of times. Geez. When you decide which it was, revise and resubmit. And bag that guillotine crap. Too bloody for our audience.


Stuart Little by E.B. White
Dear Mr. White,
A woman gives birth to a mouse? She’s cheating on her human husband with a giant mouse? Honestly…that may be original but is totally inappropriate for a kid’s book, Mr. White. Besides, it has creeped out the entire editorial staff. Don’t both rewriting and resubmitting this one, I’m afraid.You might consider intensive physchotherapy.




Don Quixote by Miguel de Cervantes Dear Mr. Cervantes,
A novel about a crazy, old guy who fights a windmill and his chubby sidekick who goes along because he has no life? Honestly, this story has been done to death, Mr. Cervantes. While we loved the chivalry, the plot was ho hum and the characters too far fetched. A hooker who turns down a good guy who doesn't want sex? Really, Mr. Cervantes? Please send us your next manuscript, we have not filled out quota of rejections yet this month.


Frankenstein by Mary Shelley
Dear Ms. Shelley,
Your hero is made out of dead body parts sewn together? Yuck! Three of our editors threw up reading about that. We believe in recycling, but that's ridiculous! Then you jump start him like a dead car battery with lightning from the sky. Yeah, like that’s ever gonna happen. What nice girl writes about something so grisly? Thanks but no thanks. Do send us your next attempt, we’re always looking for a good laugh.


Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll
Dear Mr. Carroll,
A girl disappears and this is funny? Down a rabbit hole? She eats pills that make her bigger and smaller then meets a floating grin that’s a cat? We suggest, Mr. Carroll, that the next time you take psycho-tropic recreational drugs, you remove pencil and paper from the room. Please, we know an acid trip when we see one. Good luck with your drug habit but don’t send us your next “trip”.



Little Women by Louisa May Alcott
Dear Ms. Alcott,
We were disappointed to see from the title of your book that it wasn’t about a bordello. These girls are innocent to the point of totally boring. Four editors fell asleep skimming your book for sex scenes. Besides, there was too much telling and not enough showing in this book. We couldn’t feel the emotions of your characters. What a bunch of spoiled brats! Please, spice up this book, like one of them gets it on with the rich kid next door, rewrite and resubmit. Oh and make the girls all over sixteen. We like ‘em legal.

TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT "BOTTOM"

Welcome! Thanks for stopping by. Here is another episode in the Griff Montgomery, Quarterback, story, continuing from last week. 
**********  Griff’s attention was drawn to the nicely rounded bottom facing him. The woman it belonged to was bending over to allow his dog, Spike, to lick her face clean. Lusty thoughts ran through his mind as the eye-catching body part almost brushed his leg. 
When the woman stood up and turned to face him, he saw long, dark hair, perfectly pink lips, and flashing hazel eyes throwing a cold look his way. He was dazzled.
“What?”
“You heard me. You stole my dog. This is Zander. And he’s mine,” she grabbed for the pug’s leash.
As he raised it above the reach of the beautiful woman standing before him, his eyes narrowed. “So you’re the asshole who left this dog to starve and die? No way are you getting him back. I should call the cops.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Lady, I found this dog, starving, guarding an empty house. Your house. Did you conveniently forget you had him? And now you want him back? Go to hell.” He pulled the dog closer to him and moved his long legs forward.   
"You got a lotta nerve talking to me like that! I did not forget my dog."
"Yeah? Tell it to the cops, lady." If I don’t get away from her, I’m going to hit her. He gritted his teeth as he walked. His eyes darkened and his hands fisted at his side. I hate animal abusers. 
A small tug on his arm caught his attention.
“What the fuck do you want?” He turned to face her.
“That’s my dog,” She said, her jaw tightened, her lips compressed into a thin line. 
“On a cold day in Hell, lady. If you were a man, I’d take you  behind that store and beat the shit out of you.” He took a menacing step toward her and she backed away. The woman’s eyes registered fear.
His gaze automatically slid down to her deliciously seductive chest. Annoyed with himself, he immediately snapped his attention back to her face. She inched toward him, closing her fingers around the leash and opened her mouth.

“Help! Police!” Back to Tuesday Tales My website