Johnny Ray's Blog, page 46
February 16, 2013
SCANDAL--THE DEATH OF A LEGACYA LOOK INSIDE Chapter...
SCANDAL--THE DEATH OF A LEGACYA LOOK INSIDE
Chapter 5 Kristina entered the front door of her condo and saw her mother waiting on her with panic stretching her face into a strange convulsion. “I’ve been trying to call you. Where have you been?” Her mother glanced over her shoulder before taking Katrina’s arm and pulling her to the activity room, which was off to one side of the vestibule. “Hurry, before your father sees you.” “What’s going on?” “The maid found your test strip and told your father.” “She had no right to search through my stuff!” “Right or no right, your father has been trying to call you.” Kristina’s heart beat faster as she struggled with another onset of dizziness which was a strange feeling she hadn’t experienced until recently. “I turned my phone off and wanted to be left alone to think.” “He heard Shawn, the head of security, had taken you shopping. He’s trying to reach him now.” “He dropped me off a few minutes ago.” “Damn, that means he’ll be looking for you any minute.” A loud knock on the door announced his presence as he didn’t stop to wait on an answer. His face flashed a bright deep red. She had seen such a look before. “There you are. Shawn told me he had been with you all day, and dropped you off here a few minutes ago. Do you want to tell me what you were doing with him today?” “Dad, he was my driver.” “I know who he is. I’m not stupid. But . . . what I want to know is where he drove you today. And I bet it has something to do with this.” He presented the pregnancy kit. “Mom told me a few minutes ago that the maid found it. She had no right in searching my things!” “She apologized, but she said she found it putting away some of your clothes. She thought I should know, and I’m glad she confided in me, which is something I wish my own daughter would do.” “Look at you. Do you think I really want to talk to you about this right now?” “This is one time your partying ways have caught up with you. I hope you’re happy.” “Dad, I don’t sleep around!” “Really, then tell me who’s going to be my new son-in-law?” “I don’t know who the father is, and I’m not planning on marrying anyone!” Kristina watched her father extend his hands into the air above him in frustration. “I do my best to try to raise you right and show respect for the family, and this is how I’m paid back.” “Dad, you might as well know.” “Know what?” “I think I was raped.” The words appeared to dazzle him. With his ragging attitude silenced, he staggered. “And . . . you’re just now telling me this!” “Dad, I don’t have many answers yet. I went looking for them today. Based on what I think now, I was given a date rape drug.” “Have you contacted the police?” “No, I have no proof, other than I’m pregnant. What do you think they’ll do with that?” Kristina felt another wave of nausea overtaking her as the world swirled around her. ### Kristina woke in her bed later with a warm cloth on her forehead. She pried open an eye to gain her bearings, and saw her mother rush to her from one side. “You’re awake.” “What happened?” A man on the other side of the bed reached for her hand. “My name’s Dr. Davison, your father called me to come check on you.” He leaned forward to stare into her eyes. “You passed out. It happens to some women when they first become pregnant.” Kristina glanced at her father. With his rage slightly diminished, he had tears in his eyes. “I’m sorry, baby. Forgive me.” She closed her eyes again, knowing that this would only be the beginning. When she opened them again she saw Shawn on the far side of the room. What was he doing here? Her father walked over to Shawn. “I think she’ll be okay now. I really appreciate you helping me get her to her room. I’m much too old to do any lifting these days. We need to talk tomorrow morning, since I’ll need your help in containing this. I also want you to see to it Kristina stays out of site and for you to personally take her wherever she needs to go. The rest of the guys on the board will have to settle for someone else who works for you for a while.” “You know you can count on me, sir. I’m glad you called me to help.” As Shawn turned to leave, her father walked to him and shook his hand. “I’m sure you know none of this leaves this room.” “Yes, sir. I understand fully.” “Good, be here by eight and we’ll talk over breakfast.” Kristina watched him move closer to her and smile. “I’m sure everything will work out for you. Get some rest.” “Thanks for all of your help.” She knew she would worry all night about what her father had asked him. She would be sure to make the breakfast meeting tomorrow morning.
Chapter 5 Kristina entered the front door of her condo and saw her mother waiting on her with panic stretching her face into a strange convulsion. “I’ve been trying to call you. Where have you been?” Her mother glanced over her shoulder before taking Katrina’s arm and pulling her to the activity room, which was off to one side of the vestibule. “Hurry, before your father sees you.” “What’s going on?” “The maid found your test strip and told your father.” “She had no right to search through my stuff!” “Right or no right, your father has been trying to call you.” Kristina’s heart beat faster as she struggled with another onset of dizziness which was a strange feeling she hadn’t experienced until recently. “I turned my phone off and wanted to be left alone to think.” “He heard Shawn, the head of security, had taken you shopping. He’s trying to reach him now.” “He dropped me off a few minutes ago.” “Damn, that means he’ll be looking for you any minute.” A loud knock on the door announced his presence as he didn’t stop to wait on an answer. His face flashed a bright deep red. She had seen such a look before. “There you are. Shawn told me he had been with you all day, and dropped you off here a few minutes ago. Do you want to tell me what you were doing with him today?” “Dad, he was my driver.” “I know who he is. I’m not stupid. But . . . what I want to know is where he drove you today. And I bet it has something to do with this.” He presented the pregnancy kit. “Mom told me a few minutes ago that the maid found it. She had no right in searching my things!” “She apologized, but she said she found it putting away some of your clothes. She thought I should know, and I’m glad she confided in me, which is something I wish my own daughter would do.” “Look at you. Do you think I really want to talk to you about this right now?” “This is one time your partying ways have caught up with you. I hope you’re happy.” “Dad, I don’t sleep around!” “Really, then tell me who’s going to be my new son-in-law?” “I don’t know who the father is, and I’m not planning on marrying anyone!” Kristina watched her father extend his hands into the air above him in frustration. “I do my best to try to raise you right and show respect for the family, and this is how I’m paid back.” “Dad, you might as well know.” “Know what?” “I think I was raped.” The words appeared to dazzle him. With his ragging attitude silenced, he staggered. “And . . . you’re just now telling me this!” “Dad, I don’t have many answers yet. I went looking for them today. Based on what I think now, I was given a date rape drug.” “Have you contacted the police?” “No, I have no proof, other than I’m pregnant. What do you think they’ll do with that?” Kristina felt another wave of nausea overtaking her as the world swirled around her. ### Kristina woke in her bed later with a warm cloth on her forehead. She pried open an eye to gain her bearings, and saw her mother rush to her from one side. “You’re awake.” “What happened?” A man on the other side of the bed reached for her hand. “My name’s Dr. Davison, your father called me to come check on you.” He leaned forward to stare into her eyes. “You passed out. It happens to some women when they first become pregnant.” Kristina glanced at her father. With his rage slightly diminished, he had tears in his eyes. “I’m sorry, baby. Forgive me.” She closed her eyes again, knowing that this would only be the beginning. When she opened them again she saw Shawn on the far side of the room. What was he doing here? Her father walked over to Shawn. “I think she’ll be okay now. I really appreciate you helping me get her to her room. I’m much too old to do any lifting these days. We need to talk tomorrow morning, since I’ll need your help in containing this. I also want you to see to it Kristina stays out of site and for you to personally take her wherever she needs to go. The rest of the guys on the board will have to settle for someone else who works for you for a while.” “You know you can count on me, sir. I’m glad you called me to help.” As Shawn turned to leave, her father walked to him and shook his hand. “I’m sure you know none of this leaves this room.” “Yes, sir. I understand fully.” “Good, be here by eight and we’ll talk over breakfast.” Kristina watched him move closer to her and smile. “I’m sure everything will work out for you. Get some rest.” “Thanks for all of your help.” She knew she would worry all night about what her father had asked him. She would be sure to make the breakfast meeting tomorrow morning. 
February 10, 2013
JOHNNY RAY'S NOVELSHOW TO WRITE YOUR MEMOIRS
JOHNNY RAY'S NOVELS
HOW TO WRITE YOUR MEMOIRS
HOW TO WRITE YOUR MEMOIRS
January 27, 2013
SYNDICATED BLOG POSTINGWho loves to keep new material on ...
SYNDICATED BLOG POSTINGWho loves to keep new material on their blog but often find it hard to write new articles? I HAVE A SMALL SOLUTION
I have written several articles and I will add many more as time permits. These articles can be copied and paste to your blog with ease. These articles can be found on my author page. There are a few simple rules, and I decided to add a short instructional to help you accomplish this with little effort. First step, go to my author page where you can see my profile and the articles I have written. You can also see a list on the lower left hand side of this blog. Click on any that you like, say this oneUNDERSTANDING THE CHARACTER'S GOALS Second step, stroll down to the section about the author --me( JOHNNY RAY ), and look for the REPUBLISH BUTTON. When you click on it, it will give you a code you need to copy. Third step, go to your blog and make sure you are in the html mode used for inputting your post. Fourth step, paste it to your postFifth step, click over to compose and you will see what you have in a final product. Sixth step, simply publish and you are done. After the first one you will see how simply this really is. I hope to do a long series of these and you can pick and choose any time you wish. The reason for this procedure is to make sure all links and info is not altered, and this also makes it very easy for the blogger.
I have written several articles and I will add many more as time permits. These articles can be copied and paste to your blog with ease. These articles can be found on my author page. There are a few simple rules, and I decided to add a short instructional to help you accomplish this with little effort. First step, go to my author page where you can see my profile and the articles I have written. You can also see a list on the lower left hand side of this blog. Click on any that you like, say this oneUNDERSTANDING THE CHARACTER'S GOALS Second step, stroll down to the section about the author --me( JOHNNY RAY ), and look for the REPUBLISH BUTTON. When you click on it, it will give you a code you need to copy. Third step, go to your blog and make sure you are in the html mode used for inputting your post. Fourth step, paste it to your postFifth step, click over to compose and you will see what you have in a final product. Sixth step, simply publish and you are done. After the first one you will see how simply this really is. I hope to do a long series of these and you can pick and choose any time you wish. The reason for this procedure is to make sure all links and info is not altered, and this also makes it very easy for the blogger.
January 21, 2013
NEW RELEASEA WAR HERO RETURNS BYJOHNNY RAYWhile Suza...
NEW RELEASEA WAR HERO RETURNS BYJOHNNY RAY
While Suzan Mercer’s father promised in his dying words the land he left her would bring her love, she never anticipated the events involved in the process. Now, could she balance her new love life with her hidden CIA commitment? Could she?
A WAR HERO RETURNSBYJohnny Ray
After serving eight years in the army, Suzan Mercer returns from Afghanistan to Florida as a female war hero–her works as a CIA operative, of course, would always be hidden.
She couldn’t believe her mother had used a power of attorney while she was gone to sell the land her father had left her. After learning her mother also has early onset Alzheimer's and claims to have been taken advantage of by Matt Harris, the billionaire developer involved, Suzan uses her military and CIA training to plot her revenge and to reacquire her land.
Entering a world where high heels replace combat boots and deep red lipstick becomes more deadly than a colt 45, Suzan never anticipated the cost to reacquire her land would be losing her heart.
Matt also learns his money and power cannot acquire the one asset he has always lacked in his life as he ventures into untested skies without a golden parachute to save him. Also, would the ghost of his playboy image come back to haunt him?
While Suzan Mercer’s father promised in his dying words the land he left her would bring her love, she never anticipated the events involved in the process. Now, could she balance her new love life with her hidden CIA commitment? Could she?
A WAR HERO RETURNSBYJohnny Ray
After serving eight years in the army, Suzan Mercer returns from Afghanistan to Florida as a female war hero–her works as a CIA operative, of course, would always be hidden.
She couldn’t believe her mother had used a power of attorney while she was gone to sell the land her father had left her. After learning her mother also has early onset Alzheimer's and claims to have been taken advantage of by Matt Harris, the billionaire developer involved, Suzan uses her military and CIA training to plot her revenge and to reacquire her land.
Entering a world where high heels replace combat boots and deep red lipstick becomes more deadly than a colt 45, Suzan never anticipated the cost to reacquire her land would be losing her heart.
Matt also learns his money and power cannot acquire the one asset he has always lacked in his life as he ventures into untested skies without a golden parachute to save him. Also, would the ghost of his playboy image come back to haunt him?
January 15, 2013
How to create the perfect heroAuthor: Johnny RayHOW TO CR...
How to create the perfect hero
Author: Johnny Ray
HOW TO CREATE A HERO
One of the first places to start in writing a romance, or most novels, is with the hero. Okay, some may argue the heroine, but for now, and since this is my article, we will concentrate on the hero now, and the heroine in the next article.
Most readers want a hero they can fall in love with, but to make it interesting he has to have some flaws. To star, let us analyze the obvious physical traits. Is he tall, or short? Fat, or with an extremely hot body? If the author wants to sell books, the choice is easy on these—usually. Then you have some selections that are not so critical such as eyes that are blue or brown. But even here, the writer needs to make the hero as unique as possible.
After going through the complete list of describing his appearance, the hard work begins. The inner being, the emotions of the hero needs to be understood. And he doesn't have to be the perfect gentleman, or any kind of unrealistic fake character. But he still has to be likable and realistic. While he can be tough and hard, he needs to be what is often referred to as redeemable.
I am going to use a recent novel of mine to use as an example. In HEROS AND LOVERS my hero is Thomas (Tommy) Conseco. Why did I select this name? Thomas gives a feeling of formality which is very prevalent in the modeling world. Tommy gives an impression of a friendly, over all good guy. And Conseco, which is the name everyone calls him, is in keeping with most famous people, and owners of large companies, etc. The name gives an immediate indication of the complexities of this hero.
Tommy is tall, and has a great body, which would be in keeping with a guy you would expect to own one of the top modeling agencies in the world. From an outward appearance, he has everything most girls would fall in love with. However, he has to have flaws—right?
To make it to the top, he has to be determined and almost ruthless, at times. Here is where the redeemable part comes in. And it is also where the heroine has to be a match for him. And not only that, she has to be the one to, in fact, rescue him from a life that is full of emptiness, that only he knows.
To make the readers love this hero, they have to understand his internal conflict. At the same time, the author has to make him complex enough to keep the story exciting and the plot complicated to the point the reader is guessing how this will every work out.
For me, unless the hero is fully established before the novel is started the story will wonder and die a miserable death. In fact, the more obstacles you can create, the better the story will be as you develop it. The hero has to be fully analyzed and open for all to understand who he is.
I hope everyone has a chance to read my latest novel, MODELS AND LOVERS. Your opinions are always welcome on my blog located at www.sirjohn.us
Article Source: http://www.articlesbase.com/fiction-articles/how-to-create-the-perfect-hero-5788011.html
About the AuthorJohnny Ray is a full time, Award Winning Novelist and blogger Be sure to check out his bio and novels on Amazon
January 4, 2013
FOR LOVE AND VENGEANCEOPENING SCENEI HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS ...
FOR LOVE AND VENGEANCE
OPENING SCENEI HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS FREE LOOK INSIDE
Chapter 1Victoria recognized the expected incoming call immediately upon opening her phone and began to yell, “I don’t think this is safe!” “It’s not your job to think.” The English overshadowed with a deep Russian accent was barely recognizable.She slowed her pace along the walkway heading to the beach, knowing one of the Russian operatives must have called to simply let her know that she was being watched. “What happens if I don’t make the drop?” she asked in English to challenge her caller.He converted to Russian. “I don’t think you really want to know.”After the connection died, she dropped the phone back into her bag, and forced herself to keep walking. Keenly aware of the presence of both the American and Russian operatives nearby, Victoria stopped for a brief moment at the end of the wooden walkway leading to the beach in order to study the pounding surf caused by a tropical storm off the coast of Jacksonville, Florida. While both governments thought she worked exclusively for them, and not the other side, the Pack, an international crime syndicate owned her. She could almost sense a sharpshooter focusing the cross hairs of a sniper’s scope on her head.No, she didn’t see any red dots−yet, but she had been working for both sides too long. She trusted neither one of them to save her from the Pack. While the Americans and the Russians played games, the Pack concentrated on their plan to destroy America and place the blame on Russia later. Being betrayed by both, she felt like she had no way out. She had to think of a plan, and had to do it now.As her right hand fought with the wind for control of the heavy surfboard and her left hand struggled with her beach bag, she stepped off the wooden walkway onto the sand. She forced herself to relax, and look normal. She knew they had the technology to zoom in on her face and hands to monitor every inch of her movements. Any moment could be her last. She forced herself to concentrate. The instructions given to her by the Russians were simple: she must drop and cover the canister containing the flash drive with sand after she completed five steps forward and five to the right. Damn, she wanted to glance around, but she knew better.The cool, yet gritty sand under her feet squished as she counted the steps. She stopped on the fifth, and turned to her right. Without moving her head to the side, she strained to study the skyline of the condos behind her as hard as she could out of the corner of her eye. While she saw nothing, she knew someone, and perhaps even both the Americans, and the Russians, were on top of one of the condos, and monitoring her moves. She wished she knew exactly where the bastards were lurking. If given the chance to escape, she knew she might have no choice but to take it.Victoria couldn’t turn back now, as her feet continued to march in the sand and she counted off the last five steps. Her instincts told her the operation wasn’t going as planned. The storm in the Atlantic whistled loud in her ears, making any further contact impossible. She worried about the time when the Russian operative finds the canister, and the transfer is completed, that her future services might be considered unnecessary, and even her very existence considered a liability. An icy shiver racing up her spine suddenly forced her to have further second thoughts about making the drop. She leaned over to adjust her beach bag, letting the board hide her hand reaching into her bag to find the small canister. She studied the canister to examine the seal one more time before holding it high enough to make sure her monitors saw it. It was now the moment of truth. Ohmigod! She finally decided to abort the scheduled drop, and placed the canister back in her bag while it was still hidden behind her board. She quickly stood and kicked her feet in the sand, attempting to convince those monitoring her that she had, in fact, completed the drop. She hoped that both the Americans and the Russians thought she was covering the canister, which was such a small sand-colored plastic container that was designed to keep out the water and salt. As she remembered loading the flash drive earlier with the data, her anxiety started growing. Damn! If they knew the truth, would they shoot me on the spot? Still . . . she heard no shots ringing out. They must have assumed she completed her drop. Good. This will buy me some time.After turning toward the water, she walked quickly, and hoped to make it closer to the crowd on the beach who were watching the surfers. She continued to feel the increasing force of the violent waves which were crashing against the shoreline, and producing a salt-filled spray mixed with sand. With the storm out in the Atlantic raging, the high winds kept slapping her face. Despite all of these uncomfortable conditions, this was also perversely why the surfers were here. It was during tropical storms like this that the waves in Jacksonville attracted the serious surfers. As the high gust of winds repeatedly tried to tear the board away from her, the savagery of the storm scared her, but not nearly as much as the terror behind her. She had to think.Finding a spot next to the crowd of sand sharks, she dropped her board and bag and prepared to chillax for a while. She felt safer now that she was closer to them, and especially with the flash drive containing the stolen data still in her bag. She knew if they were going to shoot her, she would be dead by now. She breathed easier for the moment as she reached into her bag, removed her towel, and spread it openly on the beach.A tall, lean girl in a thong bikini glanced at her and her board. “You’re not going out in this, are you?” she yelled in a rough voice over the sound of the surf.Victoria smiled, and pointed out to the waves. “That’s why I came.”“Good luck. The waves are wicked today. It’s much more fun to be a groupieand just enjoy watching the guys.” Her slim legs, which were covered in tattoos, stretched out on a large beach towel. Victoria suddenly realized the reason for the white-framed sunglasses this tattooed girl wore. The sunglasses were not needed for any sun glare protection, since the sun was hidden behind massive clouds. However, the wind which kept hurling torturous sand and salt at the crowd made the sunglasses indispensable in focusing on the guys surfing. She quickly found her glasses in her bag and put them on so that she could give her eyes some relief. After being able to see better, Victoria focused on the guys working the waves, and had to agree with the other woman. Even from the long distance to the beach they looked great. As she turned toward this girl with a small ass, but huge boobs, she shouted back, “I’m not a great surfer, but I think this is the best way to learn.”“My hat’s off to you girl!” The wind roared so loud that the girl’s shouting could barely be heard.“Look!” the girl on the far side yelled. A lone surfer in the water sprang into action, and started working hard to get on top of the wave. As she strained to see him catch the wave, a new wind gust suddenly hit Victoria, and blurred her vision with mist and sand.“He’s up!” the first girl squealed as she jumped to her feet.As Victoria’s vision cleared, she watched this guy who began working the curl by cutting back and forth, and thus preventing anyone else from frigging his wave. She witnessed the violent crashing surf being controlled by a master who demonstrated his ability to not only stay up on top but obviously wanting to drain it for all it was worth, and even begging for more. From the squeals Victoria heard coming from the other girls, she knew that his muscular body dominated their interest. For Victoria, his performance penetrated her soul, and recorded a dream-like fantasy that was much more powerful than she could have ever imagined. It rendered her into a trance where the world and all of its problems completely vanished. “Wow!” Victoria finally managed to whisper.After he finished the ride and splashed his way out and onto the shore, he grabbed his board and ran to his towel. Several of the land sharks brought their hands together for him. While the sound of the wind continued to bellow too loud for any applause to be heard, he did give them a quick hand wave and a big smile which was full of brilliant teeth.As Victoria studied the water dripping down his long, but curly, blond strands of hair that hung shoulder length, she watched him reach for his phone, and stare at it, as if checking his messages for a moment. After he uncapped a bottle of water, he took a long drink before heading back out to the surf. On his way he quickly waved at the girls, as if to politely acknowledge their praise. But Victoria understood, as he glanced back out at the waves, that his mind was consumed with surfing right now, and nothing else.The girl next to Victoria yelled at her over the wind, “I don’t know who he is, but he’s da kine.”“I’ll agree. He looks . . . delicious.”The girl smiled, and glanced back at her sideways. “So . . . are you going in after him?”“Let’s just say that if he wants to give lessons, I’m available.” The brief chatting took her mind off her fears. She felt like she would be safe for a while, since the operative would not retrieve the canister until after everyone had left the beach area. “I think I’ll take a small walk first, and get my nerve up before I tackle these waves.” With the container still hidden in her hand, she quickly walked down the beach a hundred yards, or so. She soon stopped in front of a large piece of driftwood stranded on the beach. This would have to do. She walked over to it, and turned her back toward the beach before counting off the steps. After turning around to face the ocean, she dropped the container. A quick kick of sand covered it. The high winds would cover both her tracks, and the canister, as well, within minutes. Now she had to think. She had to plan a way to escape from her monitors before it was too late.
Chapter 1Victoria recognized the expected incoming call immediately upon opening her phone and began to yell, “I don’t think this is safe!” “It’s not your job to think.” The English overshadowed with a deep Russian accent was barely recognizable.She slowed her pace along the walkway heading to the beach, knowing one of the Russian operatives must have called to simply let her know that she was being watched. “What happens if I don’t make the drop?” she asked in English to challenge her caller.He converted to Russian. “I don’t think you really want to know.”After the connection died, she dropped the phone back into her bag, and forced herself to keep walking. Keenly aware of the presence of both the American and Russian operatives nearby, Victoria stopped for a brief moment at the end of the wooden walkway leading to the beach in order to study the pounding surf caused by a tropical storm off the coast of Jacksonville, Florida. While both governments thought she worked exclusively for them, and not the other side, the Pack, an international crime syndicate owned her. She could almost sense a sharpshooter focusing the cross hairs of a sniper’s scope on her head.No, she didn’t see any red dots−yet, but she had been working for both sides too long. She trusted neither one of them to save her from the Pack. While the Americans and the Russians played games, the Pack concentrated on their plan to destroy America and place the blame on Russia later. Being betrayed by both, she felt like she had no way out. She had to think of a plan, and had to do it now.As her right hand fought with the wind for control of the heavy surfboard and her left hand struggled with her beach bag, she stepped off the wooden walkway onto the sand. She forced herself to relax, and look normal. She knew they had the technology to zoom in on her face and hands to monitor every inch of her movements. Any moment could be her last. She forced herself to concentrate. The instructions given to her by the Russians were simple: she must drop and cover the canister containing the flash drive with sand after she completed five steps forward and five to the right. Damn, she wanted to glance around, but she knew better.The cool, yet gritty sand under her feet squished as she counted the steps. She stopped on the fifth, and turned to her right. Without moving her head to the side, she strained to study the skyline of the condos behind her as hard as she could out of the corner of her eye. While she saw nothing, she knew someone, and perhaps even both the Americans, and the Russians, were on top of one of the condos, and monitoring her moves. She wished she knew exactly where the bastards were lurking. If given the chance to escape, she knew she might have no choice but to take it.Victoria couldn’t turn back now, as her feet continued to march in the sand and she counted off the last five steps. Her instincts told her the operation wasn’t going as planned. The storm in the Atlantic whistled loud in her ears, making any further contact impossible. She worried about the time when the Russian operative finds the canister, and the transfer is completed, that her future services might be considered unnecessary, and even her very existence considered a liability. An icy shiver racing up her spine suddenly forced her to have further second thoughts about making the drop. She leaned over to adjust her beach bag, letting the board hide her hand reaching into her bag to find the small canister. She studied the canister to examine the seal one more time before holding it high enough to make sure her monitors saw it. It was now the moment of truth. Ohmigod! She finally decided to abort the scheduled drop, and placed the canister back in her bag while it was still hidden behind her board. She quickly stood and kicked her feet in the sand, attempting to convince those monitoring her that she had, in fact, completed the drop. She hoped that both the Americans and the Russians thought she was covering the canister, which was such a small sand-colored plastic container that was designed to keep out the water and salt. As she remembered loading the flash drive earlier with the data, her anxiety started growing. Damn! If they knew the truth, would they shoot me on the spot? Still . . . she heard no shots ringing out. They must have assumed she completed her drop. Good. This will buy me some time.After turning toward the water, she walked quickly, and hoped to make it closer to the crowd on the beach who were watching the surfers. She continued to feel the increasing force of the violent waves which were crashing against the shoreline, and producing a salt-filled spray mixed with sand. With the storm out in the Atlantic raging, the high winds kept slapping her face. Despite all of these uncomfortable conditions, this was also perversely why the surfers were here. It was during tropical storms like this that the waves in Jacksonville attracted the serious surfers. As the high gust of winds repeatedly tried to tear the board away from her, the savagery of the storm scared her, but not nearly as much as the terror behind her. She had to think.Finding a spot next to the crowd of sand sharks, she dropped her board and bag and prepared to chillax for a while. She felt safer now that she was closer to them, and especially with the flash drive containing the stolen data still in her bag. She knew if they were going to shoot her, she would be dead by now. She breathed easier for the moment as she reached into her bag, removed her towel, and spread it openly on the beach.A tall, lean girl in a thong bikini glanced at her and her board. “You’re not going out in this, are you?” she yelled in a rough voice over the sound of the surf.Victoria smiled, and pointed out to the waves. “That’s why I came.”“Good luck. The waves are wicked today. It’s much more fun to be a groupieand just enjoy watching the guys.” Her slim legs, which were covered in tattoos, stretched out on a large beach towel. Victoria suddenly realized the reason for the white-framed sunglasses this tattooed girl wore. The sunglasses were not needed for any sun glare protection, since the sun was hidden behind massive clouds. However, the wind which kept hurling torturous sand and salt at the crowd made the sunglasses indispensable in focusing on the guys surfing. She quickly found her glasses in her bag and put them on so that she could give her eyes some relief. After being able to see better, Victoria focused on the guys working the waves, and had to agree with the other woman. Even from the long distance to the beach they looked great. As she turned toward this girl with a small ass, but huge boobs, she shouted back, “I’m not a great surfer, but I think this is the best way to learn.”“My hat’s off to you girl!” The wind roared so loud that the girl’s shouting could barely be heard.“Look!” the girl on the far side yelled. A lone surfer in the water sprang into action, and started working hard to get on top of the wave. As she strained to see him catch the wave, a new wind gust suddenly hit Victoria, and blurred her vision with mist and sand.“He’s up!” the first girl squealed as she jumped to her feet.As Victoria’s vision cleared, she watched this guy who began working the curl by cutting back and forth, and thus preventing anyone else from frigging his wave. She witnessed the violent crashing surf being controlled by a master who demonstrated his ability to not only stay up on top but obviously wanting to drain it for all it was worth, and even begging for more. From the squeals Victoria heard coming from the other girls, she knew that his muscular body dominated their interest. For Victoria, his performance penetrated her soul, and recorded a dream-like fantasy that was much more powerful than she could have ever imagined. It rendered her into a trance where the world and all of its problems completely vanished. “Wow!” Victoria finally managed to whisper.After he finished the ride and splashed his way out and onto the shore, he grabbed his board and ran to his towel. Several of the land sharks brought their hands together for him. While the sound of the wind continued to bellow too loud for any applause to be heard, he did give them a quick hand wave and a big smile which was full of brilliant teeth.As Victoria studied the water dripping down his long, but curly, blond strands of hair that hung shoulder length, she watched him reach for his phone, and stare at it, as if checking his messages for a moment. After he uncapped a bottle of water, he took a long drink before heading back out to the surf. On his way he quickly waved at the girls, as if to politely acknowledge their praise. But Victoria understood, as he glanced back out at the waves, that his mind was consumed with surfing right now, and nothing else.The girl next to Victoria yelled at her over the wind, “I don’t know who he is, but he’s da kine.”“I’ll agree. He looks . . . delicious.”The girl smiled, and glanced back at her sideways. “So . . . are you going in after him?”“Let’s just say that if he wants to give lessons, I’m available.” The brief chatting took her mind off her fears. She felt like she would be safe for a while, since the operative would not retrieve the canister until after everyone had left the beach area. “I think I’ll take a small walk first, and get my nerve up before I tackle these waves.” With the container still hidden in her hand, she quickly walked down the beach a hundred yards, or so. She soon stopped in front of a large piece of driftwood stranded on the beach. This would have to do. She walked over to it, and turned her back toward the beach before counting off the steps. After turning around to face the ocean, she dropped the container. A quick kick of sand covered it. The high winds would cover both her tracks, and the canister, as well, within minutes. Now she had to think. She had to plan a way to escape from her monitors before it was too late.
December 31, 2012
A SPECIAL LOOK INSIDE OF STALKING LOVEOPENING SCENEE...
A SPECIAL LOOK INSIDE OF STALKING LOVEOPENING SCENEENJOY
STALKING LOVE
After lifting Prince, her miniature toy poodle, from the floor and rubbing his head to keep him from barking, Rachel Contino used her intercom system to respond to a call coming from the ground floor of her condo. Okay, now who else is stopping by to see us this morning? She smiled at Prince, who obviously knew that he might have someone else to play with soon.
The response, however, shocked her. “This is Detective Lindstrom. I need to talk to you for a minute.” The sound of his voice made her skin tingle immediately.
“I see.” She swallowed hard. “I’ll buzz you through.” This investigation was supposed to be over. With her previous upbeat nature quickly disappearing, she lowered Prince to the floor. Her mind quickly flooded with questions he might have for her as she quickly reflected on her life. While she had always enjoyed spending money on her expensive clothes and jewelry designed by such names as Prada, Gucci, and Cartier to reflect her success, she knew they revealed the harsh reality of the sacrificed time and energy she had spent on acquiring them.
She was not nearly as vain as most people thought since she fully knew these cold, lifeless treasures did nothing to warm her bed at night. Her fabulous collection couldn’t come close to filling the empty hole in her life which was threatening to swallow her. Where has my youth and my very life gone? Where is love? Inches from giving in to self pity, the thought of buzzing Detective Lindstrom in from below moments ago brought her back from the brink of despair.
Hurriedly, Rachel clicked on her e-mail account, looking for any last minute emergencies she needed to handle. As she was about to close out, an ad from yet another mortgage company opened. While feeling fully frustrated, her finger stretched for the delete key, but hovered as a photo of the mortgage originator, who was one very sexy man, materialized and filled the computer screen with his intoxicating smile.
“Oh . . . to be so young again.” After glancing at the name below the photo which introduced him as Carlos Martini, she could only hope he looked as good in person as he photographed.
She glanced at her watch again before closing her e-mail to protect it from the detective’s prying eyes. After she forced the brush through her hair one last time, she realized she had no time left to finish her makeup. With Prince yapping beside her, she hurried to answer the pounding on the door.
After picking Prince off the floor again and cradling him beside her, Rachel cracked the door and studied the city detective sweating outside in the latest of one of St. Petersburg’s famous heat waves. She offered a smile as she hoped that after today she would never see this man’s face again. Her stomach churned, and a chill traveled the length of her spine as she again realized that she would be forced to go over what she knew of the death of her friend and real estate client, developer Jonathan Harrell. What had transpired thus far had been one hell of a continuous nightmare, not to mention how it was slowly dragging her career to the brink of disaster with it.
“Detective–what is it?” She hesitated for a moment before she relented and opened the door wider.
“I’m sorry to bother you, but the case is being reopened. This morning we received some new evidence suggesting Jonathan’s death wasn’t a suicide.” With his short but stocky body firmly planted in the doorway, Lindstrom glanced around her. “Perhaps this conversation would be better handled if we continued it inside.”
Rachel’s muscles in her face tightened, erasing her desire to smile as she moved to one side to allow him to enter. “I thought you closed the investigation.” Her mind flashed back to the endless problems caused by Jonathan’s suicide, and how his death inside one of his condo units made her job of selling the remaining units next to impossible, especially during this current housing meltdown.
“Well . . . we thought so too, but as I said, we received some new information making us have some serious second thoughts.” He strolled toward a chair at her dining room table. The sound of him dragging the chair legs over her stone floor made her skin shiver as she forced herself to remain calm.
While pulling her fluffy white robe tighter, Rachel hoped to avoid his staring eyes. “What did you discover?” Rachel studied Lindstrom’s eyes, as he retrieved a pad from the inside of his basic blue suit which was probably purchased from a local discount department store–the cheap material certainly looked like he had anyway. With both the legs and arms of the suit several inches too long, he definitely needed a tailor. She knew her opinion was cruel and bit her lip, but from the first time she saw him, his clothes reminded her of seeing a scarecrow in a cornfield when she was ten.
“I need to ask you some more questions.”
With feelings of anger boiling inside her, Rachel raised her voice so as to not waste any more time in getting to the point. “Am I being investigated?” She remembered the interrogations earlier–the accounting of her whereabouts–the frustrations of having to defend her answers. Thoughts of Jonathan being murdered scared her. She didn’t understand why her good friend and one of her best clients may have been killed. This investigation continued to frustrate her to no end, and especially if they thought she had anything to do with his death. Yes, Jonathan had threatened to give his listings to another agent, but she knew he had felt frustrated, much like many developers trying to survive in the market. She also knew that if Lindstrom had heard about his threat, he might consider her a suspect. While hoping that no one ever knew about this argument, the only disagreement they had ever had, she knew she had always worked hard for Jonathan and wanted to sell as much as she could for him.
Lindstrom smiled as he motioned toward another seat at the table. “If I was investigating you, this conversation would be at my office and not here. Please relax and have a seat. Please . . . I need your help.” His normally rigid face turned soft and plaintive. Perhaps in his late fifties, Rachel wondered if Lindstrom had been in law enforcement all of his life. He had never strayed from his persistent investigation.
Breathing easier, but knowing to maintain her guard against saying anything she would regret later, she slipped into the white leather chair at the end of the table while scratching Prince behind one ear. “What do you need from me? You know I’ll help anyway I can.” She lowered her eyes to study the beveled glass tabletop which rested on a large white coral base. Maybe she over worked the snow-white color scheme in her condo, but she loved the resulting style. She knew she was refocusing her attention, but anything outside his stares would soothe her mind.
He leaned forward as his voice remained smooth and soothing. “I need to keep this as quiet as I can for a while and I need you to respect my request.”
What is Lindstrom trying to hide? Jonathan had lots to live for and many friends. Who would want to kill him? Obviously she wasn’t going to hear what he discovered without agreeing. She studied his light-gray eyes, which contrasted with the gentleness of his face, and perhaps concealing an inner strength he controlled until when it was needed. His eyes reminded her of a wolf, ready to pounce on her at a moment’s notice. “What makes you think he was murdered?”
She watched him scratch a note on his pad before returning her stare. “You had the listings on the condos he had developed. How much did he confide in you concerning his finances?”
She looked away, unable to withstand the intensity of his eyes any longer. “Some. We maintained a good working relationship, as well as being good friends. He understood the problems we’re having in this market and knew I was doing my best to sell his condos for him. Of course I knew he was suffering with some financial problems. All developers are now.” She selected her words carefully since she didn’t want the detective to dig into their personal relationship to deeply. After crying many nights over his death, hiding their friendship behind this professional, but cold accounting would be best for everyone.
“We discussed the suicide note he left behind before –the one he supposedly typed on his computer for us to find.” Lindstrom’s slow diligent methods of operation irritated her the same way they had from the beginning of the investigation.
“And . . . as I told you before, I’ve no way of knowing for sure if he wrote that letter or not.”
“That’s understandable. However . . . this is what I need to know. Did he mention anything else about his current finances to you?”
Rachel considered her words before she answered. “He remained anxious about the market, as he should have been, but I don’t think he felt suicidal at all. If he did, he hid his condition from me very well.” Memories of working with Jonathan resurfaced–the good times–the closings.
Lindstrom continued with his relentless questions. “Did he ever say anything about refinancing his loans with a bank out of Germany?”
No, now this is new. Why had Jonathan never said anything about this? “He never mentioned this to me, but I’m sure he was exploring all options.”
Rachel studied Lindstrom as he continued to make notes. With the smell of cigarette smoke venting from his clothes, and no wedding ring on his finger, she imagined his life at local sports bars after work, that is, until he started to explain further. “I just learned that he had received approval on a new loan the day before he died. The bank contacted me this morning with questions concerning his death. They thought that he must have made other arrangements, and that was the reason why he hadn’t followed through on the loan. The loan officer was surprised to hear he had committed suicide shortly after obtaining their loan approval.”
“Ohmigod! He didn’t say a word about the loan.” While she had maintained some doubts about the suicide until now, this definitely changed her opinion. She quickly started replaying the list of suspects in her mind. Jonathan had a business partner, Donnie Moore, but the two worked close together and needed each other. Jonathan, who had been a developer for a long time, was divorced, but the marriage had ended a long time ago. Naturally, some of the owners weren’t too happy about the falling real estate prices, but they had to understand that the collapse wasn’t his fault. Perhaps one of them had maintained a secret grudge.
“I’m going to talk to everyone again that he had dealings with. I know you provided me with a detailed list before, but I’d appreciate the help if you can add to the list anyone else you think might in anyway be connected to Jonathan Harrell.”
Rachel leaned back in her chair. The list she had prepared for him before was long, and she knew that he would investigate anyone else she added to it. This wasn’t going to win her any popularity awards. “I don’t think he made any enemies, and I’m sure most people would consider him to be a great guy.”
“So I’ve heard.” He placed the pad back in his suit pocket. “I hope you’ll consider one point that I need to make. If someone had a problem with him and his business, you might also have an enemy out there that you don’t know about.”
Was that possible? Could someone want me dead also? The tension escalated in Rachel’s neck, stretching outward toward her shoulders. “Are you trying to scare me?”
Rachel studied his smile, a vain attempt to lighten the impact. “I think it would be negligent on my part if I didn’t come here to warn you.”
Rachel’s heart fluttered as she realized how right he was, but forced her body not to reveal the fear overtaking her. “Thank you.” She continued to breathe deeply, attempting to stay in control. “What do you suggest I do?”
“There are two things I recommend. First, don’t take any unnecessary chances, and second . . . help me find out who is behind this murder. I promise to hold all information in confidence as best I can.” He raked the legs of the chair along the granite floor again as he stood, making her wince with pain.
As she stood, her robe parted slightly. Seeing him focus on her bare skin scared her, and she quickly grasped the lapels. “Okay, I’ll be in touch with any more names I can remember.” She pulled Prince closer to her to ensure that he remained quiet.
“Thank you.” He opened the door and closed it behind him as he left.
She breathed deeply before letting out a sigh of relief, only to have thoughts return of the new problems she faced in having Jonathan’s will probated by the courts. This would delay clearing title further now, making the sales of his remaining properties not only difficult, but in this environment almost impossible. While feeling selfish in her needs, she knew Jonathan would approve. Business was always the center of their relationship. She knew he would want her to complete the project. She owed him that.
STALKING LOVE
After lifting Prince, her miniature toy poodle, from the floor and rubbing his head to keep him from barking, Rachel Contino used her intercom system to respond to a call coming from the ground floor of her condo. Okay, now who else is stopping by to see us this morning? She smiled at Prince, who obviously knew that he might have someone else to play with soon.
The response, however, shocked her. “This is Detective Lindstrom. I need to talk to you for a minute.” The sound of his voice made her skin tingle immediately.
“I see.” She swallowed hard. “I’ll buzz you through.” This investigation was supposed to be over. With her previous upbeat nature quickly disappearing, she lowered Prince to the floor. Her mind quickly flooded with questions he might have for her as she quickly reflected on her life. While she had always enjoyed spending money on her expensive clothes and jewelry designed by such names as Prada, Gucci, and Cartier to reflect her success, she knew they revealed the harsh reality of the sacrificed time and energy she had spent on acquiring them.
She was not nearly as vain as most people thought since she fully knew these cold, lifeless treasures did nothing to warm her bed at night. Her fabulous collection couldn’t come close to filling the empty hole in her life which was threatening to swallow her. Where has my youth and my very life gone? Where is love? Inches from giving in to self pity, the thought of buzzing Detective Lindstrom in from below moments ago brought her back from the brink of despair.
Hurriedly, Rachel clicked on her e-mail account, looking for any last minute emergencies she needed to handle. As she was about to close out, an ad from yet another mortgage company opened. While feeling fully frustrated, her finger stretched for the delete key, but hovered as a photo of the mortgage originator, who was one very sexy man, materialized and filled the computer screen with his intoxicating smile.
“Oh . . . to be so young again.” After glancing at the name below the photo which introduced him as Carlos Martini, she could only hope he looked as good in person as he photographed.
She glanced at her watch again before closing her e-mail to protect it from the detective’s prying eyes. After she forced the brush through her hair one last time, she realized she had no time left to finish her makeup. With Prince yapping beside her, she hurried to answer the pounding on the door.
After picking Prince off the floor again and cradling him beside her, Rachel cracked the door and studied the city detective sweating outside in the latest of one of St. Petersburg’s famous heat waves. She offered a smile as she hoped that after today she would never see this man’s face again. Her stomach churned, and a chill traveled the length of her spine as she again realized that she would be forced to go over what she knew of the death of her friend and real estate client, developer Jonathan Harrell. What had transpired thus far had been one hell of a continuous nightmare, not to mention how it was slowly dragging her career to the brink of disaster with it.
“Detective–what is it?” She hesitated for a moment before she relented and opened the door wider.
“I’m sorry to bother you, but the case is being reopened. This morning we received some new evidence suggesting Jonathan’s death wasn’t a suicide.” With his short but stocky body firmly planted in the doorway, Lindstrom glanced around her. “Perhaps this conversation would be better handled if we continued it inside.”
Rachel’s muscles in her face tightened, erasing her desire to smile as she moved to one side to allow him to enter. “I thought you closed the investigation.” Her mind flashed back to the endless problems caused by Jonathan’s suicide, and how his death inside one of his condo units made her job of selling the remaining units next to impossible, especially during this current housing meltdown.
“Well . . . we thought so too, but as I said, we received some new information making us have some serious second thoughts.” He strolled toward a chair at her dining room table. The sound of him dragging the chair legs over her stone floor made her skin shiver as she forced herself to remain calm.
While pulling her fluffy white robe tighter, Rachel hoped to avoid his staring eyes. “What did you discover?” Rachel studied Lindstrom’s eyes, as he retrieved a pad from the inside of his basic blue suit which was probably purchased from a local discount department store–the cheap material certainly looked like he had anyway. With both the legs and arms of the suit several inches too long, he definitely needed a tailor. She knew her opinion was cruel and bit her lip, but from the first time she saw him, his clothes reminded her of seeing a scarecrow in a cornfield when she was ten.
“I need to ask you some more questions.”
With feelings of anger boiling inside her, Rachel raised her voice so as to not waste any more time in getting to the point. “Am I being investigated?” She remembered the interrogations earlier–the accounting of her whereabouts–the frustrations of having to defend her answers. Thoughts of Jonathan being murdered scared her. She didn’t understand why her good friend and one of her best clients may have been killed. This investigation continued to frustrate her to no end, and especially if they thought she had anything to do with his death. Yes, Jonathan had threatened to give his listings to another agent, but she knew he had felt frustrated, much like many developers trying to survive in the market. She also knew that if Lindstrom had heard about his threat, he might consider her a suspect. While hoping that no one ever knew about this argument, the only disagreement they had ever had, she knew she had always worked hard for Jonathan and wanted to sell as much as she could for him.
Lindstrom smiled as he motioned toward another seat at the table. “If I was investigating you, this conversation would be at my office and not here. Please relax and have a seat. Please . . . I need your help.” His normally rigid face turned soft and plaintive. Perhaps in his late fifties, Rachel wondered if Lindstrom had been in law enforcement all of his life. He had never strayed from his persistent investigation.
Breathing easier, but knowing to maintain her guard against saying anything she would regret later, she slipped into the white leather chair at the end of the table while scratching Prince behind one ear. “What do you need from me? You know I’ll help anyway I can.” She lowered her eyes to study the beveled glass tabletop which rested on a large white coral base. Maybe she over worked the snow-white color scheme in her condo, but she loved the resulting style. She knew she was refocusing her attention, but anything outside his stares would soothe her mind.
He leaned forward as his voice remained smooth and soothing. “I need to keep this as quiet as I can for a while and I need you to respect my request.”
What is Lindstrom trying to hide? Jonathan had lots to live for and many friends. Who would want to kill him? Obviously she wasn’t going to hear what he discovered without agreeing. She studied his light-gray eyes, which contrasted with the gentleness of his face, and perhaps concealing an inner strength he controlled until when it was needed. His eyes reminded her of a wolf, ready to pounce on her at a moment’s notice. “What makes you think he was murdered?”
She watched him scratch a note on his pad before returning her stare. “You had the listings on the condos he had developed. How much did he confide in you concerning his finances?”
She looked away, unable to withstand the intensity of his eyes any longer. “Some. We maintained a good working relationship, as well as being good friends. He understood the problems we’re having in this market and knew I was doing my best to sell his condos for him. Of course I knew he was suffering with some financial problems. All developers are now.” She selected her words carefully since she didn’t want the detective to dig into their personal relationship to deeply. After crying many nights over his death, hiding their friendship behind this professional, but cold accounting would be best for everyone.
“We discussed the suicide note he left behind before –the one he supposedly typed on his computer for us to find.” Lindstrom’s slow diligent methods of operation irritated her the same way they had from the beginning of the investigation.
“And . . . as I told you before, I’ve no way of knowing for sure if he wrote that letter or not.”
“That’s understandable. However . . . this is what I need to know. Did he mention anything else about his current finances to you?”
Rachel considered her words before she answered. “He remained anxious about the market, as he should have been, but I don’t think he felt suicidal at all. If he did, he hid his condition from me very well.” Memories of working with Jonathan resurfaced–the good times–the closings.
Lindstrom continued with his relentless questions. “Did he ever say anything about refinancing his loans with a bank out of Germany?”
No, now this is new. Why had Jonathan never said anything about this? “He never mentioned this to me, but I’m sure he was exploring all options.”
Rachel studied Lindstrom as he continued to make notes. With the smell of cigarette smoke venting from his clothes, and no wedding ring on his finger, she imagined his life at local sports bars after work, that is, until he started to explain further. “I just learned that he had received approval on a new loan the day before he died. The bank contacted me this morning with questions concerning his death. They thought that he must have made other arrangements, and that was the reason why he hadn’t followed through on the loan. The loan officer was surprised to hear he had committed suicide shortly after obtaining their loan approval.”
“Ohmigod! He didn’t say a word about the loan.” While she had maintained some doubts about the suicide until now, this definitely changed her opinion. She quickly started replaying the list of suspects in her mind. Jonathan had a business partner, Donnie Moore, but the two worked close together and needed each other. Jonathan, who had been a developer for a long time, was divorced, but the marriage had ended a long time ago. Naturally, some of the owners weren’t too happy about the falling real estate prices, but they had to understand that the collapse wasn’t his fault. Perhaps one of them had maintained a secret grudge.
“I’m going to talk to everyone again that he had dealings with. I know you provided me with a detailed list before, but I’d appreciate the help if you can add to the list anyone else you think might in anyway be connected to Jonathan Harrell.”
Rachel leaned back in her chair. The list she had prepared for him before was long, and she knew that he would investigate anyone else she added to it. This wasn’t going to win her any popularity awards. “I don’t think he made any enemies, and I’m sure most people would consider him to be a great guy.”
“So I’ve heard.” He placed the pad back in his suit pocket. “I hope you’ll consider one point that I need to make. If someone had a problem with him and his business, you might also have an enemy out there that you don’t know about.”
Was that possible? Could someone want me dead also? The tension escalated in Rachel’s neck, stretching outward toward her shoulders. “Are you trying to scare me?”
Rachel studied his smile, a vain attempt to lighten the impact. “I think it would be negligent on my part if I didn’t come here to warn you.”
Rachel’s heart fluttered as she realized how right he was, but forced her body not to reveal the fear overtaking her. “Thank you.” She continued to breathe deeply, attempting to stay in control. “What do you suggest I do?”
“There are two things I recommend. First, don’t take any unnecessary chances, and second . . . help me find out who is behind this murder. I promise to hold all information in confidence as best I can.” He raked the legs of the chair along the granite floor again as he stood, making her wince with pain.
As she stood, her robe parted slightly. Seeing him focus on her bare skin scared her, and she quickly grasped the lapels. “Okay, I’ll be in touch with any more names I can remember.” She pulled Prince closer to her to ensure that he remained quiet.
“Thank you.” He opened the door and closed it behind him as he left.
She breathed deeply before letting out a sigh of relief, only to have thoughts return of the new problems she faced in having Jonathan’s will probated by the courts. This would delay clearing title further now, making the sales of his remaining properties not only difficult, but in this environment almost impossible. While feeling selfish in her needs, she knew Jonathan would approve. Business was always the center of their relationship. She knew he would want her to complete the project. She owed him that.
December 30, 2012
HAPPYNEWYEAR I WISH ALL OF MY FRIENDS T...
HAPPYNEWYEAR I WISH ALL OF MY FRIENDS THE BEST YEAR EVER. I HOPE EVERYONE ACCOMPLISHES THE GOALS THEY HAVE SET FOR THEMSELVES
December 26, 2012
MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALLAS A SPECIAL GIFT TO ALL OF MY FANS...
MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALLAS A SPECIAL GIFT TO ALL OF MY FANS AND HOPEFULLY FANS TO BEI HAVE REDUCED THE PRICE OF ALL OF MY NOVELS UNTIL THE END OF THE YEARPLEASE CHECK THE NEW PRICES ON
MY AMAZON SITE
