Wednesday, August 18, 2010

3WW - First Day of School

It's Wednesday, and that means it's time for another 3WW challenge. Today's words are grimace, phase and stumble.

Today was your first day of school. I blinked back tears that threatened to blind me while we walked up the steps. Your little hand clutched mine and I squeezed, hoping to offer reassurance in any way I could. Your sweet answering smile made my heart stutter for a moment.

We got into the cafeteria and you sat down with other kids from your class, and like that, I was background noise - a silly phase you'd grown out of. I told you goodbye and I loved you. You grimaced a little when I brushed a kiss on your cheek.

"Hey, guys, this is my mommy." I smiled, you smiled, and the world started spinning again.

My sweet little boy turned to play with his friends and I retreated. My heart broke a little that I didn't even get a hug, but that's what I get for raising such a strong, confident, handsome boy.

Your innocent giggles surrounded me as I made my way out of the building and I stumbled a little on the stairs and tried to ignore the suspicious burn behind my eyes.

Have a great day, my sweet boy!

Yep, that's how it happened. He was so eager to meet his new friends that he really didn't have time to worry about saying bye to mommy. To my credit, I made it all the way back to the car before I cried, and I only cried for a minute. I don't know why this was so hard, he's been in daycare, but this is different. He's getting so big so fast.

Anyway! For more fun and games, head over to Three Word Wednesday. Try the challenge, or just support the wonderful people who write.

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

It's Tuesday!

It's time again for another fabulous edition of Two Sentence Tuesday.

Right now I am reading Lori Foster's Unbelievable. I'm loving it. It is a very emotional read, as the heroine was raped at 18 and has a lot of trauma to overcome, but the sexy hero of the story, a tough bodyguard whose muscles have muscles, has a sweet side and of course he's volunteered to be tied to the bed so she can have her wicked way with him.

Without even thinking about it, she leaned down and kissed him. Sebastian knew she didn't note the significance of the kiss, but he did. They were in a bed, he was free to move, and still she'd come to him.

My lines are from a current WIP. I can't decide if I love where this is going, or hate it...

“Five in the morning is too early for this,” Mariska grumbled while she stared into her closet hoping the god of fashion would spit out something she could work out in and not look horrible.
She did one more inventory and found a pair of yoga pants that she never wore since they were a little tight – and because the one and only yoga class she’d gone to had ended in a trip to the emergency room and her arm in a sling.

For more, head over to the Women of Mystery. Have a great day!

Thursday, August 12, 2010


"I think people can do anything. When people tell you it can’t be done, or try to usher you away in another direction, it all comes back to your passion. If you really believe in it, and think you can, then go ahead and do it!"

- Frank "Scoop" Vessels III March 18, 1952 - August 11, 2010

I was able to get to know Mr. Vessels and his family recently. I've worked with them on and off for years, but in the last few months I learned a lot about him.

Scoop loved life, and obviously loved a good adventure. He was an offroad racer, sponsored by BF Goodrich, and won the Baja 500 and Baja 1000. He was a pilot, a breeder of amazing American Quarter Horses, and truly a nice man.

He took the time to talk to me at a recent event, and thank me for all I'd done for him, making his exhibit something special. I told him, it was his life that made it special, I just arranged pieces to make it look pretty. He laughed his wonderful laugh and moved on. I didn't get a chance to talk to him again.

Frank "Scoop" Vessels III will be missed.

Tuesday, August 3, 2010

Two Line Tuesday

I almost forgot it was Tuesday. It’s felt like Monday all over again, all day.

Right now I’m reading Marked by Elisabeth Naughton. I’m only a few pages in, so I don’t know if I’m going to like it or not, but here are the last two lines I read:

“Atalanta is a petty hag with a perpetual case of PMS. And let me guess… As her number-one whipping boy, you get what? The right to wipe her ass?”

I love the sarcasm. So, maybe it will be good.

Here are the last two I wrote from my current super secret WIP:

I can’t remember what tune I whistled on the way to our car, but it stuck in my head for hours and I couldn’t quit smiling. Trey looked at me in his I’m-a-genius-and-I-know-it-all way and gave me a high five.

Short, sweet and to the point this week. For more two line fun, head over to the Women of Mystery.

Thursday, July 29, 2010


It has been 13 weeks since I participated in 3WW, and I’ve missed it. It was a challenge, but I included all 39 words that have been posted since the last time I participated. A little over two hours after I started, I’ve finished. 1,500 words. That is a big deal for me, since I’ve let my writing go for quite a while. So, here are the words I included:

Escape, hum, vibrant, fear, ignore, weightless, dread, grasp, pacify, abandon, gradual, precise, budge, nimble, theory, hidden, noble, roam, erase, meadow, trace, feign, imply, virtue, hassle, inject, wealth, acrid, bane, tepid, gentle, praise, vulgar, bait, jump, victim, abuse, cramp and hatred.

I know I’m a day late, but I still wanted to post. Thanks for reading.

Writing was Sarah’s escape. All around her she could hear the vibrant hum of life, but she was removed from it. Separate. When she was immersed in her character’s lives, she was able to ignore the fear that stooped her shoulders and made her feet feel leaden. In the fantasies she created she was free. Weightless and insubstantial.

She would write for hours and came to dread her return to reality, but it came everyday at 5:22. He would come home from work then. Never a minute earlier, never a second later. It only took two months after they were married for her to grasp all the ways her life would change.

It was small things at first. They couldn’t afford such a large cell phone bill so she gave up hers. Then, it bothered him for her to have a night out with her friends without him, so he began to come along, until he got tired of going out with them, so she quit going out all together. After that, things spiraled out of her control so quickly she didn’t know how it happened. Now it seemed every decision she made was calculated to pacify him.

Within months of their honeymoon, he’d abandoned all pretense of trying to make her happy. And after a year of wedded bliss, there had been a gradual shift in her life. She went from being a strong, independent, productive woman, to a shell that only existed to please him.

Sarah learned quickly the precise ways he liked his clothes folded and put away. They went out together to dinner every Thursday night, and she never went out alone. That was something he wouldn’t budge on. At first she thought he was being cute and over protective, but realized, slowly, that it was so he always knew where she was and what she was doing.

When they’d been dating, making love had been a symphony of pleasure. Gabriel’s long, nimble fingers had played over her body like a concert pianists. Now, years later, those fingers were more often cruel and bruising. He’d wrap them around her neck and squeeze until black dots danced across her vision and she knew this would be the last time. She knew, in theory, that she could leave him and get away. Maybe then she would be safe and not wonder if every time the clock said 5:22, it would be the last time she would see it.

But, she could never find the courage to step out of the life she knew. So, she stayed hidden in her make-believe world, creating a happily ever after that she would never have.

Gabriel had been her noble white knight, rescuing her from an abusive family. Her father had roamed from one girlfriend to the next, while her mother took out her hurt and frustration on the children their union had produced. The sweet nineteen year old version of Gabriel had swept in, and given Sarah what she thought was love. Any time they argued, he used flowers and gentle kisses to erase everything harsh word he’d said. And Sarah fell for it.

After four months of dating, he’d taken her on a picnic in a meadow and asked her to marry him. They’d made love in the sweet smelling grass with the sun blazing above them. Afterwards, she’d used long blades of grass to trace patterns of hearts and their initials on his back while he feigned sleep. His promises that day seemed to imply that they would be married after they both finished their education and had careers. How wrong she’d been.

She’d gone home, floating on a cloud of teenaged dreams and told her mother what had happened. Sarah’s mistake had been in telling her mother that she was happy and would be even happier away from their family. The first slap caught her by surprise. Her lip split and she could taste blood in her mouth. She wasn’t fast enough to dodge the second hit from her mother, but by the third she decided to fight back. It was the beginning of the end for her.

Her father had come home that night, and Sarah could remember the bitterness in her mother’s voice. It coated the air with an almost palpable feeling of hate. It was then that she realized her mother was jealous of her, of her happiness. Within minutes her father was raging that, “He’d have no whore living under his roof.”

She’d called Gabriel and he’d come and taken her away from the screaming. He made everything right with the world. It was a virtue that he used many times in the following years, his gift with talking his way out of any situation.

The first time he hit her was one month after the birth of their first child - a son she’d been so proud to give him. The baby had been up all night, fussy with colic, and Sarah was exhausted. She’d left Gabriel’s eggs on too long and the yolk wasn’t runny like he liked it. After one bite, he dumped the plate on the floor and backhanded Sarah. She’d hit the wall and slid to the floor. The crash had scared the baby and he had started crying again.

By the time Caleb was three, Sarah had grown tired of the hassle calling the police caused and pregnant again, decided that something must be wrong with her or Gabriel wouldn’t hit her. She’d hidden the bruises for so long, it was second nature.

The violence lasted for years, and Sarah took it. Gabriel was good to their children, but she knew in her heart seeing him beat up their mother and scream awful things in her face had to be doing some damage.

Caleb’s high school graduation changed that. Gabriel had beaten her two days before, and the bruises had reached their peak of ugliness. One eye was swollen shut, her lip was busted and a near perfect hand print circled her throat. There was no way she could go out in public, and she’d been forced to miss the ceremony.

Regret and shame filled her blood like someone had injected acid straight into her heart. Never again. That night a plan formed like ice in her brain. She would get away and spend the rest of her life making it up to her precious children.
Over the next week, she gathered what she needed. Just a few innocuous items and the problem would be gone for good.

Her kids were gone for the weekend and it was nearing 5:00. Calmly she saved the document she was working on and pushed away from the desk. In 22 minutes her life would change forever.

After the police and emergency services left and she was finally alone, Sarah sank to her knees in the middle of the living room floor and laughed. The sound rang out and echoed in the empty house until it changed to sobs. She cried for all of the bruises, lost friendships, and the loss of innocence in her children. She cried until there were no tears left.

She woke to the sounds of her children coming home the next morning. She’d already decided how she would tell them that their father was gone. They sat at the table looking shocked for almost an hour. Then her precious family hugged her close. She knew they loved her. They’d asked why she let Gabriel hurt her for so long, and for that she didn’t have an answer, but she swore it would never happen again.

Caleb had looked at her then, and in his eyes she saw the truth. He knew she had murdered his father, and he approved.

They talked of the future and how would they afford college and house payments, and Sarah reassured them. Months before she’d sent her writing to an agent, who’d already sold three of the seventeen manuscripts Sarah had completed. They may not have much in the way of money, but in love they had immeasurable wealth.

After the autopsy had been performed and Gabriel’s death ruled and accident, Sarah breathed a sigh of relief. Never again would his acrid breath wash across her face as he pushed her head under tepid bath water. The bane of his presence would no longer haunt her nights.

Her home became something that was filled with gentle praise instead of vulgar comments and slurs meant to bait her into a fight. The children didn’t jump when the door opened any more, and for that alone, Sarah would have done it all over again.

There were no victims living in her house - only strong individuals who had lived through abuse.

Six months after his death, Sarah went to visit Gabriel’s grave. Her stomach cramped and she felt like she would vomit, but forced her feet forward. She expected to be filled with hatred for the man she had once loved and then killed, but standing alone on the cold overcast November day, all she could feel was overwhelming joy.

She had gotten away and was finally free.

Please visit 3WW and support others who have had the courage to take the writing challenge.

Tuesday, July 27, 2010

Two Line Tuesday

I was reminded recently, that I do, in fact, have a blog.

I was also reminded that I have been neglecting said blog. The sting was eased by my friend saying, “But that’s okay, since you are writing. It is the writing that matters.” I just wanted to hang my head in shame.

In the last few months, I have edited a lot of other people’s work, some fiction, some non-fiction, and while I love to do that, I need to make myself write. I’ve written 1450 words of fiction and two non-fiction articles in the last few months. I hear the shrimp from Finding Nemo in my head right now… I am ashamed. Followed quickly by him saying, “Bubbles! My bubbles!”

Yeah, that’s how my brain works.

This month was the one year anniversary of our son being placed with us, and to tell the truth, I’m still learning to be a mom and cope with a toddler who has some abandonment and anger issues, as much as he is still learning that no matter what happens, we will always be there for him. We go for days with him being the sweetest boy in the world and then he has a nightmare and the next week is really bad. The nightmares are getting farther and farther apart and life is getting easier, but then there are mornings like today when I wake up at 4 am and my precious boy has brought his blanket in our room and is curled up on the floor sleeping.

It breaks my heart that he is afraid to wake us up. Hubby picked him up off the floor (much to my Labrador’s consternation as he was losing his snuggle buddy) and got him back in his own bed, which was obviously a mistake. My poor little boy started screaming at the top of his lungs at just after 6. Scared the life out of me. I jumped out of my bed, leaped over the snoring dog (thank goodness we have an alarm on our house, because he is sooooo not a guard dog), ran down the hallway and crashed into my son’s room. As I slid to a stop I wondered, “What do I do?”

It always scares him when we come into his room to comfort him when he is having a nightmare, whether we sneak in, just walk in, or come crashing in like I just had, and I didn’t want to scare him. I reached toward him and he pulled away from me. I’m not going to lie, my heart broke. It only took him a split second to realize it was me, but still, seeing the fear in my child’s eyes directed at me sliced something deep inside. It makes me sad, and fills me with absolute rage. No child should experience the fear he has.

So, yeah, I’ve been neglecting my blog and really neglecting my writing. I want to feel bad about that, but I realized I have to have priorities. For right now, as much as I want to write and get the bubbling, seething mass of ideas out of my head, I need to focus on my family. I’ll drop by as often as I can, because I do miss you, my bloggy friends. You boost my writing ego, you soothe my fears that I can’t do it – that I’m wasting time, and you have held my hand through the tough patches. Thanks for that. You’ll never know how much that means.

So, on to the writing portion of my lengthy post. If you’ve made it this far… just, wow. You’re awesome. Enough with my whining. I am reading Gena Showalter’s The Darkest Lie.

What’s it like? Living without a demon?

I know, I’m such a tease. I really like her storyline in this Lords of the Underworld series. Demon doesn’t always equal evil and angel doesn’t always equal good.

And on to what I am writing. My current WIP started out as a joke, but now, the pressure is on. I’ll share the story of how it came about as soon as I am able, but right now, it is all a big secret. I’ve been told that if I tell anyone, my tongue may be removed and my fingers broken so that I have no way of communicating other than grunting. Not a thrilling prospect, since I love to talk so much. I can’t even share the title, but I am going to be sneaky and post a couple of lines here and pray that the person or persons who have threatened me don’t check up on me. Wish me luck!

Sweat slicked my palms, air sawed in and out of my lungs and I felt like I was going to piss my pants. It felt just like the first time I climbed the sheer rock face of a cliff, praying that all my gear was secure and fighting the urge to check my safety harness one last time.

This is the first time I’ve written much of anything in first person. Plus, I’m writing it from a male POV. I felt like throwing myself under the bus evidently.

Thanks for being here, and I hope I can visit again soon! For more Two Sentence Tuesday, visit the Women of Mystery.

Tuesday, May 11, 2010

Two Line Tuesday

Those fabulous Women of Mystery are doing another edition of Two Sentence Tuesday and here is my contribution.

I am currently reading Tales of the Otherworld by by Kelley Armstrong. I love her writing, and this is a great book to purchase because all of the profits are being donated to World Literacy of Canada.

So, the last two lines I read are:

Lucas had asked Benicio to come no sooner than Thursday, which we'd figured was too close to the wedding for him to interfere, yet early enough that he didn't feel like "just another guest."

He was there right after breakfast.

And now for mine. I'm still editing on my MS (a process I'm sure I could make into a lifetime project), so here are a couple of lines:

She took one last look around, crossed the porch and unlocked her door. Her pulse pounded in her ears and her skin felt like it was trying to crawl off her body. She knew someone was out there watching her – she could feel it. Slamming the door shut behind her, she leaned against it and twisted the deadbolt.

I know it is four lines, but we all knew I was a cheater anyways! To check out what the others are reading and writing, head over to WoM.

Wednesday, April 28, 2010


It’s time for another 3WW. I’ve missed the last couple of weeks because of personal issues. Some of you know that hubby and I adopted our son in February. Two weeks ago CPS placed a four-day-old baby in our home. It was pretty crazy and VERY hard. We only had her for eight days, but we loved her with everything we had for those short days. Baby has moved on now, and so have hubby and I. As of yesterday we are no longer foster parents. We have decided to take a year or so off and love our son, and maybe when he is a little older and can understand why suddenly he had a sister and then just as suddenly he didn’t, we will go through the process again. It has been incredibly hard on us, our son, our friends and our extended families. But as with everything in life, you have to pick yourself up, dust yourself off, hug the ones you love and keep going.

Here is my continuation of past 3WW. The nine words for this “episode” are:




I leaned closer to Jason and lowered my voice. “Have you told anyone else that you saw the killer?”

“No. I didn’t know what to do.” Shame wrote itself in the lines of his acne scarred face. “I was afraid the demon would come after me next.”

I watched tears fill his eyes. “You’re doing okay, Jason. Just a little more help and it will be over, okay?”

“Do they have beer here? I’d really like another beer.”

I shook my head. Jason damn sure didn’t need anything else to lubricate his memories. “Will you go to the station with me? There’s someone I want you to meet.”

“Who?” The word exploded out of him with so much fear and desperation it made me flinch.

“Her name’s Cara. She’s a sketch artist. If you can tell her what the … demon looked like, maybe we can find him.”

“You’ll punish him for hurting Marie, right?”

Jesus, you’d think she was a saint to hear the reverence in his voice. “Yes, Jason. I’d very much like to punish him.”

It took me a few more minutes to persuade him to come to the station with me, but he finally got into my car.

I rolled down the windows to let in the crisp night air, and hopefully blow away some of the reek that followed the poor kid around. He seriously needed a shower.

When we pulled into the brightly lit parking lot, I almost expected him to bolt, but he surprised me by getting out of the car, squaring his shoulders and calmly walking toward the door.

I got him settled at my desk with a cup of lukewarm coffee and called Cara.

“Yeah.” Her normally brash voice was sleepy. I glanced at the clock and swore. It was almost two in the morning.

“Sorry, Cara. Didn’t realize it was this late.”


“Yeah, it’s me.” She was the only person on the planet allowed to call me Lizzy, besides my dad.

“You do realize it is 1:48, right? In the morning.”

I could hear her yawn and winced when her jaw popped. “I didn’t until you answered the phone.”

“So, why did you wake me up? I was seriously dreaming about that new guy.”

“Sanders? The rookie? What the hell?”

“Yeah. Well, a girl can’t wait around for you forever.” It was an old joke between us. We’d been roommates in college and I’d learned a lot from Cara.

I’d only had one serious boyfriend before leaving home and sex between us had been terrible. After one too many beers, I’d spilled my story to Cara. She’d made it her sole purpose in life to teach me how good it could really be. In bed or out. She was the first and only woman I’d ever slept with.

As exciting as it had been, learning from her and with her – she gave me an up close and personal tutorial on the correct way to give a blow job – we were much better off as friends. I was totally heterosexual. Women were beautiful and sexy, but they just didn’t do it for me. Not the way a man did.

“Still with me, Lizzy baby?” She was practically purring.

“Yeah. Sorry, Cara. Took a little trip down Memory Lane.”


“Okay. New subject. I need you to come down to the station. I’ve got a witness who saw the O’Malley killer.”

“No shit?” All traces of humor fled her voice.

“None whatsoever. So, can you get your ass down here or what?”

“Girlfriend, you’re gonna owe me big.”

“I already do.”

I could hear the sheets rustling as she slid out of bed. “Give me twenty minutes and I’ll be there.”

“Thanks, Cara.” She’d already hung up.

So, what to do with Jason for twenty minutes. Spotting the officer Cara was currently lusting after, I yelled across the squad room, “Hey Sanders. Got any spare clothes?”

Seventeen minutes later, a freshly showered and shaved Jason emerged from the men’s locker room, dressed in Sanders’ street clothes. The jeans bagged on his skinny hips and the tee shirt looked like a dress on him, but the odoriferous cloud that had been following him around all night was gone.

He gave me a sheepish grin as he sat down next to my desk. “Officer Sanders told me I’d better be nice to the artist or else.”

Well. Maybe Cara’s lust wasn’t one sided. Young Officer Sanders seemed to have an interest in her, and had already staked his claim to Jason.

Five minutes later, Cara walked in and every eye in the place was trained on her. Tall and slim, she had a grace that was obvious even though she wore loose jeans and a man’s button down shirt.

Her long red hair was pulled up in a haphazard ponytail and curly tendrils escaped to frame a gentle face scrubbed free of makeup.

“Hey sweetie,” she greeted me with a hug before sniffing my hair and grimacing. “Lord, Lizzie, you smell like the bottom of an ashtray.”

“Thanks.” I turned and introduced her to Jason.

“Just answer her questions as best you can and maybe we can get a good sketch of the man who hurt Marie.”

He looked at me and I was finally able to see past the scared junkie to the man underneath. He nodded once and focused his attention on Cara.

I watched for a few minutes before wandering off to get another cup of the muddy brew that passed for coffee.

At night the station is far from silent, but not nearly as crazy as during the day. Conversations ebb and rise in the dimmer lighting. Low laughter can be heard closer to the coffee pot and soft crying and loud cursing echo near in-take.

It only took a minute to negotiate my way around the station to watch as a line of prostitutes were processed. Most were hard-faced and answered the questions asked of them in single words. There were a few sobs and protests of innocence, but the majority of them had been here so often that this was just another routine.

Every now and then you could hear the random ringing of a telephone, but everything fades into a background static at night. I’d started as a rookie on nights. Years ago. Some days it seems like an eternity ago. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not that old, but time isn’t always kind. I still had mostly dark hair, only a few lines around my eyes and gravity hasn’t taken over my body yet.

I strolled back toward my desk to see if Jason had made any progress yet and saw Cara’s face blanch. A hot flash of anger ignited inside me and I rushed over.

“What the hell did you say to her, you son of a bitch?” I fisted the loose material of Jason’s tee shirt in my hand, when what I longed to do was strangle him.

“Lizzy. Calm down. It wasn’t him.” I swung my gaze to Cara and she met my eyes with a sad little smile. “Look.”

My hands went numb and I let go of Jason’s shirt when I saw the sketch. “There’s no way. It can’t be.”

“That’s what I thought too.” I could see the concern in her eyes and I quickly looked away. I didn’t want her pity.

“Are you sure this is your demon, Jason?” I was standing close enough to smell the minty toothpaste he’d used and the coffee that he’d just been drinking.
He nodded quickly, eyes never leaving Cara’s sketch.

“‘The business of life is to be, to do, to do without and to depart.’ That’s the quote he used to leave behind. Isn’t it, Lizzy?”

Goosebumps rushed across my skin. I hated that quote. “Yeah.”

She wrinkled her nose like she could smell something rotten. “He’s dead, though. You killed him.”

And that wraps up this week’s 3WW offering. Visit 3 Word Wednesday for more inspiration.

Wednesday, April 7, 2010


It is time for Three Word Wednesday. I just counted and it has been seven weeks since I participated, so I am going to use all seven weeks worth of words. This is a continuation on my last Three Word Wednesday posts. The twenty-one words I have to use are:


So here we go:

“You’re not going to believe me.” I stared into his bloodshot eyes and waited. “You laugh and I’ll walk.”

I fought the urge to roll my eyes. “Okay, Paulie. Amaze me.”

He seemed to hunch in on himself even further. “It’s Jason, okay? Not Paul. Or Paulie. Just Jason.”

“Alright, Jason. What did you see the night Marie was killed?”

The music in the bar was a solid pulse pounding through my body, and all I wanted to do was go home and take a shower to wash the despair clinging to my skin off.

Paulie – now Jason – sighed and looked even more weary than before. I was fairly certain I wasn’t going to like what I was about to hear.

“It was a demon that killed her, Detective Luna.”

“A demon?” Was he really brazen enough to drag my ass down here and fill me full of crap? My fingers itched to pull my gun and shoot the little shit.

“I told you if you laughed I’d leave.” He pushed to his feet, weaving unsteadily. Shit. Maybe that last drink was one too many.

“Sit your skinny ass down, Jason.” He plopped back down on his barstool like an obedient dog. “I’m not laughing.”

“Better not be.”

I snorted, but couldn’t generate enough energy to care. “Jason, why don’t you tell me why you think a demon killed Marie.”

“I think she might have been a human sacrifice.”

“So… the evil demon lord sacrificed Marie O’Malley for what?”

The bartender chose that moment to slide a bowl of beer nuts between us. “Either order another drink, cop, or get out of my bar. You’re bad for business.”

I glanced over at Jason and saw hunger written all over his face. He was practically drooling over stale snacks. I pulled another ten out of my pocket and slid it across the bar. He tried to slide it the rest of the way but I didn’t let go. Smoke from his cigarette wafted over to tease my nose. Too bad I’d quit nearly a decade before. “Five more minutes, bubba and we’ll be out of your hair.”

His bushy eyebrows rose and he waited for me to release the money. I let go and watched him lumber off before I looked at the frail, strung out man beside me. He was still gazing at the bowl like it was filled with sacred bread rather than a meager handful of nuts.

“Let’s go, Jason.”

His attention snapped to me and panic flitted across his face. “Where?”

“There’s a little diner down the street, and I could use a burger. You interested?”

His eyes cleared like a hazy veil had been ripped aside at the mention of food. “A burger? With fries?”

“Yeah, Jason. A burger, fries and some talk.” We left the bar together. Tiny, the bouncer, was still manning the door, if you could call shoving his tongue down a blonde’s throat watching the entrance. When I’d first arrived I’d thought he might’ve been decent security. I’d have to modify that opinion now.

Jason’s eyes almost popped out of his head when I stepped up behind the bouncer and swiped his legs out from under him.

“Son of a bitch!” he bellowed up from his sprawl on the sidewalk. “Why the hell did you do that?”

I almost giggled watching him dust off the seat of his pants. Almost. “I just saw two boys walk right past you. They couldn’t have been more than seventeen. You might want to watch the door a little more and spend less time examining the blonde’s tonsils.”

The words weren’t even all the way out of my mouth before the other woman was nuzzling up to Tiny again, and glaring daggers at me.

The bouncer sputtered some more, but I’d already tuned him out. I led Jason half a block down to a greasy all night diner. Just the place to hear about murder and demons.

A fiftyish waitress took our orders and slapped down two chipped white mugs of coffee so caustic I felt the enamel melting off my teeth. Maybe it would sober Jason up some.

“So, Jason, tell me about Marie and the demon.”

“Listen, detective. I know you don’t believe me, but I swear I saw him.”

“Calm down. Just tell me what you remember.”

“I followed Marie home after her shift like I usually do.” He looked up at me from under his ragged bangs and a shard of pity spiked through me.

“You were in love with her weren’t you?”

The waitress slid burgers and fries in front of us, spun around and walked away. Maybe she didn’t like Jason’s B.O. It was beginning to saturate the air. Or maybe she just didn’t give a damn anymore. Either way, I wouldn’t be a big tipper tonight.

“Yeah, maybe, I don’t know. Anyway, I followed her home and waited in the stairwell while she unlocked her door. I always watched to make sure she was safe, you know?”

He shoveled food in his mouth for a few minutes before I pushed him again. “What did you see?”

“It all happened so fast. I mean one second she was all alone in the hallway mumbling about her key sticking and the next, he was there.”

Jason swallowed hard before glancing up at me. “The demon hit her in the back of the head and pushed her inside. I could hear her struggling but it was like I was frozen. I couldn’t move.”

I took a drink of the sludge in my cup. “Why do you think he’s a demon?”

“He killed Marie. He has to be a demon to kill someone so pure and so beautiful.”

And I tuned out again while he extolled the victim’s many virtues. If I couldn’t get him to quit calling the killer a demon, there was no way the prosecutor would use him as a witness. The defense would prove the homeless, drunk, probably drug addicted man next to me was unreliable. Imagine that. But no matter how much I questioned him, he wouldn’t deviate.

“I saw him leave her apartment. His face was all scratched up.”

“You saw his face?”

He nodded one slow bob of his head up and down.

“Can you identify him?”

Another jerk of his head in the positive and I could feel excitement building inside me. This could be exactly the break I needed to find out who killed Marie O’Malley.

I hope you enjoyed this long installment of Three Word Wednesday. Head over there and check it out – maybe get some creative juices flowing.

Monday, April 5, 2010

Two Sentence Tuesday

I've come to the conclusion that I'm not doing so well keeping up with my blog. I'm going to try and do better. That said, here are two lines from the book I'm reading, Lords of the Underworld by Gena Showalter.

For years Reyes had hovered near moral collapse, hating himself for the things he had to do to appease his demon. Killing innocent, torturing, destroying entire cities. This was the worst, though, following his friend, a man he loved like a brother. A man who had once helped him learn to control the monster inside him.

Even though this passage is talking about a literal demon, it made me think about the demons that haunt us all. The things we wish we hadn't done, the lie we wish we hadn't told, the promises broken - all things that weigh people down.

I attended a training class for work today, so maybe that is why I am in such a philosophical mood right now, but a lot of what the speaker said made sense to me, and really made me think. The title of the session was "The Essential Elements for living a life of Excellence." So, for my two sentences written, I want to share one of the answers to a question he asked us.

The question:
What are you doing, or what could you be doing to pass on the lessons taught to you by people who had the most significant impact on your life?

It was something that sparked feeling inside me. I wasn't looking forward to a four hour training course on a Monday afternoon, but I think I may have come away with something.

My answer:
I am doing my best to teach my son that no matter what anyone says he is capable of doing ANYTHING he desires. I'm trying to show my friends and fellow writers that feeling defeated is not the same as being defeated. You just have to keep trying until you succeed. It's hard but you have to press forward. Miracles happen every day.

I don't know where that little bit of wisdom came from, but there it is. Feeling defeated isn't the same as being defeated. I've felt pretty down about my writing lately, and I realized I've been holding myself back. Excuse after excuse about why I keep putting my WIP down and don't pick it up again for days. Reasons for not keeping up with my blog, and so on and so on. One of the things we talked about today is recommitting to the things that are important to you and proving that you are capable to yourself and to those around you. So, here I go. I'm officially recommitting. I may not post something everyday, but I will do my best to post at least a few times a week. I've got lots of recommitting to do, so I'm off.

For more fabulous Two Sentence Tuesday, head over to the Women of Mystery. Leave a comment or be brave and post two of your own. It's a wonderfully freeing experience!

Tuesday, March 30, 2010

Two Sentence Tuesday

It’s time for Two Sentence Tuesday. Currently, I am reading “The Lords of the Underworld” series by Gena Showalter. This is the first I’ve read of her, and I like her. This series is pretty dark, and I like all the doom and gloom, murder and mayhem. Here are the last two lines I read:

Tears streamed down her cheeks, chilling with the cold. How many would she shed before the ducts dried completely?

Ashlyn is, I assume, the heroine of this book. She’s just come in and already been imprisoned in a demon lord dungeon. Lucky girl. Hope things turn around for her.

Now, the last two lines from my WIP. I’m in the editing stage right now, so these lines are from the end of the first chapter. Before, my heroine was too wimpy. I don’t want her to be scared all the time, so it is time for her to be angry. She caught her ex in a compromising position and broke up with him, but now he’s watching her.

“Did you enjoy your night out? You looked so sad and lonely. Let me know when you change your mind and want to come back to me.” Jason’s voice coming from the machine shocked her, but the fact that he’d been watching her pissed her off.

Yep, I know I cheated. More than two lines. Please forgive me!

For more Two Sentence Tuesday check out the Women of Mystery.

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

Two Sentence Tuesday

This week I am reading Suzanne Brockmann’s Identity: Unknown. Her books aren’t something I normally read, but lately I’ve been in military mode – reading about SEALs and Marines and Rangers. I don’t know why, but there you go. And just like last week, her writing is a little too tame for me, but I’m enjoying it and taking a break from my routine.

Here are the last two lines I read from Identity: Unknown:

The guard shoved him and he stumbled, but he forced himself not to react, to find serenity from deep inside, that same serenity that had saved him so many times before. He was here.

And two lines I just edited from my WIP:

She crossed the cracked asphalt and each pool of light beckoned to her, making her feel safe. A chill crept up her spine as she left one circle of light and stared ahead at the next. Tingling at the back of her neck told her she wasn’t alone. She sped up and counted the steps to the next halo of sick yellow illumination.

Hope you enjoyed, and head over to Women of Mystery for more Two Sentence fun.

Thursday, February 18, 2010


The prompts at 3WW this week are: Occur, Ragged and Tidy. Here is my continuation of last weeks 3WW.

It wasn’t hard to find Paul Smith after all. He was sitting alone at the end of the bar hammering back drinks as fast as he could.

His hair was ragged and greasy strands fell forward to cover his eyes. I got closer and realized exactly why he was alone. Paulie was in desperate need of a bath. Body odor and booze leaked out of his pores, creating an almost tangible haze around him, leaving very little breathable air.

I slid a tidy sum of money down the bar to him. “Talk.”

He never glanced up at me, but his dirty hand covered the bills. “I knew Marie. She volunteered on Thursdays at the mission downtown.”

Homeless. I figured as much if his hygiene was anything to go by. “I didn’t just give you money for you to tell me something I already knew.”

I caught the bartenders eye and waited while he strolled over. He was polishing a glass with a dirty bar towel and had a lit cigarette hanging out of his mouth.

“Beer for me. Whatever’s on tap, and I’ll buy his next round.” Maybe if I lubed him up some, Paulie would stop wasting my time. The bartender ambled away and I wondered if we’d get our drinks in the next hour.

I leaned over the counted to yell at his back, “And none of that light shit!”

“She talked to me. Marie did. She talked to me about growing up in her perfect family, with her perfect parents and her perfect brothers and sisters. She asked about how I grew up and I told her some make-believe story about having a great home life, but I’m pretty sure she didn’t believe me, ya’ know?”

A beer slid in front of me and I looked up to see the bartender’s grin around his cigarette. “Five bucks.”

I pulled a ten out of my pocket and told him to keep the change. Paulie waited until the other man left before he started talking again. “I used to follow her out of the neighborhood after she got done with her shift at the mission. To watch out for her, ya’ know? She was sweet.”

The thought occurred to me that he’d had a crush on little Marie. “So, you followed her the night she died?”

“Yeah. I saw the freak who did it.”

The nerves in my body sang out and my muscles tensed. “So, Paul Smith, who killed Marie?”

Come back next week to find out who killed Marie Francis O'Malley. And check out 3WW for more writing.

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

Two Sentence Tuesday

It’s time for Two Sentence Tuesday!

Right now, I’m reading something out of the ordinary for me. Suzanne Brockmann’s Frisco’s Kid. Normally, I’m all for a hot and steamy romance, but while there are some sex scenes, they are pretty tame, tastefully done, and not very compelling to me. That’s just my opinion though. Ask the people who know me, I write porn (I swear it’s tasteful though!).

And on that note, here are the last two lines I read this morning before I had to go to my actual day job:

“I’d never seen a miracle before, but I saw one that day. And when Lucky put that tiny baby in my hands…She was all red and wrinkly, and so alive – this little new life, only a few seconds old.”

The hero is a Navy SEAL and is describing to the heroine they day he and his swim buddy delivered his sister’s baby. It is kind of sweet.

Now, on to my WIP. Here are the last two lines I wrote. They are actually additions to the beginning of the story line. I really needed my two main characters to meet before they “officially” meet. She’s in a bar, a little freaked out because she thinks her ex is stalking her, and runs into (literally) the hero. She’d just spent ten minutes with her slightly tipsy friends discussing the fact that none can find a …. Satisfying relationship. (I say that with a HUGE grin on my face!)

“Most women don’t scream when they see me.” His grin made her forget how to speak. This was a man she was certain would give her an orgasm she didn’t have to provide on her own. And, she bet he would last longer than ten minutes before rolling over and going to sleep.

Hope you have a wonderful day, and head over to the Women of Mystery for more two sentence teasers!

I also noticed that David Cranmer has two sentences up on his blog, too.

Thursday, February 11, 2010

Theme Thursday and Thursday 13

The theme at Theme Thursday this week is mirror. I used the mirror for the foundation of both of my pieces today.

He would never forget the look on her face when she saw him in the mirror. The emotions played swiftly through her eyes. Confusion. Fear. Anger. Resignation.

She knew he was here to kill her, and this time there was no quick escape. She’d taken everything from him. Family, home and career were jerked away with three bullets.

“What are you waiting for?” she asked his reflection.

He raised his eyebrow and looked at her pale face in the shimmery surface. “I’m waiting for you to beg me not to kill you. I’m waiting for you to apologize.”

She smirked, “Not going to happen.”

His expression shifted behind her from smug boredom to pulsing rage. “I’m waiting for my life back, you bitch!”

She saw his hand lift behind her and flinched away, but not fast enough. He wrapped his fist in her hair and shoved her face closer to the mirror. “Why? That’s all I want to know. Why kill my family and frame me?”

“I told you when we got together. I don’t share. Not with your wife. Not with your boys. Once you slept with me, you were mine.” She ended on a gasp when he ground her face into the glass, and the muzzle of his gun pressed into her spine.

“I ought to kill you where you stand, you evil, soul-sucking-.”

She cut him off with a grin when she rubbed her butt against his crotch. “You may hate me, but you still want me, don’t you?”

He stepped back until the only thing touching her with the barrel of his gun. “You took everything away from me.”

“So kill me!” Her screamed words bounced around the tiled room. “Do it!”

For an instant, the finger on the trigger tightened before he lowered the gun. “No.”

“Why not?” She was truly bewildered. Why didn’t he kill her?

She watched as his eyes left her reflection in the mirror and locked onto his own. “I still have to look at myself.”

She closed her eyes and let out a slow breath, never hearing the quiet click of the door behind her.

Head over to Theme Thursday for more writing from this prompt.

I continued the mirror theme with my 13 things for Thursday 13.

13 Things in the Mirror

Hazel eyes that go bright green when filled with tears. They sparkle when I laugh and reflect my fears when I’m lonely.

Hair that once was deep dark chocolate has started to streak with silver. Not gray, not white, but shiny silver I no longer have the patience to cover.

Tiny lines feather from the corners of my eyelids, testifying to the millions of times I’ve laughed in the last 31 years, echoing the humor in my soul.

A normal sized nose rides in the middle of my face. It’s served me well, letting me smell the baby smell of my son just after his bath or the deeper scent of my husband when he holds me close and whispers his love to me.

Lips that are perhaps a bit to thin, but often stretch into a wide smile or pinch into a frown when I am concentrating on a particularly difficult task, cover straight white teeth with a small gap between the front two. They’ve formed words of encouragement, love and occasionally scorn, and held words that changed my life over and over again.

There is a neck that is not long or graceful, but holds my head high, even when I feel defeated.

My breasts are soft and rounded, even though they have relaxed a little over the years. They have pillowed the head of my love when I offered comfort, and provided endless amounts of humor among my not so bountifully gifted relatives.

There are curves in all the right places, and some of the not so right places to. Curves that have come and gone and come back again.

My arms are strong enough to hold onto my family with all I have, and comfort my friends when things are wrong.

The hands I have are small, but have conquered so many great tasks. They have helped me learn to cook and feed my family. They’ve worked tirelessly to master the art of playing the flute well enough to make some people cry. They’ve cramped in pain after hours of writing to help me express my creativity or to just let the darkness lingering in my soul out.

I have hips that are larger than I want, but what woman doesn’t? I try not to worry about that too much.

Then there is the foundation, my support, my legs. They are not long, but they are strong. They carry me forward even when I want to run away. They are marked with scars from my youth and tattoos that tell a story of me growing up.

When I close my eyes and block out what I see in the mirror, I can see the beauty my husband sees when he touches me. I can see the reason my son says, “Mommy pretty,” when he looks up at me. When I close my eyes and look deep inside I can see the creative writer my friends see and I encourage her. When I look away from the mirror, I can see the hunger for a better life for my family searching for a way to escape, and I can see the sliver of darkness left in my soul from disappointment, hurt, fear and anger, looking for a way to grow large and take over. When I open my eyes and look back into the mirror I see a strong, capable woman where before stood a fearful, ashamed girl.

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

Three Word Wednesday

It is that time again! Today's prompt words are: Lucid, Righteous and Salvage. I continued last week's story line with this week's words.

A week later, I was still no closer to finding out who killed Marie Francis O’Malley. Her friends and neighbors all loved her. She was a sweet Irish Catholic girl who always had a kind word, did volunteer work at the homeless shelter and the animal rescue shelter, was attending classes at the local community college and wanted to be a kindergarten teacher.

She was so sweet, it made my teeth hurt. Her parents and siblings – all fourteen of them – had descended on me time and time again, but there was nothing else I could tell them.

Lurch, I mean, the coroner, had found that cause of death was asphyxiation due to strangulation. She fought though, and the traces of hair and skin under her nails, and the semen inside her had been sent for a DNA profile.

The phone rang and I jumped. “Detective’s Squad.”

“I need to speak with Detective Luna.” The connection was horrible. I could barely make out the caller’s words under the static.

“This is Luna.” For a moment there was only the pops and hisses on the line.

“I have some information about Marie O’Malley.”

I ripped off the top sheet of my notepad, quickly discarding my distracted doodling, and switched into interrogation mode. “What’s your name?”

“Uh…It’s Paul. Paul Smith.”

Sure. Whatever. “Okay, Paul, what information do you have about Miss O’Malley?”
The connection worsened and I couldn’t make out his words. “Paul, can you still hear me?”

“Yeah, I can hear ya’.” His voice sounded tinny and far away.

“Can we meet?” I was sick of trying to decode his words.

“I don’t know if that would be a good idea.”

“If your info’s good, there may be something in it for your, Paulie.”

“Fine. Meet me at Sabine’s in an hour.”

“How will I know who you are, Paul?”

“I know who you are. I’ll wait for you.”

Sabine’s was one of the city’s newest hotspots. Everyone who was anyone wanted in, so the line stretched down the sidewalk for over half a block. I scanned the crowd with cop eyes, knowing instinctively which ones were doing drugs, selling drugs or had something heavy in their jacket pocket or ruining the line of their clothes. I wasn’t here for that tonight, but I’d definitely give vice a head’s up – if I could salvage my own case.

I thought briefly about standing in line, but hell, I have a badge, and what fun is it to have if you don’t use it? The spike heels on my black leather boots sounded like gunshots as I strode past all of the vacant stares and hostile voices, right up to the bouncer guarding the entrance.

“Sorry lady. Back of the line.” He crossed his arms – or attempted to cross his arms – over his massive chest. “You gotta wait like everybody else.”

He turned away, clearly dismissing me until I shoved my badge in his face. “I think I’ll just go on in, unless you have a problem with that?”

“Listen, I don’t want no trouble. I’m just doin’ my job.” His voice was so deep it almost hurt to hear.

“I’m not trying to wad you up, Tiny. I’m meeting someone.” He looked at me for a few more seconds before motioning me past. I flashed him a quick grin when I heard all of the moans from the waiting crowd.

The music smashed into me. Hard. It felt like a heartbeat throbbing all over my body. I stopped just inside the door and let my eyes adjust to the dim light and overpowering strobe lights.

The dance floor was packed and around the outskirts were tables overflowing with people. In a single sweep of the room I counted seven different drug deals and at least ten times as many underage drinkers. I could only pray my Paul Smith was lucid enough to tell me anything, and that he had something good.

If not I was going to shoot him. And, by God, it would be a righteous shoot. No one makes me miss Monday night football with my dad.

Head over to 3WW to check out what everyone else is writing today!

On a personal note... We had our final adoption hearing on Monday, and Aaron is officially ours now! Big family happiness!

Thursday, February 4, 2010

Theme Thursday and Thursday 13

So, I'm going to try my hand at two new prompts this week. What I came up with are two entries that are polar opposites.

This week, Theme Thursday's prompt is Red.


The blush stole across her cheeks as I plied her with nonsense endearments and frothy fruity drinks. Too easy. She’s a little…curvy for my taste, but I don’t want to be alone tonight. In a few days I won’t even remember her so her size doesn’t really matter.

I glance at her in the passenger seat to avoid the splashes of color the headlights flash in my eyes. Almost there. Almost home. I don’t want to waste money on a cheap hotel room. I’ll call a cab and have it waiting in an hour. She’ll probably cry when she realizes I don’t want her to stay. Oh, well.

She stumbled through the door in those fire engine fuck me pumps. Who does she think she is wearing shoes that sexy? She didn’t even notice how fast I pulled off her shirt to see what she had hidden under there. Not bad. Not bad at all.

No? She thinks she can tell me no? I paid for her drinks all night. She should be thrilled I even looked at her. She’s begging for it with those damn shoes.

No! How the hell did she get the knife out of the butcher block so fast? Oh, Christ. I’m sorry! Please!

I’m cold. I need to get to the phone. Why is the floor so slick? Oh, God. I’m going to die. Someone is outside honking. Maybe I can make it out the door. They’ll help me.

Don’t leave me like this! I’m going to die and the last thing I’ll ever see is those fucking shoes inching backward to stay out of the pool of blood leaking out of me.

Skip over to Theme Thursday to see more fabulous writing from this prompt.

And here is what I wrote for Thursday 13.

Thirteen things:
1. I love the way my baby boy’s eyes look first thing in the morning – sleepy and happy to see mommy.
2. I love the way my husband smells right where his shoulder meets his neck – warm and male and mine.
3. I love the way my mother says she’s proud of me – sweet smiles and happy tears.
4. I love the way my dad shows he loves me – strong and silent.
5. I love the way my friends encourage my writing – harsh critique and demanding expectations.
6. I love the way my dog trusts me no matter what – wagging tail and soulful eyes.
7. I love the way cold mornings feel on my skin – fresh and exhilarating.
8. I love the way the sheets feel when I first slide into bed – cool and clean.
9. I love the way it feels to get my hair cut – out with the old and in with the new.
10. I love the way it feels when my cat curls up in my arms – heavy warmth and deep purring.
11. I love the way my husband slips his fingers through mine – secure and loved.
12. I love the way my sweet son hugs me – sticky fingers in my hair and love you whispered in my ear.
13. I love the way my heart feels when I look at my family – full of love and leaping with joy.

For more 13's, head on over to Thursday 13.

Hope you enjoyed!

Wednesday, February 3, 2010

3 Word Wednesday

Today's words over at 3WW are: frantic, lurch and odor. Head on over to 3WW and check out all the others.

“The maintenance man noticed it first. Said he thought 3B’s fridge was on the fritz and the food inside spoiled.”

I nodded to the uniform standing in front of me, not really listening – I’d already heard the story from the two uni’s outside and the maintenance man himself. “So, who actually found the body?”

“Well, see Detective, that’s kinda a funny story - .”

“Oddly enough, I’m not here for the comedy hour, officer. Who the fuck found the body?” I managed to keep my voice low and not scream in the face of the newbie shuffling around in front of me.

“Sorry, ma’am. The next door neighbor’s dog found the body.”

“What? The dog?”

“Yes, ma’am. We’d just busted in the door to the apartment when the old woman next door opened her door to see what all the noise was and her yappy little dog ran out and straight into our crime scene, and right onto the body.”

“And nobody thought to stop the dog?” I could feel the blood rushing in my ears and a headache made itself known behind my right eye.

“Well, ma’am, he was fast.”

“Whatever.” I left him sputtering to a stop in the middle of the dingy hallway.

Two steps from the victim’s door, the odor hit me like a sledgehammer to the face. Jesus, whoever’s in there is frickin’ ripe.

“Well, hello, Detective.”

To my left stood the coroner - six and a half feet of skin and bones with a freakishly large nose. “Got any idea of when this one bit it?”

“I’d say about a week. Thermostat’s turned way up, so that sped up decomp. And then there was an unfortunate incident with the neighbor’s dog.” He gestured to a place on the vic’s cheek that had a chunk missing. “Guess the little pooch was hungry.”

I turned and slowly surveyed the room. Someone had trashed the place. “Maybe an interrupted burglary?”

“Maybe.” I could hear the frantic yipping of the neighbor’s dog through the thin apartment walls. “Or, maybe she offed herself. Couldn’t stand listening to that damn mutt any longer.”

“Doubt it. She was strangled.”

I looked at him and raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to go on. When he didn’t, I counted to ten and reminded myself to breathe. “So, got anything else for me?”

He looked up from the body and leered at me. There really was no other word for it, other than creepy and disgusting. “Honey, I sure do have something else for you.”

I spun on my heel and walked away when he grabbed his crotch. “Fuck off, Lurch.”

His laughter followed me into the hallway. Just another fun filled Monday morning.

Tuesday, January 26, 2010

Two Sentence Tuesday

Hey everyone! It’s Tuesday, so that means it’s time for another two sentence Tuesday.

I entered a contest at and voting ends today at noon, so if you can find it in your heart, I need all the votes I can get. I’m entry 41. Check it out!

Here are two lines from that entry:

She looked closer to a lonely college kid hiding behind heavy eyeliner, purple nail polish and a bad attitude. At least she hadn’t colored her long blond hair an unnatural shade of black.

The last two lines I read were from Nicholas Sparks’ Dear John. I don’t have the book with me, I finished it early yesterday. I know better than to read his books. I cry and then I’m angry about the end. Always. It is a form of self torture for me to read them.

Oh, well. Head on over to the Women of Mystery for more Two Sentence Tuesday! (And thanks for any votes you swing my way!)

Tuesday, January 19, 2010

Two Line Tuesday

Things are super busy right now. We are about to open a huge exhibit at work, the final adoption hearing is on February 8, and school is really busy for hubby right now. That said, the only interesting thing I've written lately is a short article for our international newsletter. I'm trying to get back in the swing of things. Think good thoughts that our opening on Friday night goes well!!

Here are the last two lines I read, from Lynne Viehl's Night Lost:
"It is the new communion," Leary said, nodding. "To partake of ruined flesh, turn polluted blood into wine. It is fed to those in rapture so that they might know the power and glory of the lord. Sometimes I am permitted to watch."

And here are a couple of lines from my most recent article:
Coke lived during the age of the oxcart, horse and buggy, the horseless carriage, the atom bomb and the beginning of the space program. He never drove a car, but was an accomplished “back seat” driver. He may not have intended to enter the horse business, but fate had other ideas for him.

For more Two Sentence Tuesday, head over the the Women of Mystery. Have a wonderful day!