Showing posts with label Romance. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Romance. Show all posts

Wednesday, March 29, 2017

Saturday Night from So a Psychic and a Rocket Scientist Walk into a Bar

Clair was in her bedroom in front of her full length mirror annoyed with what she had chosen to wear.  It wasn’t a bad outfit it just didn’t look like a date outfit.  Because of her profession, and because of Jonny, besides jeans and t-shirts Clair only had two absolute looks, dress black for her concerts and skank club gear for Jonny’s concerts.  Somehow neither one seemed appropriate. Not that she knew what Sergei would consider appropriate. She couldn’t help but to wonder about him and their meeting.

Sergei hadn’t even blinked oddly when he had calmly asked her what she had seen.  As if he were accustomed to dealing with people with extra sensory perceptive gifts.  Their phone call last night had been brief but not once had he even implied that he thought her repeated fainting spells had been odd.

He had called around 8 last night, very respectful of her time. Clair had been sitting at her piano going through her paces. She had literally been thinking of him and wondering if he would actually call. Part of her hoping he would and part of her hoping he wouldn’t. The contrast made her uncomfortable. She had been lost in thought when the ringing phone made her jump.

“Hello Clair, how are you?” he had casually answered when she had said hello.

“I’m fine.”  She had been at the piano, of course.  For whatever reason, the day after she had met Sergei she had started a new piece.  She was sure it was just coincidence.  She needed to rationalize the things that she felt when she thought about Sergei. Meeting him had been pretty impactful in a way she didn’t want to deal with.  She had slowly fallen for Jonny and previous guys.  A little flirting at a music event, a date or two. Then eventually they got intimate.

This was different.  Sergei spoke to her in ways she didn’t know she had places to speak from. It was maddening she went from anxiousness, to excitement, to blind terror.

“That’s good to hear, we still on for tomorrow night or have you come to your senses and changed your mind?” Sergei said rather cautiously.

Despite herself Clair had chuckled a little under her breath.  “Should I come to my senses and change my mind?”

He had paused for a moment or two as if he were actually thinking about it.  “Well, Clair, I’m not an easy boy to get along with, you got a taste of that a few days ago.  I know that you never actually instigated this so I don’t hold you accountable for going out with me.  I’d like a chance to get to know you and you seem like a person worth knowing Clair.”

“Clairvoyance.” She had said instantly surprising herself because she never asked anyone to call her Clairvoyance.

She heard a low whistle from the other end of the line.  “My Lord, that’s a god-awful first name, no wonder you go by Clair.  Do you really want me to call you that?”

Immediately embarrassed Clair held her warm forehead in her hand.  “No, I guess I wanted to see if you would go running for the hills.”


He chuckled a little this time.  “Honestly Clair, if you turn out to be as much woman as I think you are, it would take wild horses to drag me away.”


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Monday, February 27, 2017

All the Unexplained - SPRSWB

“Not everything of this world can be explained by science or anything else for that matter.”  He pinned her again with his laser blue eyes.  “I don’t discount anything, there is something in you Clair that is beyond the norm and it glows off of you like a beacon, it attracts me.”

Clair knew she was staring at him in the oddest fashion but she couldn’t seem to control the instinct to do so.  All of her life she just knew that talking about the eccentric nature of her family line would be a bad ideal for a first date.  It would be a bad ideal before marriage but she had admitted to herself that she would’ve volunteered the information if Jonny had ever asked her to be his wife.  She had never guessed that the secrets of her lineage permeated off of her and someone open to those ideals would be able to associate and see how she was different from most people.

“To be honest, I have a family history that would imply that extra sensory perception was an ability I should have, but you are the first person I’ve ever had even a blip of activity with.” Clair admitted.

Sergei frowned slightly.  “Really?  I find that very interesting.  Not a single occurrence before?”

Clair shrugged sheepishly, “Not involving anything else besides music.”

Sergei sat silently for a moment the question burning in his form as he softly asked, “How bad was it, Clair?”

Clair was very solemn and couldn’t hide the fear in her voice as she said slowly, “Bad.”

He nodded.  “I thought so, had a gut feeling about it.”

Clair finally asked, “Is there any reason to believe that someone would want to hurt you?”

He nodded quickly.  “Yeah, this project that I’m here for is under much scrutiny and debate.”  He leveled his impressive eyes at her.  “There are people who would rather not see it done.”

“How pertinent are you to its completion?” Clair said in a very direct way.


“There’s the thing Clair, without me, it doesn’t happen.” Sergei laid hard.

“You want to talk about it?” Clair asked earnestly.

He hesitated for only a moment, “Virgin launch.  The ideal has been humming around the aerospace industry since we first got people on the moon.”  His eyes started to glow again as he started talking with his hands.  “What if we could charter people into space, like airline carriers charter people around the world?  It’s a huge undertaking because you would have to be able to eliminate a bulk of the physical limitations to being in space that astronauts train years for.”

“Okay,” Clair inserted following.

“What is the one thing missing from space that makes it so damn difficult for people?” Sergei asked in an ironic way.

Clair thought for a second. “Gravity.”

Sergei smiled at her then.  “I have developed a rather crude and preliminary gravitational system that would not alter regardless of the gravity, or lack thereof, in space. Currently it can be isolated to a single hub.” He shrugged, “So far I’ve only been able to stabilize a hub the size of a Lear jet, but that’s just the beginning.”

Clair felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.  “You’ve found a way to create gravity?” she said in a disbelieving fashion.

Sergei nodded a bit as he responded. “Sort of, I’ve mostly found a way to borrow gravity.  Gravity is one of the big four forces of the Universe, it just exists, the trick is tapping into it.”

“How?” Clair asked honestly intrigued.

He was casual but confident as he continued. “Same way it exists now, orbiting bodies in a circular pattern, centrifugal force meeting rotating atoms.”

Abruptly he grabbed a napkin and pulled a pen out of his jacket pocket.  He drew a crude looking cigar shaped vessel and drew several rings around it.  On each ring he attached various circular objects of varying size, and with arrows he displayed the directions each ring would move and the directions each circular object would rotate in.

He showed her the crude drawing.  “Mankind’s problem is that we always think we need to reinvent the wheel, we don’t need anything new, the solution is in the application.”

Clair’s mind wrapped around it instantly.  “A roving solar system, with the hub as the sun.”

Sergei nodded.  “It would move in space just like our galaxy does, creating its own gravity as it goes.”

Clair shook her head.  “That’s so simple it’s brilliant.”

Sergei nodded.  “I had this thought for quite a while and I often thought that it really couldn’t be this simple so I never brought it up.  But people are chomping at the bit to get into space.”  He paused before finishing. “So I put a little more time and planning into it, mapped out the physics of it all and I was able to generate a gravitational field on a model airplane.”

Clair was holding the napkin, staring at it blankly not really believing how unerringly brilliant this man was.  “Talk about thinking outside of the box.”

“I find the only issues with science are all the rules, we’ve made things too complicated.  None of us can see the forest for the trees.”  He stated like it was obvious “God had it all right in the beginning, why mess with that?”

Her thoughts got captured by his mention of God.  “Don’t tell me you’re a scientist that believes in God.”

He fixed her with a very serious look.  “No true scientist can look at the evidence and not.  It’s too balanced, everything is.  I don’t know if religion has it right but I do know that something holds this all together.  We’ve broken things down to their smallest component and we have no idea why everything doesn’t just fall apart.  That’s either magic or some other divine force.”  He fixed her with a knowing look.  “And I don’t have to tell you about all else in this world that is unexplainable.”


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Thursday, February 23, 2017

To Love Unwisely

Tell me the story of how you’ll be free
Hold me close and swear it will never be
Tell me the lie that will always haunt me
Then show me the love that I will always see
Tell me the tale of how you came to me
Hold me close and play with the memories
Tell me how my love should always be free
Then show me the lie that will always hold the key
Tell me the myth that love lives in one space
Hold me close to hide the truth on your face
Tell me to give myself to this world
Then show me again how I can’t be your girl
Tell me the one that always makes me laugh
Hold me close and call yourself a cad
Tell me that we can never share this way
Then show me every other side to what you say
Tell me the joke that makes me cry
Hold me close until my eyes become dry
Tell me that one day someone else will dry my tears
Then show me again why I’ll never truly be his
Tell me the truth of what we can have
Hold me close and feel me and laugh
Tell me that I’ll see this as true
Then show me how to say and do

If I could blanket us both with my love
If I could solve the puzzle of heaven above
If I could dream a life we can’t live without
I’d build you a castle made of doubt
Plant hopes and wishes in each stone
Know every secret you wouldn’t have known
I’d find the key to this home
Keep it safe when you need to roam
Hold my heart with you in mind
Hold out hope and bide my time
Till that day you knew without a care
This love we have and were meant to share

Till then I sit and wait
Knowing my end and bemoaning your fate
Till you understand you don’t have to be alone
And place yourself in our home

This day may never come and my faith may wane
I may come to shy from your face and curse your name
Whatever will come I face without shame
Time spared for you will never be in vain

Thursday, February 16, 2017

You'll Save That For Mine

As I was working on the second edition of Make Mine a Heel I got to indulge in some of my favorite scenes. This one is top 5. Its their first and most fun fight.

Banner stopped the recording. “What was that?” She asked sharply.

Keith stared at her intently as if he had expected her reaction. “What was what?”  He asked deliberately.

“You cannot break out Ayn Rand on general American society. Do you realize how many people have no idea what ethical egoism is?” She actually put up quote marks with her hands as she said ‘ethical egoism’.

Keith became very still and disturbingly serious as his eyes never left Banner’s. “Yes I do.” The statement was as still as he was. He stopped long enough to let that sink in, and then continued, 
“You’ll take back the interview I give, or I’ll give no interview.”

Banner felt the hairs on her spine prickle as she began to understand what this was really about.  She needed to revise her game plan. Keith was going to make this a lot harder to dismiss than she had thought he was going to. Something else she was starting to understand that he knew before she even got here.

“Maybe we should eat first?” Banner supplied peaceably.

Keith nodded with a sharp cold smile as he uttered. “Maybe we should.”

He nodded at someone that Banner couldn’t see. A short dark haired girl appeared and once again Banner ceased to exist.

“Hi Keith, your usual?” she asked in a manner that suggested that perhaps she was part of his ‘usual’.

“Sorry darling, just the shake.” He said to her in a familiar tone.

She pouted and then turned razor dark brown eyes on Banner. “And what can I get you?”

Banner frowned. She hadn’t even looked at the menu. “The special.” She said quickly. It was her default in unfamiliar waters.

She paused and took one look at the storm brewing across from her. Just then she remembered the dull pain in her head.  In her mind the words, ‘fuck it’, were clear as a bell.  “And a Crown and coke.” She finished quickly.

Keith watched the cute little waitress leave and then focused all of his attention on Banner. “You didn’t strike me as the type to drink on the job.” He teased.

Banner was beyond being able to curb her thoughts anymore. Questioning her professional ethic was beyond reasonable. “I don’t have to when I like the job.” She snipped back.

“Are we not getting along Ms. Hemweigh?” His accent flared which let her know that his temper was up.

“Nowhere near. I suggest you stop picking at me until we are both more reasonable.” She advised sharply meeting his gaze unapologetically.

The look on his face said that the last thing he wanted to be with her was reasonable. “I thought I was being reasonable. You seem put out that I know big words.” He snapped back.

Banner sighed, here we go, she thought. In her best professional tone she started her spiel. “Mr. Daniels, it was not my intention to insult your intelligence, but I refuse to insult the intelligence of my audience.”

He nodded as he looked away from her for a moment. She could practically feel his teeth grinding. Then with a sharp tilt of his head she knew she was going to get what popped into his head anyway. The thought that had him grinding his teeth for self-control. “No, you’ll save that for mine.” He supplied.


Make Mine A Heel available in ebook and coming soon in print.

Monday, February 13, 2017

Make Mine a Heel 2nd Edition

In an effort to keep Fiona and Colan a little longer I decided to edit and release a 2nd edition of my first self-published ebook and historically top selling, Make Mine a Heel. As always when I dive back into the pages of this book nostalgia takes hold.  This time it was so refreshing as I expected such a mess of a story and saw that even then my voice had a cadence and a charm I hardly expect to see or read. I started critically and then I just fell back in love with Banner and Keith:

“You must hate me,” Banner whispered.

“Why would I hate you Bay? You’re at least here trying to understand.” His deep voice sounded solemn, humble. “That’s more than that jackass that knocked my mother up has ever even tried to do.”

The next thing she knew his hands were on her shoulders and she could feel his breath at her ear. “Yeah, we got off to a rocky start, but you’re here for the same reasons I am. We’ve done what we’ve done for basically the same reasons. I could never hate you.”

He turned her to look at him; the truth of it in his eyes. “Twice in your life?” she asked.

He gave a false smile with a joyless laugh. “I may have exaggerated a little.  I believe the last time I heard from the son of a bitch was him admonishing me for my career choice. With my size and athleticism I should’ve become a basketball player. Something people could respect.” He turned from her. “That was when I realized what a fool I’d been all my life. You tell yourself you’re doing something just to prove what you’re worth. It isn’t until much later do you actually admit who you’re trying to prove it to.” He admitted.

“Broke your heart,” she guessed.

Keith laughed. “A broken heart I could’ve dealt with. This was worse. It broke my spirit,” he shook his head gravely as he spoke. “I didn’t know which way was up anymore.” His voice turned gravelly as he spoke as strong emotions coursed with his words. “I had convinced myself in the deep dark parts of me that I never try and speak to that if I did good in this he would see what I was worth.” He stopped his face taking on this expression of mocking disbelief as he continued, “Finally he would come along. Be repentant, beg me to forgive him, and we could start fresh as I proved that I was worth his time. Now I would allow him to do the same.”

He sat again staring at the screen, the two men in the ring tumbling, twisting. The announcer was increasing his tone, his pitch to match the action. The crowd was screaming, yelling.   This was made all the more apparent by his stillness. His green eyes wide yet focused on the screen, almost innocent with shadows. For a moment Banner could see him as he had been when he fell in love with this sport. That young boy that hadn’t yet understood the whys and hows of life, but knew if he could chose it would be like what he saw.

“My foundation, my hopes and dreams were rocked and shattered. It was more devastating because I didn’t know until that very moment how much of what I had done and become was based on this perception. I had built everything on the idea that one day he would think I was worth his time.” He stared silently at the screen for a few moments after his wrenching speech.

Banner looked at the screen because his face was much too painful to look at. Then she just looked at the floor because watching what had made him choose what he had chosen was no better. She could see it. What a small boy would see; all the fans, the unconditional love, the affection. The absolute lines of right and wrong. Men hugging each other knowing that it was okay. It was the same things that made young boys play football or any other sport. Why boys joined the military. Why they joined gangs.  Always, they were just looking for a man strong enough to love them. They sacrificed everything only to wake up one day and realize that the only man that could do that for them is the one they become.

“My father, and I use that term loosely, is a waste of space,” he began his eyes never leaving the screen. “I was never going to matter to him. I was the fallout of a drunken night on a leave weekend from some Mexican whore that didn’t know any better. He was the son of a high ranking Navy Colonel and no way was the world going to know what he sired and with what. He considers my mother and our family mongrel beasts; nothing but poor hapless peasant stock. Had he known that I was being born he probably would’ve had it taken care of. As it was, my mother was much smarter than he ever figured. She used it to get into America. She made the ass pay child support and raised me to know all sides of myself. Not just the ones she was comfortable with. She planned it all out, right down to my name. Now I just know that the prick did a disservice to only himself. He missed out on an amazing woman.” He ended reverently.

“And a son,” Banner said softly.

“I think some things are hereditary. It took me a while to become the boy my mother tried to raise.”   He dropped his head. “The fallout from me was much worse than my father had ever wrecked.” He said dispassionately.


He wiped his face showing his exhaustion. “You’re right; I need a break. Didn’t realize it, but that took a lot out of me,” he gestured towards the TV. “Sit and watch for awhile?” he asked.


Make Mine A Heel available in ebook and coming soon in print.


Monday, November 28, 2016

The Art of Discrimination



All of my journey and my striving to be better than I was yesterday was never really for me. It was and it wasn't. It was about love. All of my life because of what I am and being influenced by American ideologies about women specifically dark women, I've sought to be better than that description because I never wanted to find myself in a situation where I loved someone who wouldn't see me as being good enough to love. It has been my worst fear since the day I found out that I was not the kind of person who deserved love. For me that happened when I was very young the age being impressionable as I was told by many many people in positions of power that people who looked like me didn't deserve love. So I wanted to make sure that I was extraordinary in some way. I wanted to achieve and be able to say to the world I too deserve love do not deny me because of my race, my economic status, my gender. Identity politics as it were at its finest. It wasn't called that then. It was just the way the world was. I thought that if I could be something other than what was normally expected I could change that. I was naive.

I learned that the way I saw it isn't how discrimination works. Discrimination is about deciding things like this about people without considering who they are individually. Discrimination is about setting values to a human being that mostly dehumanize them by implying that they don't need or deserve the very basic needs for sustaining a human life where they can act in love, care and compassion for others. Its about determining that they do not deserve to have the same rights others enjoy. It wasn't until I was much older that I realized that. The trick of discrimination is it doesn't matter who I really am, what I fight for, what I care about. The person discriminating never cared enough to find out. Its the ultimate catch 22 because its like deciding that a box contains nothing but garbage because its wrapper is green and you've never actually opened a green wrapped package assuming its all garbage. How do you break through that haze of misinformation when the person who believes in it believes so fully that they refuse to even test it once.

In a lot of ways I believe that's what we are experiencing in a wide array of ways in this post election environment. We've had reputable news outlets determined as garbage. Whole populations of people determined as garbage. Ways of life and loving declared garbage. Its exhausting to live each day knowing that there are people within your vicinity in your grocery stores in your neighborhood that believe that some people and their lives are garbage. You can feel it in them. In the way they look at you. In how they search for the parts of you that confirm that you're the garbage they were told you are. They negate that any perceived faults are merely human ones that we all suffer and battle with. They usually judge you on a different scale not allowing even the slightest bit of error. The benefit of the doubt means nothing because you never deserved it. Its not that far of a step to be so entrenched in the idea that even the best possible people are muted and muddled because of your need to view them as garbage.

I have so much hurt in my soul and my spirit for us as people. We stare at each other from across a cavernous gulf that literally does not exist. Each side yelling the exact same thing each getting louder trying to be heard and never noticing that they are yelling the same thing. They are yelling "I'm human, I hurt I bleed I matter. I matter." 

A lot of these issues are sparking fresh for me as I write my next book which examines that very extreme juxtaposition between a creative minority female and a privileged rich white male.  I always found the seducing the millionaire books lacking because they ignore a very fundamental aspect of socialization which is social groupings. Its not easy to disengage from one social grouping and become fully accepted in another. Its even harder to pull off the love it takes to make the person perceived as less then seem worthy. Love can begin to bridge this gap but we are social and social circles greatly effect the way relationships are conducted maintained and thrive. I know its fiction, you say. Yes it is but if a fairytale has no hope of coming true then why tell it?

In confronting this I realized that there was only a few ways to dig deep enough that a true love could grow. So I did a terrible thing to my male lead. I showed him the absolute truth of his lifestyle. And now he's going to turn around and show my female lead the absolute truth of hers. Its not going to be an easy thing to write because all of my misgivings about beauty, protection and the state of trying to be a joyful carefree black girl in the south will be right at the surface. In many many ways I am her. Weird, artsy with strong headed opinions and a lack of fear that is utterly appalling if you care for this person. The male lead, the idea the person that I've been told all my life I have to find a way to matter to. The person I have to convince that I'm human and deserve love.

I've rarely gotten through my tougher scenes without needing to stop and weep. I feel like now more than ever its so important that I get this out. Lance the wound and let out the infection that has haunted me and crippled me for most of my life. Because you realize one day that you haven't spent your life trying to prove to 'him' that you're human and matter. You were never fighting the masses for your humanity. Discrimination and representation are much more insidious than that. Because some days you ask you really wonder am I really less than human? Is that why joy seems so far away so removed from my life. Are they right? Has God decided that people like me only deserve hell and scraps from the table of humanity like a dogs.  Did He just create us to suffer at the feet of those who will never treat us with the care and concern we have always given them? The problem in those questions is that you aren't looking for those answers from those other people.

The trick is that the arguments and the positions the situations are so compelling you start to think it must be true when you are beat with them everyday for hours on end in almost every encounter in almost every instance of life. You know in the deepest part of yourself that to deny the teachings is in its own way denying reality. Others who need to keep this as a reality beat it into the ground using repetition to control your pattern based brain to guide it to their designs. But then you learn and you grow and understand reality is not a static instance, the use of repetition is folly within itself as the proof that the narrative is incomplete and must be false.  Reality is ever changing, no single moment is identical to any other moment, sunrise sunset and it is ultimately a tool that shapes life.  Like any tool it can be used to the advantage of some and to the disadvantage of others.


When you reshape and re-purpose the tool you see where the trick really lied. It told you that you needed them to acknowledge that you were human and deserving of love when the first and finest principles of philosophy had already given you that power. I think therefore I am. When you unmask the wizard and pull back the curtain you see yourself staring right back at you. You've spent a life time trying to prove your humanity to yourself. That is the only person who needs to believe in your dignity, your grace, your humanity, your right to be loved as you are is you.

When you're newly freed you shed that reality and that world and you began your own alchemy.


Images:

https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/c1/cb/1b/c1cb1bfc9136bfe8eb6ba732c0b49118.jpg
https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/c1/37/b9/c137b9d26201ce52fe98199be50dc159.jpg
http://m1psychology.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/10/discrimination-fish.jpg
https://www.google.com/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&ved=0ahUKEwi3huyTrszQAhVMTCYKHQhEBh4QjBwIBA&url=https%3A%2F%2Farmstrongmedia.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fwp-content%2Fuploads%2F2015%2F06%2FDiscrimination-1.jpg&bvm=bv.139782543,d.eWE&psig=AFQjCNH1WBz9MtSw5juBR7ECuGW2UjA2iA&ust=1480453640675820
http://csinvesting.org/wp-content/uploads/2012/06/sheep-words.jpg

Friday, November 11, 2016

Familiar With This Sort of Thing - SPRSWB

“I would like to take your hand, but I don’t want you to have another episode,” he admitted candidly.

Which made Clair ask, “You seem familiar with my odd behavior, why is that?”

Sergei smirked at her.  “You don’t know much about gypsies do you?”

“Well I don’t give any credence to most stereotypes, I don’t see fortune-tellers and the like.” Clair affirmed.

Sergei leaned back in his chair.  “As terrible as it is to say, while stereotypes themselves are wrong, some of their assumptions are based in fact.”

“You believe in things beyond the norm,” she stated more than asked.

“Believe them, hell, I’ve seen ‘em,” he imparted. “Not everything of this world can be explained by science or anything else for that matter.”  He pinned her again with his laser blue eyes.  “I don’t discount anything, there is something in you Clair that is beyond the norm and it glows off of you like a beacon, it attracts me.”

Clair knew she was staring at him in the oddest fashion but she couldn’t seem to control the instinct to do so.  All of her life she just knew that talking about the eccentric nature of her family line would be a bad ideal for a first date.  It would be a bad ideal before marriage but she had admitted to herself that she would’ve volunteered the information if Jonny had ever asked her to be his wife.  She had never guessed that the secrets of her lineage permeated off of her and someone open to those ideals would be able to associate and see how she was different from most people.

“To be honest, I have a family history that would imply that extra sensory perception was an ability I should have, but you are the first person I’ve ever had even a blip of activity with.” Clair admitted.

Sergei frowned slightly.  “Really?  I find that very interesting.  Not a single occurrence before?”

Clair shrugged sheepishly, “Not involving anything else besides music.”

Sergei sat silently for a moment the question burning in his form as he softly asked, “How bad was it, Clair?”


Clair was very solemn and couldn’t hide the fear in her voice as she said slowly, “Bad.”

Grab your copy of So a Psychic and a Rocket Scientist Walk Into a Bar
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Wednesday, November 9, 2016

I Choose to Not Let You Die - SPRSWB

With the clarity of daylight, understanding flooded her senses.  “Oh dear God, you knew you were coming to New Mexico to die.”

Sergei didn’t pretend to not.  “I don’t back down Clair, I face things head on.”

Clair was beside herself with rage at the lack of care he showed with his life.  “You are insane,” She uttered carefully. “I’m not the only one who needs a keeper apparently.”  She got up and headed for her kitchen but stopped short and turned around to look at him. She didn’t mean to but ended up yelling the last bit out, “How long have you known?”

He casually shrugged.  “All my life really.”  He stood and tried to touch Clair but she pulled back. He held up his hands.  “You believe in patterns, right?”

She shook her head.  “No Serg, not like this, this is not the pattern.  Death is a natural transition, murder is malicious and brought about by pattern wreckers.”

He moved closer to her but made no effort to touch her again.  “Sometimes the pattern needs to be wrecked so that it can begin again, set right from being wrecked before.  Can you agree with that?”

Clair huffed loudly because they both knew that she did so she refused to answer.  “Our paths change here, for better or for worse, we choose, it isn’t chosen for us,” she clarified with a great deal of passion.

Sergei nodded.  “I agree, I choose,” he emphasized the word, “not to run away from this.”


Clair, still enraged, felt her chin rise as she declared, “I choose to not let you die.”

Other Posts on this book:
That Scene with Sergei and Clair
Sergei
Clair Fair
Love is Queen
So a Psychic and a Rocket Scientist Walk into a Bar

Grab your copy of So a Psychic and a Rocket Scientist Walk Into a Bar
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Friday, November 4, 2016

Karmatically Predisposed Not to Lie to Me - SPRSWB

Sergei walked into her home.  “Perhaps the anticipation of seeing you has me at a disadvantage.”
With slow deliberation he turned to her and pulled her into his arms.  He shifted and tilted her just enough that she had to grab his arms for support.  For a moment his lips hovered over hers letting her breath in as he exhaled and then returned the favor.  “Something very appealing about watching you breathe me in,” he whispered against her lips.

He watched her skin flush and her eyes dilate ever so slightly.  The woman was exquisite, God help him if she ever figured it out.  He sealed his mouth to hers.  Clair stopped bracing herself and sunk her fingers into his hair a startled sound coming from her. Sergei felt his head swim for a moment, he could get drunk just kissing this woman.  Resigned he lifted his head and resettled Clair in front of him.  They had things afoot.  “Your mother?”

Clair blinked up at him, still slightly dazed. “My mother?”

Sergei smiled despite himself.  He did understand how she felt, the control freak in him would be damned if he showed it.  “Are we going to her?”

Clair nodded. Then started wringing her hands.

Sergei took her arms into his hands. “Clair?”

She shook her head.  “I can’t... I don’t know what... how to explain...,” she huffed deeply. “I’ve never... in my life... to this degree...”

Sergei just stared at her enjoying her gapping.  “Clair, spit it out.”

“I want to jump your bones.”  Clair’s grey eyes popped open and she put her hand to her mouth staring at Sergei in an accusatory way.  “Did you, I don’t know why I just…”  She stared at him gravely.

“I told you, it was a two-way street.  I can’t lie to you either.”  Sergei said softly relief in his voice. 

“It’s starting to become a permanent state.  Before I met you I at least knew when to keep my mouth shut.  But if anyone asks me anything about you, if you ask me anything, the truth comes flying out.  Whether I want it to or not.”

Clair pulled a face thinking about this.  “Karmatically predisposed not to lie to me, that’s not so bad.”

Sergei held up his finger, “Two-way street.”

Clair shrugged.  “I don’t lie often enough to really worry about it.”

Sergei grinned at the shock mixed with horror that spread across her face.

“This sucks.” Clair winced hard as she heard her own words.

Sergei nodded.  “Not all the fun and games you thought it would be huh?”


“Not at all.”  She put up her hands.  “Let’s go.”

Grab your copy of So a Psychic and a Rocket Scientist Walk Into a Bar
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Wednesday, November 2, 2016

So a Psychic and a Rocket Scientist Walk into a Bar - Those Witchy Rumors

Charlie took the hint well.  He got up as well and started out of the office.  “There are weird voodoo rumors circling Clair, just be careful.”  He threw over his shoulder as he was walking out.

Sergei smirked.  “And why would that be a problem?”

Charlie shrugged.  “Some guys get put out about things like that.  Weird witchy shit.  Never know what will happen when one gets uptight about you.”

“Charlie Benson, are you afraid of sweet harmless Clair?” Sergei asked clearly bemused by the prospect.

Charlie shrugged again.  “Not really but you know, it bears to wonder about.  Just in case things go sour.”

“They won’t,” Sergei winced internally, that truth trigger of his was just as hair pinned as ever.

“Confidence,” Charlie said.  “Something else geniuses have a wealth of without thinking about how hard it is for other people.”

Charlie shuffled out of the room leaving Sergei watching his back not really sure if he was okay or not.  With a huff, Sergei sat back down and stared at the screen. The chirping of the cell phone brought him away from any reflective thoughts. “Clair.” He answered recognizing the number.

“What’s your schedule like?” she asked a little impatiently.

He shrugged hearing the anxiety in her tone.  “Whatever it needs to be. I’m my own boss remember.”

“Tomorrow night, about 6:30.  My mother is free.” She said slowly.


“I’ll meet you at your place, with bells on.”  He stated ironically.

Other Posts on this book:
That Scene with Sergei and Clair
Sergei
Clair Fair
Love is Queen
So a Psychic and a Rocket Scientist Walk into a Bar


Grab your copy of So a Psychic and a Rocket Scientist Walk Into a Bar
Amazon
Barnes and Noble
Smashwords

Tuesday, November 1, 2016

So a Psychic and a Rocket Scientist Walk into a Bar - Now Available

I think I've been very wordy regarding what this book means to me.  So I felt the best way to express that was to write a Samhain blessing to accompany its release.

I shed the skin of who I once was to carry the form of who I am to become
I release those bound to me by dislike and doubt to let our harm be done
I ask that grace releases our dark desires and opens our hearts to another power
I declare there be peace between us as this time slips away in these next few hours
Leave our pain and sorrow our ill will and ill words on the pyre to disperse as it burns
Let the renewal of hope and faith take root in those spaces as the witching hour turns
I fondly send away those who lost their lights in this cycle leaving the world dark in their wake
As I prepare a place for those who will now shimmer to shine to burn for thier namesake
Honor to who came before whose bravely lived lives have hollowed the path that I pace
May the passion the fevor the will of their purpose and light forever be reflected in my face
I am who I will be, as I am what I was
I am who they were for being is what one does
Blessed be to those who light the way
Blessed be as we share this new day

Other Posts on this book:
That Scene with Sergei and Clair
Sergei
Clair Fair
Love is Queen
So a Psychic and a Rocket Scientist Walk into a Bar

Grab your copy of So a Psychic and a Rocket Scientist Walk Into a Bar
Amazon
Barnes and Noble
Smashwords

Wednesday, October 19, 2016

Sleep Cycles, Dream Bots and Time Travel

Bear with me, I am self admittedly insane, everyone knows that by now. Most of my insanity stems from my dreams. So I often wonder about everyone’s dreams.  I know how my dreams are, the things I see, the things I do and the way I feel.  Everyone has those odd okay I dreamt this and now it's happening moments in life, but what do you do when you start having them constantly.  Besides Prozac that is.

I sleep less and less, not on purpose just residually.  I love sleeping I hate what I dream because I dream of nothing without purpose. My life is almost a daily mode of perpetual déjà vu. At times like this, it’s intensified. People like to think that being able to tell the future and understanding things about life away would be awesome.  But do you really want to know all of the awful or wonderful things that will happen to you and those you love most?  You don't dream about the winning lottery numbers, in the grand scheme of things, these material things are not the lessons you are being taught. The things I dream about are emotional, moral and spiritual. What I have learned over time is that whether you know the outcome or don't know the outcome, very rarely (if ever) can you change the outcome.  At best you usually just delay the outcome.  Those are full circle moments, the powers that be putting you on the path they set that you were silly enough to get off of and find yourself right back in that direction.  I'm living one right now actually in regards to my education.

I believe we get these directives from our dreams.  Yes little dream bots that like to set up your sleeping landscape to properly convey the message you need to be given.  Your sleep cycles determine how many of the little buggers you get. Every human being that has caused or will cause cataclysmic upheaval in my life I've dreamed of.  And depending on the level of chaos they bring, they have a recognizable role in my dreams.  Some are calming, some odd, some brief some ongoing. But I dream of no one that plays no role in my life whether right now or in the near future.

I've found out from friends that those very people have the oddest dreams about me.  Apparently I dream of no one who doesn't dream of me back, whether they know it or not.  Oddly enough in their dreams I'm this scythe of justice, telling things like it is without flinching and generally punishing those that are doing wrongful deeds. Funny but sounds too Goddess Athena with an arch angel Gabriel sidecar for me.  Because sometimes I'm told, I'm in armor wielding a sword, yeah, suitable but off putting.

So that leads directly into time travel. My dreams don't stay in one place in time they actually span a wide variety of times.  I never really understood it before. I would notice the change of dress and the environment but never really negotiated it with time travel. Then when I thought about the idea of past lives and instances of precognition, before your personality is formed in the womb you would be made privy to a wealth of information right before being sealed in flesh.  I would imagine that the whole kaleidoscope of time is spread before you for such a short time that we can't count it.  In that flash you would know everything and then it's gone.  The side effects, the residuals of that stay with you as you pick from everything what you aspire to the most.  Who you will be.

I've started a new book series where I'll start delving deeper into some of these off kilter asinine theories of mine.  The series will be about renewal, a changing of the guards so to speak.  An ascension of humanity into becoming their own shepherds keepers and guardians.  I've started the first two books of the series.  They'll have to be dubbed SCI-Fi romance because of the pairing off, mating aspect but really it's just not discounting any side of life.  So much knowledge and information passes between human beings during sex, were we more open to it we would learn so much more. It's why intimacy can be increased with sex but not created.  You have to know the person before you're able to truly understand what they are physically saying to you.  Bad communication is just that.


So through sleep cycles, dream bots and time travel a new future will be written.

Wednesday, October 12, 2016

Confessions of the Unrequited

As intelligent human beings we sometimes have a tendency to ignore basic fundamental truths about life.   One being our instincts and how accurate they are most of the time.  In my opinion, as we have become more and more 'civilized' we have figured out how to ignore our animal natures for the sake of logic.  I particularly have a tendency to ignore all that defies logic.

Love has and always will defy logic.  Why would I, how could I fall in love in a moment without a thought other than this.  I am in love.  Frozen and in shock completely unbidden. I never asked for this part. For so long I've been aware of your existence and never noticed anything about it. One moment, one chance meeting and I see nothing else. I feel like I'm insane.  I am an intelligent, rational, pragmatic creature that only on occasion commits to flights of fancy and fantasy driven rhetoric.  And when I do, I'm careful to keep it contained.  But this overwhelms me and I can't hold it in not one second longer.

What are the rules of engagement when it comes to declaring impossible, unrequited fairytale love?  In person, by love letter, over a near death experience.  All can either take the path of enlightenment or fall short to suffer the slow pangs of death by the mundane rudimentary nature of our normal existences.  But I was never a stickler for normalcy. Normalcy feels like art without passion. Just an empty shell of what could be. I'm rambling and stalling.

I hope this is taken with the utmost suspension of disbelief.  Because I don't believe I have ever been so painfully honest as I am being right now for you.

I don't know you, yet what I feel . . . I am in love with you and I know as surely as the sun will rise in the morning and set the following night that I will love whoever I find you to be. 


When you tell others of this foolish strange wordy woman throwing herself at you shamelessly, please feel flattered.  I beg of you to speak kindly of someone who has never conducted herself like this before and try not to make it into too big of a joke at my expense.  I may be insane but I stopped believing in fairytales a long time ago so I expect nothing more than the knowledge that I was honest enough to tell you.

Thursday, July 21, 2016

Make Mine a Heel Post Mortem

Growing up in Texas there were two things that a lot of people did religiously.  Watch football and wrestling. My first wrestling event wasn’t on TV.  The first time I saw professional wrestling was live at the now defunct Sportatorium in downtown Dallas. It was World Class Championship Wrestling. I cried the whole time cause I thought people were really being hurt.  That certainly made the experience itself pretty memorable.  My mother told me right then and there it hurts some, but they aren’t as badly hurt as they make out.  So then I was fascinated by it because I wanted to understand how you could fake that stuff.  My little brother and I would watch religiously, and yes sometimes we did very unfortunate things to each other in misguided reenactments.

My love for football came later as I grew up enough to actually understand the mechanics of the game.  I think it’s a very interesting analogy.  I hated football right up until the moment I understood it.  I think a lot of life is like that.

The character of Dominique ‘Dangerous’ Dutton was originally created years ago as I participated in a play by mail wrestling promotion one of my friends was running.  I loved it because once a month I could sit, and plot out the comings and goings of my wrestling stable called Bad Company. Thanks to my ability to write a ‘mile a minute mouth’ head heel and four flunkies, Bad Company had the entire roster after them, and the top dogs of a sister promotion. With this paper testing done I figured had he been real, he would’ve gotten a rise out of anyone. So when I decided to write a wrestling romance novel it just all came together.

It was a dare I gave myself to write a viable novel about 2 things I enjoy so much I never want to try and live without them. Make Mine a Heel was a project and writing of pure love. It even has a muse that I dedicated it to if you read the book. But it wasn't just the dedication or the love of something like wrestling. It is a love letter not just to athletes of the sports I feature but to the people in the background often behind the scenes that have accepted roles people would assume are less glamorous but are not by any means less important. Its about a function and process.

Love is always hard to convey. Especially when something lives and breathes in you. I often find myself defending wrestling from the 'fake' naysayers. I argue so is most entertainment does that really take away from what you are seeing, what you are feeling?  I don't think so. I wanted to write something that gave a different perspective of the sport. One that highlighted many of the things that fans and none fans alike take for granted when thinking of this type of performer and professional. As a lifelong artist I know what it is to have your life's blood not respected. So I hoped to be able to use one of my passions to highlight and honor someone else's.

I feel like I have a decent amount in common with most people in the professional wrestling business. I have those childhood memories of watching wrestling and being obsessed with it. I developed an a true love for storytelling and physical expression. I also create art and it all has a base in the divine. We all are telling a story of some kind. I wanted this story to do the business justice but I could only do so from a limited fan perspective as I have never been so bold as to wrestle myself or be very close to someone who did or does for a living. So I always hoped my love letter to the business would be received as that and not undermine or disrespect what for me has always been something I've had the utmost respect for. I could gush about professional wrestling indefinitely but I don't want to bore you. So please grab read and enjoy.



Available in ebook from the following venders: Barnes & Noble, Amazon, Smashwords, Goodreads

Thursday, June 16, 2016

Never Surrender

Never settle or is it rather never surrender. Life as it stands seems to toil away at the much ballyhooed art of the beatdown. It is a grinding churning crushing system of pure attrition. The presence of life means the absence of death however the toil of life is the pathway to the unavoidable outcome. All decisions in life function around survival and what is needed to enable the most successful method of survival possible. And while quality of life is a compelling attribute we are honed by challenge.  The true forge of human levity, quality and quantity is strife, trial and battle. The convention of battle has been perverted. We hardly know what it is anymore other than a terse conversation with a coworker. The most intense and effective battles happen within and not without. On a grander scale they happen with those who have false impressions and opinions of us. The ones we are closest too that know us in ways we don't know ourselves. If you know someone who has never had even a mild criticism of you don't trust them. They haven't bothered to see you. And we need to be seen to benefit from battle and strife.

 The words benefit from battle may sound foreign but if people really think about it very little of consequence has ever come from surrender or settling.  All that occurs is that an easier more palpable outcome transpired.  Meaning you most likely did not get what you came for but you got what you needed. Fighting for the sake of also has its benefits. Like sparring in arguments with others over perspectives and viewpoints. But upon occasion everyone has to meet a moment when everything is on the line. Never deny that at the core of human engagement and action curiosity and conflict remain our more prolific motivators. When circumstances threaten what one has termed their life the obvious answer is to fight for it.

We are animals and in this idea we crave some of the same things all animals crave. But mostly we crave the competition of life.  The battle of supremacy. Peace while a respectable concept gains very little favor at the table of human avarice and society hierarchy.  We scrape for resources sometimes as shows of power and force.  An animalistic concept that binds us to our own brutality no matter how much we may despise it.  And always there is this sense of something more when that code is accepted. But from the second I became aware of myself as a human being and as an animal I knew that fighting was part of the primary function of existing. I felt the burn of it pushing against the back of my throat.  I felt an untapped resource in my belly ready to turn on if battle was presented. Felt what the emotions of anger rage and hurt could produce. I felt the power of them scorch my heart and pump it to flame.

I often write about battle in my books because there is no battle that has higher stakes than those involving love. Make no mistake my characters are in a duel that they plan on making a lifelong occurrence. There are those that argue that sex and not love is what is needed.  If love was not a needed resource we would not fight about over it and with it. We fight for sex but the true condition that sex mimics is love. Humanity is rife with tales of love. Love of others, places, things even love of self.  All stories carry the component of love in some respect because only love has the power to make a battle just and righteous. When fighting for love what else is viewed so well?

There is a reason the saying is all is fair in love and war.  It details the underlying current of love and human relationships.  We found them in battle not always through community. It’s why it will always be known as the battle of the sexes.  The inherent idea that the very opposition between the natures of men and women is the core value that makes the attachment beneficial.  They say it takes a strong person to make a relationship work and last.  I agree and every girlfriend or boyfriend does their part to help build your arsenal. If you don't see a relationship as a fight or seek to avoid fights then the end result will be the same matching the effort you have put in. Nothing ventured nothing gained.


The battle has to be engaged daily as point of action and as a point of acceptance of the very natures we are victim to. What we search for is not the perfect partner but the perfect adversary.  The one that makes us face what we are even when it’s unpopular.  The one who has only challenge in their heart and in their spirits.  The one who will tirelessly meet you on the field of battle again and again knowing that there is not any other place they would rather be. The love of your life should fight with you, against you, because of you but always at your side. And they should under no circumstances settle for less of you or ever surrender you.

Friday, May 20, 2016

Don't Apologize for Calling a Spade a Spade

“What do you mean? This is good info.”
“I’m not saying it isn’t.  It’s about how it was acquired.” He paused pacing, and stared aimlessly at the back wall. “Unless a person who would have this information legally claims to have given it to you.” He threw up his arms dramatically.  “It can’t be used.”
“In a court of law,” she finished as she dropped her ever-tiring head into her hands.  Abandoning that she popped her head up causing her hair to cascade over her head, and resettle disheveled. “So all this really did was put me on the chopping block.”
Thomas made an odd negative sound that was between a growl, and a hum as he started pacing again.  “Not necessarily; it gives us more than we had before.”
Not seeing the bright side like he was Charlotte hissed, “That being?”
Her sharp tone made him stop pacing, and turn to look at her as an odd expression briefly crossed his normally passive features. “A path.  We can figure out what he is doing, and how he’s been doing it.” Thomas nodded to himself. “I can use it to make him incriminate himself.”
He then looked at her for only the second time since he had determined that she needed to relocate.  The hard lines of his face softened slightly.  The difference was almost undetectable.  Most people probably wouldn’t notice, but Charlotte had.  It made his lips soften, and the crinkles around his eyes lessen.
“You need to sleep.” The statement was more of an order than an observation. 
Thomas walked back to the SUV, and pulled out her gym bag.  With a head gesture he inferred that she should follow him.  Feeling like she was just tired enough not to argue, Charlotte lifted herself from the chair, and fell into pace behind him as he began clearing the space to the staircase.  They went upstairs, and he opened the door of the first room.  Charlotte followed him, and it was like she was at the Hyatt all of the sudden.
The room was like a hotel room.  The furniture was wooden and in solid colors.  Not great, but not bad.  It was mostly sterile, and looked like a man had picked out everything.  There were no knick-knacks, just basics.  An ugly pasty green couch, a matching chair, and some dull wooden end tables were the highlights of the decor.  In the corner was a kitchenette with a full sized fridge, stove, dishwasher, and microwave.  The sink was a single basin with a washrag, and dish soap nearby.  The second door in the room lead to a bedroom that housed a king-sized bed covered in a hideous beige comforter, and some more of the dull wooden end tables the living area sported.
“Bathroom is connected to the bedroom,” Thomas said as he threw her gym bag on the bed, and started for the door.
Charlotte stared at the room, and grabbed the arm of the brooding man as he passed her.  She almost hissed at the warmth of him through her fingertips.  The feeling was short lived as he stopped, and removed her hand from his arm by grasping her wrist.  The action made her snap her eyes to his, and they held for a moment neither of them blinking for the space of two breathes.
“You’re safe here Charlie.”
“Tommy—,” she stammered not really believing that she had addressed him so familiarly.  It had to be her exhaustion because he had not done anything that would make her assume such an air with him.  The look that danced in his eyes for a moment could’ve been shock or anger.  She wasn’t sure, but she was sure that she had crossed some invisible line with the name that had fell from her lips.
 “Thomas,” she quickly corrected looking up at him.  “I didn’t mean— on the phone—”
He whipped her body into his, and ducked his head to seal his mouth to hers.  Charlotte felt the burn of his lips against hers.  The abrupt entry of his tongue pushing between her teeth made her stiffen, then practically melt against him.  Her wrists were captured behind her back by one of his larger hands.  The other hand had taken possession of her left butt cheek pulling her against his body.  She moaned in a haze of adrenaline, pleasure, and fear as she kissed him back with just as much ferocity as he was kissing her with.  His hips were grinding into hers.  She could feel the length of his erection between them.  With that knowledge her knees nearly buckled.  What she wouldn’t give to get her hands on him.
What had started as rough tongue stabbing was dissipating.  The forays he took between her lips were becoming more leisurely as he explored her mouth with long slow licks that drug his tongue over all of the surfaces of hers.  He would pull away slightly, and then decide that he wasn’t done, and take her mouth again.  This happened a few more times before he pulled back, and slowly licked his lips.  Panting they held there breathing each other’s air.  He let his eyes roam over her face.  She watched as they settled on her lips then flew back to her eyes.

“Don’t apologize for calling a spade a spade,” his deep voice was rough, and his accent was dominating his pronunciation.
An excerpt from Charlotte's Chance on AmazonBarnes & Noble and Smashwords

Tuesday, May 17, 2016

And Now the Running

Sandra had a corner apartment on the third floor.  They were the only units in the building that offered the large obnoxious roman bathtubs.  The only draw back, if you saw it that way, was that they were at the end of the living group for the hallway.  The closest thing to her door was the fire escape across the hall. It was open, and Sandra loved to climb it instead of taking the elevator or the interior stairs.  In her heart of hearts Sandra was really a recluse, and this suited her.
While musing over the oddities that comprised her best friend, Charlotte had locked the door, and had that feeling. As soon as she had turned the bolt, the sudden creepy crawly feeling of being watched covered her.  It had been in a split second, but her mind had yelled RUN!!  She hadn’t thought about it, she had just reacted.  She had run to the elevator of the long hall way as the door was closing.  Then she bolted for the stairwell at the end of the hall.  Charlotte hadn’t heard the footsteps, but she had felt the eyes.
Don’t look back.’  She heard her brother in her head yelling at her.  The self-defense pointers he had given her starting to play in her mind. 
Focus on what is in front of you.  Will yourself to that place.’  She flew through the doorway to the stairwell. 
If you get a chance, hide, don’t try and outrun them.’
She turned the stairwell, and went up instead of down.  The stairwell was a myriad of walled half flights, carpeted, and quiet.  She crouched on the other side of the wall facing the steps leading to the next level hoping her pursuer didn’t realize that she was there.  Charlotte pressed her back to the wall of the stairwell flattening her palms near her hips.  She balanced on the balls of her feet ready to spring because of the low heels on her black boots.  Her breath was coming out loudly almost panting. The air-conditioned area was musty like carpet that had been left wet.  There was a single oval recessed light on each landing right above the open space before you stepped through the door.
The creaking of the door on the landing beneath her as it flew open made her stop breathing.  Charlotte swallowed her gasp. Her heart was beating so loudly it could probably be heard from the street. She flexed her hands against the wall willing herself not to move. Even as the slight sound of padded footsteps receding reached her she waited before she let out the breath she had been holding.
Be patient. Don’t make a mistake now. You’re almost there.’
Charlotte slowly moved away from the wall, and made her way back down to the landing she had come from.  She walked slowly, fearful that her pursuer would get wise, and come bolting back up the stairs at any moment. When she reached the hallway she stood nervously in front of the elevator knowing that she couldn’t go down it alone.  She paced a few moments as a crowd of young adults made their way to the elevator.  A few of the ladies had hair like hers.
Don’t shy away from people.  Other people are your best cover if someone is looking for you to be alone.
She boarded the elevator with them.  They reached the garage under the building where she had parked her F-150.  Because of her brother’s diligent teachings, she always parked very close to elevators, and always under highly lit areas.  Charlotte streaked for her F-150, and got in locking the doors, and starting the truck in the same motion.  The creepy feeling returned, and for a split second she stared into the black eyes of a tall stocky man with a greasy look and feel to him.  His face snarled as she hit reverse, shifted to drive, and burned rubber pealing out of the parking lot.
It had all happened so quickly.  She had come home locked all her doors, closed all her blinds, and battled herself into not calling the police.  What would she say?  I think this guy was following me.  Oh yeah because my best friend and me have gotten ourselves into some serious trouble with a local oil baron.  And did I mention the CIA agent that kidnapped her off to Japan.

She had finally convinced herself that she would’ve sounded nuts.  At that time she most likely would have.  After all who was to say the guy didn’t need change or something.  Maybe he was a bill collector she had missed and was trying to find Sandra.  Charlotte had spent the night concocting an array of amusing, interesting antidotes that would explain what had happened at Sandra’s apartment.  Then it had happened again.

An excerpt from Charlotte's Chance on Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Smashwords