Tuesday Tales: Picture Time

Badge for TT - very smallSurprise! I didn’t think I would be posting this week, but there isn’t much to do in the pouring rain so we came home a day early. Today is Thanksgiving in Canada, and I have a lot to be grateful for, not the least of which are those of you who follow my blog and support me each week.

This week is picture week and I’ve chosen the image below to go with Same Time Next Year, my contemporary romance.

woman in sunset

Enjoy!

Standing, Michael turned to the window. The sun, hung low on the horizon turning the Pacific Ocean gold, pulling him back to another sunset fifty years ago. He could see her sitting cross-legged on the grass, staring out at Indian Lake sparkling in the glow of the setting sun. He’d only known her a little more than three weeks, but she was his everything, his destiny.

Twyla had been waiting for him when he’d finished work. Her eyes were puffy and red-rimmed from crying.

“What’s wrong?”

“Father arrived a week early. Oh Mike, we leave tomorrow. I don’t want to go,” she wailed, tears slipping down her cheeks.

Wanting to hold her, he stood there woodenly, nodding at the old ladies going into the store, his gut aching the way it had when Tom had sucker-punched him.

“Why?”

“I don’t know. He and Mother had a terrible argument, I think over money,  but I wasn’t paying attention.

“Your dad doesn’t have money problems.  It won’t be dark for at least four hours. Do you have to be back for dinner?”

“No. I made a scene and father said he would not look at me until tomorrow. I can’t wait for my birthday. Once I’m eighteen, he won’t be able to order me around.”

“Then let’s go to our place and talk.”

They’d ridden their bikes to their place, a point of land jutting into the lake. It was beyond the last cottage and no one went there to disturb them. He’d barely spread the orange plaid car blanket he’d borrowed for their picnic when she started to undress.

They made love with a desperation that wouldn’t be denied. He wanted to make it last, but the passion flared and the climax came too soon. Cheat heaving, Twyla stood and dove into the lake.

“T, wait for me.”

That’s it for this week! Don’t forget to check out all the other posts on  Tuesday Tales.

Same Time Next Year isn’t the only book born on Tuesday Tales.  Check out Hello Again, my paranormal/suspense/romance available from Amazon. https://www.amazon.com/Hello-Again-Susanne-Matthews-ebook/dp/B01FGN88I6

 

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Insecure Writers’ Support Group Monthly Blog Hop.

Insecure Writers Support Group BadgeIF YOU ARE LOOKING FOR THE MIDWEEK TEASE, IT’S JUST AHEAD OF THIS POST! 

Welcome to this months’ hop. I was MIA the last couple of months thanks to holidays, but I’m back. This month’s question:

Have you ever slipped any of your personal information into your characters, either by accident or on purpose?

I do it all the time. I often use places I’ve visited as settings and describe my reactions to them. For example, if I ate something I loved, I’ll mention that dish.  On another note, my characters often suffer my allergies, hang-ups, and preferences.

I would find it impossible to write without putting myself and my experiences into my books. My current wip is based on a place I visited and something that happened to a close friend post surgery, something that made a lasting impression on me.  Other books have touched on happy and sad events in my life or that of close family members. They all serve as inspiration.

Stop by and check out the rest of this month’s posts.

http://www.insecurewriterssupportgroup.com/p/iwsg-sign-up.html

 

Midweek tease: From Holiday Magic, One Last Walk Through Central Park

New midweek tease imageGood morning, and welcome to this week’s Midweek tease. If you live in the Northern Hemisphere, you are in the early stages of fall. The trees are giving up the last of their leaves in a vivid splash of color. Most years, that happens all at once, but because of this summer’s crazy weather, they are taking turns. The maples wore their red dresses early and many are already bare as the other trees turn yellow. The orange I loved so much is lacking this year. I’m hoping I will see some as I travel to Ticonderoga NY to see the original television set of the Star ship Enterprise. Monday will be Canadian Thanksgiving. To all of you celebrating, have a great holiday weekend.

Many thanks to Angelica Dawson and everyone else who makes this weekly blog hop fun. Today’s tease comes from Holiday Magic. Maybe some of you New Yorkers will recognize the place. Central Park in late fall.

Enjoy.

As usual this afternoon, she’d entered the park at West 79th Street, just down from the shop, and had walked along the paths from one landmark to another, but unlike those days where she sought inspiration in the things around her, today she searched for confirmation that she’d made the right decision.

The phone conversation two weeks ago, the one that had propelled her into action, echoed in her head. Right up until last Friday, the day her condo had sold, she’d doubted the wisdom of returning to the city of her shattered dreams, but everything had fallen into place. Even the nightmares had stayed away, and she took it as a sign she’d made the right choice, but…

Georgia shook her head to clear the unhappy memories, and returned her thoughts to the present. She’d paused to stare at the stone base of Belvedere Castle on the Great Lawn and watched the man and young boy flying their kite, while the woman with the pram cheered them on. She’d wanted children, another wish that would never come true.

Crossing to the Turtle Pond, she’d stopped again near the Delacorte Theater and its barren Shakespearean garden, had taken a picture for a honeymooning couple, envying their happiness, before coming here to see Gwen and have a final cup of tea.

From where she sat, she could see the Angel of the Waters holding her lily, standing atop the now drained fountain on the Bethesda Terrace. The four cherubs beneath her—Temperance, Purity, Health, and Peace—had been the inspiration for last year’s Valentine’s Day Merry Cupids coat pin. The park and Gwen had helped her heal. Unlike the Biblical fountain at Bethesda, they hadn’t cured her, but the pain was bearable most days, and time would ease it more.

Georgia paid her tab, waved goodbye to Gwen and continued her final walk through the park and home. The realtor was coming tomorrow with the couple who had purchased the apartment. If she did have to come back to New York, she’d need to find another place to live, just as she had three years ago.

It wasn’t a particularly cold day, but dampness crept into her bones and chilled her. She strolled past the Hans Christian Anderson statue and the Conservatory Pond. Leon, the saxophone player was there and smiled at her, changing the tune he was playing to Georgia On My Mind as he often did. When he’d finished, he grinned.

“Hey, pretty lady. I didn’t think I’d see you today,” he said in his gruff voice.

“I came by to see the park one last time. I’m going back home.”

Leon smiled. “New York’s loss is Philly’s gain. That sister of yours must be walking on air.”

When Eleni had visited last August, Georgia had introduced her to Leon, one of the itinerant musicians who worked the park. A vet, he’d lost his legs in Afghanistan to a roadside bomb. Playing in the park gave him something to do as well as a nice chunk of change. Georgia had gotten to know him when she’d made one of her first pieces—a coat pin of him playing his sax. It had sold well, and when she’d wanted to give him a share of the proceeds, he’d asked her to donate them to the disabled vets instead.

“Eleni’s happy, that’s for sure,” she answered.

“And you?” he asked knowingly.

“I’m not sure yet, but I know I need to go.”

“Be happy, Georgia. Life’s too short for grudges and regrets. I’m glad I got to see you. I’m going to spend the winter in Florida with my sister. If you come back to New York, don’t forget to visit your old friend.”

“I won’t,” she said dropping a wad of cash into the sealed can attached to his wheelchair.

The wind had died, and she unbuttoned her coat as she walked the rest of the way toward the park exit.

She stopped one last time beside the Imagine Mosaic, the beautiful memorial to John Lennon in Strawberry Fields, and sat on one of the benches lining the sidewalk. Her gaze was caught by a leaf, the only one left in the old American elm tree, clinging tenaciously to its branch. That tree had inspired Autumn Leaves, and now as a farewell gift, it gave her the last Central Park Collection design. Finally giving up on seeing the leaf fall, she smiled, got up, and left the park at East 72nd Street, hurrying the last three blocks to her apartment.

I hope you enjoyed Georgia’s walk through the park. If you’d like to read more and see whether or not she’s made the right decision,

Please visit the rest of this week’s teasers.

#MidWeekTease October 4, 2017


Tuesday Tales: From the Word: Chain

 

Badge for TT - very smallWelcome to this week’s Tuesday Tales, the place where books are born. This week, the word prompt is CHAIN. I won’t be around next week for the picture prompt. My husband and I are off to Ticonderoga, NY, to visit Star Trek’s original USS Enterprise set.  Since it’s also Canadian Thanksgiving, what better way to celebrate the day than doing something so cool with the man I love?

This week, I’m continuing my contemporary romance, Same Time Next Year.  In today’s post, you get to meet Michael. I know a few of you have been wondering if you world. Enjoy!

“Mike, don’t be such a party-pooper,” Lydia snarled, her arms crossed over her ample bosom, a sheet of paper held between the fingers of her left hand. “Mavis Crowder was my best friend. Just because the two of you didn’t see eye to eye is no reason to deprive me of this opportunity to go back to The Captain’s Inn.”

“Hey, nobody’s stopping you,” he said, running his hand through his short white hair. “That invitation didn’t include me when it arrived, and I doubt it does now, so what’s really your problem?”

“You are. Charles decided he’s not coming unless you do,” she admitted, her mouth an inverted U, her lower lip protruding, the look in her eyes the one she’d always used to turn her father and later him into mush, but not this time. She might be the only family he had left, but he wasn’t going to give in. He had no desire to ever step foot near that place again. And as far as Mavis went, while he shouldn’t blame her for what happened, he did. The heart wasn’t always logical.

He shook his head. “Don’t dump this on me. If you can’t convince your own husband to go, why should I? Chuck probably remembers what a barracuda Mavis can be. Didn’t she hit on him when you attended Fiona Carson’s wedding about twenty years ago? I don’t see age improving her.”

“That’s water under the bridge. She and Rick were going through bad times—they’d just lost their son, for heaven’s sake—and she’d had too much to drink. You know better than anyone how those Department of Defense letters and calls can shatter a family. I’m sure she’s changed by now,” she answered, not backing down.

“Right, and a leopard changes its spots, too.” He exhaled heavily. “You’re sixty-six years old, Lydia, why don’t you just go by yourself? Besides, Chuck will be chained to the helm. This is our busiest time of the year.”

His sister stomped her foot, her hands fisted at her hips. “That’s exactly why he has to come with me, and so do you. Trent and Art are more than capable of handling things, and you know it. Charles promised me he’d slow down after the incident last spring, and he hasn’t.”

She never used her husband’s nickname despite the fact she was probably the only one on Earth who called him Charles.

“Sis, you’re getting yourself all worked up. It was a minor heart attack. He’s fine and staying busy is good for him. If it helps, I’ll talk to him. You guys can make this a second honeymoon. You really don’t need your big brother lurking in the bushes, watching your every move, like I did when we were kids. I can help the guys, maybe even take out a few tours myself.”

“Bo and the others are more than capable of doing that. Please,” she begged, “do this for me. Charles has no history there, and you know how he hates crowds. The wheelhouse is his favorite place to be, where he’s isolated from most of humanity.”

He chuckled. After years in the army, that wasn’t hard to believe. It was one of his favorite places too, as was his office when his sister wasn’t in it.

“Mavis has invited everyone who used to live in the area,” she continued, her voice cajoling. “Come on. This is our chance to revisit our old stomping grounds, maybe take a look at Indian Lake and see how things have changed. From her emails, I know Skeeter will be there, as will Jake and Johnny.”

IMG_0918He frowned. How long had it been since he’d seen those guys? He’d run into Herbert Simms, Skeeter, twenty years ago, just after he and Chuck had retired from the army and invested in a whale excursion tour boat out of Victoria. Skeeter had been a passenger on one of their tours that first summer. Now, Natsilane Tours owned three boats and ran tours all year round. They’d more than recovered their investment. Lydia was right, they could afford to take the time off, but watching his sister fidget, he realized there was something she wasn’t telling him.

“Lydia, I agree it might be nice to catch up with old friends, but there’s something you aren’t telling me, something that’s got you all worked up, and I don’t think it has anything to do with Chuck’s refusal to come or my old friends being there. Why do you really want me to come with you?”

She handed him the email she’d been holding.

“This came an hour ago. Twyla Lancaster is there—she’s staying at the inn for the month. You always said you wanted to know why she’d lied to you. This is your chance to do just that.” Her phone rang. She reached for it. “Damn, I have to take this. Promise me you’ll think about it? I have to go. We’ll talk later.” She hurried out of the office.

Michael stared at the paper in his hand, but he didn’t see the words printed on it. Instead, he saw the green eyes of the only woman he’d ever loved, the woman who’d shattered his dreams and broken his heart.

That’s it for this week! Don’t forget to check out all the other posts on  Tuesday Tales.

Same Time Next Year isn’t the only book born on Tuesday Tales.  Check out Hello Again, My paranormal/suspense/romance available from Amazon.