Monday, November 15, 2010


Here it is Monday again and I realize that I've been neglecting my blogs--of course I could use the excuse I've been writing and editing several stories. And I could add the fact life threw my poor son a nasty curve and he lost his job out in Arizona, forcing him to return home. But I won't. He's got a job and here I am blogging.

I've decided to try to be more consistent and give an excerpt from one of my stories every Monday. For Wednesday's, it'll be pot luck, which means whatever. A joke, quiz, etc. On Fridays I will try to give writing advice.

Sounds like a New Year's resolution, doesn't it? Well, I hope not, 'cause I've stopped making them. It's like lying to yourself.

For starters, here's a little something from A Heated Romance

“O’Dwyer, you look different,” Smith said, actually initiating a conversation with her.

“I left my helmet home.”

“Jeez! Can’t you ever be serious?”

“It’s hard since I never leave home without my sarcastic wit. Besides, I never know what kind of mood you’re going to be in.”

“I just wanted to say I like what you’ve done with yourself.”

She shrugged. He didn’t have to know how hard she’d worked to get that way. “All I did was put on a dress and apply some makeup.”

“Well, it looks nice. You look like a…a real…woman.”

Like the excruciatingly shrill screech of chalk scratching a blackboard, he’d gone and pressed the wrong buttons, as usual, causing something to short-circuit in Marcie’s head. Before she could stop herself, her eyes narrowed to slits and her nostrils flared with fury as she spewed, “I knew you’d say something sexist like that.”

“Damn, O’Dwyer. That’s not how I meant it,” Smith replied angrily.


Gritting his teeth, he replied, “Really!”

By this time, every eye at the table was watching, every ear listening, as though the two of them had forgotten where they were. Marcie ignored everyone and turned completely around in her chair to look him squarely in the eye. However she saw no defiance or anger. Instead she saw something she’d never seen in his eyes before. Had he actually been telling the truth? Could he be capable of giving a woman an honest compliment? She wasn’t certain how to respond. For the sake of the others at the table, she chose to believe him and go from there.
“To tell the truth, Smith, I wasn’t sure how you meant it, I mean, we’re not on what you would call the best of terms.”

“True. However we’re at a wedding, O’Dwyer. Try to be civil.”

“Civ—” The nerve of that man. She was about to blow again when Smith placed a finger on her lips. Lucky for him, she didn’t try to bite it off.

“Truce, O’Dwyer?”

Oh, BTW, if you go to, you'll find another excerpt for A Heated Romance.

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