FREE Book: More Than A Shadow by Toni Rakestraw

I had the pleasure of reading this long ago. It's a great story with a more than one thought-evoking message.

You think all skinny girls want to be that way? You think they all starve themselves? 

Think again.

Are you unhappy with your body? I think we all have been at some time or another. You may want to give this a go.

Blurb: Carrie Mitchell is the perfect size zero. Her life should be perfect, right? Not quite. Carrie has problems accepting her looks like so many others. Will she figure out a way to come out of the shadows and accept herself?

Get your copy of this short story FREE on Amazon for a limited time.

Combat Barbie by Heather Long

I have one complaint. Let's get that out of the way. I want a NOVEL featuring this heroine and her Female Engagement Team. She is awesome and what she does is amazing. Very strong and sexy heroine.


Mary Phillips is a former beauty queen who decided she wanted to use her brain, instead of her beauty and went on to find herself...in the Marines. She's fearless, she's tough, she's witty. When she's home on a deployment, she runs into the nerdy guy from high school, only he's not a nerd anymore.

This was a short story, so I'm going to make this a short review as to not give anything important away.

Love the heroine. She's part of FET. "We work with the women and girls and in the outlying villages and in the cities. We offer them opportunities, listen to their concerns, get them feedback and answer their questions."

I'd love to know more about this. Thus, my whining above.

The hero of this...it's not a jerk aka alpha male that's so popular nowadays. He's a man comfortable in his own skin and situation. Just my type. He is not intimidated by this woman's strength and the flirting between them was great. It built the relationship between them in the right amount of time for a short story. It didn't feel like, "Wham! Hi, there my name is .... Want to have sex?"

The author did a terrific job. She respects the military with this story and yet offers up a side of sensual sex.

Favorite quote:

"All we have are moments. When you make the moments count--that's what matters."

Five stars. I got this through Sizzling PR in exchange for an honest review.

Book Release, Kindle Freebie, & Grand Giveaway!

I’m pleased to share with you my latest release, Love Request. This one is special to me because it’s not only the first romance I penned, but it features a “hearing-impaired” heroine, like myself.

I say “hearing –impaired” because really, there’s nothing wrong with Ciara. She’s not damaged or in need of repair. She just can’t hear as well as others.

As a reader, I grew tired of all the women in romance novels being perfect. In real life, many of us have disabilities—and they are disabilities others can’t see. And worse, they are disabilities others can’t understand, and a lot of times what people don’t understand becomes something they fear…and belittle.

This is where the bullying comes in. You see, this is more than just a romance novel. Open its pages, hit that Kindle “next page” button, and find out for yourself. Learn. Be enlightened. Relate.

Want to sample it first? No problem. Available on Kindle and FREE for the next five days, is a humorous Valentine short story, Mating Instinct.

You’ll find the first chapter of Love Request at the end.

Thank you, readers, for celebrating this special time with me. Happy Valentine’s Day! In honor of you, I’m giving away a print copy of Love Request, a plush dog, a lipstick for that special date, and 5 pheromone-soaked chocolate incense sticks! WARNING: Be careful if dogs are in the vicinity.

Blurb:

When Ciara Littleton finally joins Facebook to socialize without the limits her hearing impairment gives her, she looks up a childhood friend on a whim. In sending him that first message, she ignites the memories of a crush from twenty years ago. Can a simple friend request fix all that stands between them and maybe even lead to something more?

Hunter's plate is full. A recent divorce, a pregnant sister, and now, he realizes he's in love with a woman who lives states away. Can he overcome the boundaries of Internet romance to make this desire turn into something real, or will adversity and distance be their undoing?

This book was formerly titled A Facebook Affair and has been revised with a new ending.

Love Request has been named a LASR Best Book and is now up for vote on Best Book of 2012 Poll. You can cast a vote here. I’m so excited and so grateful!

Blurb for Mating Instinct:

This is exactly what you need!

It’s Valentine’s Day and when Ariel receives a package of incense in the mail from her Pagan friend and mentor, she isn’t sure what to make of the enclosed note. Sure, she has some issues, but who doesn’t?

When the smoke releases its magic, Ariel gets an evening of surprise humor and romance, and it is indeed exactly what she needs.

Links:

Love Request on Amazon

Mating Instinct FREE

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Word and Deed by Rachel Rossano

I was really impressed by this novelette. At first, I thought how strong can a woman trapped in a tower be? And I was immensely pleased and surprised when she turned out quite strong indeed.


Even though she knows she'll be slapped and beaten, Verity speaks the truth, about her brother, her father's death, her feelings. It is what gets her thrown in the tower.

She's truly fearless though, even when a man shows up in the garden...and when presented with knives, she doesn't screech and run away, but instead, secretly learns to use them. She's not afraid of speaking the truth, seeking justice, voicing her two cents, throwing knives, or of killing when her own life is threatened.

I saw the ending's twist coming a mile away. That would have to be my only quibble.

The writing is almost poetic, very literary. I felt as I read this that the author is just meant to tell a tale. Unlike many of the books releasing nowadays, it doesn't come off as juvenile or simple in its telling or prose.

And I forgot to sum up the plot...Verity is tossed in a tower. She not only speaks out against her betrothed--a man she's never meant but heard is vile and crazy--but she knows too much about her father's death. But her betrothed shows up and doesn't seem as vile as she anticipated...but neither does he make her heart pitter-patter like the mysterious man in the garden, there to help her. Someone wants her dead, someone wants her heart, and yet someone else wants her hand. All kinds of things could go possibly go wrong, but first, she must get free of the tower, her brother, and possibly, her upcoming marriage. What shall she do?

Four bikes. I received this in exchange for an honest review from the author.

Virtual Code: Infinity Love by D.F. Krieger

HUGE thumbs up for uniqueness. In a time when 1,000 ebooks are releasing a day, it's quite a feat to write a story nobody has read, and Krieger pulled it off.


The heroine Zayda is designing a program that through virtual reality allows you to "visit" your dead loved ones. So she uses the program to see her dead husband, but only when it's too late does she realize the emotional ramifications of this...what if you don't want to go back to the real world?

And there's a glitch...she has taken a microchip of her husband (this is kinda futuristic, technology wise) and because of this chip, her husband is REAL, just in virtual land. He's not a program after all.

I had a hard time at moments visualizing stuff, but that's probably because I know nothing at all about these things. I know how to open a program and type and that's about it. I felt kinda dumb at moments. LOL

But it was a solid, unique, and entertaining read, and I can see why the ending may be controversial, but it made perfect sense to me. If you have nothing in your life to lose...well, then...

Four bikes. I won this from the author in a blog hop.

Helen's Holiday Tale Part Four

Welcome back to the final installment of Helen's Holiday Tale. 

 Part One can be found

Part Two

Part Three

“Mrs. Bakerson, I feel it’s my duty to tell you this may not be the best business decision. Cripple Creek has a skating rink. The pond freezes over and—”

“I know that darned pond freezes over!” Helen slapped her palm down on the lawyer’s desk, regretting it as pain shot through her arm. No matter. She was old. Whoopie. “It’s cold, though! And it can’t be used year round.”

“Your husband left you a lot of money, but—“

“Well, I didn’t ask you for your opinion, did I? Just get me the land and get me the workers and whatever else I need. I know the money is there. I haven’t spent hardly a dime the last ten years!”

“All right, Mrs. Bakerson.” The lawyer waved his hands in a placating gesture. “Don’t have another heart attack. I’ll see to it, but it won’t happen overnight.”

Helen scoffed. “Just see to it, you young man.”

Jaw firm, mind set, Helen left the lawyer's office. It was a new year, a new chance. She was going to make the most of it.

***

Helen Bakerson sat on a front row spectator’s bench in Cripple Creek’s newest facility, the Bakerson Arena. It officially opened today for public skating, with every other hour given over to lessons from the experts she’d hired. Hockey teams could now practice and play regardless of the weather. Her George had so loved hockey. She wiped a silent tear from her face, secure in the knowledge that the next time her ticker gave out, she’d be with him.

George again. Even her will had been redone. Instead of going to the church, any funds available at her demise would be placed in trust to keep up the arena.

Her house, where she and George had lived and loved, would be turned into a youth hostel. She’d be taking care of ‘her kids’ from beyond the grave.

“Mrs. Bakerson, come skate with us!” Mindy reached for Helen’s hand. “Lucy will hold your other side so you don’t fall.”

“Oh, I don’t know, girls.” Helen smiled at the nine-year-olds. “I’m so old…”

“My mom says you’re only as old as you feel.”

“Well, when you put it that way…” Helen smiled and stood on shaky legs. She used her walker for support, but as soon as the little girls had hold of each of her hands, she left it behind and headed toward the ice. A crowd of people waited for her, reaching out to guide her. A chorus of “be careful, Mrs. Bakerson” rang in her wake.

She already had skates on, though she’d had no intention of using them. It was all for show, but what the heck.

To her surprise, she actually slid across the ice. She wobbled at first, and many skating bystanders reached for her in fear she was going to fall, but she did it, thanks to Mindy and Lucy clutching her tightly.

Helen laughed as she glided, and the little girls tugged her into a slow circle. Briefly, for just a second, she thought she saw a man at the end of the rink, his dark slicked down and part at the side, a red scarf around his neck…

She sent him a silent message. I’ll be ready next time, George. Come back for me, you hear?

He smiled and nodded his head before sliding backward off the ice, only instead of disappearing altogether into the throng once he reached the stands, he simply became a blur and faded.

“Look, Mrs. Bakerson!” Mindy pointed to the ice, her girlish excitement contagious.

Helen complied, gasping in surprise. There, in the center of the ice, someone had etched a heart. Inside it was the name Helen.

“Wow. Someone has some mad skills, Mrs. Bakerson,” Lucy gushed in amazement.

“Indeed, they do, my child. I wonder who it was.”

I love you, too, George.

Thank you for joining me for this Holiday Tale. Have a great new year! Here's turning over new leaves. Remember...make the most of it. :)

If you liked Helen's Holiday Tale so much you want it on your kindle to read again, it is available on Smashwords in any format you may need, and better yet, you set the price.

Helen's Holiday Tale: Part 3

Welcome back to Helen's Holiday Tale! Here is part three. If you missed part or part one or two, go back and read those first, or  you may be a tad lost! LOL

Part One

Part Two

And Happy Holidays!

“She’s back!” A man’s voice, not George’s.

Helen blinked rapidly and stared at the man leaning over her. He was a young whippersnapper wearing an EMT outfit. What had he done? Had he brought her back? The damn fool!

But, wait…she had things to do to make things right again. Her strange conversation with George came flooding back to her at the same time her blood starting pounding through her veins again.

“Mrs. Bakerson, you gave us quite a scare. Can you hear me?”

Helen tried to move her head, but it was hard. She felt so weak and strange.

“I think you can, Mrs. Bakerson. You’re very lucky. Mindy and Lucy found you. If it wasn’t Christmas day…”

What the heck was the man nattering about? Helen groaned and reached weakly for him, but found her arms wouldn’t cooperate.

“We’re taking you to the hospital. Hang tight, okay,” the EMT just kept chattering.

Helen was lifted very gently by two medics and carried slowly out her front door. From the corner of her eye, she saw two frightened looking girls—the same girls she’d yelled at earlier for being in her yard. Both girls were sniffling and rubbing their eyes with their mittened hands. What was wrong with them?

Suddenly, the blue-eyed one stepped forward and held out a card to one of the EMTs. “Will you give this to her when she gets there and is better? It’s a Christmas card we made for her in school. We’ll save the cookies until she comes back.”

“That’s a good idea.” The EMT reached for the card and tucked it into his vest pocket. Helen saw there was a childishly drawn snowman on the front of it. She felt a tear slide down her cheek, but she couldn’t will her limbs to move to wipe it off. They were still as frozen as the ice she had just skated on. Or had that been real? Her body felt so heavy. Everything was strange. “And yes, keep those cookies until Mrs. Bakerson is better. She’ll be eating hospital food for a while.”

Drat!

“And you girls did the right thing,” the other EMT added. “Calling 911 like you did when you found Mrs. Bakerson was smart.”

The little girls merely nodded, their eyes wide.

“Poor old lady shouldn’t have been digging around in her attic,” the first technician continued talking to his partner as they loaded Helen—unceremoniously in Helen’s opinion—into the back of a waiting ambulance.

I wasn’t digging around in my attic, you whippersnappers!

“I know. What was she planning to do? Take them old ice skates to the lake? She wouldn’t have lasted five minutes out there.”

Old ice skates? They must have been George’s, because hers were long gone. Helen smile, closed her eyes, and rested.

Don't worry, readers, she's not dead! Come back tomorrow to find out what Helen does in the new year.

Helen's Holiday Tale: Part Two

The second installment of Helen's Holiday Tale. The first can be found here.

“Helen, Helen, get up, darling.” She felt hands grip her elbows and tug at the same time the male voice penetrated her consciousness. Helen gasped and opened her eyes, blinking at the sun glaring off whiteness all around her.

“Oh, my stars,” she declared as soon as she could breathe again. “I have no idea what happened to me there.”

When her eyes adjusted, she saw all the whiteness was snow. No big surprise there. Cripple Creek saw a lot of snowfall in December. But what was she doing outside? And why was her butt hurting?

“Get up, Helen. Skate with me.”

“What? I’m too old—” Helen looked to her right, where the voice was coming from. A man stood before her. He was handsome and young. His dark hair was parted on the side and slicked down. His blue eyes were filled with concern. He sported a pair of slacks and a white sweater. A button shirt peeped out of the V-neck. A red scarf Helen knew very well was wrapped around his neck, the end trailing off behind him. She’d knitted that scarf with her own hands sixty-three years ago. A pair of ice-skates topped off his outfit.

“You’re not old anymore,” the man or vision said with a smile.

“George. George, is it really you? Have I died and gone to Heaven?” Helen reached a hand out to him, shocked to see the wrinkles and age spots had disappeared from its surface.

“Not quite, but it’s me.” George reached for her then, and she allowed him to grasp her hands and pull her up. She wobbled momentarily on the ice. She looked down at her feet in surprise. She, too, was wearing ice skates…and a skirt! It had been a long time since she’d worn a skirt. Tights, too.

Why, she was dressed just the way she had been that day so long ago…

“George?” She grasped his arms above the elbows, marveling that he was a solid man. “Is this…is this 1950?”

George nodded. “It is. Do you remember?”

Helen thought she would cry with happiness. “Yes! Yes, I do remember. It was Christmas, and I made you that scarf.” She touched the red scarf around his neck. “And you wore it every day in winter until the day you…”

“Died. Yes, I know, Helen.” Her George sounded so grave and serious. Why wasn’t he happier? They were together again!

“George, you left me too soon!” Helen scolded him as she allowed him to lead her across the ice. His right hand was stretched across her front, grasping her own, and his left pulled her across his midsection, and together, they glided. Helen was amazed at how little effort it took to do something she hadn’t done in decades. She threw her head back and breathed in the scent of pine and firewood burning. Icicles hung from the trees, and tiny snowfalls fell around them, melting as soon as they landed upon their clothing.

“Helen, I didn’t have a choice. It was my time.”

“Well, it’s mine now. I spent ten years alone, George!” She tried to keep the accusation from her voice, but found she couldn’t help it.

“No, it isn’t.” George shook his head as he twirled her in a circle.

Helen laughed at the sensation, at the sight of trees blurring in front of her eyes. “George,” she said as they came to a stop once again and she caught her breath. “I’m with you again. It’s the greatest gift a woman could ask for!” She threw herself into his arms. She felt blissfully happy, elated. All was right in her world once again.

He kissed the top of her hair—no longer gray she’d noticed, as it had blown across her face whilst spinning, but her dark curls from so long ago. “Do you remember what else happened this day?”

Helen just wanted him to shut up and kiss her on the lips as he used to, but she indulged him. “I gave you that scarf; we came skating, and you proposed. It was the loveliest Christmas ever.”

“It was,” he agreed, “and we made a lot of plans, plans for our future and goals.”

Helen felt a pang stab her heart, and she feared she was having another heart attack though she was already dead surely. “Well, those things didn’t come to pass, so let’s not dwell on it.” She rose on tiptoe and sought his mouth with hers, only he held her out of reach, his hands on her shoulders.

“Helen, we planned to have children, lots of them, but it didn’t happen.”

Suddenly, Helen felt cold and shivered. “George, why must you rehash—“

“We were taught not to talk about such things back then, Helen, but you need to know something.” George paused, his blue gaze intent on her face, a pleading in their depths. “It wasn’t your fault. I know you always blamed yourself, but it wasn’t your fault.”

“What do you mean?” Oh, why was he talking about this after all these years? So, they hadn’t had children, and yes, she blamed herself, but what did it matter now? In the end, they’d had a wonderful marriage, made stronger by their lack of children—she thought.

“When I was in Korea, I was wounded.”

“I know that.” She clutched his sweater in her fists.

“I was the sterile one, Helen, not you.”

“Oh.” A rush of air escaped her as her shoulders slumped. It hadn’t been her. She hadn’t been the reason their dreams hadn’t come to fruition. All this time, she’d blamed her infertile loins, had cried huge tears of regret. Back in their day, fertility wasn’t bandied about and made dinnertime discussion, and ten thousand dollars had been a year’s salary for many. Young people now talked about it constantly, their fertilization efforts and ovary temperature. It was distasteful. She’d suggested adoption once, but George had gotten angry at her insinuations they couldn’t have one of their own. Now she knew why. George had been ashamed and embarrassed. “Why tell me now, George?” To her great surprise, she felt no anger, but relief. It hadn’t been her fault.

“Because I was wrong in not telling you sooner. When I died, you were all alone, and you became a bitter, old crone.”

Helen felt as though she’d been slapped. “Of all the nerve!” She struggled to pull free of him.

“Helen, you aren’t the woman I married. The woman I married was full of life, laughter, joy, hopes. You used to welcome all the children into our home, bake them cookies, tie their shoelaces. Our home was always filled with cheer. Now, you yell and curse and hate. You hate what you never had. It’s bitterness, Helen. You can’t keep hating and lashing out at others over something you can’t control.”

“I…I don’t know what to say.” And she didn’t. What could she say? He was right, but it was too late to change things. She was who she was. He’d left her alone, and she hadn’t known how to handle it.

“Do you want this all the time?” George made a sweeping gesture, encompassing the area around them, the frozen lake, the trees with their twinkling lights, the glistening snow. “Do you want to be young and in love with me forever and ever? Skating in eternal bliss?”

He’d asked her those same words sixty-three years before. Helen hurried to give him the very same answer. “I do. I do!” She reached for him again, desperate, eager to be in his arms. “I’ve missed you so much!”

“Well, see, it’s like this, Helen. Your bad deeds are overshadowing your good deeds, and if you don’t change that, you won’t come here.”

“Is this about going to church? I attend—”

George interrupted her by placing a finger on her lips. “No. That has nothing to do with it. It’s about who you are in here.” He dropped his finger to the space above her left breast. “It’s about how you treat people. You can sit on a hard church pew all day, every Sunday, but it doesn’t do you any good if you’re not a good person. It’s not about what religion you practice—if any—or how many scriptures you read. It’s about treating others as you want to be treated. Just be a good person, like you used to be.”

Tears welled in her eyes. She knew he was right. Without George by her side, she’d forgotten the most basic rule of humanity. But how could she fix it?

“I want you with me, Helen, just as I did long ago. Do what you have to. Make things right. I love you.” George leaned forward then, and their lips finally touched. They felt as they always had, warm and possessive against her own. She opened her mouth under his and welcomed him.

As their tongues touched, she remembered he had kissed her this way right after his first proposal, too, and it felt exactly the same. Her insides threatened to melt into a puddle of mush despite the frigid air surrounding them.

But all too soon, the feeling faded away. He faded away. She reached for him, but found only air. Someone or something was beating on her heart. It hurt so bad.

“No!” she tried to call out, but choked.

The white light appeared again, blinding her.

Come back tomorrow for more of Helen's story.

Helen's Holiday Tale: A Daily Holiday Story

In June of 2013, A Healing Love will be released. A story that takes place in a fictional town called Cripple Creek. Though she's only mentioned briefly, the town crone is named Helen Bakerson. For this Holiday Season, I present to you, in a daily digest, for the next four days, her story.

“Stupid kids!” Helen Bakerson slammed her tea mug down so hard in its saucer she was surprised it didn’t break. Not that she cared. What was one more darned tea mug? It wasn’t like she needed pretty things. Nobody ever came to her house except that busy-body minister’s wife. Helen snorted. It was, of course, under the pretense of saving Helen’s damned soul, but Helen knew the woman was just being plain nosy.

Why would anyone care about her soul? She didn’t.

She glared out the window above the scarred tabletop, all the little notches and marks from her many years with George. Oh, how she missed George. Why had the stupid fool left her when he had? It wasn’t supposed to play out that way.

She rose, and her frail legs shook as she reached for her walker. She winced at the pain in her joints. Her eighty years had not been kind to her, not the last ten of them anyway.

It took a good five minutes to shuffle and slide to the front door, but she finally made it. With hands pained from arthritis—damned cold weather—Helen turned the locks and opened it. Once upon a time, they hadn’t needed to lock their doors, but as Cripple Creek grew, more hoodlums and whippersnappers caused trouble.

As the old oak door creaked open, she glowered through the screen. “You children get the hell off my lawn! I don’t want your shoe prints in my yard! And build your darned snowman somewhere else!”

Two bright-eyed eight-year-old girls stared up at her, lips quivering, noses red from the cold. “We’re sorry, Mrs. Bakerson, we needed more snow for our fort.”

“There’s plenty of snow in your own yard. Now git!” It took all the energy she had left, but she slammed the door with a satisfying bang.

“Stupid children. Why do they always bother me? In the summer it’s their screaming, water guns, and trampolines. In the winter, it’s their gosh-darned Christmas carols and snowballs and footprints. I’ve had it with the whole lot of them. So glad I didn’t have any.”

Suddenly, she felt winded. Her heart seized. Helen grabbed the arm of the nearby armchair—the chair George had always sat in, his after-dinner coffee in hand, his glasses perched on his nose, as they watched M.A.S.H. Sometimes, they’d even held hands across their matching armchairs as they’d chuckled at the antics of Major Margaret and Hawkeye.

She slumped in the chair, not caring when her walker fell over, though she knew she was going to have a heck of a time standing up again. Oh, George, why did you go and leave me here?

Helen prided herself on being as tough as the popular Maxine cartoon character. The town of Cripple Creek avoided her, called her an old grouch, and that was just fine with her. She wanted to be left alone with her memories of George.

But there’d been a time…

If she turned her head just so, she could swear she still smelled the Old Spice cologne he’d used to splash on his face after shaving. He’d been in the Army, her George, had fought in Korea, and old habits died hard. He’d never sported more than a mere stubble.

Helen closed her eyes against the pain rising in her left arm and chest. What was happening to her? Was she finally going out? Oh, she hoped so.

A bright light began to form behind her eyelids, and her chest tightened even more. She couldn’t breathe, but the smell of Old Spice grew stronger…

Come back tomorrow to read more of Helen's Holiday tale.

FREE Flash Fiction! Fantasies

Dinner rests heavily in my stomach, and the wine I greedily gulped during the meal gives me a feeling of deep contentment as I lounge on my end of the sofa, a mere leather cushion separating my husband and I.

The television drones on and on in the background. I only pay it half a mind as I hit the button on my Kindle to read the next page. My husband is watching a basketball game. I find the commercials more interesting than a bunch of sweaty men fighting over a ball and only occasionally look up to comment or laugh.

Ah, commercial time. I glance up from my Kindle screen to see a sporty blue car race across the television. “Oooh. I want that car.”

My husband laughs and shakes his head. “We’re not getting a BMW.”

I pout and return to my Kindle, keeping one eye on the television. That was some car. I can visualize myself in it, music blaring from speakers, the windows rolled down on a sunny day, my hair blowing in the breeze, the admiring glances…

The commercial changes. “Oooh. Look at that cute dress. I want that dress. It’s like a princess dress for adults.”

“You need to quit watching TV. You want everything.”

“Hey,” I say, insulted. “How much of that stuff do I rush out to buy?”

My husband gives me that look, the one that says “true, but I’m not going to agree with you out loud ‘cause I have my male pride.”

I only pay him half a mind. My overactive imagination is already visualizing myself wearing the pink princess dress for adults, driving my awesome blue BMW, music blaring from the speakers… “You know,” I turn to my husband once again, “I just honestly fantasize about that stuff. I can briefly imagine it, I’m wearing my awesome pink dress, I’m a size-two again, I permanently look twenty-five, and I’m out in my sexy blue BMW. All the fellows are turning their heads to look at me. I can’t even go to the grocery store without it being on TMZ!” I’m really getting into this crazy fantasy story of mine now and nearly jumping up and down on the sofa cushion. “And everywhere I go, people see me and they just happen to have one of my books with them and they ask me to autograph it, because I’m a New York Times Bestseller.” I nod and in my mind, I can see it. A little old lady is holding a pen out to me with a shaky hand. A camera light flashes. My blue BMW glints in the sun. I place a hand on my tiny hip…

I bring myself back to the present, to the sofa, to my husband’s guffaws. He’s laughing at me, but it’s not a mean laugh. Soon, I’m chuckling too.

“Watching TV gets my imagination going,” I confess with a grin. “I fantasize. Those are my silly fantasies. What’s your fantasy?”

I look at him expectantly, waiting to hear about how in his fantasy, he have ten motorcycles in the garage, a ’69 Camaro or two, and maybe Megan Fox on his arm. And I won’t take offense, because I know it’s just a fantasy. He’ll never meet Megan Fox.

But he shocks me, and I don’t see it coming, and for a second I’m speechless.

“I live it every day,” he says, so casually, and flips a page of his motorcycle magazine.

I blink. I feel all warm inside and have to blink again to ward away a tear.

Let Megan Fox have the blue BMWs and the TMZ fame. I have everything I need right here, just a sofa cushion away.

High-Tech Holiday by Lorraine Nelson

Whatever would possess a woman to dress as a walking, talking holiday? And how can romance possibly evolve from a chance meeting on an airplane? Find out in Lorraine Nelson's short but cute High-Tech Holiday. I got more than a few chuckles from this one. It was a fun book to edit and read.

Blurb:

Kris Temple is a web graphics designer, an ambitious entrepreneur striving to survive in a dog-eat-dog world. She also wants to win her family’s Christmas contest. She adorns herself in full holiday gear the night before thanksgiving and is flying home fully decorated. She's thrilled to find herself seated next to a handsome man. But Kris has a speech problem. However would she converse with this man without stuttering and embarrassing herself?

Aaron Masters is not thrilled to be flying economy, but his personal jet is in for repairs. He’d had to scurry to the reservation desk at the last minute to book a seat on the only flight out, and now he finds his practical, no-nonsense demeanor assaulted by a woman dressed as a holiday advertisement…his seatmate. How could he hope to ignore this woman for the entire flight?
With their flight being rerouted, calls from her ex-fiancé/co-worker pleading for assistance, and his ex-girlfriend stalking him, they are certainly in for a memorable flight. 

Excerpt:
 “Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain. We are being rerouted due to a severe storm front sweeping down from Canada. We are unable to return to Chicago or continue on to Minneapolis.” There was a general murmur of discontent at this announcement.

“We are being rerouted south to Atlanta. Attendants will be on hand to assist with reservations for accommodation and help reschedule your flights. We apologize for the delay in your travels but deem the safety of our passengers our top concern. We are sorry for any inconvenience.”

“I should have stayed in Chicago,” Ethan mumbled.

“I'm going to miss the contest. Darn.”

Ethan pulled out his cell phone. “George, have Donald bring the car around to the airport and instruct Maria to make up a guest room. I think I have a travel companion who'll be staying overnight.” He signed off a moment later and turned to her. “I hope you don't mind me making plans for you, but since Atlanta is one of the corporate locations for the businesses I run, I know finding decent accommodation will be next to impossible.”

She hesitated briefly, before replying, “That sounds fine. Thank you. Are you sure it won’t put you out?”

“I have a six thousand square-foot loft. You won’t be crowding me,” he said with just a hint of a smile.

“I should call my family and let them know about the delay.” Nothing like stating the obvious, Kris, she thought with disgust as she flipped open her cell phone.

“Hi, Mom. I'm going to be delayed. They've rerouted my flight due to a storm. Yes, we’re landing Atlanta. No, I have all my luggage with me. Yes, Mom, I do have clean underwear,” she whispered the last part. She could feel the flush of color rushing into her face. God! How embarrassing. Once again she could tell he was listening to her every word. Especially when she whispered her response to her mother and he'd leaned closer.

“Yes, I'll call as soon as I land. Bye for now.”

Shoving the phone deep into her pocket, she turned to see a huge grin on the handsome face next to her. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

“More than I ever thought possible.” His answering smile showed off a dimple in his right cheek.

“Well, I'm feeling rather exposed at the moment. So maybe you can share something personal about yourself?”

“Actually I was going to ask you what color.”

“What color?”

“Are they?”

“Are what?” she was starting to wonder if he was a little tipsy.

“Your underwear.”

“That is none of your business,” she admonished, incredulous he would even dare ask.

“Well, it sounded like your mom was concerned about it. I just figured I should be too.”

Now she could see he was really having fun at her expense. But then, it was kind of funny that a successful, independent woman had a mother who still wanted to make sure she had clean underwear in case of an emergency.

“My mom's a bit old-fashioned and still thinks I'm twelve. She treats all of us that way.”