Thursday, October 31, 2013


Wow, Margaret,
First let me say, welcome to my blog.                        

Second, let me say, you really scared

me with this story. And to think it's real. You make me shudder.

What an eerie tale for Halloween. Tell us about it.

Most people think of houses when they think of something haunted. They think of dark creaky old wooden stairways, or closed, locked rooms that groan and whisper in desolate homes overgrown with weeds and twisted vines. These are the places people usually think of when they talk about a haunted house. I used to think that too, but not any more.

I live in an apartment building and I know my apartment is haunted. A shiver can still run down my spine when I remember the first time I realized this.



Our building, constructed in 1926 is a sturdy four-story walk up. From our dining room windows we look out onto a charming courtyard with trees that were planted when the structure was first built. Today the trees nearly reach the top of the roof, the branches spread out like a canopy, and the roots stretch far beneath the foundation of the apartment house, or so we imagine. When our windows are open in the warm weather we can hear the leaves rustle and chatter in the gentle breezes. No mater what the season, birds and squirrels scamper about in the trees. Who would suspect in this tranquil setting there would be something haunting us?

I believe the haunting comes from the cement, the plaster, the wood, and the paint, and from within the pores of the very brick that makes this building stand so tall; the haunting comes from the blood and the bones of the building itself.

There is a pattern to the haunting. Everything is quiet for a while. The weeks go along, the months, and there is a rhythmic hum in our ordinary lives. Then it happens. Light bulbs burn out all at the same time; faucets leak, appliances break down, and milk sours quickly in the refrigerator. That’s how I know the haunting has come. That’s when I see something -- a momentary blankness, emptiness in the air, and I think I see a shadowy image flit down the hallway like quickly moving smoke. But, then, when I look, whatever I’ve seen is gone. All that remains is a lingering, disquieting smell. A smell that sits on the back of my tongue, an odor that I smell as I exhale. And in the air I taste the moldy leaves rotting under the trees. I sense eyes, too, eyes that look out from behind the layers of paint on the walls, following me, silently waiting, watching.

At night when everyone has gone to bed I sometimes hear footsteps coming down the hallway. The footsteps approach the door to my bedroom, and then stop. Just as suddenly it’s gone and I know now that it retreats back into the walls. I used to excuse this sound as the wood expanding and contracting. But it’s footsteps, one after the other, deliberate, purposeful steps, walking down the hallway.



Other people have thought they’ve seen something, or heard something in their apartments, too. They discount any strange sound or movements as being caused by their neighbors on the other side of the walls. I, too, was once skeptical about the thing that haunts, but something happened, and I no longer deny what I see or hear.

One day after my son left home and moved into an apartment of his own, I was moving furniture, turning his newly empty bedroom into a study for myself. I had taken my son’s bed apart, and then moved his comic book collection and schoolbooks into the closet. I took his rock music posters down from the wall and put up my own choice of art, a plaster head of Nefertiti and a large photo of Billy Holiday. I was hard at work when all of a sudden I thought I saw something, a movement, perhaps a dust fairy floating past my vision. At first I ignored whatever it was, and told myself that nothing was there. However, the image persisted at the corner of my eye. Something stood in the doorway of my son’s room. I slowly turned. And there in the doorway stood the strangest little fellow.

“Where the heck did you come from,” I murmured. Then I closed my eyes. I could not believe what I saw. When I looked again, he was still there. I waited for him to say something or to move. He did neither. He simply stood silently watching me. I looked away again; wondering was he only a piece of lint on my eyeball. I looked back. He was still standing in the doorway.

This thing, this strange little man stood no taller than a yardstick. His dark eyes, deeply set under bushy brows, glistened like candle flames. His face and hands were the texture and color of tree bark and he wore garments of coarse fabric. Gnarled misshapen toes poked out from under the ragged edges of his pants legs. Thick, dark, bristly globs of hair stuck out all about his head and his knobby hands hung at his side.

I remember thinking, “So, this is what you look like. I knew you’d show up some day.” And I wondered if he had been living in my son’s messy room all these years.

As we stood watching each other I felt as if we had spoken before, or maybe we had touched each other somewhere, in the walls, in the clothes closet, under the trees. After a moment I realized that all those night of worry and hearing something coming down the hallway, coming toward me, scaring me, were not so frightening after all. Then as unexpectedly as this strange little man had appeared he was gone again, like a fading echo.

An icy chill crept down my back while I waited for him to return. The skin on my hands was sweaty when I locked my fingers together seeking my own comfort. I sat in a chair by the window and watched the doorway for what seemed hours, but he never returned.




I don’t know what it was that happened that day, but I do know that something definitely stood in that doorway looking at me. Some days I’ve wondered if it had been a dream. I really did see something that day, though, and I’ve asked myself many times, if this little guy was a part of the building or was he a part of me. I don’t know which.

I do believe there is something magical about the building I live in. I think I hear it breathing on some days. I feel it contracting and expanding as I imagine the structure trying to heal itself, make itself whole again when it learns of the pain and sadness in the lives of the people who live inside the rooms. I like to think that the laughter of children playing rains down on the courtyard and comforts the tired old building as the giggles are sucked into the cracks of the brick and mortar walls. And this strange little being, this thing that moves through wood and plaster, a soul with eyes that flickered at me, has anyone else seen him?

I know that the light bulbs will continue to burn out all at the same time and that there will be other strange happenings that no one will be able to explain. And I also know that every once in a while this little fellow will flit down the hallway making another vaporous appearance to a purpose I cannot understand.


                  Very, very creepy Margaret   
To be released in the  spring of 2014 from MuseItUP Publishing
                  by Margaret Mendel                                       
Against the unforgiving landscape of Alaska, Sharon Wolf, a single mother, struggles to reclaim her life from alcohol abuse and regain the custody of her daughter. But first she must overcome dwindling funds and find a place to live before the harsh winter sets in. She gets a job as a fry cook in a backcountry bar, aptly named The Nowhere, and begins to reconstruct her life. Her struggles are further complicated when she is stalked by a murderer who thinks she witnessed him kill an associate of his. In order to get her life back on track and regain custody of her daughter, Sharon must call upon her inner strength and learn to accept help from unexpected sources. Ultimately she learns to trust herself when the murderer kidnaps her daughter and Sharon finds herself in a life and death struggle.
About Margaret
Margaret Mendel lives in New York City and is a past board member of Mystery Writers of America and Sisters in Crime, NYC. She has an MFA in creative writing from Sarah Lawrence. Many of her short stories have appeared in literary journals and anthologies. For more than twenty years she worked in the mental health field, though now she devotes herself to writing full time. She is an avid photographer and not only drags a laptop, but a Nikon D7000 camera wherever she goes. Read more about Margaret on her blog at:

 Or join her on facebook at:
Thank you for scaring us to death this Halloween, Margaret.
Well readers? Do you believe? Tell us about the ghost you met. Ahem, personally, I haven't and really don't care to meet any ghost soon.
Oh we do love comments. How about leaving one for Margaret today.

Monday, October 28, 2013


Tab's, you've been on my blog a few times, and
it's always such a thrill to have you here.  And right before Halloween, too.

I do know that you have the series "Witches of Salem" that is very popular with your fans, plus your "Montana Men" series. 

You sure have a lot of novels out and everyone one of them is a gem. Your huge fan base can attest to that statement.

I can personally say that everyone of yours that  I have read, I loved. Yeah, I guess you'd call me a fan, too. lol.

What do you have for us today?

In the Badlands of the Dakota Territory, a war rages between good and evil, between

angels and Satan’s three sons…

 Earth Angel —Elizabeth Bonner’s plans for her wedding dissolve when she discovers her fiancĂ© cheating. To escape the pain and humiliation, she flees to the rowdy mining town of Deadwood Gulch where one person stands between her and hell—Gabriel King.

 Dark Angel —Gabriel is feared by most, but he meets his match with Elizabeth. 1876, Dakota Territory is no place for a lady whose innocence is tempting as sin. Toss in a couple of trouble-making cherubs, and the Old West will never be the same.

 Elizabeth and Gabriel —more than one war is brewing in the Black Hills…
Inside her gloves, her fingers itched and felt moist. She stilled when she saw him track her nervous habit of rubbing her hands down the sides of her gown.

He lifted his head and their gazes locked. His lips curved with a knowing smile. “Miss Bonner, we haven’t been properly introduced. I’m Gabriel King, Gabe, if you like.”

She didn’t like. She refused to be on friendly terms with him.

“I hope my presence here doesn’t bother you.” His eyes said he couldn’t care less if he bothered her or not.

Her hackles raised another notch. “You don’t bother me at all,” she replied, refusing to tone down the tartness in her voice. She was ready for a fight and this man was the one she was ready to battle. “I know who you are, and I know what you want.”

Fire shimmered in his eyes. The color changed swiftly from pale blue to fierce cobalt. Elizabeth blinked twice to be certain it wasn’t her imagination. He slid his hot gaze over her, pausing on her mouth, then casually drifted to her breasts to linger for an uncomfortable amount of time.

He lifted a most arrogant brow, then eyed the toes of her emerald-green silk slippers that flirted from beneath the hem of her long skirt. A smile teased his lips, as if he thought her shoes a bit whimsical. Taking his time, he slid his gaze back up, a long, slow journey that had her literally squirming inside. There wasn’t an inch of her body his eyes didn’t touch or dwell on.

“No, I don’t think you do know what I want,” he said with a lazy drawl. “Not…yet.”
Buy site for Send him and Angel HERE 
Check out more of Tab's series books  HERE
Tabs will be offering a pdf copy of Send Him an Angel to some lucky don't forget to jump in with a comment.

Author Bio:

Tabitha Shay is the author of paranormal romances, Witch’s Brew, Witch’s Heart, Witch‘s Moon, Witch’s Magic, and Witch’s Fire.

A member of the Oklahoma Writer’s Federation, Inc., she has served as both a category chair and judge. Her books have been nominated for several awards, including the prestigious P.E.A.R.L. Award for Witch’s Magic and Witch’s Moon, which was also nominated for Best All Around Paranormal in 2008. Witch’s Fire won Runner Up for Best Paranormal Book of 2010 at LRC. Her latest release is a paranormal historical titled, Send Him an Angel, book one in the Angels of Deadwood Gulch Series.

Ms. Shay also writes under the name, Jaydyn Chelcee, and is the author of the contemporary western romances, Montana Men Series, In the Arms of Danger, No Holds Barred, Too Hot to Handle/Too Close to the Fire, Playing for Keeps, and Wild.

So which Halloween commentator will win the free download?
Hey, it could be you.
So, leave your comment below for Tabs, and keep your fingers crossed that you will be the grand winner.



Friday, October 25, 2013


Welcome Chris,

So nice to have you here today to share your series with us.

You sit back with your hot cider this cool day of October, and let's get right to it.

Let's see your covers and a bit of excerpts

Then his gaze fell on Waldrom. Here was the man, so smug and condescending, who sought to destroy Crato and threatened his parents. He didn’t seem the least bit imposing reclining upon his throne. Disgust overwhelmed the prince, and it was all he could do not to spit on the floor. The man was the antithesis of his father, who, with his broad shoulders and compassionate demeanor, commanded the respect of all who knew him.
The king rose from the throne and waved for the guard to bring Joachim forward.

“Prince Brandan, I presume. I’m King Waldrom.”

“Prince Brandan? No, I’m Joachim.” Waldrom stepped back, and Joachim saw the fire burning in his eyes.

“What do you mean, you’re not Prince Brandan?”  Waldrom looked at the guard holding Joachim and waved his hand. A candelabrum flew from the wall, hitting the guard and igniting his beard. The guard swatted wildly at the flames while Waldrom advanced on Melvane, standing by the door. “How could you grab the wrong prince?”

The wizard dropped to his knees. “My Lord, our spies told us Prince Brandan would be in the training room.
Brandan and Joachim have returned from the brink of Hell, but everyone questions if they are truly healed and one with Asha.

As each prince tries to readjust to life, they must face the funeral of their father and their missing mother.

They each take on the responsibility of ruling a country with new wives by their sides, but can they and the countries survive the trials that will ensue because of their choices?






When she’s not writing, she’s active in her local Church as a lector, Bible Study, or with the church theater group, volunteering at her daughter’s school helping the children develop a love for reading and writing. Jesus fills her home with love as she shares Him through her writing. 
Links to Chris
Twitter: @CAWeigand

Extra, extra, some wonderful news. Chris has decided to give one commenter a free download--not of one--but both of the novels shown here. So get your comments in and hope you are a winner.
And thanks for being so generous, Chris.
Thank you so much for sharing with us Chris.      
Will there be more of this series to follow?          
Well, you know we love comments, and I'm sure Chris would like a hello from you.
Please leave one below




Tuesday, October 22, 2013


Marva Dasef here taking over Lorrie's blog while she's not looking. Okay, she said it was okay. She's too nice to say no. So, here's my Halloween pitch.

In time for Halloween, MuseItUp Publishing is offering the Witches of Galdorheim series on a buy one, get one free sale. If you take advantage of the Buy One-Get One free deal, send me a copy of your receipt, and I'll give you another book free. You get to choose which of my books you want and what format.

Another way to get a free copy of any of my Galdorheim series books is to simply write a comment on this blog post. At the end of the month, I'll randomly select a winner.

All About the Witches of Galdorheim Series. The links to the novels are to the MuseItUp Bookstore, so you can choose any ebook format.

Spellslinger (Amazon Kindle): A prequel story to the series, the lovable half-vampire, Rune, gets in deep trouble when his spell collapses...literally!

Bad Spelling: A klutzy witch, a shaman's curse, a quest to save her family. Can Kat find her magic in time?

If you’re a witch living on a remote arctic island, and the entire island runs on magic, lacking magical skills is not just an inconvenience, it can be a matter of life and death–or, at least, a darn good reason to run away from home.

Midnight Oil: Shipwrecked on a legendary island, how can a witch rescue her boyfriend if she can’t even phone home?

Kat is a nervous wreck waiting for her boyfriend's first visit to her Arctic island home. He doesn't show up, so she's sure he’s given her the brushoff. When she learns he’s disappeared, she sets out on a mission to find him.

Scotch Broom: A magical trip to Stonehenge lands a witch in the Otherworld where an ancient goddess is up to no good.

Kat expects to have a great time on her graduation trip to Stonehenge. However, from the moment she leaves the witches’ arctic island, Galdorheim, she gets in nothing but trouble. Becoming the target of a down and out Winter Goddess, Kat has to fight for to save her brother and her own life as well.

In Ebook

In Print (Buy on Amazon)

Saturday, October 19, 2013


Howdy there, Rita.

Welcome to Flowers and Thorns.

So glad you're here with a message

for us. I think many of us have been

to your blog.

Okay, tell us how to jumpstart and get writing.
“So you have such a positive attitude, how do you give yourself a jumpstart to get writing?”  The other day I was asked this question, and I decided would be a great blogging subject.  How do we push ourselves into our offices to write?  Heaven forbid there are enough distractions and other things you could be doing – besides sitting in your quiet office, all alone, with your thoughts and a white screen staring back at you.  Exactly how do we give ourselves the strength to say it’s time to write?
I truly believe us writers are special people.  Yep we truly are!  I think the hardest things for us are our other responsibilities.  We have family, friends, housework, the JOB, yard, cooking, shopping, and of course church (in my case) and the hubby.  The list goes on and on.  In between all those responsibilities and distractions we must ‘make’ the time to write. 
I don’t know if you’re like me – BUT – the other ‘stuff’ must  be done in order for me to concentrate on what I really want to do, write.  It’s not a hobby or what I do for fun.  Let’s face it, we love to write – but it is work.
So I need the house clean, the dishes done, the bills paid, and even my office must be clean before I can sit in front of my computer.  Now that’s a bit easier these days since my kids are out of the nest.  J   But I started writing when my kids were three and five+ so there you have it, I understand it both ways.
I don’t recommend three cups of coffee so you feel awake – that will just give you the jitters and make you feel unsettled.  A nice glass of ice water (or flavored – no calorie water) is what I recommend.  Get it right away so you don’t have an excuse to ‘leave’ your office and get side-tracked.  Yep, I know all the tricks … or mistakes.  You might even fix yourself a plate of celery sticks, carrot sticks, or even pea pods so you don’t get the chocolate cravings.
If you tell yourself you ‘should’ be writing, yet you’re sitting on the couch trying to muster up the energy and drive to go write – ask yourself one thing – “What is my deadline date?”  What?  You don’t have a deadline date?  That is not good!  You MUST have goals and deadline dates or you’ll never accomplish what you want in life.  That doesn’t just apply to writing, but in this case it does.
You need to sit down and look at your work in progress and answer these questions:
What genre are yout writing?
Word count for this work?
How many chapters will you have?
Now-how long does it take you to write a chapter?
Add a month in for unexpected distractions/responsibilities.
What is your writing schedule?
Finally--what is the deadline date to finish your book?
You do this one thing and I guarantee you’ll get more books written than you’ve ever done before.  I always correlate it to this.  If you were planning to go on a trip to Montana, you know you’d get maps and plot it out, you’d look at places to stop along the way to enjoy, there are hotels, costs to estimate, car to get in shape for the trip, etc.  If you just jumped in your car you might end up in Alaska!   Well, planning to write your next book is pretty much the same thing. 
Don’t treat your writing like a ‘hobby.’  I hate it when people say, “that is such a nice hobby.” I stop them and say, “This isn’t a hobby - it’s too much work for that.  Writing is my passion and I do it because it’s something I love and it gives me a feeling of accomplishment.  Don’t accept negativity – it will start making you feel negative – and you’ll start treating your writing like a hobby.  Once you start doing that, you won’t have the drive and excitement to go to your office and write.
Think about your story while making breakfast, working at the office, going for your daily walks (or like me up Sander’s Hill twice a day during my breaks – it’s a humdinger).  Work out ideas, plots, and twists before you even get to your office.  By the time your ‘scheduled’ writing time approaches – you will be raring to go and you’ll be itching to sit down and start typing.
Get your background music going and you are READY!  One thing I always do, to get myself back into my story, is to read the last two pages.  This helps me get into the characters; where are they, who are they talking to, and what is their current situation?  That way I can continue without missing a beat from where I left off.  Next thing you know – two hours have passed and you’re shocked how many pages you just finished.   When you push away from the computer you’ll have a feeling of satisfaction and pride.  You are suddenly anxious and excited to write again tomorrow!  You can do this . . . day after day.  Oh – and book after book! 

Hmm, good encouragement for us all, Rita. lol. Especially for me. Now I hear you have a spanking brand new one out this month. How exciting. Can we see the cover?


The World Wrestling Entertainment (WWE) is a volatile, exciting, and action-packed world and even more so behind the scenes.   Keme (Thunder), a Blackfeet fan favorite wrestler at the top of his game, is found hanging from the rafters of his training facility.  Is it murder . . . or suicide?

 Thunder's fiance and undercover FBI agent, Chloe Evans has been posing as an employee selling memorabilia at WWE events - looking for evidence of blood diamonds.  And now Thunder is dead and his daughter is missing.  She has no choice but to work with his prejudiced and stubborn brother, Mingan, to save Nuttah and expose the truth about Thunder's death. 

 Mingan (Gray Wolf) is certain his twin brother wouldn't commit suicide.  Entering the world of professional wrestling and fulfilling Thunder's obligations, Mingan begins by scrutinizing everything around Thunder's life, starting with the beautiful and haunting Chloe.  As hard as he tries to keep her at a distance, he is pulled to her like adrenaline on a choke hold.  If they find his niece, they will find his brother's killer . . . or will they uncover something more sinister going on?

Buy site is HERE

Now what say we get some of your series up for the readers to have a look-see.

Gypsy Spirit is a story of the driving spirit of a Gypsy girl, who took it upon herself to document the truth. Her strength and determination brings to light a story of magnanimity and the fears and atrocities such a Gypsy girl might have live through.

Buy link Gypsy Spirit             
 Poland 1943-During WW II resistance movements  occurred in every occupied country by a variety of means, ranging from propaganda to outright warfare and the recapturing of towns, as well as hiding crashed pilots.

Partisan Heart tells the story of a Gypsy girl who follows her beloved into the forests of Poland and the Ukraine.  Their partisan group is willing to risk their lives blowing up train trestles, attacking SS killer squads, and to infiltrate Nazis intelligence to destroy Nazi Germany.  Resistance does exist.  If nothing else, to die with dignity is a form of resistance.
                                        Buy link Partisan Heart---             

Mayla Sucuri's world is falling apart . . . no Gypsy is safe in Hitler's Germany.
Her twin sister, Vanya, has just run off with her love and joined the partisans. Now Mayla is being forced to leave her papa and younger sister, Zilka, with the kumpania.  At great personal risk, Mayla refuses to turn down the opportunity to take notes and bear witness to the atrocities happening at the concentration camps. Mayla is drawn to Auschwitz where the distinctions between good and evil become blurred in a world turned upside down. Will it get her killed or will her unwavering resolve give her the strength and courage to rescue her sisters from the gas chambers?

Buy link for Jewish Soul--- 
    For more of Rita Karnopp, try these links.

Author ~ Romancing the West                                              

Multi-published author Rita Karnopp knew at a very young age she wanted to be a writer - and penned her first story at age sixteen. She is drawn to the history of the Native American and strives to bring alive the authenticity of a time past. Whether writing suspense, Indian historicals, or contemporary romance, Rita enjoys bringing excitement and the enduring power of love to her stories.
Rita currently resides in Montana with her husband and their loveable Cockapoo named Gema.
When she isn't reading, writing or doing research, Rita enjoys making dream catchers, gold panning, crystal or sapphire digging, rafting, fishing, canoeing, and spending time with her children and grandchildren.
You can find Rita Karnopp at:
As I'm sure you suspected, we love comments.
How do you jumpstart and get writing?



Wednesday, October 16, 2013


Hi Lorrie

Thanks for welcoming me into your cyber world.  I’ve brought a fresh pot of coffee and baileys for a treat.  I’m normally more of a tea fan.
Hi back at you, Heather. So glad you could make it today. Wow, thanks for the treat, although, like you, I'm more of a tea fan myself. Hmm. this is yummy. Ahem. Don't let me drink too much.
Speaking of treats, Halloween is just around the corner so let's wish our readers a happy one.
Now,tell us about the wonderful year you've had.

It’s been an incredible, euphoric year.  All four books in my saga are under contract with MuseitUp which is thrilling.
Natasha’s Dream launched in June - what a ride I had with that. My cover was actually completed and approved 10 days before the launch.  I had a few nightmares that I would launch without it.
Natasha’s Diary will launch in December.
Now that I know what to expect, it has been a smoother process, thank goodness.
Natasha’s Hope launches in March 2014
Natasha’s Legacy will conclude the saga, launching in June 2014

Wow, woman, you have been really pounding out those novels. What do you do in your spare time?

When I’m not writing and editing and doing all that other fun stuff, you’ll find me in the garden or at least around the property.  The weeds are nasty, they keep popping up, everywhere.


During the winter, hubby and I are both curlers.  We run a competitive league and I manage a league for our future curlers, working with a coaching team of 4 to teach 6-18 year olds.  Never a dull moment working with the younger generation, but it’s rewarding. 


Next year I hope to become more involved with a charity that is near and dear to my heart. Palliative care.  It isn’t exactly a topic people like to discuss.  My goal, To allow family members to step aside and become a friend and a companion during their loved ones last weeks, days and hours while professionals take on the role of care giver. I want those last memories to be of smiles and positive thoughts, not the stress.  A want those that are ill to leave this world with dignity.


Hubby and I enjoy travelling.  Throw a dart and I’m willing to go, almost. We’ve travelled most of Canada and a lot of the states, and had a ten day tour of Europe. We plan to cross the pond again for another holiday.  The bucket list includes Alaska and Australia, but we have to save our pennies for those.


That’s me. Ah, but I forgot to include my fluffball.  We own a twenty pound dog and have more non-domestic critters around the property than I can count.  I think our critter food costs us more than our grocery bill. We were privileged to have oriels this summer who ate their way through 23 jars of grape jelly.  Hubby was buying multiple jars at a time, and our neighbour, God bless her, came twice a day to fill the feeders while we vacationed.


As for my book. The Natasha Saga - It was actually inspired by a dream I had.  I couldn’t get the characters out of my mind so hubby suggested I write. Soooo, it’s all his fault. I wrote, he read and commented.  I did edits, he read and made more comments.  The book grew and grew and grew.  I’m fortunate to know him and even more fortunate to be married to him although I won’t tell him that. I live with him.  

My book has horses and carriages, it has a royal family and a non royal prince charming, but it’s not a fairytale. It has characters with heart and soul that like me, care about the well being of others.
I'm impressed, Heather. What a busy life you lead, yet you manage to write. And we all know how time consuming that is.
Let's show the cover of your first book now.

Blurb from Natasha’s Dream
Pleased he was not quite ready, she ran down the slope ahead of him. She
tripped in her haste, and was tumbling to the ground when something touched her foot. She extended her hand to cushion the landing and protect her upper body. Hands appeared by her side. Stewart’s hands. He was falling as well. His chest touched her back, but she didn’t notice his weight on her body. She couldn’t see anything but the slope of the earth. She had to get off her stomach. Natasha manoeuvred herself onto her back. Stewart’s face hovered directly above her. Her eyes locked on his sparkling blue eyes. She was shocked by the predicament she found herself in. His hands were close to her waist without touching her. Just when she thought things couldn’t get worse, Goldie’s snoopy little nose appeared, sniffing between her face and Stewart’s. It would be difficult for Stewart to move without touching her. The dog looked at her and then licked Stewart’s cheek.
Natasha giggled.
“Stop. Go lay down,” he begged the dog.
With one final motion, Goldie extended her tongue across Stewart’s cheek and onto his lips. Stewart closed his eyes and scrunched his nose. Natasha’s giggle intensified. The dog backed away, settling on the grass beside them. The dog placed her chin comfortably on her paws and sighed in contentment.
“How disgusting,” Stewart groaned, unable to wipe his face. “I have been
kissed by a dog.”
“I’ve also been kissed by your dog,” Natasha reminded him as she looked into his eyes.
“You must put me out of my misery and assure me you’re not hurt,” he
“I’m terribly embarrassed, but not hurt.”
“You say you’re embarrassed, yet I believe you tripped me to avoid a second loss. You intentionally put your foot out.”
About to defend herself, she saw the slight smirk on Stewart’s face. He was
“There’d be no need for such an attempt, sir. I would have won that race. You would have been left in a cloud of dust.”
Stewart’s face lit up. “What an impressive, optimistic opinion. The truth shall
be revealed shortly, I’m certain. I have no doubt I will defeat you the next time,” he responded with certainty.
Stewart’s eyes sparkled. She found him even more handsome than the day they met. With his warm breath on her face, Natasha was overcome by emotions she never knew existed. Her heart pounded. The sensation was so intense she was certain Stewart could see the thumping from her chest.

Blurb from Natasha’s Diary
“You’re a good girl,” he soothed, rubbing the horse’s neck. “We’re close.”
He was within a few hundred feet of the office. Relief turned to panic when he saw the smoke billowing from the fifteen hundred square foot one level building. It’s on fire! Poppa, Hank, and Thomas!
“Whoa,” he ordered. Stewart flung himself from the horse and quickly looped the rein around a fence post. He ran toward the building, yelling for his father. Nothing. There wasn’t a sound. I lost Natasha. I can’t lose Poppa. “Poppa!” he bellowed.
He ran past the shed. Three horses. They wouldn’t leave without their horses. They’re in the building. He darted toward the door, flinching as the heat shattered the windows. Stepping to the opening, visibility was worse than he expected. He could barely see a few feet ahead, but his father was somewhere inside. Stewart inhaled the fresh, moist air as deeply as his lungs would allow and stepped inside. He knew the building well. He and Thomas spent hours there, reviewing and adjusting calculations for accuracy. Four rooms. The front office, where the bookkeeper worked part-time, the meeting room where Hank sat with potential clients, Hank’s office, and then the warehouse where stock, supplies, and tools were kept. The men would be in one of the last two rooms.
Working his way forward, the thick smoke made it almost impossible to see. Stewart rushed past the reception area toward the meeting room, heedless of the danger. There was something on the floor. A piece of furniture? It was hard to tell. He bent down and felt around blindly. It wasn’t something, but someone. Still holding his breath, he was afraid to speak. His eyes itched and watered in the smoky atmosphere.

Natasha's Dream is available through my publisher MuseitUp Publishing    Kobo    Barnes & Noble  WHSmith and on iTunes 
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They sound like exciting reads to me. I'll be trying them out soon.
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