Archive | December 2015

Starting Over: TT ‘shoes’

Tuesday TalesIn Starting Over, Victoria met Toby in the antique store she owns in Oak Grove Square. The man is a frustrating mix of coldhearted developer, sweet and charming hunk, and a broken-hearted little boy still mourning his grandparents.

Toby and Victoria have had a disagreement about his latest development project. They’ve patched it up and are headed out for their first formal date since their big fight. This week we’re writing to the prompt ‘shoes’. Return to Tuesday Tales here, to read more snippets from the talented Tuesday Tales bunch.


The antiques that filled every square inch of Victoria’s shop, Serendipity, failed to captivate her as they usually did. Typically she could spend the entire day in her little oasis, wandering the store, dusting and rearranging the multitude of pieces of the past, lost in a time warp.

This week she didn’t notice the Fiesta ware pitchers that usually gave her such delight. The sparkling depression era dishes seemed colorless and bland. The vintage linens that she loved to stroke whenever she passed by, thinking of the hours that some nameless hand spent lovingly stitching the embellishment…they lacked their magic too.

Instead, she had visions of blond, handsome Toby. Memories of their passionate embrace and mini make out session heated the smoldering flames into a blaze. She counted the hours until their Saturday night date. She spent hours musing about what outfit to wear. She daydreamed about how the evening would progress…and where the night would end.

Customers had to repeat themselves. She’d catch herself staring off into space, not even hearing the phone ringing in the background. One day she totally forgot to eat lunch.

Sally, from Crafter’s Cottage stopped in Saturday morning. “You all right?”

“Fine,” Victoria answered, slightly confused about why Sally had even asked that question.

“You haven’t joined us for our morning walks this week. We wondered if you were sick.”

“No…no…just…just busy…”

A surprise visitor later that day momentarily brought her focus back to antiques. When the bell tinkled over the door, Victoria looked up to see a woman coming straight towards her. She appeared to be in her mid-thirties, but Victoria knew that sometimes looks were deceiving.

“Hi. I’m Susan Copeland.”

“Uh…hello. I’m Victoria.” It seemed odd, because customers didn’t usually introduce themselves. Unless they were leading up to a sales pitch of some sort.

“You left a message on my phone a few weeks ago.”

“I did?” Victoria’s brain was spinning, trying to remember who she’d called and why. She came up clueless, not having the foggiest idea of who she’d left a message for.
CNJ_old love letters“About the letters.”

“The letters…” A puzzled look must have conveyed her confusion to the woman.

“My grandmother’s. You said you came across a stack of them and were looking for her descendants. Charlotte Copeland…from…”

Those letters! Of course. I’m so sorry. I’ve been so distracted these past few weeks with fighting an inappropriate development and…and…oh gosh, you’re not interested in all that. So, Charlotte was your grandmother?”

The two woman whose only link was a stack of love letters postmarked in the forties chatted and forged a bond as they honored Charlotte and the memories of her life.

“I’m so excited that you found these and tracked me down. All I have of my grandmother’s is her wedding outfit – her dress and shoes. I’m looking forward to seeing a piece of her life.”

Victoria disappeared into the office and returned bearing a ribbon wrapped stack. Minus one letter – one of her favorites – that she kept as a memento to remember the day that Toby appeared bearing this unique gift his workmen had uncovered in the house they were demolishing.

Finally – she could close the shop and rush home to prepare for her anticipated date. After the fantasizing that filled her mind all week, she hoped that the evening would be as special as her imagination made it. She primped for an hour, working on her makeup, her hair and her outfit. Goodness, it took her longer to decide whether or not to wear underwear – and which pair – than it normally took her to dress for the day.

When the doorbell rang, she rushed to the door and flung it open. Toby stood on the front porch, freshly showered with hair still wet. His periwinkle polo shirt tucked into starched khaki’s wrapped tightly around his muscular forearms. A subtle aroma of his cologne wafted towards her and enveloped her in its masculine scent.

Victoria stood mesmerized. Feeling tongue tied and suddenly nervous, the words that popped out of her mouth were not what she’d planned. “I met Charlotte’s granddaughter this afternoon.”

Christmas Love in the Square #3

Tuesday Tales is getting together to bring you a round of Christmas short stories. Some are complete in Tuesday’s post and other stories are a little longer and will run over three to four days.

Christmas Love in the Square will run over three days. Come back tomorrow for the next installment, and then Christmas Eve for the end. If you’ve followed Starting Over or Thyme for Love, you’ll have met some of these characters all ready. In this short story, Bertie, from Scrappie’s Quilt Store, is the target of Cupid’s arrow. But after a long, happy marriage and being a widow for twelve years, Bertie isn’t interested. Did Cupid aim for a hardened heart?


This is the third and last segment of this short Christmas story. I hope you’ve enjoyed it.

Merry Christmas!


The next few days Bertie wondered how she’d get it all done. Fortunately the quilting guild came in and spent a few afternoons wrapping presents instead of doing any sewing. A few had even spent hours at home making twenty six pillowcases out of fabrics adorned with Santa’s, reindeer, snowmen and Christmas candy. The gifts for each child went in a pillowcase with their name on it.

The handmade stockings ran the gamut from lush velveteen’s, fun Comic book characters, Disney princesses and whimsical prints. The ladies spent hours filling each stocking with an assortment of tasty seasonal candies, mints, candy canes, nuts and an orange. Little trinkets such as costume jewelry, chap sticks and figurines went in too.

The town was getting quite festive as Christmas themed quilts started appearing in the shop windows on the square.

In the midst of the confusion and chaos, as she still had a store to run with women needing last minute fabrics and accessories, Bertie’s friends from the square kept dropping in to pester her about going caroling. Victoria stopped at least once a day. Sally, from Crafters Cottage stopped in. Irene, from Pageturners came by a few times.

Even blustery old Hank, dropped in one afternoon. “Gotta go caroling with us Bertie gal.”

Everyone except Sam. He was mute on the subject. Which puzzled her a little. But then she got caught up in the frenzy and didn’t give it another thought.

Carmen, from Java Time, waltzed in Friday morning, carrying Bertie’s favorite drink, a steaming Peppermint Mocha. “So, you going caroling with us tonight.” She held the drink up high. “I bring you bribery.”

“Oh, all right,” Bertie grumbled, reaching for the frothy concoction. “I’m never going to hear the end of this if I don’t.”

So, even after repeated refusals, at dusk Friday night she found herself joining her friends around the towering pine tree in front of the courthouse that sat in the middle of the square. Spying Victoria, deep in conversation with Sally and Carmen, Bertie sidled up to the group. “Traitors,” she called out in greeting. “And here I thought peer pressure was something that happened to young people.”

They all laughed and embraced her in a group hug, chattering the whole time.

Heather, dressed in chic winter wear that made a statement, made the rounds, handing out stapled chorus books she’d copied for the event. As the ladies all took a set, Bertie looked around to see who else was there.

“No Sam?” she asked.

“Sam? I thought you didn’t give a hoot’s patooty about Sam,” Victoria said, in mock astonishment.

“I…um…I don’t…” Bertie sputtered. “Just curious, you know…since y’all seem so hot and bothered to hook us two old geezers up.”

“No…no…” they all claimed, trying to look innocent.

Heather whistled to get everyone’s attention. “While some of the shops are still open, I thought we’d start on this corner, and then make our way around the square until we get to Hank’s BBQ, which is open the latest. We can wander through Hank’s serenading those dining inside. Then we’ll sing our way over to Crafter’s Cottage, where Sally has hot coffee, tea and cocoa waiting for us.”

“Cookies and yummies too,” Sally called out. “From Marie and Three Tarts Bakery.”

A cheer arose from the small group, now extra excited about the festivities for the night. As Heather called out the first song – Good Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen – and started singing, the group headed across the street, to work their way around the square.

A top hatted gentleman, complete with Victorian frock and ruffled cuffs, slid in between the women and bent his head towards the back of Bertie‘s neck. “Evening ladies. Bertie.”

The three spun around in surprise and Bertie gasped. “Sam?”

“Top o’ the evening to you mi’lady.”

“What on earth?”

“Well, since I’ll be decked out as the jolly old man himself tomorrow night, figured I needed my Christmas finery on tonight. “Just trying to impress the lady,” he said with a wink, then continued on with the carol as if nothing were remiss.

A little bit later Victoria nudged Sally and whispered, “I think Bertie’s distracted. She’s having trouble keeping up with the songs.”

The next hour passed quickly as they sang Dashing Through the Snow, It Came Upon a Midnight Clear, and other favorites. At Hank’s BBQ they finished up the revelry with Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer which had the children joining in. When they left, the entire restaurant broke into applause.

Feeling pleased with their performance, the group headed back down the street to meet up for refreshments. Good cheer spread through the crowd and even the frosty breath in from of them didn’t dim their happiness.

Sam moved in closer to Bertie and her friends. As they started to go inside, he cleared his throat. “Um…Bertie…” She stopped in the doorway as he motioned to the greenery hanging in the doorway above her head. “Mistletoe, ma’am. I get a kiss.” With that he dropped a quick kiss on her cheek before she knew what was happening.

With that the group entered the store, where goodies were laid out on the counter. Sam spent the rest of the evening circulating and not giving Bertie any special interest.

That night Bertie didn’t sleep as well as she usually did.

“Henry,” she spoke aloud. “Are you there? Can you hear me? You know I loved you with all my heart, don’t you? More than life itself?”

Memories of Christmas’ past trickled through her mind. She remembered their first Christmas together, with their pathetic little tree and handmade ornaments. A ditch tree, they called it in Iowa. One they cut down from a ditch in the road. The Christmases when the children were little. The last Christmas together after Henry was so ill.

She almost thought she heard him in the whisper in the night. “It’s all right, dearest. Live and love.”

She finally fell asleep, sometime before dawn broke, but not by much. When the alarm went off she kept hitting snooze until she knew she’d be late to open the store if she continued sleeping.

Being the last Saturday before Christmas, the store was packed from opening till closing. She didn’t have time to think or fret. She finally almost pushed the last customer out of the door, with barely time to lock up and head to where everyone gathered around the fire truck, festooned with twinkling lights and a dashing Santa. He was already seated up on top next to the Chief, waving to the crowd.

A stage set up in front of City Hall featured entertainment until the fire truck finished their rounds and made it back to town. The high school band, their instruments gaily wrapped with colored lights, performed. The choir sang Ave Maria. But the children from the preschool with their song and dance were clearly the favorites of the evening.

Soon the old fire engine returned to the square, horn honking all the way. The crowd gravitated to where it parked, with Bertie right in the midst. She wanted to catch another glimpse of the cheery man in the red velvet suit – who maybe wasn’t so much of an old coot after all. But he wasn’t there.

She was surprised at the empty feeling she had, not seeing him seated on top where he was when they left.

The crowd quieted as a new sound entered the air. Bells. “Sleigh bells,” someone called out from the crowd. They tinkled louder, getting closer, and then the clip clop of hooves joined the jingling bells.

Around the corner came a fancy white carriage, pulled by four horses outfitted with old time sleigh bells. Sitting in the carriage was a familiar looking Santa, with a cozy comforter draped over his legs.

The driver pulled to a stop in front of the crowd. Sam stood up and hollered to the milling throng. “Bertie! Bertie Mills. Your chariot awaits.”

Bertie couldn’t reply. She was too choked up. With tears. With joy. She started making her way towards the team of horses. “Coming Sam, you jolly old coot,” she finally hollered out.

The smile that lit her face let everyone know that ‘old coot’ was now a term of endearment. It seemed that love, after all, isn’t only for the young. And another romance was soon to blossom in Oak Grove Square.

Pat tt santa carriage


Christmas Love in the Square #2

Tuesday Tales is getting together to bring you a round of Christmas short stories. Some are complete in Tuesday’s post and other stories are a little longer and will run over three to four days.

Christmas Love in the Square will run over three days. Come back tomorrow for the next installment, and then Christmas Eve for the end. If you’ve followed Starting Over or Thyme for Love, you’ll have met some of these characters all ready. In this short story, Bertie, from Scrappie’s Quilt Store, is the target of Cupid’s arrow. But after a long, happy marriage and being a widow for twelve years, Bertie isn’t interested. Did Cupid aim for a hardened heart?


pat tt christmasWith a grunt of displeasure, Bertie crossed the street and headed to the book store. Pageturners sat on the same side of the square as Scrappie’s, but on the opposite end of the block. Since Irene was at the merchant’s meeting they’d just left, Bertie figured that Sam was holding down the fort. She wished that Irene would have agreed to ask Sam about being Santa. It seemed the whole square conspired to get her and Sam together.

She wound her way through the empty outdoor tables at Java Time, the coffee shop situated next door to the book store and was surprised that Carmen hadn’t pulled them in for the winter yet. She held up a hand of greeting as she passed the large window filled with painted steaming cups of coffee and cocoa, wrapped with curly holiday ribbons and bows.

When she got to the bookstore’s window , she halted to take it all in. The display depicted a vintage Christmas from long ago. A tree filled with homespun ornaments, paper chains and burlap bows took center stage, surrounded by more children’s picture books than Bertie could imagine. An old time wagon sat next to the tree, filled with stuffed dolls, teddy bears and balls while an old fashioned train sat in a circle.

The tinkling bell over the door announced her entrance and as Sam turned from the counter and saw Bertie, his face broke out in a megawatt smile. “Bertie, love, such a radiant ray of sunshine you are.”

“Oh, stuff it, you old smoosher. Some day you’re gonna give it up.”

“Not a chance, dear. Not a chance.” A twinkle filled his eyes. “Way I see it, some day I’m going to wear you down and you’ll give in and have dinner with me.”

Bertie threw up a hand to stop him there. “What do you even want with an old lady that’s well past her prime?”

“Well, Bertie, my love, if you haven’t noticed…I’m not so far from death’s door myself. The only thing young about me is my spirit.”

She nodded her head towards the front window. “Irene borrow some things from Victoria’s shop?”

“Not at all. Why would she do that when she has me? That old wagon? Mine. Got it one Christmas when I was just a tyke. The dolls were my sisters, God rest their souls.”

“You lost your sisters already? You have any family left?”

“A niece and nephew. In Michigan. I don’t hear much from them. A birthday and Christmas card sometimes.”

“No kids or grandkids?”

A flicker of pain passed through his eyes. “I had a daughter. She was in the car with Mabel when the drunk driver hit them.”

“I’m sorry…” She laid a hand on his arm, a lump in her throat preventing her from saying more.

“Ayep. My life changed in that moment. Lost both my loves without a chance to say goodbye. Alice was just twenty eight. In the prime of her life. About to be married herself.”

“…how long ago?”

“Coming up on twenty years this Christmas Eve.”

“On Christmas Eve? You must hate the holidays.” Sympathetic pain filled Bertie’s heart. “And here I came over to ask you about being Santa.” She turned to go.

“Santa? For you Bertie dear, I’d love to be Santa.”

His words stopped her in her tracks and she turned back with a puzzled expression. “How can you, with what this time of year must mean to you.”

“Oh, now don’t get me wrong. For years and years I couldn’t have.” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “Truth be told, for too many of those years, I hid behind a bottle until the holidays were over.”

Her interest was piqued. “So what changed from that to the cheerful man you are today?”

“Because I finally learned that life is precious. Even mine. Throwing away my life wouldn’t bring my wife and daughter back.” He paused, a wan smile drifting across his lips. “And one night Mabel came to me…”

“She did? In a dream?”

“Not sure. Seemed I was wide awake. Maybe a little drunk. But, boy howdy, did she lay into me! Said I was wasting my life and she was disappointed in me. Said my actions were undermining anything good we’d built together and that I’d better shape up. If I wanted to honor her and my daughter‘s memories, I‘d better do what I can to leave this place a little brighter before I follow her home.”


“And, so…here I am trying to spread a little sunshine…and trying to court the most eligible gal in the square, who won’t give me the time of day…”

“Samuel!” Bertie batted at his shoulder, not quite sure how to answer that.

“So yes. I’d love to be Santa. Just tell me when and where.”

“Here in the square. Saturday. And you’ll have to go with the Fire Chief on the old engine to deliver the presents to the children that the square adopted for Christmas.”

“Ho Ho Ho!” he bellowed out with a chuckle. “Just practicing, dear. And afterwards…you’ll go to dinner with me?”

With another swat at his shoulder – and a half a grin this time – she muttered, “We’ll see…ya old coot,” as she scooted away.

Sam just smiled and didn’t reply. Seems her words didn’t have quite the clipped tone in them that they usually did.

He had a few surprises up his sleeve. He didn’t live to be seventy without learning a few tricks. He’d be Santa all right. And this year, Santa was going to show Oak Grove Square – and Bertie in particular – a special kind of magic.


Cone back tomorrow for the final installment!


Christmas Love in the Square #1

Tuesday Tales is getting together to bring you a round of Christmas short stories. Some are complete in Tuesday’s post and other stories are a little longer and will run over three to four days.

Christmas Love in the Square will run over three days. Come back tomorrow for the next installment, and then Christmas Eve for the end. If you’ve followed Starting Over or Thyme for Love, you’ll have met some of these characters all ready. In this short story, Bertie, from Scrappie’s Quilt Store, is the target of Cupid’s arrow. But after a long, happy marriage and being a widow for twelve years, Bertie isn’t interested. Did Cupid aim for a hardened heart?

Return to Tuesday Tales for more Christmas romances.


“…and a huge thank you to Bertie, over at Scrappie’s Quilt Shop, for volunteering to coordinate our Quilted Christmas Memories on Oak Grove Square.” Heather, the merchant’s association liaison from the city, strutted in front of the group as proud as if it had been her idea. “Bertie, can you give us a report on where we are and what still needs done before our grand weekend?”

Bertie hesitated before she eased herself up from the cold, metal chair. “Didn’t know I’d have to talk in front of everyone,” she mumbled.

“Can’t hear you,” a voice from the back of the room called out.

“Oh fiddlesticks, t’aint much to hear.” But she did attempt to speak a little louder as she stumbled over her announcement. “The quilters are finishing up the last of their quilts. I have a list over at Scrappie’s of all the businesses that agreed to hang a quilt in their window. Most everyone is participating.” She took this chance to turn and glare at Hank sitting in the last row.

He raised his hand in protest. “Hey, I’m a Bar-b-que place. You don’t want hickory and mesquite smoked into your precious quilts do you?”

“Naw. Suppose not…“ Bertie conceded. “We do still need a Santa for Saturday night though…don’t reckon you can help us out by being Santa, can you?”

He shook his head sternly. “Not a chance! My cantankerous behind ain’t getting’ in no jolly fat man’s suit. Try Sam, over at Pageturner’s. Betcha he’d do it.” A sly grin crossed his face as he chuckled. “Specially for you, Bertie. I think the man would do anything you asked him to do.”

Most of the crowd giggled softly or grinned. A lot of hands flew up over their mouths as the other business owners tried to suppress their amusement. Poor Sam had held a flame for Bertie for a long time. Not that it did any good. Bertie refused to give him an ounce of encouragement, going out of her way to rebuff his attempts at even a friendship.

Bertie called out across the room. “Irene, Sam’s your employee. You suppose you can ask him if he’d help us out by being Santa?”

“Well, Bertie, I could…“ Irene answered, “…but I think Hank’s right on this one. I think he’ll agree in a flash if you ask him. You know, you being the committee chair and all.”

pat tt angel tree

The response Bertie’s uttered was so low no one understood it. Which they were fine with. They didn’t really want to know what she’d said. Heaving a big sigh, she continued. “The response for the angels on the tree has been terrific. We have wishes from twenty six underprivileged children on the tree. The quilt club ladies made handmade stockings for each of them. We asked the children for three wishes – a piece of clothing and their size, their favorite candy or treat, and a toy or fun item they wished for. We have almost every item. We’re just lacking a few.”

Hank raised his hand from the back. “What ‘cha lacking, Bertie? That I can help with. Put Hank’s BBQ down for what you still need. Bring me over a list and I’ll finish up the last pieces.”

Victoria, who owned the antique shop, Serendipity, was sitting next to Hank. She started clapping and the rest of the merchants chimed in, bringing a red flush to Hank’s face. She turned and patted the embarrassed man’s arm. “Thanks, Hank,” she said under her breath. “You’re not really such a scrooge after all, are you?”

The group started chattering to each other and Heather cleared her throat to get their attention. When that didn’t work she threw her shoulders back (which she was prone to do anyway, being very proud of her silicone gals) and clapped her hands in the air. “Ladies…and gentlemen…” With the emphasis on gentlemen, she battered her eyes and glanced at the men in the front row. With a wink at one, she announced, “To deliver the presents to the children, I do believe our kind Fire Chief has volunteered the use of the old engine for the night.”

He nodded in agreement, a proud grin plastered across his face. And most in the group knew that he’d only agreed with the request because Heather – and her gals, usually prominently displayed in a low cut blouse – had asked him.

It was Christmas. ‘Tis the Season. And the flirting and desires in Oak Grove Square continued whatever the season.

The group finished up with the agenda and most scurried out the door, intent on getting backing to their businesses and livelihoods. Victoria hung around the back door. She’d wanted to speak to Bertie but was late to the meeting and had slipped in the back, taking the last empty seat next to Hank.

Victoria caught Bertie’s elbow as the older woman tried to slip out with the crowd. “I wanted to ask you. Come caroling with us Friday night?”

“Nope. Can’t make it. Too much to do.”

“C’mon, Bertie. It’s only for an hour. Where’s your holiday cheer?”

“Honey, this is my holiday cheer. I do what I can to bring magic to some children’s lives. For me…I haven’t enjoyed Christmas for myself since my Henry died.”

“How long’s your husband been gone?”

“Twelve years last September.”

“Twelve years? Surely that’s been long enough that it’s time for Bertie to have a little fun, isn’t it?”

Bertie stared intently into Victoria’s eyes before answering. “You know, honey, sometimes I almost think so. And then a rush of memories come flooding over me, washing me away back to the past. We were so happy, he and I. We had thirty eight Christmas’ together, coming up on thirty nine before the Good Lord called him home.” She stopped and wiped a tear away that threatened to trickle down her cheek. “Christmas just isn’t the same without my man.”

“Goodness that’s a long time together. I didn’t make it that long my first time around. I hope that Toby and I make it as long as you two did. Haven’t you even dated anyone since?”

A flash of happiness erased the tears in Bertie’s eyes. “Now you and Toby, I declare. That’s the best match I’ve seen in this town square since I’ve been here. You just glow when you’re around him.”

“I don’t know…” Victoria demurred. “Sally, over at Crafter Cottage, caught a pretty special guy when she found Izzy.”

“Ayep. Them too. But you ladies are young. Why me, I’m just an old geezer, tottering on towards my own grave.”

“Why Bertie…you’re only…what? Sixtyish?”

“Sixty eight last month.”

“That’s not old. You still have plenty of life and spark left in you.”

“Twouldn’t know about that.”

Victoria gave an impish grin. “There’s Sam…now he thinks you’ve got some romance left in you.”

“That old coot?” Bertie sputtered. “He can kiss my flying hide if he thinks he stands a chance with me. Ain’t no man, specially him, gonna take the place of my Henry. It’ll be a cold day in Hades before I see the romance side of life again.”


Come back tomorrow for more!


Starting Over – TT ‘pretty’

Tuesday TalesIn Starting Over, Victoria met Toby in the antique store she owns in Oak Grove Square. The man is a frustrating mix of coldhearted developer, sweet and charming hunk, and a broken-hearted little boy still mourning his grandparents.

Toby and Victoria have had a disagreement about his latest development project. He’s taken her to his office, to show her his revised plans. This week we’re writing to the prompt ‘pretty’. Return to Tuesday Tales here, to read more snippets from the talented Tuesday Tales bunch.


pat_blogVictoria closed her eyes, savoring the soft touch of his lips on face. She sighed and fought the urge to turn and throw her arms around his neck.

After her candid and honest confession, she wasn’t about to let Toby know how his sweet demeanor wormed its way between the chinks in her armor. Instead, she opened her eyes and stepped back. A quirky grin slid across her face. “You think you’re pretty slick, don’t you? Trying to sweet talk me with all your fancy, revised – and totally appropriate – plans.”

“Is it working?” The twinkle in his eye was like an arrow straight to her heart.

When she didn’t answer, only smiled and simply laid her fingertips on his chest, he moved in close and wrapped his arms around her. “Is that a yes?” he whispered into her neck.

“That you found a way to my heart?” She slid her hand and cupped his chin in her palm. “Oh, my sweet young Toby. Yes, I’ll give you a second chance. But tell that arrogant, short tempered developer he’d better stay in his office…”

His lips silenced her words. As she melted into him, the flames between them fanned into a fierce, raging inferno. The months of their back and forth attraction tempered by their differences merged together into the meeting of their passions. The only thing that existed was their togetherness. Lips and tongues met on common ground while their arms wrapped tightly around each other and held them steady and upright.

When Victoria’s knees threatened to buckle underneath her, Toby clasped his arms tighter, holding her tight as he murmured her name over and over.

“Oh my…” Victoria uttered breathlessly.

Toby traced his fingertip along the edges of her lips. “I want you, love. I want you with every cell in my body…but not here…”

“No, not here.” Those were the words she spoke. But that wasn’t the message her body gave her. The fire in her loins didn’t care where. Her body wanted him now. Anywhere. A slim edge of reason surfaced in her brain and she agreed that the conference table in his office wasn’t the best location for their first time together. Maybe later a furtive office dalliance might add a spark to the flames. But no, if the developer was to stay out of the equation, then the office was not the proper place.

“I should go. Before we go any further.” Her hands ran up and down his back, reluctant to lose their touch of him.

Toby groaned and stepped away. “Then we’d better go. Now. Or I won’t be able to stop.”

CNJ_walking hand in handThe ride back to Serendipity was quiet, although the air between them was thick with promise. Their hands clasped together between them was the only communication they had.

Toby waited while she unlocked her shop and made sure she was safely inside.

“Saturday night?” he asked. “Are you free for dinner?”



Unexpected Assets

Unexpected Assets - Banner

TITLE – Unexpected Assets

SERIES – Texas Hill Country Series

AUTHOR – Emily Mims

GENRE – Contemporary Romance


LENGTH (Pages/# Words) – 150 pages

PUBLISHER – Boroughs Publishing

COVER ARTIST – Boroughs Art Department</p>

BOOK SYNOPSIS: After three agonizing years of surgeries and rehab. U.S. Army veteran Jason Donahue is ready to leave the Iraq War in the past and rejoin society. Yet, no matter the success he achieves at work, people wince every time they see him.

Everyone but Emily Riley. From the first, the beautiful redhead looks past his disfigurement and sees him. In return, Jason wants to buy her everything she deserves, starting with her dream home and going from there. Yet Emily has scars of her own, a past she’s not ready to reveal. Only when they both come clean, when they view each other through eyes of trust and love, will they know that, when a good man and a good woman give each other their heart, the two will always have more than enough.


Unexpected Assets - CoverEXCERPT

“Well, that explains it, then,” Mr. Harrington said.

“Explains what, Mr. Harrington?” Jason was puzzled and didn’t even try to hide it.

“Why you’re so interested in Emily. She and that money of hers could go a long way toward helping you catch up financially, as you put it.”

Jason felt the blood drain from his head. Emily exchanged a frantic look with her sister. “I-I’m sorry, sir,” he stammered. “What did you say?”

<p style=”text-align: justify;”>“I said that Emily and that money of hers could go a long way.”</p>

Jason just stared at the old man for a minute. “What money, Mr. Harrington?”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, young man. The trust fund. The Harrington trust fund. She’s bound to have told you about it.”

He lifted his chin and looked the old man in the eye. “I didn’t know Emily had a trust fund. She’s never mentioned it to me.” He looked at Emily across the table. “You’ve never said a word, Emily. Have you?”


Author Photo - Emily MimsAuthor of twenty five romance novels, Emily Mims combined her writing career with a career in public education until leaving the classroom to write full time. The mother of two sons and grandmother of three, she and her husband Charles live in central Texas but frequently visit grandchildren in Tennessee and Georgia. She plays the piano, organ, dulcimer and ukulele and belongs to two performing bands. She says, “I love to write romances because I believe in them. Romance happened to me and it can happen to any woman-if she’ll just let it.”







How Writing Novellas Helped me to my First Publishing Deal

Heather Pardoe

Snowdon 1 Snowdon from Llanberis

It’s quite strange seeing my novella ‘Finding the Snowdon Lily’ out as an ebook. You see, it was first written when ebooks were just a whisper and before the whole social media thing took off. (Yes there was life before Facebook and Twitter!)

Snowdon 3 Dolbadarn Castle, with Snowdon rising up behind

It may be small, but, like all my novellas, it is very dear to my heart. My novellas are where I cut my teeth as a novelist. At the time, I’d had a couple of short stories published, and I was in the RNA New Writers’ Scheme, floundering away at trying to finish my great Tome of a novel that was going to win every prize going and make me rich beyond my wildest dreams.

Ferns 1When a friend suggested that a 30,000 word pocket novel was a good place to learn my craft, I dismissed the…

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Starting Over – TT ‘evil’

Tuesday TalesNANO (National Novel Writing Month) is over, so we’re back to work on Starting Over again, with Victoria and Toby. Maybe this time we’ll get it finished up. Third times a charm?

In Starting Over, Victoria met Toby in the antique store she owns in Oak Grove Square. The man is a frustrating mix of coldhearted developer, sweet and charming hunk, and a broken-hearted little boy still mourning his grandparents.

Toby and Victoria have had a disagreement about his latest development project. He’s taken her to his office, to show her his revised plans. This week we’re writing to the prompt ‘evil’. Return to Tuesday Tales here, to read more snippets from the talented Tuesday Tales bunch.


CNJ_blueprintsVictoria examined the plans laid out before her. “So…what’s the catch? What did I miss?”

“What do you mean? There is no catch.” Toby seemed puzzled.

“Well…you’re Mr. Big Developer. You have your ideas for this grand scheme. You know, right along the ‘Bigger is Better’ theme. And then…all of a sudden you’ve revised all your plans, probably at a sizeable price, not to mention the additional acreage…just to build something that reflects the character of our small, unique town?” She sounded suspicious.

“Yessssss…and the problem is….?” Exasperated, Toby threw his hands up in the air before clutching the top of his head and groaning. “Woman, are you never happy? You don’t like what I’ve planned, but when I revise the vision for the project…at yes, great expense…you don’t like it either?”

“It’s not that I don’t like it. I adore the new plans.” Victoria turned and looked him square in the eye. “I’m just confused, because it seems so out of character for you to do this. So it makes me wonder why. I feel like there’s a catch. Or else there’s some other evil, devious plan that I haven’t figured out yet.”

Toby stared back into her eyes, returning her intent gaze without blinking. “There is. I admit it. I have an ulterior motive…a desire that supersedes everything else. I’ve lost my grip on the practical business considerations that usually drive me. I don’t recognize myself anymore.”

There were locked in a battle of intent. Neither one was willing to look away first.

“So…what’s this secret ulterior motive you harbor?”

“You.” He stated it calmly and firmly.

Victoria gulped and softly questioned him as she retained eye contact. “Me? How’s that?”

“I want you. For some odd and unexplainable reason, I want your respect and admiration. I don’t like it when you’re displeased with me. You’ve gotten under my skin and totally messed up my controlled life. I knew where I was going…and now…I’m not sure.”

“But…right now I feel like I don’t like you very much.” Victoria replied slowly and clearly. “There’s some qualities I see that I don’t care for. And I don’t know if I’m comfortable with what I think is your true underlying self. I’ve seen some good traits start to emerge and I’ve enjoyed the softer man that surfaces occasionally. But…I don’t know if I can trust that man to stay around for too long at a time. And the other man, the one that’s not so nice…I don’t like him. Not at all.”

“I know. I got that. Loud and clear. But I can be change. I can shoo the stern, uncaring man away.” Toby leaned in closer and spoke softly into her ear. “I can bring back the little boy that loves…that sees the best in people. I’m going to prove it to you…and me. For both of us.”

Tingles ran down Victoria’s neck and spread through her body, leaving a heated flush in its path. She whispered, “Do you think it’s possible?”

“I’ll be damned if I’m not going to give it my best shot.” He kissed her tenderly on the cheek. “Give me a chance?”

CNJ_second chance