Monday, November 28, 2016

Tuesday Tales and No One is an Island


Ahoy Fellow Fathomers! It's time for Tuesday Tales.



A group of writers gather together and give our interpretation of a specific word prompt each week. Once per month, we even write to an image.  You never know what you might encounter when you get inside our minds. This week our group writes to the word- island.  This will be an excerpt from my new WIP for a new romance contemporary, No Games, Just Love.

Enjoy!~






Lola’s first annual Texi-Tropical Mixer appeared successful. No matter how many times the luau theme showcased a party or event, the timeless fun and classic setting promised fun times. We rented a small portion of a lake swim beach for a sandy spot. Volleyball games played out in one corner, limbo took an area, and other assorted games and get-to-know-you exercises kept folks chatting and laughing. Some wore island inspired clothing, tiki masks, hula attire, you name it.
We knew an informal gathering could infringe upon Lola’s strict rule of assignments to specific leagues, however, we also wanted the great publicity such an affair would create. “Sometimes you have to break a few of your own rules.” Lola shrugged the possibility of failure away. I took a personal turn on breaking a few rules to step away from my rigid shell of comfort. Lesley inspired me, I couldn’t think of any better reason.
We planned to spend a few hours in the sun, then, switch to a dance by evening. A long day for sure, but, we already had several new recruits interested in upcoming dating leagues. I took advantage of a small meeting cabin on the property to set up my laptop. I could keep track of prospects, while still available to supervise with Lola. She also hired some muscle by the hour to dissuade any potential roughhousing nonsense. Lesley went about serving drinks and checking on guests. I finally spied Lola taking a pause from the action.
Lola didn’t have a date, customary for business gatherings. Remaining under a shade tree on a lounge chair, she watched everyone, probably mentally taking notes. She had a knack for recalling minute details, making people feel welcomed and important. I admired her for how well she read a customer. Yet, all those skills didn’t make her any more suited for a one on one relationship than the next human fumbling around wearing the blinders of romance. Somber, her demeanor fell flat, almost sad at times. When she was alone, I approached, determined to bring a smile.
“Hey, boss lady, what do you think of your party?”
“Boss lady? Where did that come from?”
“I do work for you.”






Please visit us at our main site for more interpretations of island  Tuesday Tales Main Page

Monday, November 14, 2016

Tuesday Tales- Around the Town


Ahoy Fellow Fathomers! It's time for Tuesday Tales.



A group of writers gather together and give our interpretation of a specific word prompt each week. Once per month, we even write to an image.  You never know what you might encounter when you get inside our minds. This week our group writes to the word- town.  This will be an excerpt from my new WIP for a new romance contemporary, No Games, Just Love.

Enjoy!~






“You truly inherited my way of taking care of business.”

Heavy weights once again left my shoulders. Truth telling was indeed cathartic. “So, when he found out, we had a severe falling out. Over time, he contacted me again and we eventually met for drinks. I was following him to his house when I wrecked. I believe it was a sign.”

“A sign you weren’t supposed to be at his house?”

“Yes, he lives out of town, moved partially to get away from me. I think the universe wants us to stay apart.”

“What about true character is revealed in adversity? Maybe you two were meant to endure struggle to make your relationship solid?”

Mamma had an irritating way of confusing me. Should I dare tell her how my life felt complete only when Marty came back into it? “You’re messing up my way of thinking.”

“It’s who I am.” Mamma believed in happy endings, knowing a person didn’t get there by taking the easy road. “If I could do anything different, I would’ve found a way to keep you dad in our lives. We should’ve moved away with him.”

Here we go, talking about my father the roadie again. Good thing the nurse interrupted us.

“Good news, Ms. Fontaine, I have your release papers ready.”

“Splendid!” Mamma clapped her hands. “Just in time for tea.”

We made it to her house by a quiet, peaceful drive. Mamma followed through on her promise, gathering a tea pot, little fancy porcelain cups, and pulled thinly sliced bread from the cabinet. “I’ll make us cucumber sandwiches with the crusts cut off. What do you think? I also have some scones in the freezer, they’ll thaw in a jif.”

“Sounds good, Mamma, I’ll take a hot shower.”

“Remember, the doctor said you’re anemic, you need to eat more.”

“Random carbs probably won’t cure low iron levels in my blood.”

“It’s a start. I’ll pop over to the store for some vitamins.”

“Grab some beef jerky too, that’ll be good.” Halfway joking, I actually craved beef jerky for some odd reason. I’m not sure where that came from.

“Jerky? You’re right, that sounds delicious. We can make some.”

Mamma the crafting cooking queen. “Have you ever made jerky?”

“I burned a roast a time or two, does that count?”








Please visit us at our main site for more interpretations of town  Tuesday Tales Main Page

Monday, November 7, 2016

Tuesday Tales and It's All About the Band


Ahoy Fellow Fathomers! It's time for Tuesday Tales.



A group of writers gather together and give our interpretation of a specific word prompt each week. Once per month, we even write to an image.  You never know what you might encounter when you get inside our minds. This week our group writes to the word- ghost.  This will be an excerpt from my new WIP for a new romance contemporary, No Games, Just Love.

Enjoy!~






I suppose I never hated Lola, I hated her actions.
Hate- such a violent word, final, definitive- offering no hope, probably more depressing than any other emotional concept. Hate meant your heart down to your toes had room for nothing else, and it consumed a person. If I had no hate, then, my heart never stopped loving Lola, my soul was only hibernating away from the agony. Healing removed the reasons I shouldn’t love Lola, and I didn’t know what to do about it.
Impulsively, I ran in Forrest Gump splendor, skirting past dancing couples, bumping into folks left and right. “Pardon me…excuse me…sorry I need by.” My mouth repeated the mantra excusing rudeness, while zinging like a pinball through the human congestion. The band slowed the tunes to something sensual, encouraging closeness. Luckily, I hit the foyer before knocking any tightly bound couples over.
But, luck didn’t prevent my haste from knocking Lola on her sexy ass. Hrmph! Hitting her full speed, she saw me a split second before I made contact. “Marty!”
Solidly, she tipped over onto the floor in full upright position- a Coke bottle beauty hit like a wide receiver.  The side of her head made direct contact with the slick finish of the hardwood flooring.
She wasn’t the only one who saw stars from our collision. Sweet mother, I wanted to slam her in a different way.
“Fuck, Marty, is there a fire or something?”
Fire? What a good way to describe my testosterone enhanced genitals.
“I’m very sorry.”
Rubbing the side of her face, shakily sitting up, Lola caressed her jaw. “That’s twice I’ve hit the floor in the past month, and I’m fucking sober! Sober both times!”
“I didn’t know you’d still be here.  I wasn’t trying to hurt you.” Shit, that came out wrong.
“Did you know I’ve already chipped a tooth? I’ve got a dentist appointment this week…that is if my jaw isn’t too swollen I have to put it off.”
“Let me take a look.” Squatting down, I inspected her smooth skin, looking for bruises or abrasions. Angry red splotches promised necessary healing time. Gently, I touched her face, skimming her cheek with my fingertips. Familiar territory, even more familiar feels, momentarily quieted the turmoil inside my chest.
“So, a bar brawl in a jazz club. How believable will the story float?”
“Would you even tell that story? Isn’t that like getting beat up for your milk money or stuffed in a locker?” Joking with me was how we got started in the first place. I reveled in the destiny.
“I’ll tell everyone, you should see the trumpet player.” Diverting her eyes, possibly hiding tears, caused another round of ache in my guts. The whisper carried slightly over the din of the crowd in the main room. “Why did you chase after me?”
“I’m not…I’m…dammit, I don’t know.” Honesty, brutal truths can make for obstinate conversation starters. “Somewhere inside me couldn’t take you leaving. I saw you walk away and got desperate.”





Please visit us at our main site for more interpretations of band  Tuesday Tales Main Page