Southern Life

For those who don't live south of the Mason Dixon Line, you may not fully understand this. Our weather consists of Spring, Summer, Fall, and Winter. However, we delegate winter to the 25th of December and demand it go away by the 25th of March at the latest. Our springs should be long from April to the first of July, leaving the months of July and August to the triple H's.
Ah, you say, what are the triple H's. None other than Hazy, Hot, and Humid. Weather that could make a host of angel's sweat and bring even the most onery non believer into church even if just to enjoy the air conditioning.

Well, the triple H's are here early. 90+ degrees and humidity into the triple digits all this week. Thank goodness I wear a ball cap at work. Ladies, its not going to be a good hair day. Have a great Monday.

Saturday snippet...

I've had a bunch of releases this year. So I thought I'd put up a snippet from the latest release. A short story entitled, Room at the Inn.

"Come sit down," he urged her. Helena moved toward him and paused at the arm of the couch. "I'd like to thank you." She paused and brought her hand to her forehead, grimacing as her fingers touched the swelling on her brow. "I can't remember if you told me your name." "It's James, James Buchanan."
He smiled and relief flowed through her body. "Well, then, thank you, Mr. Buchanan. I'm Helena McCray."
"You're quite welcome, Helena," he told her softly. "Won't you sit down?"
She moved to the couch and lowered her body into the plump cushions. Her eyes grew wide as he leaned close to pull the quilt from the back of the sofa. Again, Helena could smell the comfort of his scent. Her muscles relaxed as his strong hands tucked the blanket around her shoulders.
"Now, off with those boots."
"My boots," she questioned.
"Boots." he nodded.
Her fingers crawled down her calf to find the strap and draw down the zipper. The leather fell away but her feet refused to come free. "Sorry."
"Sit back," he said.
Dumbfounded she watched as he bent down, the flannel of his shirt pulling tight across the well-defined muscles of his back. Then the silk touch of his fingers caressed her foot. Helena sucked in a breath as the boot glided off.
"Their cold as ice," he murmured. His hands quickly purged the leather from her other foot.
She wanted to contradict him because she could feel the heat rushing from her center to all parts of her body, making her heart work rapidly. Her eyes widened as his arms slid beneath her knees and he swept her legs beneath the edges of the quilt.
"Better?"
She swallowed and gave a nod. Reaching across the tray, he handed her a mug of steaming coffee.
"Drink."
She lifted the mug and let the warm dark liquid fill her mouth. Every bit of will disappeared as she swallowed. "Nothing has ever tasted so good," she moaned.
James chuckled and picked up his own drink. Instead of sitting across from her, he took his place, beside her on the other cushion of the couch. "Now, how are you feeling?"
"Other than cold?" she asked, gazing at him over the rising steam from her mug.
"Other than cold," he replied.
"I've a bit of a headache. I was going to ask if you had some antiseptic. I wiped off the blood as best I could in the bathroom."
"I see," he said. "Let's see if we can thaw you out a bit."
He smiled and set his steaming mug back on the tray. "I should have brought it with me." His voice rose as he stood and walked back to the kitchen.
"It's okay. I'm just glad you have coffee." She brought the mug to her lips and took a sip. Her eyes closed as her body absorbed the heat, and she gave a contented sigh. The log in the fireplace crackled as if laughing. Helena turned her gaze on it and sat hypnotized as the flames danced, devouring the wood.
A gust of wind rattled the windowpanes. She stared at the darkened glass and realized how lucky she was to have had this man and his dog find her. She lifted the mug and took another sip.
"I've got a band aid that might work."
She looked up as James crossed the room and sat down.
"Here," he reached over and took her coffee. "Now, let me see."
Helena found it hard to breathe as he leaned close. His sandy blonde hair was brushed away from his face. The edges a bit rough and in need of a good trim. He gaze skimmed along the length of his jaw toward the cleft of his chin. It was then she noted the faint line of a beard and thin mustache that gave him a kingly look. She'd studied costume design in college and the images of Lerner and Lowes Camelot sprang to mind. Yes, he could easily play Lancelot or King Arthur.

To read more or purchase your copy of Room at the Inn, use the links below.

http://bit.ly/1I9kCsz

http://amzn.to/1cQkPYZ

Morning Mayhem...

I think I need a heroine who works for a living so we can commiserate together. LOL. I've a bit of outside work to do today before I hit the notebook. I've got my Tim McGraw soundtrack ready. :o) It will be a productive day.

Crazy days of summer....

It's hard to believe summer is almost here.

I'm working hard to keep up with my edits and writing new stories. I've been so lucky this year to find two great publishers, Victory Tales Press and Five Star Press. I hope to be having at least two more releases before this year ends.

Prince Charming Wore Spurs is the first in a series of books set in Indigo Springs, Texas. A place where cowboys can be cowboys and girls just adore them. Widower Jason Malone has a five year old daughter that adores fairytales and when her dad drags his feet on finding a new wife, what's a little girl to do but summon the matchmaker. Gillian Malone thinks the sun rises and sets in her new nanny. But Delaney Holmes or her alias Trudy has a secret of her own that could very well threaten her life at Fairy Tail Ranch.

Be My Always 2015 Summer Anthology is filled with five great stories. Random Acts of Kindness takes place in Rebel's Crossroads. It seems the church lady, Muriel Lowe has taken upon herself to play matchmaker for the local librarian. She pays two adorable children to help Jocelyn Lankford and Dan Rodgers find one another. Its a sweet tale just made for summer in your hammock.

I hope you'll take time to read and enjoy a great book. Happy reading until we meet again.

Small Town Life

I enjoy living in a small town. I like the slow pace and the attachments you make to people and places. They become yours. Your street, your block, your friends. You feel very protective over it, to the point, that you almost resist change.
Life in Rebel's Crossroads is the same way. Everything seems to fall into a predicted pattern. Sometimes people's actions reveal the character beneath as you'll see in this snippet from the release in my first novel in Rebel's Crossroads, Playing With Fire.


"Evening, Mr. Burns." Mitzi came under Sully's gaze and she smiled at the man in the cab. "Mitzi Stancil, I want you to meet Phillip Burns and his wife, Lisa."
She bent her head and acknowledged the woman sitting beside the driver. "Evening."
"Mr. Burns is the local lawyer." Sully explained.
"Ah" Mitzi nodded.
"Mitzi Stancil," he murmured, his face contorting for a second. "Say, are you the young lady whose little adventure in cooking made our Sully a hero?"
Mitzi glanced to her right and saw the warmth in Sully's eyes. "Yes, I guess you could say so," she agreed.
"Don't fret. It was all good." He grinned broadly. "The publicity is great for Rebel's Crossroads. You know, I'm in a mind to push the new mayor to give you some sort of recognition for bravery at the next city council meeting. What do you think of that, son?"
Mitzi watched Sully grow uncomfortable thinking of all the attention. The shade of red that crawled up his neck nearly matched the color of his hair.
"I tell you what, sir. Why don't you pressure the city council to restore the funding for the portable defibrillator?"
Phillip Burns thought for a moment, "Those things are pretty expensive. A plaque would cost less?"
"Yes, but think of it this way, sir, you can't put a price on human life. A defibrillator would save countless lives," Sully countered.
A glance passed between the two that Mitzi couldn't read. A serious look came over the former mayor's features. "Is that what you want, son?"
Sully looked back with a quiet determination Mitzi couldn't help but admire. "Yeah, it's what I'd like to see. One of those machines might have saved my father. It's a bit too late for him."
Mitzi's eyes filled with tears and her heart swelled for the young man sitting next to her that would forego his fifteen minutes of fame to think of others. Instinctively, she reached out and placed her hand over his, lending her support.
"I'll see what I can do to bring it before council."
"Thanks, Mr. Burns," he nodded. "I appreciate it.


If you'd like to read more about Mitzi Stancil and Sully's courtship, check out Playing With Fire at Smashwords, Amazon, and Barnes and Noble.

Smashwords - http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/530712

Amazon - http://amzn.to/1C8ScM7

Barnes and Noble - http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/playing-with-fire-nan-oberry/1121638333?ean=9781511476409

Just a passing thought on today.

Called up the original Cosmos with Carl Sagan. We watched it through supper. I so remember now why I loved teaching Science. It's a shame that lawmakers think they are educators. We've disenfranchised parents by doing away with books and relying on only SOL's (yep, the letters sure say it all) Sometimes I feel so bad for teachers having to educate on the whim of others. A child's mind is a terrible thing to waste. A generation or two ago, we went to the moon without calculators, iphones, and tablets. Have you thought about what we use today for modern technology? Tablets, hand held or not, and stylus to touch the screen. Folks, that technology goes back to the Egyptians. Although theirs were clay and their stylus sticks. Yes indeed, everything old is new again. I'm off to wrestle with that silly thing called a pencil and put thoughts on paper. Go figure.

Weekends were made for slowing down.

Yes, I'm deep in the writing cave. I'm revising, creating, and all around mucking up a story. Because I owe, therefore I must work outside the home. This is sucking time away from my writing, so I am trying to get myself on a schedule to rise early and spend a few minutes believing in Romance.

I have the privileged of the weekend off, a rarity lately. Unfortunately, this weekend is the great upheaval in time. Yes, that dreaded weekend we crank the clocks up an hour and lose sleep. We can blame this on "the war". No, not the one of Northern aggression, but the war to end all wars - version II. Daylight was needed to crank up industry and turn out those planes, tanks, and victory ships to defeat Germany and its allies. Now, its just become habit. Although, the devil get's in early because of the energy crisis back in the 70's and I'm just not sure why that reasoned out, but I do remember vaguely the debates.

So, this weekend is it. D-day of sorts an I am resisting the urge to change clocks an hour a head, to mess with the minds of my family before they get up. We used to do it on Friday nights when the kids were little so they wouldn't be so tired come Monday morning. I admit, I love the summer, getting up early and watching the day begin. I just wish I could learn to sleep during the winter months to make up for it.