Hi! I’m Opal Carew and I’d like to thank Delilah for inviting me to be a guest blogger today!
Do you enjoy old movies? I love watching old B&W classic romance movies. I used to watch them with my mum when I was a kid.
I loved musicals, like Singing in the Rain, and any Fred Astaire movie, but I particularly liked the fun and poignant romances that would make you laugh and cry. One of my favourites was An Affair to Remember.
Knowing my love of old movies, my husband suggested that I write a book called A Fare to Remember with a female taxi driver, which I thought was a great idea! When he asked me when I’d write it, however, I told him it would probably be about five years.
Fast forward fifteen years and it’s finally done!
Originally, it was scheduled to be released on his birthday (Jan 3rd), which was so wonderfully appropriate. Unfortunately, it got moved to April 4th. But, finally, he can now see it out in the world!
And the cover… Oh, I just LOVE it! A close friend told me it looks like a movie poster and that gave me the idea to have it made into an actual poster, which I gave to my husband for Christmas and we now have hanging on the wall!
A fun fact: I hadn’t finished the book when my publisher (St. Martin’s Press) showed me the cover for the first time. When I saw it, I knew I had to work in a scene to fit that sexy image! I’ve included an excerpt of that scene below.
Now if you think that because this book is based on an old movie that means it won’t be my usual sizzling hot erotic romance, check out the teaser below! 😉
So a few of my favourite old B&W romance movies are:
An Affair to Remember
Bell, Book and Candle
The Desk Set
The Apartment
Some Like It Hot
What are some of yours?
Remember the mention of free books?
I’m not offering a contest where only a couple of peple will win, because every one of you can get several free books by signing up for my Reader Group (OpalCarew.com/ReaderGroup) and by taking advantage of the great new InstaFreebie anthology (instafreebie.com/free/U3fBd) I’ve put together with several other authors. This gives you a chance to sample my writing (and the other authors’ too) to see if you enjoy it. If it’s not your style, you can unsubscribe anytime. No worries! 🙂
A Fare to Remember
A chance encounter leads to a passion they can’t forget in Opal Carew’s newest erotic romance!
Stevie has given up on love and just wants a simple life driving her taxi. But her plans are turned upside down when gorgeous billionaire Reid Jacobs steps into the back of her cab. Commanding and mysterious, he’s a temptation she can’t resist―and soon their torrid one night stand leads to an intoxicating affair.
In Reid’s strong arms, Stevie finds herself falling harder than she ever imagined. But is she ready to trust again? And when his business partner falls for Stevie, will it change everything? One thing is clear: she’s about to take the ride of her life….
“Carew brings erotic romance to a whole new level…she sets your senses on fire!” –Reader to Reader
A Fare to Remember by Opal Carew is one sexy ride!
This is the scene that was inspired by the cover. It’s one of my favourites in the book!
~ ~ ~
Stevie drove to the office tower, then pulled up in front. Dylan strode out the door and over to her cab.
“Hey, thanks for picking me up,” Dylan said with a smile as he got in the back of the cab.
She gazed at him in the rearview mirror and smiled. “It’s what I do.”
He laughed. “Yes, well, I appreciate it. It’s murder getting a cab on a wet night like this.” He pulled off his damp suit jacket and lay it down beside him.
“So where to, sir?” she asked with a grin.
“Well, I have this great penthouse. How about you take me there and we both go up and I’ll show you the fabulous view?”
She caught his gaze in the mirror. “I might be persuaded.”
He opened his briefcase and pulled out a shopping bag from a designer store. “Would it help if I gave you a gift?”
She grinned. “I don’t know. Depends on what it is.”
She pulled off the main road and down a quiet street, then pulled over. She turned and took the bag he offered and peeked inside. She pulled out the tissue and found a lovely white shirred dress. It was very elegant, but at the same time, sexy, since the slinky fabric would cling to her every curve.
She gazed at him questioningly.
“We thought we’d dress for dinner.”
“Should I be insulted?” she teased. “My plaid flannel shirt isn’t good enough for you fancy penthouse dwellers?”
He chuckled. “Personally, I love your plaid flannel. It’s so”—he grinned—“soft to the touch. Especially with you inside it.”
The thought of him touching her shirt . . . stroking over the fabric . . . cupping her breast . . . sent her hormones spinning.
“The fact that you gave this to me now rather than when we reach the apartment . . . I assume that means you want me to put it on now?”
He nodded. “That way from the time you park the cab and we start upstairs, it’s like we’ve started a date.”
She smiled. “A date with two men. I could go for that.” She pulled away from the curb. “I’ll take us somewhere I can change.”
* * *
Dylan was looking forward to this evening. He and Reid had put their heads together to plan the perfect evening to convince Stevie that what Reid could offer her surpassed anything she could get from being with her ex-fiancé, in case she was having second thoughts. Reid felt his biggest weapon was Dylan—a second man to ramp up the excitement.
Dylan was thrilled to be a part of it.
Stevie turned down a quiet street, then into a dark alley. She pulled over and stopped the cab.
“What are we doing here?” he asked, glancing around.
She tossed the shopping bag into his lap, then she got out of the car, opened the back door and climbed into the backseat beside him. Then she started unbuttoning her shirt.
“You’re changing here?” he asked, his eyes widening as she slipped off her shirt, then tugged her navy tank top over her head, revealing her black lace bra.
“Sure. Why not?”
“I . . . uh . . . guess.”
She’d kicked off her shoes and was already slipping off her jeans, pushing them to the floor of the car. At the sight of her in her tiny bra and panties, his groin tightened. She held up the dress.
“Hmm. It’s off the shoulder, and I definitely don’t want a black bra underneath.”
She dropped the dress and reached behind her. His cock swelled as she peeled away her bra and dropped it on the seat. She grinned at him, clearly aware of the effect her perfect, round, naked breasts were having on him.
She pulled the dress over her head and let the slinky garment glide down her body. She pulled it into place, smoothing it down. It lovingly hugged every curve. And he couldn’t help noticing that her hard nipples were clearly visible through the thin fabric.
She pushed herself up on her knees. “Do you like it?” she asked, swiveling a little to give him different views.
“Oh, yeah.” His gravelly voice made it clear how much.
She smiled. “Can you see my black undies through the white fabric? Because I wouldn’t want that.”
His gaze jerked to her groin.
“I . . . uh . . .” Just say yes, a little voice shouted in his head.
“Better not to take any chances.” She tugged the hem up a little and slid her hands under the dress, then began to wiggle.
“What are you doing?” But he knew damned well exactly what she was doing.
Dylan almost salivated as Stevie sat down again, then glided her panties down her shapely calves and slipped them off her feet.
“Any shoes?” she asked. “My sneakers will just ruin the look.”
“Uh . . . yeah. In the bag.”
God, she was totally naked under that dress. His cock swelled some more.
She pulled out the shoes—white satin stilettos with rhinestone trim—and slipped them on.
“Nice.” She smiled at him and pushed herself onto her knees again, but this time she pulled up the hem of the dress enough to straddle his legs.
Her fingertips moved down his chest and he realized she was unfastening the buttons of his shirt. She pushed it open and smiled as she stroked his naked flesh.
“Thank you for the pretty gift.”
“It was from Reid, too,” he said absently, mesmerized by the glitter in her eyes.
She rested her hand so her palm cupped his nipple, keeping it warm, then she teased his other nipple with her fingertips.
Get a free anthology of 7 sizzling stories: instafreebie.com/free/U3fBd
About Opal
As a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of erotic contemporary romance, Opal Carew writes about passion, love, and taking risks. Her heroines follow their hearts and push past the fear that stops them from realizing their dreams… to the excitement and love of happily-ever-after.
Opal loves nail polish, cats, old movies, crystals, dragons, feathers, pink hair, the occult, Manga artwork, Zentangle, and all that glitters. She earned a degree in Mathematics from the University of Waterloo, and spent 15 years as a software analyst before turning to her passion as a writer. She grew up in Toronto, and now lives in Ottawa with her husband, huge nail polish collection, and five cats. One of her sons just finished his second Masters degree in Geopolitics (first at Sussex University in the UK and second at Carleton University in Ottawa.) The other son has an undergraduate degree from Carleton University and is now working at Apple. Yes, mom is proud!
Kralj, the hero of Dark Thoughts, my latest release, EATS his enemies. Dark Thoughts IS a romance. That’s all I write. But it is a dark different romance with a dark different hero, an antihero.
What is an antihero?
Wikipedia ( https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Antihero ) defines an antihero as “a protagonist who lacks conventional heroic qualities such as idealism, courage, or morality. These characters are usually considered ‘conspicuously contrary to an archetypal hero’.”
Romance antiheroes are almost always courageous. They usually have a code of honor also. It simply isn’t the code of honor that the average human in today’s world has.
Kralj is a futuristic hero and he’s not entirely human. That makes his antihero characteristics, to me, more understandable. Kralj is half Beta Taurian Shadow Beast, which is why it is natural for him to eat his prey. Beasts do that.
I find the antihero fascinating to read and to write because the antihero is such an individual. He has his own unique way of looking at the world, his own rules, his own motivations and rationale for being who he is. His backstory is often complex and shocking.
He is delightfully different and, as someone who reads, on average, a romance novel a day, I like that. It is a refreshing change from the noble Dukes, the justice-serving policemen, the hat-tilting cowboys, all of which I vastly enjoy reading about but sometimes appreciate taking a break from.
As a romance writer, I also love the challenge of finding the perfect love interest for the antihero. Anyone could love a nice guy. What type of being would love a flawed male, a male who devours his enemies? That being is tougher to find.
I paired many females with Kralj, my hero, off page. They didn’t work out. The females were too weak for him or they were too grim or they didn’t understand and would never understand why he was the way he was. Kralj isn’t going to change. He isn’t going to magically become a nice, cuddly male. His personality might soften but it wouldn’t shift that dramatically. I needed to find a female who would love him for who he is.
That female is Dita, a pint-sized assassin who is as different as Kralj is. She is a bit of an antiheroine. Kralj calls her a fellow monster. Again, she has her own code of honor and together, they are magical as a couple.
For a chance to win any one eBook from either my backlist or Delilah Devlin’s backlist, let me know in the comments who your favorite fictional antihero is!
Dark Thoughts
Can love redeem a monster?
The Refuge is home to some of the most violent beings in the universe. Kralj, its leader, reigns over the remote outpost with terrifying ease, ruthlessly squashing any rumors of rebellion, killing anyone who breaks his rules. Primitive, deadly, powerful, he’s a monster, scarred both on his face and his soul. He has never met a being he couldn’t control.
Until he meets her.
Dita has one mission—to kill the three targets claiming sanctuary within the Refuge. Or so she claims. For the first time in his long lifespan, Kralj isn’t certain of another being’s intentions. The tiny assassin is immune to his powers, her thoughts unreadable. He can’t predict her movements, can’t control her, can’t stop wanting her.
Dita is rare, as unique as he is, and, to keep the residents of the Refuge safe, Kralj will have to kill her. But first, he’ll touch her, taste her, show her how passionate the beast inside him can be.
Dark Thoughts is a STAND-ALONE SciFi Romance.
The hero might be tall, dark, and scarred but don’t be fooled by his appearance.
He’s truly a monster.
This story is not for readers with delicate sensibilities.
USA Today bestselling author Cynthia Sax writes SciFi, contemporary and paranormal erotic romances. Her stories have been featured in Star Magazine, Real Time With Bill Maher, and numerous best of erotic romance top ten lists.
I have a confession to make. I originally wrote Drunk on Men before I wrote hot romances. Many things in the book got overhauled, including the sensuality level. How did I do this? I listed all the love scenes, analyzed the dynamics that should be there, including conflict and emotion, and expanded them. It was almost like writing them from scratch but harder because I had to fit them in with what was already there. It was also a lot more fun than I thought. The story really came alive in ways I’d never envisioned the first time around. Usually when writing a new book, the hot scenes are intermittent. But here, I spent a few days rewriting nothing but one hot scene after the next. At the end, I needed a cold shower!
Drunk on Men by Afton Locke
1920s interracial romance ~ monthly serial ~ get addicted!
Release Date – Volume One: 1 April 2017
series page: https://www.aftonlocke.com/DOM.html
You may think it’s sloe fizz gin But honey we’re sober, just drunk on men
When three African-American women meet at a resort on the Jersey Shore in the 1920s, they say goodbye to their old lives. Finding men as intoxicating as bootleg liquor, they pin their futures on happily ever after. But love can be worse than a hangover when the men’s flaws threaten to destroy them.
Hannah knows it’s time to replace her fiancé who died in the war, but the abrupt white man who rescues her from rough surf hardly fits the bill. Belle longs to ditch her latest meal ticket, but is the rich African-European owner of an upscale hotel out of her league? And while Edie struggles to face her upcoming arranged marriage, a rugged Hispanic-white fisherman decides to stake his own claim on her.
This 8-volume serial is a heady romance cocktail stirred with addiction, abuse, betrayal, and scandal. These women aren’t perfect and neither are their men. If you think you can handle it, read on and watch three steamy interracial relationships explode across the pages.
Playlist
Hannah:
Wait Till The Sun Shines on You – Gary Puckett & the Union Gap
He sighed and made a rude gesture with his hand and chin. “What did you think, Belle? The booze simply drops out of the sky into my bar? I am performing a necessary service for the town of Ocean Promenade.”
Excitement rippled down Belle’s arms and legs. Tonight’s joyride was the most thrilling thing she’d ever done.
“How much booze does this town drink, anyway? The Sands is the only place I see that’s even wet. I have a hard time believing you could buy a car like this on that speck of business.”
“I see you are shrewd businesswoman.” He leaned between the front seats and shot her an admiring glance. “I am much impressed. Since you ask, the product also gets shipped to Washington, Philadelphia, and New York City.”
“So, what happens next?” she asked. “Where’s the booze?”
He slid his jacket sleeve upward with two fingers and glanced at his watch. “It’s coming. Please join me in the front seat where I can see you.”
“Not with the gun lying there. A girl could get her cha chas blown off with a thing like that. Besides, how do I know you’re not planning to bump me off for knowing too much?”
“You are too beautiful to kill,” he crooned as he moved the monstrous weapon to rest against his door. “However, you have become heavily involved. I wanted to protect you from this.”
“It’s okay,” she said, shrugging as she scrambled to the front passenger seat. “I’m a big girl. I’ll survive.”
He reached over and grabbed her chin, forcing her to face him. Adrenaline flooded her body. Without thinking, she smacked him across the face.
He reared back in his seat. “What was that for?”
“Don’t manhandle me,” she said coldly. “I don’t care for it.”
She hadn’t pegged him as abusive, but she wasn’t about to take any chances. Especially in this abandoned place. She’d do a lot for money, but she refused to tolerate violence.
Please tell me you’re not one of them, Raoul. I don’t want to have to give you up.
“Bella, please. You shocked me, and I think you broke my jaw.” He stuck out his bottom lip like a little boy and dazzled her with another smile.
She couldn’t help laughing. “Oh, you’re all wet. I did not.”
“I’m only trying to make you understand something.” He leaned closer but without touching her this time. “You will see things and people who don’t want to be recognized. If you do not keep your pretty kisser shut, you could endanger your life and mine.”
Belle took a shaky breath. “Understood.”
“And it means you are my lady. You cannot walk away from me. Not after tonight.”
As if she wanted to. They sat in silence for a moment. He caressed her hand and then the thigh it lay on through the thin hem of her dress, making her breath draw in with a hiss.
“I want to show you my hotel room soon,” he said, lazily stroking. “I have a circular tub with flowing water. It is like the ocean, yes?”
“Sounds divine,” she whispered.
“We don’t have much time, and I need you to show me your loyalty.”
Loyalty?
Belle watched, fascinated, as he reclined his seat until it lay almost horizontal.
His voice dropped very low. Very soft. “Come here, Bella.”
Coming Soon
Turning the Tide: A Siren’s Revenge – Wiccan Haus series – Decadent Publishing – paranormal
On my iPod, I have a playlist called “Happy Songs”. If I want to kick my ass into gear, especially in the mornings when I’d really rather sleep in, I click on the playlist, and before long I’m tapping a toe, then “mattress-dancing”—and then, there’s no goin’ back to sleep. I’m up and smiling.
Only problem is, my happy list is pretty darn short. I’d love your suggestions for more songs to add! And because I’m serious, I’ll give away a small Amazon Gift Card to one lucky, happy-suggester!
Just comment for a chance to win!
Here’s one song already on my “Happy Songs” playlist!
Kira Duval, US Army Special Forces, never expected to fall in love with any man while she worked with an A-team in Afghanistan. But she did. And she never let anyone, not even Weapons Sergeant, Garret Fleming, know what lay in her heart for him.
She didn’t know if it was reciprocal because every man on the A-team treated her like their favorite sister. They treated her as an equal and they trusted her without question. Kira knew that if there was any hint of intimacy with Garret, it would fracture the team. And there was no way she was going to do that.
But Fate has a way of intervening and their worlds explode on them during a Taliban attack. Kira saves Garret after he is wounded. In the end, they lose track of one another for three years. Broken by PTSD, Kira is out of the Army and trying to find a job at a Wyoming ranch. And again, her life turns upside down.
EXCERPT from Chapter 1, Wind River Cowboy by Lindsay McKenna:
“Ambush!”
Sergeant Kira Duval’s earpiece rang with the warning from Army Captain Aaron Michelson, the Special Forces A team leader. The night was black and an RPG exploded right in between the two Humvees they were riding in. The twelve-person team halted and all hell broke loose. Kira exited the vehicle, hearing the hollow thunk of another RPG being fired in their direction. She heard more orders in her earpiece as she threw herself on the muddy Afghan ground, hands over her head, mouth open.
The night erupted into red, yellow and orange flames as the second RPG hit the first Humvee, which Aaron was in. She wanted to scream, but the blast lifted her off the ground, hurling her several feet, and she started rolling to minimize the impact. Keeping her mouth open to equalize the pressure between her lungs and the outside air so they wouldn’t melt into jelly, Kira had the M4 strapped in a harness across her chest. She fell hard on her side, the weapon jamming into her rib cage, making her cry out.
Another explosion erupted. Her eardrums were pounded. The pain in them caused her to grunt. The shouts, screams and orders roared into her head. She saw dark shadows exiting her Humvee, the other four men trying to escape and run for cover.
Someone jerked her up by the shoulder of her uniform harness, dragging her along, heading for a group of shadowy rocks. Gasping, Kira struggled and then lunged to her feet with the help of Sergeant Garret Fleming, who was at her side. He was screaming into his mic for the four operators, ordering them to get to the safety of the rock fortress just ahead of them.
Another RPG was fired. AK-47 fire was like a fusillade slamming into the escaping Special Forces survivors. Kira didn’t have time to cry. The first Humvee was twisted metal, flames roaring into the dark sky, sending long, dancing shadows across the muddy soil. She slipped, but Garret kept a tight gloved hand on her uniform, keeping her on her feet as they raced three hundred yards to safety. They had to get cover or they were all dead.
Her mind spun. There had been six men in that first Humvee. Had any of them made it out? She heard Garret yelling into the mic for Captain Michelson, but there was no answer from their leader. Oh, God! She’d lived with this team for three years. Each of these men were like beloved brothers to her. They couldn’t be dead. The just couldn’t!
Sobbing, tears burning in her eyes, Garret suddenly went down. She heard him curse. He released her shoulder, sending her spinning and falling to the left of him. Bullets were digging up mud all around them, geyser spouts flung into the air. They were not only ambushed but surrounded on half of the area where they were scrambling to find cover. Landing hard on her knees, she twisted around, the mud making everything slippery. Kira saw the shadows of two other A team members running in their direction.
Bullets mowed them down. Screaming, Kira lunged for Garret, who was grabbing his left leg, blood spurting from his calf.
Just as she reached Garret on her hands and knees, a second bullet struck him in the head. He suddenly collapsed, lifeless, on the ground.
No! I love him! You can’t kill him! You can’t!
Kira grabbed Garret’s shoulder. The man was six foot two inches tall, two hundred and twenty pounds without counting the seventy pounds of gear he wore on his body. Jerking at him, she managed to get to her feet. Adrenaline gave her the strength of two men and she hauled Garret behind the rocks that stood five to ten feet tall in a semicircle around them. She called for their 18 Delta medics.
No answer from either of them. There were two on each team. Were they both dead?
Thank you so much for having me at your lovely site today, Delilah. I’d like to introduce my new romantic suspense, Lapses of Memory, and tell you a little about the background.
My traveling life began at the age of six months, when my family moved from New York to North Carolina. Soon after we were winging halfway across the world to Turkey in a Boeing Stratocruiser, just like my hero Elian and my heroine Sydney did. Since then I’ve lived or traveled in Europe, the Middle East, Africa, the US, Central America, and South America. Like Sydney and Elian, I’ve seen the Golestan Palace in Iran and walked the Hamra in Beirut. Like them, I’ve ridden a bus down the switchbacks of the eastern Turkish mountains past Mount Ararat. I’ve even begged for cigarettes from the sailors on a battleship in the Port of Tangier—just like Sydney and Elian. It’s been an adventure.
Sydney Bellek first meets Elian Davies in the 1950s on a Boeing 377 Stratocruiser when she is five and he is seven. They run into each other every few years after that, but while he knows from the start that she is his true love, she does not. Later, as rival journalists, they vie for scoops on international crises from the Iranian revolution to the Lebanese civil war. The handsome and intrepid Elian beats her out at every turn, even while keeping his love for her secret. Only after years of separation does she finally realize they are meant to be together, but this time, in a twist of fate, it is Elian whose memory of her is gone. Will he remember her before she loses heart or will their new love be enough to replace the old one?
By luck or accident, Eddie’s parents had chosen the hotel next to Sydney’s apartment building, so they saw him every day. She and Eddie spent hours scouting the beach for what Eddie dubbed valuables—shells and sharks’ teeth and interesting flotsam. They kept their treasures in a shoebox under Sydney’s bed. Life seemed as good as it would ever be, or so Sydney told her diary.
The day before he had to leave for Marrakesh, Eddie met her at the front door of the hotel. “Let’s go down to the port. Ali says he has a surprise.”
They made their way to the bustling docks. Dwarfing the usual jumble of fishing boats and ferries at the wharves, a huge gray destroyer lay at anchor, its American flags flying proudly. “Wow, what’s that?”
A sailor passing by them said, “It’s the USS John Paul Jones of the Sixth Fleet. She’s come in for a weekend’s leave. See that little kiosk over there? You can get tickets for a tour if you like.”
Sydney started to head toward the kiosk, but Eddie held her back. He pointed at a gaggle of local kids standing near the ship pointing and yelling. “There’s Ali. Let’s see what’s going on.”
They ran along the pier, gawking at the sailors in their brilliant white uniforms who stood at attention on the decks. A couple of the other kids waved their arms, calling the sailors. Eddie grinned at Sydney. “You wanna jump in and see if they’ll throw us something?”
“What? Eew!”
“No, it’ll be fun. Ali says he and Yusuf do it all the time.” He took a flying leap and landed butt first in the oil-ringed water. He came up spluttering and waved at her. “Come on in, the water’s disgusting!”
When you’re thirteen years old and in love, you sometimes do the darndest things. Holding her nose, Sydney dove off the pier. She made the mistake of opening her eyes before she surfaced and was nearly blinded by a silt soup thicker than the Nile at flood stage. Something nipped her toe. She shot up out of the depths, kicking frantically at whatever slimy sea creature lurked in the muck. Together they swam over to a couple of brown-skinned boys and waved and shouted along with them. “Hey, sailor! Throw us sumpin’!”
“Hey, mistah!”
Pretty soon, they had a crowd of uniforms hanging over the railing, tossing cigarettes to them. Sydney wondered what her mother would do if she saw her little Pollyanna screeching and spitting out scummy water while she fought over soggy Winstons. To be on the safe side, she yelled in French. That way the headlines wouldn’t read “Underage American girl caught fraternizing with the Sixth Fleet.” One sailor leaned far out, pointed at her, and sent his Dixie cup hat floating out. She lunged for it, but instead her head slammed into Eddie’s. Dazed, she threw her arms out hoping to find something to grab on to and hit a bare chest. Two arms went round her, and before she could struggle out of them, two lips came in contact with hers. A moment later, they were gone. A hand took hers and guided her to the dock. “You okay?”
“Eddie!” Then she couldn’t think of anything else to say.
He grinned at her. “We’d best get back.” He pulled her out of the water.
They picked up their towels and walked home. Sydney kept her mouth closed, the better to savor the tingling feeling the kiss left on her lips. At the door to her building, he stopped. “We’re leaving tomorrow morning early. I’d…I’d like to see you tonight. Can you get out?”
She shook her head. “I’ve used up my three late nights. I have to stay in.” She hoped the tear that welled up wouldn’t fall.
Eddie’s face fell instead. “I don’t want to say goodbye, Sydney. What happens if…”
“If we never see each other again?” A sudden weight crushed her sternum, reminding her of that first climbing ascent in a plane when she was five. Never?
“Look, I’ll figure something out.” He checked the sun. “I’ve got to go. I promise, I’ll see you tonight.” Before she could move, he bent forward and kissed her again, then threw his towel over his shoulder and strolled jauntily away.
Although M. S. Spencer has lived or traveled in five of the seven continents, the last thirty years were spent mostly in Washington, D.C. as a librarian, Congressional staff assistant, speechwriter, editor, birdwatcher, kayaker, policy wonk, non-profit director, and parent. After many years in academia, she worked for the U.S. Senate, the U.S. Department of the Interior, in several library systems, both public and academic, and at the Torpedo Factory Art Center.
Ms. Spencer has published ten romantic suspense novels, and has two more in utero. She has two fabulous grown children and an incredible granddaughter. She divides her time between the Gulf Coast of Florida and a tiny village in Maine.
My daughter is in Italy attending a real estate seminar. She is also a coach, just like I was for several years. She works for the same mentor I loved, and who trained me to be a great saleswoman. Without his backing, I knew I was going to be trampled to death with the highly competitive field of knife-throwers-in-the-back. I felt I was too nice to sell.
I learned so much, and laughed so much, hearing all the mistakes people make in that business. I laugh about all the mistakes I’ve also made in writing. Some of the naïve views I had about writers and the writing process.
So Christen dropped the bomb that my mentor told a story about me in the seminar today. I’m just a bit obsessive about these sorts of things. I’m dying to know what the story is. Was it the bathing suit story? Or the time I sold a condo to a couple who looked like they were both women, and the title company informed them California (at that time) didn’t allow them to take title as husband and wife. And when one of them stood up, grabbed the back of her pants and said, “But I am a man,” we thought we were going to see the full Monty, but she got out her driver’s license, proving she was in fact, a man.
One of my old pals reminded me that I used to sleep under the stage at these big events, before I was one of the ones on stage. That way, I got a front row seat! Or the fact that I taught a whole bunch of agents I was training how to ride the service elevators so we didn’t have to wait to be part of the crowd waiting for one and running out of time to pee.
I also remember my son, who became a Navy SEAL, was 5 and spoke to my mentor at that time. “You know my mom, Sharon Hamilton?” And of course he did. “I think she’s a great Realtor,” Mike answered. My son replied, “Yes she is. She’s the best Realtor in the whole world. Did you know that?” He walked out of the ice cream store without looking back, satisfied he’d laid the proper facts on him.
Our past makes up so much of our stories. All the people we met, the families we raised, the seminars we went to, and churches we attended. Strange family gatherings. It’s all soup and it goes into the writer’s toolkit, right?
By luck or accident, Eddie’s parents had chosen the hotel next to Sydney’s apartment building, so they saw him every day. She and Eddie spent hours scouting the beach for what Eddie dubbed valuables—shells and sharks’ teeth and interesting flotsam. They kept their treasures in a shoebox under Sydney’s bed. Life seemed as good as it would ever be, or so Sydney told her diary.
