Monday, October 16, 2017

Meandering On Monday with Janet Lane Walters #MFRWauthor #Poetry #am writing

Meander 1 - Poem

Autumn River

Lashing against rocks and earth
In aimless efforts to win free from a channeled life
Trying to erode entrapping banks
Before the coffin beneath its grave cloth
When your currents are calmed
And you are snared.

Meander 2 _ Visiting With a Friend - Not in person, though I wish we could see each other again. I've been reading the books of my friend Kat Attalla and enjoying every moment. Her stories make me laugh and also bring tears. She had such a gift for snappy dialogue and very macho heros who were also human like some macho heros aren't.  I wish there were more stories but walking this pathway on occasion brings memories of the days we spent talking about writing and life.

Meander 3 - Writing. I am still slogging through Sweet Tea. Hopefully soon this will be at an end. Also typing up another short story to share. This is one story that really sounds like a synopsis for a book. One never to be written since the world has changed especially with technology and all. 1968 the story was possible. Not today.

My Places:

Sunday, October 15, 2017

Sunday's Book - Code Blue #MFRWauthor #Suspense #medical

Code Blue

In the medical suspense Code Blue by Janet Lane Walters, published by Books We Love and previously published as Obsessions, nurse Susan finds the body of the hospital’s “gossip queen” in the orthopedic storage room. She doesn’t realize this is the first of a series of murders involving her colleagues or that her life is in danger. She is a widow and is exploring a new romantic relationship that promises love but she fears the man she is falling for is as controlling as her dead husband. The arrival of courtship gifts, at first, seen as innocuous soon takes on a sinister note.


This book kept me on edge from the first page to the last. Several times I just 'knew' I'd figured out who the killer was, but each time, there was a bit of doubt there until the very last paragraph! I highly recommend this book. 4 Stars (Excellent!)"--Tracie's Book Reviews by Kathy's Faves and Raves 

"A series of murders, suspense, action, a tad of love makes OBSESSIONS an intriguing tale designed to mystify your mind. If you love mysteries, you'll love Janet Lane Walters newest release. 4 Stars!"--Just Views 

"Fast-paced mainstream novel ... Walters plots carefully, each scene constructed to perfection. For readers who enjoy being terrified, this is an author to turn to for entertainment. She tells all, while managing to create paranoia among the characters."--Affaire de Coeur

on January 16, 2013
Format: Kindle Edition|Verified Purchase

on September 24, 2012
Format: Kindle Edition|Verified Purchase

on April 25, 2013
Format: Kindle Edition|Verified Purchase

on December 26, 2012
Format: Kindle Edition|Verified Purchase

Saturday, October 14, 2017

Saturday's Blurbs featuring Books by Rosemary Morris #MFRWauthor #historical romance #regency romance

Yvonne Lady of Cassio

When Yvonne and Elizabeth, daughters of ruthless Simon Lovage, Earl of Cassio, are born under the same star to different mothers, no one could have foretold their lives would be irrevocably entangled.
Against the background of Edward II’s turbulent reign in the fourteenth century, Yvonne, Lady of Cassio, contains imaginary and historical characters.
It is said the past is a foreign country in which things were done differently. Nevertheless, although that is true of attitudes, such as those towards women and children, our ancestors were also prompted by ambition, anger, greed, jealousy, humanity, duty, loyalty, unselfishness and love.
From early childhood, despite those who love her and want to protect her, Yvonne is forced to face difficult economic, personal and political circumstances, during a long, often bitter struggle.

Tangled Love

Tangled Love is the story of two great estates. The throne has been usurped by James II’s daughter Mary and her husband William of Orange. In 1693, loyal to his oath of allegiance, ten- year-old Richelda’s father must follow James to France.

Before her father leaves, he gives her a ruby ring she will treasure and wear on a chain round her neck. In return Richelda swears an oath to try to regain their ancestral home, Field House.

By the age of eighteen, Richelda’s beloved parents are dead. She believes her privileged life is over. At home in dilapidated Belmont House, her only companions are her mother’s old nurse and her devoted dog, Puck. Clad in old clothes she dreams of elegant gowns and trusts her childhood friend, a poor parson’s son, who promised to marry her.

Richelda’s wealthy aunt takes her to London and arranges her marriage to Viscount Chesney, the new owner of Field House, where it is rumoured there is treasure. If she finds it Richelda hopes to ease their lives. However, while trying to find it her life is in danger.

Sunday’s Child

Georgianne Whitley’s beloved father and brothers died in the war against Napoleon Bonaparte. While she is grieving for them, she must deal with her unpredictable mother’s sorrow, and her younger sisters’ situation caused by it.
Georgianne’s problems increase when the arrogant, wealthy but elderly Earl of Pennington, proposes marriage to her for the sole purpose of being provided with an heir. At first, she is tempted by his proposal, but something is not quite right about him. She rejects him not suspecting it will lead to unwelcome repercussions.
Once, Georgianne had wanted to marry an army officer. Now, she decides never to marry ‘a military man’ for fear he will be killed on the battlefield. However, Georgianne still dreams of a happy marriage before unexpected violence forces her to relinquish the chance to participate in a London Season sponsored by her aunt.
Shocked and in pain, Georgianne goes to the inn where her cousin Sarah’s step-brother, Major Tarrant, is staying, while waiting for the blacksmith to return to the village and shoe his horse. Recently, she has been reacquainted with Tarrant—whom she knew when in the nursery—at the vicarage where Sarah lives with her husband Reverend Stanton.
The war in the Iberian Peninsula is nearly at an end so, after his older brother’s death, Tarrant, who was wounded, returns to England where his father asks him to marry and produce an heir.
To please his father, Tarrant agrees to marry, but due to a personal tragedy he has decided never to father a child.
When Georgianne, arrives at the inn, quixotic Tarrant sympathises with her unhappy situation. Moreover, he is shocked by the unforgivably brutal treatment she has suffered.
Full of admiration for her beauty and courage Tarrant decides to help Georgianne.

Rosemary Morris’s Romantic Historical Fact Fiction is published by Books We Love. Her novels are available from Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Kobo and Smashwords.

Friday, October 13, 2017

Friday's Guest - Rosemary Morris #MFRWauthor #romanceregency #historical

 Question. Do you write a single genre or do your fingers flow over the keys creating tales in many forms?
Do your reading choices reflect your writing choices?
Are there genres you wouldn’t attempt?

Answer. I only write Romantic Historical Fact Fiction. Writing, researching and my interest in history keeps me too busy to write in other genres. Reading historical non-fiction inspires me. I am reading Set in A Silver Sea, Volume One, A History of the British People, by Arthur Bryant and intend to read Volumes 2 and 3. His description of the Dark Ages and the successive invasions of Britain has stirred my imagination.

I wouldn’t attempt erotica or novels with explicit sexual content. I might write contemporary short stories but not novels.

 Question. Heroes. How do you find them? Do pictures, real life or plain imagination create the man you want every reader to love? Do they come before the plot or after you have the idea for the story?

Answer. Imagination creates the heroes in my novels but their lives, not their appearance or character, are based, are influenced by biographies.  Sometimes they evolve in unexpected ways. For example, I dreamt about a young man called Justin who lived in Queen Anne Stuart’s reign, 1702-1714, who asked me to take him shopping at The Royal Exchange in a novel. If he is lucky he might be the hero in a future novel.

The themes for my novels are derived from reading historical non-fiction.

I choose a name appropriate for the era. Next, I create him by writing a detailed character profile, so thorough that I get to know him as well as I know a close family member.

Question. Heroines. How do you find them? Do pictures, real life or imagination create the woman you want the reader to root for? Do they appear before the plot or after you have the idea for the story?

Answer. My heroines are products of my imagination dependent on the eras in which they lived. I don’t write about 21st century women dressed in costume with 21st century attitudes. I read biographies, base my imaginary heroines on them and decide on the theme. Next, I write a detailed character profile. From this the plot emerges. Illustrations and painting help with descriptions of hair styles and costumes as well as books on these subjects.

Question.  Villains or villainesses or an antagonist, since they don’t always have to be the bad guy or girl. They can be a person opposed to the hero’s or heroine’s obtaining their goal. How do you choose one? How do you make them human?

Answer. They evolve according to the plot and are used as devices to create conflict. To avoid stereotypes, I give them a redeeming quality, love for someone or a pet or a moral boundary they would not cross. For example, in Sunday’s Child, the villain kidnaps a little girl but he would not cause her bodily harm.

Question. What is your latest release? Who is the hero, heroine and or the villain?

Answer. My latest release is Yvonne, Lady of Cassio, set in the reign of Edward II which begins when Yvonne, daughter of Simon, Earl of Cassio is born. This novel has many twists and turns so I won’t reveal the hero and the villain.

Question. What are you working on now?

Answer. I have finished Wednesday’s Child, Heroines Born on Different Days of the Week, Book Four and am writing Thursday’s Child, Book Five, also set in the popular Regency era. It is unnecessary to read Sunday’s, Monday’s and Tuesday’s Child to follow the stories, each of which have strong themes modern day readers can sympathise with. For example, the heroine in my Regency novel, False Pretences is desperate to find out who her parents are.

Question. How can people find you?

Answer. On my website, at Books We Love, my publisher’s website and Facebook.

Thursday, October 12, 2017

Thursday's First and Second Scenes - Romancing the Nurse #MFRWauthor #Medicalromance #

"How long are you going to leave her with me, Joey?" Ginny Barr stood in the apartment doorway and watched her younger brother's retreat to the stairs. She wrinkled her nose against the acrid and musty odors that assaulted her. As usual, the bulb at the head of the stairs was out. Her brother vanished into the shadows.

"A month, maybe two."

"Are you in trouble?"

"These past couple of weeks have been rough," he said. "I really loved Pookie, you know. I need to get my head straight."

She wanted to believe him. He sounded like he meant his words, but their relationship was studded with broken promises. "I'll stay clear of the gangs." He hadn't. "No boozing for me. Look at Mommy." He had. "College will be a breeze. I'll make my mark just like you did." Then he'd dropped out.

At one time, Ginny had believed he would be the second of the Barr kids to escape the spiral of poverty. Maybe this time, he would keep his promise.

After closing the door, she slid the dead bolt home. Her plans for the evening had included an hour's work on the first of her Master's projects. Joey's arrival with his infant daughter had shot down that idea.

Then, before he'd told her why he wanted to leave his baby with her, Annette had arrived. Joey wasn't her friend's favorite person.

For several minutes, the temperature in the apartment had soared above the already abnormal September high. The sharp words between the pair had ended Ginny's chance of learning the entire story behind her brother's flight and his decision to leave his daughter behind. Part of her didn't want to know.

"What kind of name is Pookie?" Annette stroked the baby's light mocha skin with her dark brown finger.

Ginny shrugged. "A pet name. That's all he ever called his wife."

"Were they married?"

"He said they were."

"Ever meet her?"
"No." Ginny lifted Manda to her shoulder and rubbed the baby's cheek with hers.

"What's wrong with you knowing the girl's name? He afraid you're going to approach the grandparents?"

"You heard what he said. They forbade her to see him and when they learned she was pregnant, they tossed her out. They refused to have anything to do with a biracial grandchild. Guess they didn't think Joey was good enough."

"I don't think he's good enough and I never met the girl. You're blind and deaf where that boy's concerned." Annette held up her hand. "Girl, you're crazy taking this on. Don't you have enough on your plate with Honor, work at the hospital and a double Master's program? You'll wear yourself to the bone and you ain't got that far to go."

Ginny fumbled in the brown bag Joey had left beside the lumpy gray couch. She pulled out a bottle. When she looked up, she saw concern in her friend's dark eyes. "You heard him. Just a couple of months. I have to trust him."

"Sure you do ... not. That's like believing I'll be elected president next November. What's wrong with him taking care of his own kid?"

"He's young. He's a guy. What does he know about raising a child?"

Annette straightened. "I'm going to pretend those words never came out of your mouth. What's wrong with a guy raising a child? He sure helped make her. I know he's your baby brother and you've always cleaned up his messes. Don't you think it's time he stood on his own?"

Ginny sighed. "And if I didn't take Manda, he was going to ask Mommy to keep her."

Annette laughed. "He got you again. That boy sure knows how to twist your knobs. Your mother would have 'bout as much care for the baby as her other grandmother. You know how your mother is?"

Ginny nodded and headed to the kitchen. "You're right."

"I'll feed her. Get ready for work."

"Are you sure you want to stay tonight? I could cancel. This is an extra shift."

Annette reached into the bag. "One pack of diapers, four cans of formula, three more bottles, one battered bear, two sleepers. Guess I know where the extra bucks are going. Girl, we got to stick together or we're going to fall apart."


Annette cradled the baby in her arms. "Mama's not expecting me home tonight. Her sewing circle is meeting. I can't stand being in that apartment while the ladies are sewing and talking."

Ginny laughed. "They're working on my quilt. Guess I'll go to work." She headed for the bedroom.
"Honor's sure going to get a surprise in the morning. How are we going to explain to that child where babies come from? She's going to be thinking the stork came while she was sleeping."

"You'll think of a way," Ginny said.

She stopped beside one of the twin beds in the small bedroom and looked at her sleeping daughter. A laugh caught in her throat. The heat and humidity of the day remained trapped in the room. The sheet trailed on the floor. Honor's nightgown hung over the bottom rail of the iron bed frame, but covering her feet were a pair of red socks. Ginny touched her daughter's warm brown skin. No matter how hot the weather, Honor always wore socks to bed.

"Baby, I love you," she whispered and headed to the bathroom.

As the tepid water washed over her, she thought about her friend's concern. Two children. Ginny sighed. Manda was her niece. Even if Joey left his daughter forever, Ginny vowed Manda would have love and learn to take pride in who she was.

Chapter One
Two years later

Ginny stepped from the shower and briskly dried herself. The hot water had washed away the remnants of sleep, but a knot of anticipation remained coiled in her stomach. As she dressed in white scrubs, the feeling that her life was about to take another turn persisted.

Not now, she thought. Not when her life rolled smoothly along the road she'd mapped at eighteen.
At nineteen, she had encountered the first roadblock. Then two years later, she had sped around a corner and met a barrier she had deftly steered around. Pride straightened her spine. This time, she'd avoid a detour, but first, she had to discover why she felt edgy.

She smoothed the hand-made blue and green quilt that covered the large brass bed and shoved a small purse in her pocket. Pride was the driving force of her life. Pride in who she was and what she'd accomplished made her strong. She couldn't allow vague feelings to weaken her resolve.

Before heading downstairs, she paused in the doorway of the girls' room. Light cast by the early morning sun shone through the orange, yellow and brown print curtains. The September day promised to be beautiful.

Two year old Manda slept face down with her rear in the air. She clutched the well-worn teddy bear Ginny had found in the paper bag Joey had left.

Ginny chuckled. Eight year old Honor, clad in a short nightie and blue socks, as always, had pushed her covers on the floor. Ginny blew a pair of kisses and pushed away a desire to grab the girls and run.

Foolishness, she thought. She slid her hand along the smooth wood of the banister and walked downstairs. She had no reason to worry, not with her position as Patient Care Coordinator of the orthopedic unit at Hudson View General Hospital.

Though there were ruts to be smoothed, she enjoyed the challenge. The job had allowed her to fulfill so many of her dreams. Escape from the city and the means to raise the girls in a safer environment. The chance to be a home owner instead of a tenant in a fourth floor walk-up. The opportunity to implement the educational program for nurses and patients she had developed.

"Girl, if you don't get the lead out, we're going to be late." Annette stood beside the stairs.

Ginny swallowed a gasp. "Like the hair but next time, tip the ends with bells. I could use a warning." The aroma of coffee filtered into the hall. "Why are you so early?"

"Your alarm broke, right? Mama and I've been here a good twenty minutes. It's twenty-five to seven."

"I got caught up in my thoughts." Ginny followed her friend to the kitchen.

"You do too much of that. Doesn't pay to plan every breath you take."

Ginny wasn't sure Annette was right. Without plans, life would be chaotic. Sure surprises happened, but if the possibilities weren't considered, a person could be thrown off balance by events.
She entered the kitchen and smiled at Miss Nellie. "Good morning."

Black hair, liberally sprinkled with white, framed the older woman's round face. "Morning." She handed Ginny a glass of juice and a slice of toast. "No sense making a proper breakfast when you don't get down here on time. Child, you could stand a bit of fattening up."

"How come you never say that to me." Annette headed to the door.

"Honey, I can't remember you ever missing a meal." Miss Nellie pointed to Ginny. "Eat."

"Yes, ma'am." Ginny chewed the toast and washed it down with juice. "Honor's lunch money's on the table."

Miss Nellie's hands rested on her plump hips. "How are you going to be sure that child's getting the proper nourishing? She's nothing but skin and bones."

Annette grinned. "Just like her mama." She opened the door. "Let's go, boss lady. Maybe you can stroll in late, but I've got a date with a time clock."

Ginny closed the door and followed her friend across the yard. How fortunate she'd been to find a duplex and that there'd been an opening at Hudson View for Annette. Ginny slid behind the wheel and started the ancient van.

"What's got you acting like you're crawling across a bed of nails?" Annette asked.

Ginny backed into the street. "Just a feeling things are about to fall apart, You know what happened the other times I've felt this way?"

"Nate and Joey."

Ginny thought of the night she'd told Honor's father about the pregnancy. Her joy had shattered when he'd informed her he was married and his wife expected his first child in seven months. Ginny hadn't known he was married. She'd believed his declaration. His desertion had nearly wrecked her plans to escape the slums.

"You survived the rat and have a daughter who's beautiful inside and out," Annette said. "You've given your niece a wonderful home and lots of love."

"You're right, but ..."

"Don't go looking for trouble. Who knows, the change might be a good one." Annette leaned back in the seat. "Dr. Marshall's son arrives today."

"What does that have to do with me?"

"Just changing the subject before you worry yourself gray. What's the scoop on the good doctor's plans? The rumor mills are grinding a new story a minute."

"When I stopped by yesterday, he said he'd be released soon, but he played dumb when I asked him when he'd be back to work."

"Let's hope he doesn't retire. He's the glue that holds that bunch of prima donna orthopods together."

Ginny had a hard time imagining the blue-eyed Chief of Orthopedics as a blob of glue. He was more like a teddy bear ... or a father. Something she'd never known.

"The surgeons aren't that bad...most of them."

"Some are okay, but what about Simon?" Annette asked.

Ginny nodded. "You're right. Greg Simon has an attitude problem."

"Maybe young Dr. Marshall will be as nice as his dad."

"We can only hope." Ginny stopped at the parking lot gate and inserted her card. "Except he's fresh out of a residency at 'Old Joints and Bones' and you know how those guys are. I think they have a course titled 'Disdain and Arrogance ... How to Project the Proper Hauteur."

Annette laughed. The beads on her multitude of braids clicked together. "Girl, you got to stop prying under every rock looking for trouble. There are enough problems floating around."

Ginny pulled the van into a parking space. "I believe in looking ahead." She and Annette joined the scattered groups of nurses headed to the red brick, T-shaped building.

Inside, Annette ducked into the hall where the time clocks were kept. Ginny continued to the elevator. Before she reached her office on the third floor, she stopped in the nurses' lounge for a cup of coffee. In her office, she sat at the gray metal desk and stared through the window that provided a view of the hall. Today was one of the times she wished her office looked out to the world so she could see the sky and sunshine.

Stop fussing and get to work, she told herself. Quickly, she sorted through the notes in the wire basket on the corner of the desk and stuffed the requests for days off in a folder. She read the report of an incident that had occurred on Saturday and made a note to thank Kathy Grant. Her vigilance had probably saved the hospital from a lawsuit.

Rounds, she thought. She rose and paused in the office doorway to wait until the couple ahead of her turned the corner. This morning, she couldn't face Dr. Greg Simon's sneering condemnation or Lisa Kingsley's rudeness. The dark-haired surgeon and the blonde nurse were a perfect match, at least in their attitudes.

Once the pair vanished, Ginny headed to day surgery. Of the seven patients scheduled for orthopedic procedures, two had arrived and were being prepared for surgery.

"Hey, Ginny," a red-haired nurse called. "Any news about Dr. Marshall?"

"Which one?" another woman asked.

"The father. The son's an unknown."

How true, Ginny thought. She reported her latest visit and received reactions similar to Annette's.
A short time later, Ginny strode to the acute care area where they admitted fresh post-ops and those patients needing special care. She stopped at the desk and studied the patient board.

Two of the nurses stopped talking. Lisa Kingsley smiled, but the smile wasn't friendly. Ginny looked for Betty Tawser, the third member of the trio who opposed every change on the unit.

With a nod to Lisa, Ginny left the desk and made patient rounds. When she finished, she starred the names of several patients who were stable enough to move if needed to make room for incoming patients from ER, ICU or the OR.

This done, she made rounds on the rehabilitation section of the unit and called Admitting. For the first time in weeks, there was no overflow of orthopedic patients on any of the medical or surgical units.

Wait until winter, she thought. But by that time, the nurses would have completed the educational program and the efficiency of the unit would improve.

She headed to her office. Her life was on schedule, so why was the knot of anticipation expanding?
A rap on the window broke into her reverie. A grinning Annette peered through the glass. "Girl, quit your dawdling. Young Dr. Marshall has arrived." She pressed a hand to her chest. "He's a man for every woman's fantasy."

Ginny shook her head. She pictured the older Dr. Marshall, subtracted years and added hair. Pleasant. Maybe cute, but hardly fantasy material. She rose. "I'm on my way. Wouldn't want him to accuse me of ignoring him."

"Won't happen. He seems as nice as his dad. Run, don't walk. Rescue him before Val drowns him in sweetness."

Ginny frowned. Val ... Sweet ... impossible. The unit's secretary was a mistress of the rude put-down.
When Ginny turned the corner, she stopped short. A barely contained urge to run in the opposite direction caused her to approach the desk with slow, measured steps. Young Dr. Marshall was tall, handsome ... and black. He was also the resident who two years ago had questioned her nursing judgment. Though she had been vindicated a patient had suffered needless pain.

Her hands curled into fists. Dr. Marshall laughed at something Val said and then turned to Lisa. The knot in Ginny's abdomen swelled into her chest. No way, she thought. She wouldn't allow this man or anyone to detour her from her chosen road. She plastered a smile on her face that she knew didn't match the hostility she felt.

"Dr. Marshall, I'm Ms. Barr, Patient Care Coordinator for the unit. Welcome to Hudson View."

Lisa strolled away. "See you around, Dr. Marshall. You'll soon discover Hudson View is nothing like the University for interesting and exciting cases."

Ginny stiffened. Why did Lisa constantly bad mouth the hospital? If she felt bored, she should have stayed at the University.

A slow smile curved Dr. Marshall's lips. His dark brown eyes appraised Ginny with the intensity of a scientist peering through a microscope. He held out a hand. She resisted the desire to thrust her hands behind her back. Instead, she held her arms stiffly at her sides.

"Ms. Barr, Blake Marshall. My father speaks highly of you." He rested the hand she had refused to touch on the counter that separated the nurses' station from the hall.

"Then I must thank him. He has been eagerly awaiting your arrival."

She held back a groan. Stilted conversation had never been her forte, but this morning and with this man, she'd become an expert. The knot edged into her throat. She gulped a breath. Why did the air between them smell of ozone as though a bolt of lightning had struck nearby?

She saw a question in his eyes and wondered if he remembered the night they'd met. She had called him twice and the third time had demanded he come to assess a patient. She would never forget because that had been the night Joey had left Manda. Angry thoughts swept her into the past.

"I insist you come immediately." She gripped the phone and listened to the sleep-fogged voice question her about the patient. "I won't hesitate to go over your head. It's been a half hour since my last call and an hour since the first. The patient's pain is constant and excruciating. I've elevated his leg and applied ice. A possible compartment syndrome is no joke."

Five minutes later, he strode into the patient's room. His rumpled, green scrubs didn't disguise his muscular physique. His dark eyes had flashed with anger. He eyed her nametag. "An agency nurse. What do you know about orthopedics?"

She bit back an angry response. She could have told him she had worked in orthopedics for five years and that in three semesters, she would have a Masters as a nurse practitioner with a focus on orthopedics. But she wouldn't. His question didn't deserve an answer."

"Just check the patient," she said.

Once he examined the young man's leg and discovered she'd been right, she had expected an apology. He'd given none, just split the cast, made a note on the chart and strode away.

Her memory of the past faded. She couldn't allow that incident to influence her. "Would you like a tour of the unit? The renovations were completed in May just before I took over."

"That would be my pleasure."

His voice reminded her of velvet, smooth, lush and sensual. She swallowed and headed for day surgery. "Your father has an arthroscopy on the schedule. I thought you might be involved."
Was that her voice? The tight, clipped tones sounded foreign to her ears.

"Greg took the case. As of tomorrow, I'll be taking Dad's cases until he returns."

"Don't you intend to join the practice?"

He shrugged. "I'm not sure of my plans."

The hint of arrogance in his voice was no surprise, but the anger it stirred shocked her. The senior Dr. Marshall had spoken of his son's return with eagerness and pride. "Your father will be disappointed if you leave."

"Not for long. Dad's always encouraged me to pursue my own goals."

"How fortunate for you, but don't you think ..." She stopped herself. Arguing would do no good. Didn't he think he owed his father anything?

As they passed through the rehab section, she spotted Annette and Mike, the orthopedic orderly. Annette grinned.
It's not what you think, Ginny wanted to shout. This man pushed her buttons and produced discordant emotions. She glanced at him. He raised an eyebrow. Her cheeks burned.
* *

Wednesday, October 11, 2017

Wednesday Hooking Murder and Mint Tea #MFRWBookHooks #MFRWauthor #Cozy mystery

Murder and Mint Tea (Mrs. Miller Mysteries Book 1)

This series began as a straight mystery but I didn't count on the developing romance between Katherine and Lars. Excerpt and book are PG13

Katherine is a retired nurse and a retired church organist. The small Hudson River village where she lives in her Victorian “Painted Lady” makes her the neighborhood matriarch. Along with her Maine Coon Cat Robespierre, she guards friends and families.

When amoral Rachel moves into the first floor apartment of Katherine’s house, trouble erupts. The murder weapon is one she recognizes and makes her fear for her friends and family. Finding the killer becomes her goal.


Chapter 1

The pale winter sun shone through the kitchen window.  I cleaned up the last of the mess from my adventure.  The caper hadn’t gone as planned.  How many do?  In my many years of life, most of my plans have taken an unexpected turn.
Merup.”  Robespierre my Maine Coon cat announced a visitor on the way.  He’s almost as good as a doorbell.  The firm rap on the door told me this wasn’t one of my female friends.  “Come in.”
Pete Duggan strode across the room and thrust a bouquet of bright carnations into my hands.  A red hue, almost as vivid as his hair, stained his face.  “Mrs. Miller, got to hand it to you.  I’ve come to eat crow.”
To hide a smile I buried my face in the flowers and inhaled the spicy fragrance.  “How about chocolate chip cookies and mint tea instead?”
“Sounds great.”  He straddled one of the chairs at the table and picked up the local newspaper.  “Local Woman Thwarts Robbers.”  His grin made him look like the ten-year-old who had moved into the corner house on my block.  He cleared his throat.  “The guys at the station ribbed me about this.  Did you forget the plan?”
     How, when the idea to catch the real thieves had been mine?  A series of burglaries had plagued the neighborhood for months and had troubled me.  Especially when the police had decided two teenage neighbor boys were the culprits.  I knew the pair and had disagreed strongly enough to set myself up as a victim.  Then I informed Pete.
     “Did you forget?”  he repeated.  “When I crept up the stairs and saw you grappling with one of the men, I nearly had a heart attack.”
     Heat singed my cheeks.  “How was I to know my date would poop out early?”

     After filling two mugs with mint tea I opened a tin of freshly baked cookies.  How could I admit to a nagging doubt, or tell him I had wanted to be part of the action?  In July I had turned sixty-five and in September retired from the nursing staff at Tappan Zee Memorial Hospital.  Six months of placid existence had made me edgy.  Lunch with friends, coffee with the neighbors and weekly bridge games with old cronies bored me.  These events held none of the challenge of meeting crises at the hospital.

Editorial Review
Murder and Mint Tea is a gem in its genre, combining the voice of a classic American whodunit with that of a traditional British detective novel. Murder She Wrote meets Miss Marple in a beautifully crafted tale that makes the reader want to reach into the pages and dispense justice to the villainess themselves. ~ Writer Gail Roughton

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Available in electronic form and print from Amazon, Smashwords, Kobo

Tuesday, October 10, 2017

Tuesday's Writer's Tip - Writing the Sequence #MFRWauthor #Writing #sequence

 You've finished the scene and your focus character has gone down to defeat in his or her quest to reach the goal. He or she is down but not out. You need to more the story forward but you can't just jump into another scene. What do you do? Here's where the sequence comes in.

Time must pass. A character doesn't make a new plan in a second unless they're that kind of person, rash and heedless. The time could be a few hours, a day, a week, a year. Setting up the time is important. You can say something like two days later... Then place your character where he or she might be. 

A new plan must be made but first the character must react to what has happened. What's the emotion they're feeling, sadness, anger, regret. Walk them through the emotion and then set them to find a solution.

Once the solution or the new plan on the road to obtaining the goal is made, the time has come for a new scene.

Monday, October 9, 2017

Meandering On Monday With Janet Lane Walters #MFRWauthor #Poem #Writing #LIfe

Meander 1 - Poem - Thoughts on a Dying Friend

She walks with death and knows
Bur turns her face to life and passes
To those around her person, a glow,
A charm, a reaching for tomorrow.

The trees in autumn know they are dying, too.
They reach with colored brightness, glowing hue
In beauty across the hills against the sky
They shout of life today and not tomorrow.

She walks with death, and yet
She holds life and peacefulness.
She exhales life and peacefulness.
She extends her hands and boosts her friends
Over obstacles that line the way.

The blaze of autumn trees tell
Of dying with color and with flair.
Their colors extend a welcoming of ends
And point to beginnings bright with flame.

She walks with death and so
She teaches me how to live each day.
She burns in my life, a dying flame
That glows as beauty -- autumn tree.

Meander 2 -Life Gets in the Way. There are weeks when one seems to be on the road running errands, seeing doctors, taking care of bills and shopping. Last week was such a week for me. There was little time or energy to do what I love to do best - write. Maybe it was a good idea to complete everything in a single week. Hopefully next week will be better and I will finish what I've set out to do. The one good thing I did accomplish was do a talk at Somers library and to sell 4 books at the end.

Meander 3 - Writing - As seen above, there was little of what I wanted to do accomplished. At this time Sweet Tea is beginning to become boring and I want to finish  the book so i can move on to the next one. Hopefully by the end of the month I will reach my goal. 23 days to go.

Sunday, October 8, 2017

Sunday's Book - Romancing the Nurse #MFRWauthor #Romance #medical

Romancing The Nurse

Ginny’s new job as patient care coordinator at a suburban hospital is a dream come true. She can raise her daughter and young niece away from the city. 

The older orthopedic surgeon who recruited her helps make the move easier. His stroke brings his son, another surgeon home to take over his father’s practice. Unfortunately, Ginny remembers him from an evening encounter at the city hospital where she worked. They had words. He also remembers that night. 

They clash but beneath the anger, there is an attraction. Blake wants her in his bed and attempts to romance her. Then he discovers he wants her forever and must eat a lot of crow.

Friday, October 6, 2017

Friday's Guest - Suzanne De Montigny #MFRWauthor #Genres #Writing

1.      What's your genre or do you write in more than one?

Well, it seems I’ve been skipping around a bit. I started out with a Middle Grade series for kids 9 – 12 called Shadow of the Unicorn, and then I wrote a young teen novel, A Town Bewitched, and lo and behold, now I’ve jumped into a later teen and beyond novel, Fields of Gold Beneath Prairie Skies, book 6 of the Canadian Historical Brides series by BWL Publishing. But I have a new story lurking for kids under 9. So go figure.

2. Did you choose your genre or did it choose you?

Doesn’t appear to be me choosing. These stories just call out to me, “Write me, write me…” and so I do.

3.  Is there any genre you'd like to try?  Or is there one you wouldn't?

Okay, I’ll go with what I wouldn’t like to do. Definitely not erotica. Too embarrassing. Definitely not some big action thing with guns and stuff. Too guyish for my tastes.

4.  What fiction do you read for pleasure?

Hmmm. I like historical fiction the best, I guess, and especially I seem to be drawn to stories about WWI and WWII. But I also really like Dystopia.

5.  Tell me a bit about yourself and how long you've been writing.

I loved writing as a child, but pursued an education in music instead, teaching music in the school system for about 20 years. I began writing about 10 years ago after my father died. And I haven’t stopped since.

6.  Which of your characters is your favorite?

Darius from Shadow of the Unicorn. He’s the last surviving dinosaur and is a seer. He’s selfless and utterly wonderful. He made me cry in book 1 and 2 of Shadow of the Unicorn.

7.  Are there villains in your books and how were they created?

Villains! Argh! I think the worst one was Ishmael in Shadow of the Unicorn – a man who cared nothing for animals or other humans. All he wanted was gold and would stop at nothing to get it. Then there was Drachen, in book 2. He wasn’t exactly the sharpest knife in the drawer. Then Travis in A Town Bewitched, a typical mean boy…who had reason to be. And in Fields of Gold, I’d say it was the drought – not a real person.

8.  What are you working on now?

I’m just about to start editing Shadow of the Unicorn: The Revenge.

9.  What's your latest release and how did the idea arrive?

Fields of Gold Beneath Prairie Skies. It’s a historical romance and part of the Canadian Historical Bride series. My father spent the last 10 years of his life writing his memoirs, and most of this story came from those memoirs. This is based on what happened to my grandparents. Here’s the blurb.

French-Canadian soldier, Napoleon, proposes to Lea during WWI, promising golden fields of wheat as far as the eye can see. After the armistice, he sends money for her passage, and she journeys far from her family and the conveniences of a modern country to join him on a homestead in Saskatchewan. There, she works hard to build their dream of a prospering farm, clearing fields alongside her husband through several pregnancies and even after suffering a terrible loss. When the stock market crashes in ’29, the prairies are stricken by a long and abysmal drought. Thrown into poverty, she struggles to survive in a world where work is scarce, death is abundant, and hope dwindles. Will she and her family survive the Great Depression?

But if you’re too lazy to read that, then watch the book trailer.