Showing posts with label heroine. Show all posts
Showing posts with label heroine. Show all posts

Wednesday, June 19, 2024

Bast's Warrior - The Heroine #MFRWHooks #BWLAuthor #Paranormal #time travel #alternate Egypt

 Join the authors at #MFRWHooks here http://mfrwbookhooks.blogspot.com  for some great excerpts.  Mine is found at wwweclecticwriter.blogspot.com and features Bast's Warrior.


Blurb
Tira flees a threat to her life and encounters two elderly women who offer her the chance to be sent to an alternate ancient Egypt with no thought of return. She has had a fascination with Egypt and can even read hieroglyphics. Once there she will be given a task. Failure could mean death. Dare she take the chance and can she find the lost symbols of the rule before an enemy finds them?

Kashe, son of the nomarch of Mero is in rebellion. His father desires him to join the priesthood of Aken Re, a foreign god. He feels he belongs to Horu, god of warriors and justice. He decides to leave home, meets Tira and joins her in the search for the symbols of the rule. Will his aid bring good fortune and will their growing love keep them from making a fatal mistake?

Previously published as The Warrior of Bast

"This engaging voyage into an ancient Egypt that includes power-hungry priests and hazardous treasure hunts entertains from page one. Familial intrigue heightens the tension, as does a kidnapping or two. The cast of characters is dynamic and complements the well-conceived plot." ~ 4 Stars, Susan Mobley, Romantic Times Magazine


Excerpt:

Tira cast her dream self aside and donned the role of practical sister. She hurried to the exit and stepped from the past into a steamy August day. Heat shimmered from the sidewalk. The air hung heavy and filled with the odors of the city and the noises of traffic. She strode along the crowded area taking advantage of every opening.

Ten days to dream. Ten days to walk the halls of the museum. Ten days to study the artifacts that had become her lodestones. She breathed the aromas of real time, spices of cooking foods, metallic scents of passing traffic and the odors of people, some pleasant and some not.

Several blocks from the apartment building the crowds thinned. In an alley she glimpsed furtive movements in the dark shadows. She hurried past. On the corner across the street a group of gang members gathered. She sucked in a breath and held her head high. For all her twenty three years she’d avoided the gangs. As she strode past she heard the usual crude remarks about her body and her attitude.

Get a life, she wanted to scream.

When she saw the ambulance and two cop cars in front of the building where she lived she halted so abruptly she stumbled. A hand caught her arm. Tira saw the gray-streaked beard of one of the winos who slept in the doorways or the alley. “Get your hands off me.”

“Don’t go home,” he whispered. “Lose yourself in the crowd and keep your head down.”

Tira saw a keen intelligence in the man’s dark eyes. Who was he? He wasn’t as old as she had imagined either. “Why?”

“Your sister’s dead. Cops’ll be looking for you. They heard about the fight.”

Tira’s stomach clenched. She blinked away a rush of tears. Though hearing about her sister’s death wasn’t unexpected another dream shattered. There would be no rehab for Luci. “Junkies O.D. every day,” she said.

“She was murdered.”

A chill slithered down Tira’s spine. A rush of acid burned her throat. What? Why? Who? Keeping her eyes on the ground she inched away from him.

“Murder. Murder.” The murmured word spread through the crowd gathered on the sidewalk and stung like attacking wasps.

The EMTs wheeled a gurney from the building. When Tira saw the body bag strapped to the frame her nails bit into her palms. Despite the heat of the day she felt chilled. A wave of guilt made her knees buckle. She stuffed her fist against her mouth to keep from crying aloud.

What now, she wondered. The apartment was a crime scene. Until the cops finished their investigation she wouldn’t be allowed inside. An officer stepped from the building. “More along, folks. There’s nothing to see here.” He stepped from the stoop. “Anyone seen her sister? We have some questions for her.”

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Wednesday, December 14, 2022

Shattered Dreams Meet the heroine #MFRWHooks #BWLAuthor #romance #contemporary #nurse #doctor #secone chance #spicy

 

Join the authors at MFRWHooks here M http://mfrwbookhooks.blogspot.com for some intriguing excerpts. Mine is found at eclecticwriter.blogspot.com and is a second chance at love story.

BLURB:

Torn apart years ago by lies and threats, Rafe Marshall returns to town and confronts Manon Lockley. She has been told he died on the night he stood her up for their senior prom.


When she faints, Rafe catches her and realizes he hasn’t stopped loving her. Manon carries anger and now grief that wasn’t real. Rafe wants her in his life, but she doesn’t want to talk about what happened in the past. She can’t be sure if her father or someone else told lies about Rafe and she doesn’t want to know. Can Rafe persuade her to listen? Not without a battle.



EXCERPT

MManon Lockley parked in the driveway of the small yellow brick ranch house she’d converted into an office for her medical practice. She slid from the driver’s seat and paused to inhale the fragrance of the June roses.

At the moment she felt like the White Rabbit. She was very late for office hours. Mrs. Patton, director of nursing at Fern Lake General had been admitted to the hospital this morning with chest pain. As her primary physician, Manon had remained to monitor the older woman’s condition and to work with the cardiologist to stabilize the hospital’s most admired employee.

Manon glanced at her watch. Well past three. How long would she need to stay? Her stomach grumbled reminding her she hadn’t eating lunch. Exhaustion caused by the emergency made her shoulders slump under the weight of the event.

She opened the door leading to the reception area. Hopefully her nurse/secretary had been able to reschedule the patients for another day.

The rumble of a motorcycle sounded in the distance. Her muscles tightened. Her fists clenched. Her heart pounded in an erratic rhythm. The roar of a bike never failed to flood her with memories she didn’t want. Those memories had been shattered years ago and still filled her with anger and grief.

Do not go there.

After sucking in a series of cleansing breaths, she entered and paused at the reception desk. The cheerful yellow walls brightened her mood. She glanced into the waiting room and saw just two people seated on the brown leather chairs. Manon smiled. Two to four patients was better than the dozen plus who had been scheduled.

Emma hung up the phone. “Finally.”

Manon nodded. “It’s been quite a day. Things here.”

“Relatively quiet. Managed to reschedule all but five of today’s appointments. Schedule will be tight for the rest of the week. How’s Mrs. Patton?”

“Stable. Angina. No cause yet. Tests to run before we know her course of treatment."

Emma smiled. “That’s great. Will be hard to think of the hospital without her at the helm. I wouldn’t be in school for my nurse practitioner’s degree if she hadn’t pushed me to try.”

Manon half-sat on a corner of the desk. “Did you know she plans to retire?”

“I’ve heard the rumors. They say she waited until she found the right replacement. I heard she made a recommendation to the Board. Someone from the city.”

Manon frowned. “How do you think the supervisors will feel about that?”

“None are qualified. Ruth has a doctorate. None of the others in upper management does. What have you heard? Any names?”

Manon rose. “No rumors but I’m not on the Board. Hope they bring the person on staff early.”y Places

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Tuesday, December 31, 2019

Tuesday's Writer's Tip - Creating the Heroine #MFRWAuthor #BWLAuthor #Writing #Tip #Heroine

The time has come to look at the heroine. When developing her, there are two things to avoid. You don't want to make your heroine one of those Too Stupid To Live kind of gals. I'm sure we've all read books when you've wanted to slap the heroine and shout, "Get it together." The other kind of heroine to avoid is the abrasive, bully type. No reader would feel sympathy for this type of heroine

Developing the heroine means you need to have a handle on what she wants out of life and the reason she wants this.  Like the hero, there are things you need to know when you're developing your heroine.

. 1. Name – To me this is important since I can’t write about a nameless character.
2. Physical description – I need to have a good idea of the height, weight, hair and eye color.
3. Emotional nature – Are they quick tempered, are they maddeningly calm. How would they react to various stimuli.
4. What is their background – family life, birth order, career choice, education, social standing of them or their family.
5. How do they come across to other people. This can be different with each of your major characters and their interactions with others. Heroine might think he’s arrogant. His best friend considers him a great guy. The villain might think of him as a snob. All these things effect your characters.

6. I discover their secret. This is something they don’t want anyone to know.


The one thing I do with every new heroine is to look at her Sun sign, her rising sign and her Moon sign. Doing this allows me to determine what's important to her and how she feels about incidents that happen during the writing of the story.


Wednesday, October 9, 2019

Wednesday Meet the heroine and hero Code Blue #MFRWHooks #BWLAuthor #Medical #Suspense

Code Blue

For some great excerpts join the authors #MFRWHooks here http://mfrwbookhooks.blogspot.com to read. Mine is a bit from Code Blue

Blurb:
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.

Reviews

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


September 24, 2012
Format: Kindle EditionVerified Purchase
I enjoyed this book - The characters had you guessing who it was in the end - Would happily recommend it to others


April 25, 2013
Format: Kindle EditionVerified Purchase
I work in the medical field and love a good medical thriller. I liked the twists and turns. Kept me guessing.


January 16, 2013
Format: Kindle EditionVerified Purchase
Good book for anyone to read. Very little medical term if any. Liked that it didn't contain Harlequin-type romance, but real people with real lives, along with murder and mystery, it was great, quick read.




December 26, 2012
Format: Kindle EditionVerified Purchase
Code Blue is an interesting book that keeps you trying to out what the identity of the killer was. It's an amazing book.
Excerpt:
Susan 
     Home at last. Susan Randall moved her shoulders in slow circles to ease the tension raised by the series of delays she had experienced during the morning's journey from Florida. An hour's delay in the departure of the flight. Traffic snarls due to construction. She had hoped to be home long before noon. She looked at her watch. Nearly one o'clock.
     The limousine driver dropped her bags on the porch. After paying the man, she waited for him to leave. Then she fished the house key from the jumble in her purse and opened the front door. Why
 hadn't she stuck to her original plan and left last night? Instead, she had allowed her parents to persuade her to stay until this morning. Another failure in assertiveness, she thought.
     The two weeks in Florida had exhausted her. With a sigh, she opened the front door and lifted the suitcases. Worry over the outcome of her father's abdominal surgery and coping with her mother's fears had drained her. Her father's uncomplicated recovery had given her parents time to offer advice on how she should live her life.
     "It's been nearly a year and a half since Jim's death. How long are you going to grieve? You're thirty-five. Isn't it time to let
 him go and build a new life?"
     Variations on the theme had been endless. The unsolicited advice and opinions had only increased
 her inner restlessness.
     Susan dropped the suitcases beside the brown and white couch. How could she admit to her parents that fear of losing her identity again and not grief had governed her choices? Until the restraints had vanished, she hadn't realized she had been
 wrapped in a cocoon. If Jim hadn't died, her contentment
 with her life would have lasted. He would have continued to make decisions for every moment of their life and she wouldn't \have protested. He had bound her so tightly, there had been little need for family, friends or children. During the past eighteen months, making decisions for the slightest change had been difficult, but she had learned. She had no intention of ceding her newfound independence.
     Why would she want to find another man and plunge into the same kind of dependency? The odds of settling into a similar relationship were high. How many of her friends had she watched leave one man and find another with the same traits? She couldn't take the chance--not until she gained confidence in herself. Besides, her life would remain serene as long as her 
 emotions remained in a coma.
     The wall clock chimed. Startled, she looked up. One forty-five. How long had she drifted in thought? She'd better move
 before she arrived late for work, an act she hadn't committed in her thirteen years at Bradley Memorial Hospital.
Patrick
     Patrick stood on the porch. The ceiling light glinted on his honey-blond hair. She left the car and walked to the porch.
     "Welcome home. Long night." His deep voice promised security.
     For an instant, she thought of finding forgetfulness in his arms the way she had the night Jim had died. But 
that encounter had nearly destroyed their friendship.
     Tears spilled down her cheeks. Were they for Barbara, herself or some unknown reason? She fought to
 control feelings of helplessness. If Patrick saw her as weak, he would react the same way Jim had. She never wanted to be smothered again.
     He reached for her hand. "Don't tell me you knew the nurse I heard about on the police band."
     She nodded. "I found the body." She fumbled in her purse for the house key. Patrick put his arm around her shoulders. For a moment, she leaned against him. "I'll be all right."
     "I know, but it must have been a brutal shock. If you need a shoulder, mine's broad." He plucked the keys from
 her hand and opened the door.
     She dropped her coat on the arm of the couch. A splotch of dried blood stained the right knee of her uniform. She gasped. Why hadn't someone told her?
     She felt unclean. Her skin itched. She wanted to tear off the uniform. As she hurried to the stairs, she unfastened the buttons of her white shirt. "I have to shower."
     The note of panic in Susan's voice drew Patrick to the stairs. When she turned, he saw the 
bloodstained knee of her uniform. He gripped the newel post. She must have found the body not long after the woman had been killed. His muscles tensed. Had the murderer seen her?
     Long after she vanished, he remained at the foot of the steps. He wanted to follow her, to hold her, to protect her. She might
 be in danger. What if she had seen something that could identify the killer?
     He released his held breath and walked to the kitchen. There, he measured coffee and turned on the machine. While the coffee brewed, he returned to the living room and took a bottle of brandy from the antique icebox Susan used as a bar.
     Memories of the night Jim died arose. He had held Susan in his arms. A light kiss meant to offer comfort had ignited passion. He had forgotten her grief, forgotten his friend and had drowned in the heady sensations of making love with the woman he had wanted for years. The shock of hearing her
 call him Jim had iced his desire.
     For months after the funeral, she had avoided him. Though he had understood and shared the guilt,
 he had feared they would never regain what had been lost. This past summer, they had become friends again, but he wanted
 more. Sometimes, he thought his desire for her had become an obsession.
     Patrick leaned against the counter. He loved her, but she had to be more secure about her ability to 
deal with life before she would be ready for a relationship.
     He reached for two mugs hanging from hooks above the kitchen table, poured coffee and laced 
Susan's with brandy. Just as she came down the stairs, he entered the living room. His body reacted to

 the gentle sway of her light brown caftan.
     She sat on one end of the couch and tucked her feet under her. After taking the mug in her hands, she sipped 
and coughed. "You should have warned me."
     "The perfect antidote for tonight's shock. Will help you sleep."
     "Thanks, and thank you for the flowers." She leaned forward and stroked one of the chrysanthemums with a
 finger.
     Patrick imagined her touching him in the same way. He lifted his mug. "Who was killed?"

Thursday, October 8, 2015

Thursday - My Heroes, Heroines and Villains - Pursuing Doctor West #MRWauthor #medical #romance

Pursuing Doctor West is a tongue in cheek medical romance. There is no villain, other than the hero and heroine.

Hero - Michael
       Though he wished for time to eat a hearty breakfast, on the way to the hospital, he stopped at a deli for an egg and cheese bagel and a huge coffee. Ten minutes later, he sat in the doctor’s parking lot and ate like a starving man

After stuffing the remains in the take-out bag, he slid from the sedan and brushed crumbs from his clothes. He scanned the lot. New car added to his list of wants. His fuel-economy sedan looked like a waif among the luxury sedans and sporty models. He strode toward the entrance.

“Michael, slow down.” The senior partner of the surgical practice waved.

Michael waited for Dr. Probst. “Good morning, sir. I didn’t expect to see you here so early.”

The gray-haired man smiled. “Always the first. Good to see you’ve the same habit. Three cases on the schedule. First one’s at nine.”

“Will I assist?”

“Eager to get your hands in?”

Michael grinned. “Sure am, sir.”

Dr. Probst chuckled. “How well I remember those days. Before we head to the OR, we’ll make rounds. I’ll show you the surgical unit.”

“Sounds good.” Though he had visited the hospital when he’d been recruited, he hadn’t been impressed with the unit.

“We’ve a new nurse manager. Young, efficient. Has performed miracles during her five months in charge. She’s cracked down on the staff. You’ll like her.”

Michael studied the older man. Was he being set up? Not going to happen. Casual affairs were his speed. He thought about the nurse manager he’d met when the guys in the practice had wined and dined him. She’d been old, steely-eyed, with a thin-lipped smile, making him think young doctors were to be trained like puppies. Young might mean any woman under sixty. If the new nurse manager was attractive and would be interested in a fling in the company of a man with a five year plan, he might give her a try.

They rode the elevator from the basement to the second floor. When he saw the nurse at the counter with a phone in her left hand and her right poised over a keyboard, he halted and fought the urge to run.

“No.” He groaned. “Impossible.”

“Something wrong?” Dr. Probst asked.

Michael cleared his throat. Don’t be an ass. “I never expected to see…” Help! His inner voice shouted the final word of his nightmare.

“Zelda, come and meet the new addition to our group.”

Michael sucked in a breath. The bane of his youthful existence left the computer and sauntered toward them.

His throat constricted. His gut churned. “You work here?” Duh. Could his foot fit any tighter in his mouth? Why else was she dressed in a white uniform? And the lab coat spelled administration. He took a second look. The uniform fit her slender body to perfection.

Dr. Probst beamed. “Guess you know each other. Zelda is our miracle nurse manager.”

Figured she’d find a way to plague him. He didn’t like the ideas swarming like gnats in his thoughts. He batted them away. Sure, Zelda was attractive and probably efficient, but she was a cyclone centered on destructing Michael West MD. Like visions seen by a drowning man, incidents flooded him. She had swamped his high school romance with Allie, and sent depth charges into his summer fling with Bette.

Every time Zelda entered his space strange events occurred. He tripped over invisible cracks in the sidewalk, dropped drinks and plates of food. In her presence, he was an accident primed to happen.
His gaze focused on her. Boy had she changed. Short curly brown hair, bright blue eyes, slender figure with tantalizing curves. An urge to taste her kissable lips made him take a step toward her.
Whoa. This is Zelda. Not a chance. He enjoyed living. His hands fisted and he tore his attention from her to his partner’s briefing on the recovering patients and the ones awaiting surgery.

Zelda added comments, reported changes in conditions and mentioned existing or pending problems. 

Michael realized she ignored him more effectively than he did her. Still, he knew plans for destructing his life stirred like a rising volcano in her head. They always had.

“Mrs. Greene’s going home today,” Dr. Probst said. “She’s to come to the office in a week for staple removal.” He turned to Michael. “Write a prescription for a pain med and antibiotics, same as she’s taking here. All the info is on her chart.”

Michael went to the computer and entered his password. He pulled up Mrs. Greene’s chart. He checked her meds and copied them to an electronic prescription. Once done, he sent the script to her listed pharmacy. He finished the instruction sheet and closed the chart.

Dr. Probst laughed. “Took you less than five minutes. One of the reasons we took you on. You can teach these old dogs some tricks.”

Zelda laughed. “Aren’t computers great? No more huge stacks of paper to worry about.”


No more paper airplanes. Where had that thought come from? Then he remembered, Zelda’s many missives sailing over the fence from her yard to his. He hid a smile as an idea of how to head her off and keep their interactions on a strictly professional level came to him.

Heroine - Zelda
Zelda Carter wanted to pinch herself, but she knew Michael’s arrival wasn’t a dream. She’d heard rumors, but hospital’s grapevine bred stories as fast as mold multiplied in a dungeon. She sat at the desk and stared at nothing. Co-workers bustled past. The loudspeaker crackled. The phone rang. She sighed. He had returned home to practice surgery. She would see him every day.

Maybe this time he would open his eyes to the possibilities. Perhaps the strange and awful occurrences wouldn’t happen. Could she find a crack in his stone heart and prove she was the right woman for him?

Never had.

You’re wrong.

This time she would find a lure he couldn’t resist. She sucked in a breath and swore the citrus scent of him overpowered the sharper hospital odors.

“Ms. Carter, lab on line one,” the unit clerk said.

Zelda grabbed the receiver and jotted some values she’d wanted checked. She turned to the clerk. 

“Karen, if anyone wants me I’ll be in my office.”

“I’ll let them know, boss lady. You need to call Nan.”

“Will do.” Zelda strode down the hall. She needed to let the staff recruiter know there would soon be an opening for a nurse on the unit.”

She shut the door, reached for the phone and punched her friend’s extension. After Nan answered, Zelda mentioned the opening. “Need someone with dynamite qualifications. I’ll email you the specifics.” A gasp burst free when she saw the paper airplane perched on the edge of her desk.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes.” Her heart hammered. What did he want? Visions of Michael filled her thoughts. She drifted into a dream. His green eyes glittered with interest. He asked for a date.

“Zelda, are you there.” Nan’s shout shredded the daydream.

“Just spaced out for a moment.”

“What’s he like?”

“Who?”

“The new surgeon. The house is buzzing with rumors and more. Thought I’d come to the one who has surely met him.”

Zelda laughed. “I have first dibs. Don’t you remember him?”

“If I knew his name I might.”

“Think four years ahead of us in school. Think red gold hair, though now it’s a dark auburn. Think broad shoulders, football, basketball, and baseball. Think handsome as sin.”

Nan chuckled. “Michael West.”

“Yes.”

“Good luck.”

“Thanks.” Zelda hung up. She smoothed the paper airplane. He remembered the hundreds of notes she’d sailed over the back fence.

Must mean something.

Sure it does. Maybe.

The voice of doubt sounded again. She stared at the words he’d written and started the process of deciphering the scrawl. How could he? She’d loved him for years. Granted he’d ignored her years ago.

Professional. An order. As if she was anything but a professional here. A glance at the signature and she burst into uncontrollable laughter. Your former neighbor.

Tears rolled down her face and she gasped to catch a breath. She couldn’t wait to see his face when he learned she lived in the same building. Heavens, their bedrooms were separated by a very thin wall.

She folded her arms. Michael West, you’re in for a surprise. She brought the note to her nose and inhaled the citrus scent permeating the paper, or maybe her imagination. She tucked the note in her pocket. This belonged in her box of Michael mementos. Had he saved the notes and other items she’d given him over the years? Hope grew like bacteria in a Petrie dish. The missive proved his interest. So did the way he’d watched her this morning. His stares had ignited her body.

Michael, watch out. She would find a way to capture more than his sideways glances. She knew something he was too blind to see. She was his perfect mate.




Thursday, April 2, 2015

Thursday's Heroine - Ria From Temple of Fyre #MFRWauthor #BooksWeLove

Ria stuffed the scroll she’d taken from the shelves beneath her caftan and tightened the sash to make sure the cylinder holding the rolled papyrus remained hidden. Beads of perspiration covered her forehead. She rubbed the sleeve of her robe over her face. The night air held sultry remnants of the heat of the day. Usually, the thick walls of the temple complex kept the rooms and corridors cool. Tonight was different. The usual night breezes were absent, so the heat remained. Perhaps the approaching solstice was the cause?

Or, maybe her fear of discovery caused her heart to thump against her chest and her muscles to tighten into confining bands? She was in a place where she had no right to be without the presence of one of the priestesses. Acolytes were forbidden full access to the scrolls in the scriptorium. She drew a deep breath. She’d acted out of necessity. The scroll beneath her caftan was one she’d discovered during another of her night searches. She wasn’t permitted to read this one, but she had, and the words stirred questions her tutors refused to address.

On the morrow, her ability to control the flames of the fyrestones would be tested. She would be ordered to call flames from a pair of scarlet crystals and blend her blaze with those raised by the priestesses of the circle. Then, the chief priestess would assign her a task. Ria believed the things she’d read in this particular scroll would help her during the ordeal. The test was not without risk. One slip and the flames she sought to control could turn her into a living torch.

She crept to the scriptorium door and peered into the hall. With senses alert, she listened and searched the shadows cast by the flickering torches on the white plaster of the walls. Sensing no one was nearby she scurried along the corridor toward the living quarters of the priestesses and acolytes. With luck, she would reach her room without being discovered.

Her hand pressed against the scroll she wanted to read again. The words of this particular one were vastly different from the lessons she’d been taught by the priestesses. Had they lied? Were the ways to use the fyrestones described in these writings true, or were they only a fable invented by some ancient scribe?

There were other scrolls which told tales that seemed unreal. The aged priestess in charge of the scriptorium had laughed when Ria asked about dragons with eyes the color of the scarlet fyrestones. The old woman scoffed when Ria showed her passages describing wands wielded by wizards that sent lashes of bright or dark flames to control people.

There was no one she could ask if this scroll contained truths. Questions weren’t encouraged. Still, she wanted to believe what she’d read in this scroll about the uses of the stones. They told of helping the people, and that appealed to her.

Ria sighed. Since the day she’d been bought from the slavers by the chief priestess, her life, though interesting had been lonely. Not for her the crowded classrooms, or the dormitory where she could form friendships with the other acolytes. She had her own chamber and a private bathing room. During her lessons, she’d been the only student. Even her meals had been taken with the priestesses, not the other acolytes.

Why had she been kept isolated from the other acolytes? What make her so different? Like Ria, most of the others had been brought to Rosti by the slavers. At twenty, she was a year or two younger than most of the young women who had entered the temple with her.

She’d learned to call fire from every color of the crystals and learned how to blend the flames to form sheets of fire. She could impose maps and pictures on the sheets and knew the ways of sending spears of flame to various places. From the tiny flames of the white, to yellow, orange, and scarlet fyrestones, her progress had been steady.

A peal of laughter made her stiffen. She ducked into a shadowed alcove. After the evening meal, acolytes were to be in their rooms, not wandering in the halls. A pair of senior priestesses, their orange robes gleaming in the light from the hall torches, appeared. The women hurried past Ria’s hiding place and entered the harras.

Ria trailed behind them. The noises from the studs’ quarters stirred her curiosity. The men seldom left the harras, except for exercise in the garden, or when they were summoned to the room of one of the priestesses. Until Ria passed her final test, she wasn’t allowed into the rooms where the men were kept. Several times, she had spied on the studs, but only during the day, and never in the evening when the priestesses visited. She paused beside the beaded curtain and peered inside.

Her eyes widened. Most of the men were nude or scantily clad. Priestesses reclined on low couches. Studs offered beverages and finger foods. Ria watched as one of the men fondled a priestess’ breasts. Another man swayed to the sound of a flute. He held his organ in his hand. Ria felt a stirring low in her belly. Her breath caught in her throat.

Malera’s husky laughter rolled toward Ria. Before the chief priestess could discover her, Ria ducked into the hall leading to her chamber. When she reached the doorway, she carefully parted the beaded curtain and slipped into the room. If she’d been caught, Malera would have been furious. The chief priestess’ temper outbursts often ended in an injury for the culprit.

Ria sank on the bed. The scene in the harras filled her thoughts and stirred her curiosity. What would have happened next? Though she’d been betrothed before her clan had sold her to the slavers, he had died, and the women hadn’t yet instructed her on the ways of a woman and a man.

A frown wrinkled her brow. The lessons of her teachers arose. Acolytes were forbidden to interact with men, except for official business. A priestess was permitted encounters, but she must never allow a man’s organ to enter her body. Such a surrender would destroy her ability to control the flames she drew from the fyrestones.

Thursday, March 19, 2015

Thursday's Heroine Dana from Rekindled Dreams by Janet Lane Walters #MFRWauthor #BooksWeLove

Dana Collins laughed and dropped the phone in the cradle. Though she wanted to spin and twirl in a victory dance, movements like that had to wait. Client number five had signed the contract for her billing service for people in health care. This client had passed the info to a friend.

Yes. She rubbed her protruding belly. “We’re on our way, baby.” She could work at home and never return to nursing, the career she’d spent four years in college to earn a BS.

With a groan she pushed against the arms of the office chair. One hand went to her back to ease the nagging pain. Being nine months pregnant and seven months divorced should make her feel anything but happy. This morning the last of the documents had arrived officially returning her to her maiden name. As Randy had demanded during the negotiations, his name wouldn’t appear on the birth certificate. His ugly words still hurt.

“No child of yours is fit to wear the Grantlan name. Melanie’s baby will.”

Those words had crushed her and she had agreed.

Bastard.

Her memories flashed to the day she’d told him about the pregnancy. “We’ll be a real family.” She’d been wrong.

“Get an abortion.”

Stop it. Don’t go there. She’d soon have the family she wanted. Randy Grantlan was history.

Dana stretched. The nagging backache had come and gone all day. Was labor about to begin? Though she had book knowledge about pregnancy, other than at school, she’d never worked in obstetrics.
Her stomach growled. Dana groaned. She’d been so focused on her new venture she’d forgotten to eat lunch. She glanced at the clock on the mantle above the fireplace. Four o’clock. She needed to eat. As she left the family room for the long walk to the kitchen at the other end of the house, she smiled. She couldn’t wait to sell this place.

The doorbell chimed. Who?

She reached the foyer and nearly tripped over the small suitcase and the infant seat. Though she could drive to the hospital, she Knew Dr. Scott wouldn’t let her drive home after the delivery. The hospital parking lot was the last place she wanted to leave her car. When the moment arrived, she would call a cab.

Dana opened the door to find her birthing partner on the doorstep. The green scrubs meant Madge had come straight from work. “Don’t tell me they’ve changed your hours again.”

Madge shook her head. Wispy curls the color of dandelions bounded. “Not this week. Told the supervisor no evenings or nights until you have the baby.” She frowned. “Haven’t you heard?”

“About what?”

Madge hesitated. “Do you ever read the paper or listen to the local news?”

“Don’t have a paper delivered and spent the day on the computer.” Dana stepped aside. “Come in. I just signed client number five. I was about to have a late lunch or an early supper.” She let her friend down the hall past the huge living and dining rooms to the kitchen filled with every appliance needed to create a gourmet meal.

Madge sat at the table. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

“Wait until I make a salad. I’m so hungry I feel faint.” Dana’s stomach rumbled so loud she blushed.

“You need to take better care of yourself.” Madge said. “You’re eating…”

“For two," Dana finished. She grabbed and opened a bag of salad greens, diced a tomato, added some strips of ham and chicken, plus two slices of hard-boiled eggs with some light dressing. After pouring iced tea for Madge and fruit juice for herself she joined her friend. “I need to do some grocery shopping before I go into labor.”

Madge looked up. “Your due date’s tomorrow. Make a list. I’ll shop for you.”

“I’ll do that this evening.” She dug into the salad and sighed with pleasure. After she’d eaten half the food she looked at Madge. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing on my end. Since you didn’t read the paper or listen to the news, I’ll tell you. Randy died in an automobile accident sometime yesterday. The staff was buzzing with the news.”

“You’re kidding.” Dana wasn’t sure how she felt about the news. Though she’d tried, the marriage had ended long before she’d stopped trying to form a family with Randy.

Madge shook her head. “It’s true. Big splash in today’s paper. About the loss and about State Senator Blan’s daughter.”

“Where?”

“On that narrow road from the Club.”

Dana drew a deep breath. She’d been a passenger in Randy’s car down that road. “Was he drunk?” She knew the answer. He’d never known his limit.

“Nothing about alcohol was mentioned,” Madge said. “The nursing home was filled with gossip and most agreed he’d been drinking.”

Dana made a face. “I’m sure his father quashed any reports of alcohol levels.”

Madge nodded. “Robert Grantlan would do that. The Grantlan family has no faults. One of the orderlies ran into Patricia this noon. She’s accusing every woman Randy ever slept with of joining a conspiracy.”

“Even me.”

“Afraid so.”

Dana thought of her confrontations with Randy’s twin. Patricia had been angry about the engagement, the marriage and the divorce. Dana had stopped attending dinners at the Club long before the divorce. “What are you holding back?”

“He and Melanie Blan were celebrating their engagement.”

Dana met her friend’s gaze. “I know. That’s one of the reasons he wanted a divorce."