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Wings ePress Authors' Showcase |
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Wings ePress Authors' Showcase |
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A Daddy For Danny
He took the half-full glass from Jenny’s hand, set it on a
table beside his own, and turned her to face him. He brushed a strand of
hair from her face, then pulled her close. “You have a big load to carry,
and you’re doing it very well.” When she started to pull away, he moved a hand gently
over her shoulders and down her arm. She struggled to dismiss the tiny
bursts of sensation his touch aroused in her. He stroked her upper arm and,
mindlessly, she melted against him.
Now, she
knew why her old fear had resurfaced last night. Subconsciously, she had
recognized Roland’s handwriting, for she’d seen it long ago on a card he had
sent her. Happy Birthday to Jenny,
with love, Roland.
With love.
Words he had inscribed on her heart. “Jenny.” With an index finger, he tilted her chin and
studied her face. He looked into her eyes for a moment, then his lips
touched the curve of her jaw. In her younger days, she had often wondered how she would react if Roland were to take her in his arms again. But no amount of imagination could have prepared her for the explosive tumult of emotion that seized her now. All rational thought fled. Every nerve in her body quivered, with the incredible realization that he was there, and holding her. |
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Legacy Of Lies
excerpt interview author's page order now Katelynn dropped to her knees, un-wrapped
the emergency blanket, and pulled it around her. It felt
wonderful to be out of the wind and rain. She sat in the
darkness and stared out at the night storm, shuddering each
time the thunder shook the ground. She pulled the canteen over to her and
wrapped her good hand around the nylon strap. If anyone or
anything stuck their head through the opening she would
clobber them with the full canteen. Then, sheer black fright
swept through her. She didn’t dare move. She didn’t dare
yell. She’d forgotten to tell Walt about the shaft at the
end of the drift. She took a couple of deep breaths. She
hadn’t heard Walt yell, so he probably hadn’t fallen. She
hadn’t heard falling rocks, so the mine couldn’t have caved
in. Still, he didn’t come back, and the sound
of the drizzling rain drilled into her ears until she
couldn’t stand it any longer. She jerked off the blanket and
scrambled down the mine in the dark. Banging her head
against an outcropping of rock, she fell to her knees in
pain. Despite the panic she felt, she crouched lower. And
being more careful, she used her good arm to feel her way in
the darkness. The air got thinner and thinner. Dust
filtered up and filled her throat and nose. A scream formed
in her throat. She wanted to run--to get out of the mine--to
breathe fresh air and feel open space. First, she had to
find Walt. She continued on, desperately looking for a
glimmer of light. He had to be all right. Love swelled in
her chest, and she couldn’t swallow it down. She loved him,
and the thought of him being dead or hurt sent stabbing
pains through her. She kicked something with her next step… |
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Risk Takers
excerpt interview author's page order now Neither spoke.
In that brief moment,
surrounded in her sweet scent, the heady mix of jasmine
and gardenia as intoxicating as fine wine, Mike dropped
to his knees in the most irrational act of his life.
Without
taking
his eyes from hers, he slid his hands inside her knees
and spread them. Then he moved in as close to her as he
could get. Ignoring her sudden gasp, he stroked her face
with the back of his fingers, and with unexpected
gentleness, traced the outline of her jaw with his
thumbs. His gaze slid from her face downward
to the swell of her breasts showing through the thin
shirt. Her nipples firmed against the cloth, and he laid
his arms across her shoulders and buried his face in her
heaven-scented hair. Her eyes widened, and she might have
protested if his calloused fingertips hadn’t pressed
against her lips and kept her silent. Emily exhaled
sharply and her warm breath fanned Mike’s forehead as a
wandering hand deftly untied her shirt and slipped
inside. Soft skin rippled as his palm skimmed her ribs.
Looking at her mouth, he knew if he didn’t taste those
parted lips, he might die from wanting. He lowered his head slowly,
purposefully. She saw his intent and tried to resist but
his fingers worked their way through her hair and held
her head still while his mouth savored the first
contact. His kiss became demanding, his tongue slick and
insistent. Her eyelids fluttered closed and her arms
slid around his neck, her cool skin growing warm as
their tongues met and entwined. Soon her mouth was as demanding as
his and if Mike hadn’t known better, he’d have thought
Emily starved for foreplay. Even knowing her history
didn’t stop him from greedily taking what she freely
offered. He couldn’t seem to get enough of her taste,
the feel of her skin or the way she melted against him,
all soft woman. The sheer cloth of her shirt fell
away under his fingers. Her breasts arched into his
hands as though they belonged there, and her breath
quickened as his work-hardened hands cupped, stroked,
caressed. All sense of time and place vanished
for Mike. Blinded by a need he’d tried to deny, he
ripped open the waistband of her shorts and worked the
zipper down with clumsy impatience. Her low whimper and sharp nails digging into Mike’s arms shattered the moment, rudely awakening him. He rocked backwards on his heels, staring in shock at her glazed eyes fastened on his face, her swollen lips glistening from his marauding mouth. He groaned. Dear God, what am I doing only moments after entering the room? |
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Deadly Attraction
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Mirinda Caldwell clasped her trembling fingers in her lap,
and bit back the retort at the tip of her tongue. Angering
him certainly wouldn’t make things better, though she longed
to vent her indignation. “Please, Colonel McDermott, you are
the third person I have spoken with today. There must be
something that can be done?” Leaning back in his chair, his balding
pate red and shining, The Colonel shrugged unaffected by her
tears. “As I said earlier, I cannot help you. The matter is
out of my hands. You have wasted your time journeying here
to Washington. By all accounts, your brother will hang for
treason.” He slipped the cigar he’d placed in the ashtray
upon her arrival, back to his lips, and returned his quill
to his hand, dismissing her without so much as looking in
her direction. Mirinda rose from the chair on weak,
trembling knees and stood with her hand braced to the
armrest for several seconds before attempting to move toward
the door. Bile threatened at the base of her throat. The
portal was ajar before she whirled about to face him in her
fury, her breath barely able to be expelled against the
tightness in her chest. “I will not stand for this
injustice, sir. You cannot treat people with such
callousness and expect no retribution!” She spun on her
heels and stormed from the room in a swirl of muslin. Abruptly, she came against a hard chest, and staggered backward in surprise. The man before her eyed her down the length of his nose. Mirinda assessed for a quick moment, giving him the once over even as she bestowed a glower in his direction. Dressed in the deep blue of an army uniform, brass buttons and belt buckle gleaming, he made a dashing figure. His dark hair curled slightly against his forehead, and was accented by sun-bronzed skin. Even in her misery, she noted the gentle curve of his lips, and the eyes like pools of onyx. |
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Lost In The Mist
The
door was different than she remembered. Connie expected to
see the scarred wood planking still serving as a weather and
security barrier. Instead it was replaced with a modern
hollow steel door, designed to look like the original, but
they had forgotten the miniball holes and the scars left by
cannon ball fragments. The porch too, was a new addition,
replacing the short brick path leading from the wood
sidewalk to the entrance. And of course, the wood was now
concrete. The door swung open as Connie reached for
the ornate doorknocker. “...a few more things.” A dark figure
backed through the door, his attention on someone in the
interior. He turned short of making contact with Connie,
filling the doorway. “Well, hello.” He’s so tall! Connie smiled up at the
man, at five-eleven not something she was often able to do.
And handsome, too. Quickly she took in the tousled dark
hair, streaked with sun bleached strands, surrounding his
rugged good looks, the heavy brows shading hazel eyes, not
too straight nose, square clean shaved jaw, and the wide
mouth, smiling down at her. His skin was tanned an even
bronze, not the splotchy pattern her own took on after hours
in the sun. “Hello, I’m looking for the Fraisers.”
Connie watched the smile crinkle the corners of his eyes. He
had to be at least six-four. “You’ve found them.” The man’s deep
mellow voice vibrated the air. “I’m Connie Hart, Mr. Fraiser.” Her
disappointment surprised her. “I have a reservation. Your
wife and I talked about an article I’m writing.” “Welcome, Connie Hart.” His hand
swallowed Connie’s in a warm grip. “I’m Brian Eckart.
Betty’s inside. I’m a guest.” A flood of relief threatened to embarrass her as Connie smiled. So he wasn’t Carl Fraiser. |
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Back To The Homestead
She looked over her shoulder. Crouched nearby, she
saw a strange figure in the shade of the barn. It crept slowly toward her on all fours, slinking
as if it were preparing to pounce. She heard a low growl. As she studied the animal she recognized
as a cougar, she debated how to protect herself. She noted
that it appeared emaciated. The skin and fur on its sides
sunk in between its ribs cage. Its eyes were clouded and
when it opened its mouth to scream she noticed its teeth
were broken and most were missing.
An old cat!
But it still could be deadly. She felt
fear freezing inside her stomach and her heart beat rapidly.
She clutched the shovel handle tight.
The fresh blood smell of the
afterbirth must have drawn the cat to me before I got the
first scoop of dirt on top. The cat appeared hungry. In its emaciated
state, it had lost its ability to hunt and, barely short of
dying, it tracked the scent of fresh blood to where Molly
stood. Molly gripped the shovel handle with both
hands now. The cat padded slowly toward her. She heard the horses whiny in fear as the
smell of the cougar threw them into a run around the inside
of the corral where they couldn’t escape the rail fence. She hoped they wouldn’t break through the
rails and stampede across the valley. “Go away!” Molly shouted at the cat and
threatened it with the shovel, but it grew closer. She turned the shovel so the edge of the
metal would come down sharply on the cat’s head when she
took aim. She didn’t think she could kill it with
one blow, but, perhaps, she could stun it enough to get away
and come back with a gun to shoot it. The cat dropped to a lunging position. |
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One Stolen Night
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“You
said you’d marry me. Did you mean it?” “To be truthful, I don’t know.” At his
disappointed expression, she swiped at her tears and sobbed,
“I want to, Steven. I want that more than I’ve ever wanted
anything else.” “Then a simple yes will do.” “There’s nothing simple about marriage.” “We’ll make it simple.” “If only you knew how complicated--” she
stopped, unable to go on. He sat on the edge of the hospital bed
and wrapped his arms around her. “I can’t know unless you
tell me.” “I don’t know how,” she wailed, hating
the way she sounded. “Don’t cry, Pam. We’ll work it out when
you’re well. For now you need to concentrate on healing.” She smiled through her tears. “You’re
wonderful. The most wonderful man I’ve ever known.” “The feeling’s mutual.” He kissed her forehead and the tears on her cheeks, and she wondered how she would survive without him. But she couldn’t marry him. That hadn’t changed. Or had it? |
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The Year I Lost My Mind
I almost missed the sign, but it seemed
to wave to me from the overgrown lawn: For Rent. I slowed
and pulled over and, seeing there were no cars coming behind
me, backed up and looked. There was the ‘For Rent’ sign and
sitting back off the road was an A-frame cabin. A rutted,
dirt drive led up to the front. I was afraid the Nissan
would get stuck, so I pulled as far as I could onto the
shoulder and walked up the drive. The steps felt solid as I
went up onto the porch, peering into one of the front
windows. There were some furnishings, but the cabin appeared
to be uninhabited. There was one large room inside with a
circular, hooded fireplace in the center and a small dining
table off to one side, by the windows. Beyond that was a
small kitchen and it looked as though there was another room
off to the other side. I looked up and saw a loft and doors,
probably leading to bedrooms. The deck encircled one entire
side of the cabin, so I walked around to the back to look in
the kitchen window. The place needed a good cleaning, but
looked as though it had been a very cozy hideaway at one
time. It probably could be again. I tried the door, but it was locked. I
looked around. The lot was a nice size and there were trees
everywhere. Whoever built the place had deliberately kept as
many trees as possible. There was a small shed in the back
and the door stood open, revealing an old lawnmower and a
few gardening tools. As I walked back to the car, I felt myself being drawn to this place. I could envision myself here--in another life. I could see myself in jeans and a flannel shirt, stoking a fire in the fireplace and then sitting down to read a novel, my cat, Gizmo, crawling under the book to curl up in my lap. I would paint again, letting nature serve as my muse. I wanted to live here--just me and Gizmo--and to live simply, with no frills, no expectations, and no rules. |
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Forever Yours
excerpt interview author's page order now “Bastard, what have ye done to her?”
Vincent cried. He looked at Beaux and shook his head. “It
wasn’t enough that ye took her once before.” Leaning close, Beaux growled. “Aye,
friend, yer right about that.” Beaux could not fathom why he was so
upset. Something in him craved Katherine’s love. He was
insanely jealous of Vincent, had always been so even when
they were lads. Vincent had everything. Beaux felt the only
reason Vincent had befriended him was because he felt sorry
for him. Well, no more pity for poor abused Beaux. Swiftly crossing the room, Beaux grabbed
Katherine by her hair. His rage blinded him as he yanked his
dagger from her shoulder. Her scream rang through the room,
but he paid no heed. Making sure Vincent had a perfect view,
Beaux drew the knife across Katherine’s neck. Her eyes
widened in shock as blood poured from the gaping wound.
Within seconds, she was sucked into the healing sleep,
defenseless. Then Beaux ripped her head from her body
and held it before him like a talisman. He swung it back and
forth before Vincent. Vincent’s stomach churned. Anger filled
him, and he tried to move. White fire ate at his broken
arms. He was powerless. His eyes blazed red as hatred rose
in him. “If I can’t have her, my friend, neither
will you,” Beaux muttered. Mercilessly, Beaux’s fist smashed into Katherine’s mouth. Both head and body instantaneously turned to dust. Vincent’s heart suddenly ached with an indescribable pain. Just like that, his love was gone. |
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Knapsack Secrets The stern expressions on Don Pendergast
and Avery Parker’s faces unnerved her. Her husband and
Clarinda refused to meet her gaze seeming to be totally
absorbed in what they were reading. The jury never looks at
the condemned man, flashed through her mind. Don Pendergast
motioned her to be seated… Heavy storm clouds suddenly passed across
the windows of the conference room and the room darkened
noticeably. In the second it took the sensors to activate
the overhead lights, Audrey felt a sense of doom pervading
the atmosphere… Audrey felt trapped, she drew herself up to her full five-foot six inches and looked at Jerard and Clarinda. It suddenly struck her where Jerard’s long nights working at the office had been spent. It took only a split second she read the look between them and the implications of what would happen if she showed her presentation now. She looked at Don Pendergast and Avery Parker, “I guess I’m beaten on this one. For some reason Ms. Wade and I have thought out nearly identical proposals. No need to bore you with a repeat.” The look on Clarinda’s face was enough, when their gazes locked anger and hatred fused them. Audrey picked up her presentation folder prepared to leave the room |
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Coming Next Month
Alien’s Revenge by Shannon
Rouchelle
When an alien in a video game comes to life the world is under siege. Can
mankind survive or will they succumb to evil?
Banjo Eyes by Marilyn Gardiner
Someone is terrorizing Lily. Why? Is the past not
really dead after all? The line between love and distrust blurs as
she contemplates a future with Adam.
His Shadowed Heart by Hazel
Statham
Can a
shadowed heart be healed? Can love grow where least expected? The
Earl of Waverly believes not. How wrong can he be!
Knight Stalker by Linda
Ciletti
Michel
follows a killer knight into a future from which there is no return.
When he meets Rachael and her five-year-old son, Timmy,
Michel is content to stay. But first he must complete his vow to
stop the killing.
Love’s Winsome Warrior by
Angela Verdenius
Twice the Heat, Obsession & Danger…where love and
hatred exist… where the past claws into the present…and where murder
is just one of the goals….
Ramblin' Man by Michael Murphy
A carefree young drifter and a runaway heiress elude
a business tycoon’s security team and the FBI in a hilarious flight
of self-discovery and unexpected romance.
Replacing Barnie by Patrice
Wilton
A divorce
attorney on fast track to make partner discovers she’s pregnant, and
the father of the baby is her new client’s soon-to-be-ex-husband.
Can things get any worse?
The Dream Dimension
by Andrew Warrilow
Can Sam, Jessica
and the gang rescue one of their own in a dimension where imagination
rules and death is just a breath away? Will a darker presence finally
reveal himself. Will the top side of the island evacuate in time before
it is consumed by Antarctica’s icy wasteland? With more creatures to fight and friends to help, it’s a race to the finish on who survives the night.
Wind Dancer’s Desire by Sherry
Derr-Wille
A widow for many years, Wind Dancer fancies herself in love with her husband’s friend. Can Crooked Snake put aside his vendetta of revenge for her?
You Can Bank On It by Jeannine
D. Van Eperen
The 1950s
was a time when women’s magazines pushed “togetherness”. Few women
thought of careers, but some women had to work and they blazed a
trail.
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