For those of you looking for my normal Wednesday blog hop entry, sorry, I gave myself the gift of the week off. Stay tuned, I’ll be back next week. In the meantime, may the holidays you celebrate be happy.
Category: Uncategorized
Wednesday’s Blog Hop
Favorite Christmas Songs—Open Book Blog Hop
Welcome to another week of the Open Book Blog Hop. I hope you’re staying warm, or dry, or comfortable depending upon what part of the world you’re in. Here in the American West, it’s windy and snowing and I’m drinking a cup of hot chocolate as I type this. I’m not complaining—the snow helps me get in the Christmas mood.
When it comes to Christmas songs, I’m a total traditionalist. There’s something special about several hundred otherwise bad voices joining together in a large old church and singing the songs of the season. Even though I’m far away now, the music resounds in my heart.
Silent Night is probably the first Christmas song I remember singing. Sure, i couldn’t hit the high notes, but that didn’t matter. Neither could any of my sisters. As I got older, My voice got better, and the song was no longer a challenge. Now that I’ve gotten really old, my voice has lost it’s flexibility, and the song is again a challenge.
I was part of my high school chorus, and we always did special Christmas presentations. One of the hardest songs we sang was Oh, Holy Night. Our director had a hard time finding a male voice to handle the high notes. But here’s a version of the song that I think is the perfect rendition.
Another favorite of mine is Joy to the World. Such a simple sentiment, but so powerful. I know not everyone is happy at Christmastime, but I’d like everyone to find one little piece of joy on the heart. And the song just expresses joy in its melody, even without the words.
But I also like non-religious songs. Who can resist singing along with Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer or Jingle Bells?
But I think one of my favorite songs is one that’s almost impossible to sing by yourself. Carol of the Bells can’t be done right by a solo voice.
Tell us about your favorite Christmas song in the comments. And to find out what songs Kelly Williams likes, visit her blog HERE. You can find her books on Amazon on her author page K. Williams
Blue Honor :Blue Honor tracks four tightly twining families during the American Civil War. Each member is asked to sacrifice more than their share to see friends and loved ones through the terrible times. The only certainty they have is that nothing will be the same.
Emily Conrad is the bookish daughter of a wealthy dairy family from Vermont. Her indulgent father has educated her and bred ideas that aren’t acceptable to her more urbane mother, who thinks Emily needs to settle down with her longtime friend and town philanderer Evan Howell. The outbreak of war frees Emily from these expectations for a time, but a stranger soon arrives after the guns begin to blaze, threatening her plans more than societal conventions ever could.
Devoted to the young woman who healed her wounds, Henrietta has become part of the Conrad family, hoping that she may one day see her husband and son again. As a runaway slave, she’s been lucky enough to find this slice of peace in Vermont, but the return of Evan Howell and the man he brings with him portends great change that might see her locked back in irons, if not executed for what she’s done.
Evan isn’t as bad as his reputation has made him out to be. He knows his chum Emily will make the best doctor Vermont has ever seen, and he knows he’s not the man to marry her. With a little manipulation, he convinces his commanding officer, Lieutenant Joseph Maynard, to take leave with him and see the beauty of the north. He just doesn’t let on it’s not hillsides and streams he’s setting the man up for.
Joseph has both power and privilege as the son of a Baltimore lawyer, but neither can guarantee him the things he wants in life. His commission in the army is likely to lead to death, a sacrifice he was willing to make to end slavery in the States—that was until he saw Emily Conrad. Torn between duty and desire, Joseph struggles to stay standing for that which he once held strong convictions. War weary, they all march on to duty…
And if you want to join our blog hop, here’s the link and the rules
Rules:
1. Link your blog to this hop.
2. Notify your following that you are participating in this blog hop.
3. Promise to visit/leave a comment on all participants’ blogs.
4. Tweet/or share each person’s blog post. Use ?#?OpenBook? when tweeting.
5. Put a banner on your blog that you are participating.
WordPress Short Code:
[inlinkz_linkup id=586344 mode=1]
Code for Hosting:
Code for Link:
get the InLinkz code
Favorite Christmas Songs—Open Book Blog Hop
Welcome to another week of the Open Book Blog Hop. I hope you’re staying warm, or dry, or comfortable depending upon what part of the world you’re in. Here in the American West, it’s windy and snowing and I’m drinking a cup of hot chocolate as I type this. I’m not complaining—the snow helps me get in the Christmas mood.
When it comes to Christmas songs, I’m a total traditionalist. There’s something special about several hundred otherwise bad voices joining together in a large old church and singing the songs of the season. Even though I’m far away now, the music resounds in my heart.
Silent Night is probably the first Christmas song I remember singing. Sure, i couldn’t hit the high notes, but that didn’t matter. Neither could any of my sisters. As I got older, My voice got better, and the song was no longer a challenge. Now that I’ve gotten really old, my voice has lost it’s flexibility, and the song is again a challenge.
I was part of my high school chorus, and we always did special Christmas presentations. One of the hardest songs we sang was Oh, Holy Night. Our director had a hard time finding a male voice to handle the high notes. But here’s a version of the song that I think is the perfect rendition.
Another favorite of mine is Joy to the World. Such a simple sentiment, but so powerful. I know not everyone is happy at Christmastime, but I’d like everyone to find one little piece of joy on the heart. And the song just expresses joy in its melody, even without the words.
But I also like non-religious songs. Who can resist singing along with Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer or Jingle Bells?
But I think one of my favorite songs is one that’s almost impossible to sing by yourself. Carol of the Bells can’t be done right by a solo voice.
Tell us about your favorite Christmas song in the comments. And to find out what songs Kelly Williams likes, visit her blog HERE. You can find her books on Amazon on her author page K. Williams
Blue Honor :Blue Honor tracks four tightly twining families during the American Civil War. Each member is asked to sacrifice more than their share to see friends and loved ones through the terrible times. The only certainty they have is that nothing will be the same.
Emily Conrad is the bookish daughter of a wealthy dairy family from Vermont. Her indulgent father has educated her and bred ideas that aren’t acceptable to her more urbane mother, who thinks Emily needs to settle down with her longtime friend and town philanderer Evan Howell. The outbreak of war frees Emily from these expectations for a time, but a stranger soon arrives after the guns begin to blaze, threatening her plans more than societal conventions ever could.
Devoted to the young woman who healed her wounds, Henrietta has become part of the Conrad family, hoping that she may one day see her husband and son again. As a runaway slave, she’s been lucky enough to find this slice of peace in Vermont, but the return of Evan Howell and the man he brings with him portends great change that might see her locked back in irons, if not executed for what she’s done.
Evan isn’t as bad as his reputation has made him out to be. He knows his chum Emily will make the best doctor Vermont has ever seen, and he knows he’s not the man to marry her. With a little manipulation, he convinces his commanding officer, Lieutenant Joseph Maynard, to take leave with him and see the beauty of the north. He just doesn’t let on it’s not hillsides and streams he’s setting the man up for.
Joseph has both power and privilege as the son of a Baltimore lawyer, but neither can guarantee him the things he wants in life. His commission in the army is likely to lead to death, a sacrifice he was willing to make to end slavery in the States—that was until he saw Emily Conrad. Torn between duty and desire, Joseph struggles to stay standing for that which he once held strong convictions. War weary, they all march on to duty…
And if you want to join our blog hop, here’s the link and the rules
Rules:
1. Link your blog to this hop.
2. Notify your following that you are participating in this blog hop.
3. Promise to visit/leave a comment on all participants’ blogs.
4. Tweet/or share each person’s blog post. Use ?#?OpenBook? when tweeting.
5. Put a banner on your blog that you are participating.
Wordpress Short Code:
[inlinkz_linkup id=586344 mode=1]
Code for Hosting:
Code for Link:
New release—The Donor
I’m tickled to welcome Stevie Turner to my blog, along with her new release. Her new women’s fiction novel ‘The Donor’ was published yesterday, and has a sibling rivalry / rockstar theme. Stevie usually writes about peculiar subjects that aren’t often covered by mainstream authors, and adds in a touch of humour here and there. To find out more about Stevie, please visit her website and check out her ‘About Me’ page by clicking on the link below:
Synopsis of The Donor:
When you know you have met the love of your life, the last thing you expect is for your sister to lure him away. Clare Ronson is faced with this scenario when her sister Isabel marries singer and guitarist Ross Tyler. To compound Clare’s jealousy and bitterness, Ross hits the big time and becomes a wealthy tax exile, relocating to France with his family. Clare cannot bring herself to speak to Isabel or Ross for the next 30 years. However, when tragedy occurs in 2002 causing Ross to arrive back in England at Clare’s doorstep, Clare must try to put the past behind her for her sister’s sake.Goodreads review by LaDonna
LaDonnarated it 5 of 5 stars
The author provided me an ARC of this book for a honest review and to see if I felt it fit the criteria for “rockstar romance” for a blog I run dedicated to that genre. I felt it did, though it isn’t your typical rockstar romance. This book will take you on an emotional rollercoaster, and admittedly most of those emotions will be of the darker kind.
Once upon a time, Clare is very close to her older sister Izzy, and adores/idolized her in that way that only little sisters can. As a very naïve young woman in 1970, Clare goes to a big rock festival. This American reader could really only tie it to the endless stories of Woodstock I have heard, being just slightly younger than that generation, but I realize festivals of the like were going on across the pond as well. Anyway, that is the picture I have in my mind of the festival she attended, and at the end of several days, Clare has lost her friends and is dirty, exhausted, hungry and broke. An Adonis of a man steps in and offers her an apple, and companionship back home. He is quite fond of the waif, and calls upon her to date whilst he is determined to make it in his band. He puts up with the obvious dislike of her father, and her virginal antics. She has quickly fallen in love with him, and he is quite smitten with her as well, until one night her sister decides to join them for one of his gigs.
To Ross’ credit, he never had any intention of hurting Clare, but when he met Izzy, the stars aligned and he knew he had met his soulmate. Likewise, Izzy had never meant to upset her sister, but who can deny true love. No one expected Clare to be as hurt as she was, or to hold a grudge for so long.
Life goes on as it is apt to do; tragedies, joys, and all the other little moments that make up a life pass by. Ross’ band hits the big time very quickly, as well as Izzy’s first pregnancy and their marriage. Clare refuses to have anything to do with any of it, hanging on to hatred for her sister for having the life she was sure was destined to be hers. Clare does go on to marry a perfectly suitable man, has 2 children with him, and by all accounts a pretty nice life with him. She tells him early on that she has an irreparable rift with her sister, but never tells him the reason why.
Izzy has always tried to keep tabs on her sister but Clare simply has not allowed it, even turning away when they once ran into one another and Izzy tried to introduce her to her niece. 30 years go by, and tragedy forces Izzy to contact Clare. Clare’s husband reads the note and encourages Clare to acknowledge Izzy’s plea, but Clare tears up the letter and ignores it. Not until Ross arrives at her door does she consider listening and doing what her sister needs. Here is where the story really came together for me. The senselessness of hate and holding on to a grudge, not to mention basically a teenage dream, for all those years, to finally realized how quickly life passes us by and how many precious moments simply cannot ever be replaced. There are so many unexpected twists and turns after Ross arrives, and so much depth to the amount of lives touched by this rift that seems so silly in retrospect. This story touched me on so many levels, and I hope that you will give it a chance to soak into your heart and mind as well.
Very highly recommended for anyone that realizes life doesn’t always hand us a happily ever after, at least not in the way we think it should.
EXCERPT FROM ‘THE DONOR’ BY STEVIE TURNER
COPYRIGHT STEVIE TURNER 2015
CHAPTER 1 – 1970
CLARE
Life as I know it is definitely starting to be a bit of a drag, due to the fact that I’ve been awake now for 3 days and nights on Desolation Hill. I am finished, kaput. Thank God it’s the last day, that’s all I can say.
I yawn for the umpteenth time and watch in a kind of stupor as the fences are torn down. Ruth jumps up excitedly and decides that she wants to try and get nearer the stage. I watch her treading unconcerned over zombie-like bodies lying comatose and frying in the heat of the late August afternoon, and try to summon up enough strength to follow her. But by then, hungrier and more tired than I have ever been, I am faced with the certainty that all I really want to do is to go home. Bands have started to merge one into the other, but I know I’ll have to face a ribbing from Ruth if I set off without first having tried to get nearer the stage if only to feast oneweary eye on the hunk of masculinity that is Paul Rogers while there is still some good daylight left.
I force my body to move, performing a quick recce around what has transformed in three days from arable farmland into a nuclear fallout zone contained in some kind of human landfill site. I cannot see Ruth, but I stumble on regardless. Somewhere out there my friend has become lost in a sea of 500,000 faces; just another flower-bedecked hippie indistinguishable from the masses.
Far away on the horizon I can see a speck holding a microphone stand up above his head; Paul Rogers is holding the crowd in the palm of his hand, and I am missing it. Behind him on the low stage, long hair flying in the sultry air, Paul Kossoff, six string shredder extraordinaire, is ripping into the solo for ‘All Right Now.’
I cannot make my legs walk another step. I yawn. Infuriatingly I still seem to be on Desolation Hill as far as I can make out. Sighing with fatigue, I slump down on the grass where I stand, close my eyes, and listen to the hubbub around me. My long hair feels like a heavy blanket on my back; I desperately want something to eat, I need a bath, and I ache for my mum to be fussing around me like she does when I am sick.
“Hey babe, have some of this.”
I am startled by a voice very close to my ear. I open my eyes again and look to my left to see what only can be described as a bronzed, blond Adonis, with long fair curls stretching down over his shoulders. He is stripped to the waist apart from a small rucksack on his back, and wears frayed pale-blue Levi shorts and a pair of well-worn ‘Jesus creeper’ sandals. He squats down beside me and holds out a lighted spliff.
“It’ll take away the pain.”
I consider myself to be in extremis, soon to be engulfed in the Grim Reaper’s arms. There is no way out except death. I take a huge drag and retch as the sweet fumes of cannabis grab the back of my throat.
“Thanks.” I cough. “I think.”
“Woh!” Adonis laughs into the sun. “Easy! You’re not used to it, I can tell.”
“Is it that obvious?” I want my head to stop spinning. “I’ve come to the end of my rope. A spliff won’t do any harm now.” I take another drag.
“I think I’ll take it back actually.” Adonis prises the joint from my fingers. “Are you hungry?”
“Starving.” I nod, with eyes trying to close. “All I’ve got left is my hovercraft ticket back to Southsea.”
“And you can’t eat that.” Adonis attacks the spliff with expertise, puffing out a cloud of aromatic smoke. “I’ll see what I’ve got left in my rucksack.”
Keeping the spliff between the index and middle finger of his left hand, with one poetic swoop of his right shoulder he dislodges the rucksack’s straps, opens it up and looks inside, bringing out a slightly dented but still crisp-looking Golden Delicious apple and handing it to me.
“My mum’s always on at me to eat more roughage.”
Laughing, I feast my eyes on the apple, which in my famished state seems to have taken on the proportions of a gargantuan banquet.
“If you’re sure.” I cannot help but take it. “I’ve eaten nothing since yesterday. Somebody stole what was left of my food. It’s too far to walk to try and buy some, and anyway, I’ve no money left.”
“It’s every man for himself, here.” Adonis nods. “What’s your name?”
“Clare.” I bite into pure nectar. “Clare Ronson. How about you?”
“Hi Clare, I’m Ross Tyler.” Adonis holds out his hand. “I hitchhiked from Ryde on Friday with a mate from college, who was last seen yesterday trying to find somewhere private to take a crap.”
Juice from the apple runs down my chin and I wipe it away with my left hand, shake Ross’s hand with the other, and smile up at him.
“You’re a lifesaver, Ross. I came here with a friend as well, but maybe she met up with your mate. I haven’t seen her for a few hours now.”
“Looks like it’s us two against the world then.” Ross slings the rucksack back over his shoulder. “I’m on my way up the hill; going to hitchhike back to Ryde and get a chance on the hovercraft before this lot set off. Coming?”
I’ve had enough. My knight in Jesus creepers has materialised and is standing right in front of me. Not one for wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, and fortified by the sweet fruit, I nod and get to my feet.
“Yes; I want to go home.”
Paul Rogers is giving it all he’s got. Taking one last look at the stage and wondering if we would ever see the like of it again, I grab my saviour’s outstretched hand and we begin to thread our way between the bodies and mounds of detritus, back up Desolation Hill and over Afton Down, eventually descending onto the Military Road. Crowds of young people have the same idea, and we all saunter along amiably in the late afternoon heat, in no rush to get off the Island, and unaware that we are part of history in the making. In front of us are two girls holding hands; one is naked except for a pair of pink knickers, and the other is bare from the waist down.
“Looks like those two have fared worse than you.” Ross smirks.
I am stoned on cannabis fumes, lack of sleep, hunger, and a definite animal attraction for my new-found friend. It matters to me not one jot that female flesh usually kept under wraps is now exposed to the stares of all and sundry. Presently the girls slope off and join many other festival-goers, washing off the dirt from Desolation Hill in the choppy waters of Freshwater Bay. I smile at Ross as we trudge along Military Road, copying him and raising my thumb some time later as crowds begin to thin out and the odd car can be seen driving past us on the way to maybe Brook Green or further on into Niton or Newport.
“Who in their right mind is going to give usa lift?” I panic while wondering just how much further I can walk. “Look at the state of us. How many miles is it to Ryde from here? Can’t we wait for a bus?”
“About twenty.” Comes the cheerful reply. “I’m skint, the same as you. It’s hitching or Shanks’s pony.”
My affable, blond Adonis is prepared to traipse into the night to reach his destination. It’s all I can do to keep up with his long, loping strides. The buzz from the apple wears off around Compton Bay, and I want to cry.
“Cheer up, babe.”
Ross winks and puts his arm around me. The effect is galvanising and instantly spurs me on. I gaze up into his pale blue eyes, and his nearness causes a pleasant throbbing sensation in my groin. I have never seen such beauty in a man before. I am certain I haven’t seen him at Uni.
“Which University are you at?” I find myself looking down in the direction of his groin as we walk.
“Not Uni; Portsmouth Art College.” Ross holds his fist up and jerks his thumb at passing cars. “How about you?”
“The Uni; not far from there though. Reading English; I want to be a teacher. Do you think you’ll be a famous painter then?”
“Don’t know.” Ross shrugs and fondles the hair at the back of my neck. “But I’m having a ball finding out.”
***
It’s not until we walk past Compton Bay and head towards Brook Green that a van stops next to us. Ross is still pointing his thumb in the vague direction of Newport, but I have long ago given up, and am just concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. I hear Ross speak to the driver who is on his way to Bembridge, and to my great delight he beckons us into the cab and agrees to drop us off along the seafront at Ryde. The van has three seats at the front. I let Ross go in first, who chats amiably to the driver most of the way I think. Me, I put my head on Ross’s shoulder and am asleep before the van has even pulled away.
New release—The Donor
I’m tickled to welcome Stevie Turner to my blog, along with her new release. Her new women’s fiction novel ‘The Donor’ was published
yesterday, and has a sibling rivalry / rockstar theme. Stevie usually
writes about peculiar subjects that aren’t often covered by
mainstream authors, and adds in a touch of humour here and there. To
find out more about Stevie, please visit her website and check out
her ‘About Me’ page by clicking on the link below:
yesterday, and has a sibling rivalry / rockstar theme. Stevie usually
writes about peculiar subjects that aren’t often covered by
mainstream authors, and adds in a touch of humour here and there. To
find out more about Stevie, please visit her website and check out
her ‘About Me’ page by clicking on the link below:
Synopsis
of The Donor:
of The Donor:
Whenyou know you have met the love of your life, the last thing you
expect is for your sister to lure him away. Clare Ronson is faced
with this scenario when her sister Isabel marries singer and
guitarist Ross Tyler. To compound Clare’s jealousy and bitterness,
Ross hits the big time and becomes a wealthy tax exile, relocating to
France with his family. Clare cannot bring herself to speak to
Isabel or Ross for the next 30 years. However, when tragedy occurs in
2002 causing Ross to arrive back in England at Clare’s doorstep,
Clare must try to put the past behind her for her sister’s sake.
Goodreads
review by LaDonna
review by LaDonna
LaDonna
rated it 5 of 5 stars
rated it 5 of 5 stars
The
author provided me an ARC of this book for a honest review and to see
if I felt it fit the criteria for “rockstar romance” for a
blog I run dedicated to that genre. I felt it did, though it isn’t
your typical rockstar romance. This book will take you on an
emotional rollercoaster, and admittedly most of those emotions will
be of the darker kind.
author provided me an ARC of this book for a honest review and to see
if I felt it fit the criteria for “rockstar romance” for a
blog I run dedicated to that genre. I felt it did, though it isn’t
your typical rockstar romance. This book will take you on an
emotional rollercoaster, and admittedly most of those emotions will
be of the darker kind.
Once upon a time, Clare is very
close to her older sister Izzy, and adores/idolized her in that way
that only little sisters can. As a very naïve young woman in 1970,
Clare goes to a big rock festival. This American reader could really
only tie it to the endless stories of Woodstock I have heard, being
just slightly younger than that generation, but I realize festivals
of the like were going on across the pond as well. Anyway, that is
the picture I have in my mind of the festival she attended, and at
the end of several days, Clare has lost her friends and is dirty,
exhausted, hungry and broke. An Adonis of a man steps in and offers
her an apple, and companionship back home. He is quite fond of the
waif, and calls upon her to date whilst he is determined to make it
in his band. He puts up with the obvious dislike of her father, and
her virginal antics. She has quickly fallen in love with him, and he
is quite smitten with her as well, until one night her sister decides
to join them for one of his gigs.
To Ross’ credit, he
never had any intention of hurting Clare, but when he met Izzy, the
stars aligned and he knew he had met his soulmate. Likewise, Izzy had
never meant to upset her sister, but who can deny true love. No one
expected Clare to be as hurt as she was, or to hold a grudge for so
long.
Life goes on as it is apt to do; tragedies, joys,
and all the other little moments that make up a life pass by. Ross’
band hits the big time very quickly, as well as Izzy’s first
pregnancy and their marriage. Clare refuses to have anything to do
with any of it, hanging on to hatred for her sister for having the
life she was sure was destined to be hers. Clare does go on to marry
a perfectly suitable man, has 2 children with him, and by all
accounts a pretty nice life with him. She tells him early on that she
has an irreparable rift with her sister, but never tells him the
reason why.
Izzy has always tried to keep tabs on her
sister but Clare simply has not allowed it, even turning away when
they once ran into one another and Izzy tried to introduce her to her
niece. 30 years go by, and tragedy forces Izzy to contact Clare.
Clare’s husband reads the note and encourages Clare to acknowledge
Izzy’s plea, but Clare tears up the letter and ignores it. Not until
Ross arrives at her door does she consider listening and doing what
her sister needs. Here is where the story really came together for
me. The senselessness of hate and holding on to a grudge, not to
mention basically a teenage dream, for all those years, to finally
realized how quickly life passes us by and how many precious moments
simply cannot ever be replaced. There are so many unexpected twists
and turns after Ross arrives, and so much depth to the amount of
lives touched by this rift that seems so silly in retrospect. This
story touched me on so many levels, and I hope that you will give it
a chance to soak into your heart and mind as well.
Very
highly recommended for anyone that realizes life doesn’t always hand
us a happily ever after, at least not in the way we think it should.
EXCERPT
FROM ‘THE DONOR’ BY STEVIE TURNER
FROM ‘THE DONOR’ BY STEVIE TURNER
COPYRIGHT
STEVIE TURNER 2015
STEVIE TURNER 2015
CHAPTER
1 – 1970
1 – 1970
CLARE
Life
as I know it is definitely starting to be a bit of a drag, due to the
fact that I’ve been awake now for 3 days and nights on Desolation
Hill. I am finished, kaput.
Thank
God it’s the last day, that’s all I can say.
as I know it is definitely starting to be a bit of a drag, due to the
fact that I’ve been awake now for 3 days and nights on Desolation
Hill. I am finished, kaput.
Thank
God it’s the last day, that’s all I can say.
I
yawn for the umpteenth time and watch in a kind of stupor as the
fences are torn down. Ruth jumps up excitedly and decides that she
wants to try and get nearer the stage. I watch her treading
unconcerned over zombie-like bodies lying comatose and frying in the
heat of the late August afternoon, and try to summon up enough
strength to follow her. But by then, hungrier and more tired than I
have ever been, I am faced with the certainty that all I really want
to do is to go home. Bands have started to merge one into the other,
but I know I’ll have to face a ribbing from Ruth if I set off
without first having tried to get nearer the stage if only to feast
one
weary eye on the hunk of masculinity that is Paul Rogers while there
is still some good daylight left.
yawn for the umpteenth time and watch in a kind of stupor as the
fences are torn down. Ruth jumps up excitedly and decides that she
wants to try and get nearer the stage. I watch her treading
unconcerned over zombie-like bodies lying comatose and frying in the
heat of the late August afternoon, and try to summon up enough
strength to follow her. But by then, hungrier and more tired than I
have ever been, I am faced with the certainty that all I really want
to do is to go home. Bands have started to merge one into the other,
but I know I’ll have to face a ribbing from Ruth if I set off
without first having tried to get nearer the stage if only to feast
one
weary eye on the hunk of masculinity that is Paul Rogers while there
is still some good daylight left.
I
force my body to move, performing a quick recce around what has
transformed in three days from arable farmland into a nuclear fallout
zone contained in some kind of human landfill site. I cannot see
Ruth, but I stumble on regardless. Somewhere out there my friend has
become lost in a sea of 500,000 faces; just another flower-bedecked
hippie indistinguishable from the masses.
force my body to move, performing a quick recce around what has
transformed in three days from arable farmland into a nuclear fallout
zone contained in some kind of human landfill site. I cannot see
Ruth, but I stumble on regardless. Somewhere out there my friend has
become lost in a sea of 500,000 faces; just another flower-bedecked
hippie indistinguishable from the masses.
Far
away on the horizon I can see a speck holding a microphone stand up
above his head; Paul Rogers is holding the crowd in the palm of his
hand, and I am missing it. Behind him on the low stage, long hair
flying in the sultry air, Paul Kossoff, six string shredder
extraordinaire, is ripping into the solo for ‘All Right Now.’
away on the horizon I can see a speck holding a microphone stand up
above his head; Paul Rogers is holding the crowd in the palm of his
hand, and I am missing it. Behind him on the low stage, long hair
flying in the sultry air, Paul Kossoff, six string shredder
extraordinaire, is ripping into the solo for ‘All Right Now.’
I
cannot make my legs walk another step. I yawn. Infuriatingly I
still seem to be on Desolation Hill as far as I can make out. Sighing
with fatigue, I slump down on the grass where I stand, close my eyes,
and listen to the hubbub around me. My long hair feels like a heavy
blanket on my back; I desperately want something to eat, I need a
bath, and I ache for my mum to be fussing around me like she does
when I am sick.
cannot make my legs walk another step. I yawn. Infuriatingly I
still seem to be on Desolation Hill as far as I can make out. Sighing
with fatigue, I slump down on the grass where I stand, close my eyes,
and listen to the hubbub around me. My long hair feels like a heavy
blanket on my back; I desperately want something to eat, I need a
bath, and I ache for my mum to be fussing around me like she does
when I am sick.
“Hey
babe, have some of this.”
babe, have some of this.”
I
am startled by a voice very close to my ear. I open my eyes again and
look to my left to see what only can be described as a bronzed, blond
Adonis, with long fair curls stretching down over his shoulders. He
is stripped to the waist apart from a small rucksack on his back, and
wears frayed pale-blue Levi shorts and a pair of well-worn ‘Jesus
creeper’ sandals. He squats down beside me and holds out a lighted
spliff.
am startled by a voice very close to my ear. I open my eyes again and
look to my left to see what only can be described as a bronzed, blond
Adonis, with long fair curls stretching down over his shoulders. He
is stripped to the waist apart from a small rucksack on his back, and
wears frayed pale-blue Levi shorts and a pair of well-worn ‘Jesus
creeper’ sandals. He squats down beside me and holds out a lighted
spliff.
“It’ll
take away the pain.”
take away the pain.”
I
consider myself to be in
extremis,
soon to be engulfed in the Grim Reaper’s arms. There is no way out
except death. I take a huge drag and retch as the sweet fumes of
cannabis grab the back of my throat.
consider myself to be in
extremis,
soon to be engulfed in the Grim Reaper’s arms. There is no way out
except death. I take a huge drag and retch as the sweet fumes of
cannabis grab the back of my throat.
“Thanks.”
I cough. “I think.”
I cough. “I think.”
“Woh!”
Adonis laughs into the sun. “Easy! You’re not used to it, I can
tell.”
Adonis laughs into the sun. “Easy! You’re not used to it, I can
tell.”
“Is
it that obvious?” I want my head to stop spinning. “I’ve come
to the end of my rope. A spliff won’t do any harm now.” I take
another drag.
it that obvious?” I want my head to stop spinning. “I’ve come
to the end of my rope. A spliff won’t do any harm now.” I take
another drag.
“I
think I’ll take it back actually.” Adonis prises the joint from
my fingers. “Are you hungry?”
think I’ll take it back actually.” Adonis prises the joint from
my fingers. “Are you hungry?”
“Starving.”
I nod, with eyes trying to close. “All I’ve got left is my
hovercraft ticket back to Southsea.”
I nod, with eyes trying to close. “All I’ve got left is my
hovercraft ticket back to Southsea.”
“And
you can’t eat that.” Adonis attacks the spliff with expertise,
puffing out a cloud of aromatic smoke. “I’ll see what I’ve got
left in my rucksack.”
you can’t eat that.” Adonis attacks the spliff with expertise,
puffing out a cloud of aromatic smoke. “I’ll see what I’ve got
left in my rucksack.”
Keeping
the spliff between the index and middle finger of his left hand, with
one poetic swoop of his right shoulder he dislodges the rucksack’s
straps, opens it up and looks inside, bringing out a slightly dented
but still crisp-looking Golden Delicious apple and handing it to me.
the spliff between the index and middle finger of his left hand, with
one poetic swoop of his right shoulder he dislodges the rucksack’s
straps, opens it up and looks inside, bringing out a slightly dented
but still crisp-looking Golden Delicious apple and handing it to me.
“My
mum’s always on at me to eat more roughage.”
mum’s always on at me to eat more roughage.”
Laughing,
I feast my eyes on the apple, which in my famished state seems to
have taken on the proportions of a gargantuan banquet.
I feast my eyes on the apple, which in my famished state seems to
have taken on the proportions of a gargantuan banquet.
“If
you’re sure.” I cannot help but take it. “I’ve eaten nothing
since yesterday. Somebody stole what was left of my food. It’s too
far to walk to try and buy some, and anyway, I’ve no money left.”
you’re sure.” I cannot help but take it. “I’ve eaten nothing
since yesterday. Somebody stole what was left of my food. It’s too
far to walk to try and buy some, and anyway, I’ve no money left.”
“It’s
every man for himself, here.” Adonis nods. “What’s your name?”
every man for himself, here.” Adonis nods. “What’s your name?”
“Clare.”
I bite into pure nectar. “Clare Ronson. How about you?”
I bite into pure nectar. “Clare Ronson. How about you?”
“Hi
Clare, I’m Ross Tyler.” Adonis holds out his hand. “I
hitchhiked from Ryde on Friday with a mate from college, who was last
seen yesterday trying to find somewhere private to take a crap.”
Clare, I’m Ross Tyler.” Adonis holds out his hand. “I
hitchhiked from Ryde on Friday with a mate from college, who was last
seen yesterday trying to find somewhere private to take a crap.”
Juice
from the apple runs down my chin and I wipe it away with my left
hand, shake Ross’s hand with the other, and smile up at him.
from the apple runs down my chin and I wipe it away with my left
hand, shake Ross’s hand with the other, and smile up at him.
“You’re
a lifesaver, Ross. I came here with a friend as well, but maybe she
met up with your mate. I haven’t seen her for a few hours now.”
a lifesaver, Ross. I came here with a friend as well, but maybe she
met up with your mate. I haven’t seen her for a few hours now.”
“Looks
like it’s us two against the world then.” Ross slings the
rucksack back over his shoulder. “I’m on my way up the hill;
going to hitchhike back to Ryde and get a chance on the hovercraft
before this lot set off. Coming?”
like it’s us two against the world then.” Ross slings the
rucksack back over his shoulder. “I’m on my way up the hill;
going to hitchhike back to Ryde and get a chance on the hovercraft
before this lot set off. Coming?”
I’ve
had enough. My knight in Jesus creepers has materialised and is
standing right in front of me. Not one for wanting to look a gift
horse in the mouth, and fortified by the sweet fruit, I nod and get
to my feet.
had enough. My knight in Jesus creepers has materialised and is
standing right in front of me. Not one for wanting to look a gift
horse in the mouth, and fortified by the sweet fruit, I nod and get
to my feet.
“Yes;
I want to go home.”
I want to go home.”
Paul
Rogers is giving it all he’s got. Taking one last look at the
stage and wondering if we would ever see the like of it again, I grab
my saviour’s outstretched hand and we begin to thread our way
between the bodies and mounds of detritus, back up Desolation Hill
and over Afton Down, eventually descending onto the Military Road.
Crowds of young people have the same idea, and we all saunter along
amiably in the late afternoon heat, in no rush to get off the Island,
and unaware that we are part of history in the making. In front of
us are two girls holding hands; one is naked except for a pair of
pink knickers, and the other is bare from the waist down.
Rogers is giving it all he’s got. Taking one last look at the
stage and wondering if we would ever see the like of it again, I grab
my saviour’s outstretched hand and we begin to thread our way
between the bodies and mounds of detritus, back up Desolation Hill
and over Afton Down, eventually descending onto the Military Road.
Crowds of young people have the same idea, and we all saunter along
amiably in the late afternoon heat, in no rush to get off the Island,
and unaware that we are part of history in the making. In front of
us are two girls holding hands; one is naked except for a pair of
pink knickers, and the other is bare from the waist down.
“Looks
like those two have fared worse than you.” Ross smirks.
like those two have fared worse than you.” Ross smirks.
I
am stoned on cannabis fumes, lack of sleep, hunger, and a definite
animal attraction for my new-found friend. It matters to me not one
jot that female flesh usually kept under wraps is now exposed to the
stares of all and sundry. Presently the girls slope off and join
many other festival-goers, washing off the dirt from Desolation Hill
in the choppy waters of Freshwater Bay. I smile at Ross as we trudge
along Military Road, copying him and raising my thumb some time later
as crowds begin to thin out and the odd car can be seen driving past
us on the way to maybe Brook Green or further on into Niton or
Newport.
am stoned on cannabis fumes, lack of sleep, hunger, and a definite
animal attraction for my new-found friend. It matters to me not one
jot that female flesh usually kept under wraps is now exposed to the
stares of all and sundry. Presently the girls slope off and join
many other festival-goers, washing off the dirt from Desolation Hill
in the choppy waters of Freshwater Bay. I smile at Ross as we trudge
along Military Road, copying him and raising my thumb some time later
as crowds begin to thin out and the odd car can be seen driving past
us on the way to maybe Brook Green or further on into Niton or
Newport.
“Who
in their right mind is going to give us
a lift?” I panic while wondering just how much further I can walk.
“Look at the state of us. How many miles is it to Ryde from here?
Can’t we wait for a bus?”
in their right mind is going to give us
a lift?” I panic while wondering just how much further I can walk.
“Look at the state of us. How many miles is it to Ryde from here?
Can’t we wait for a bus?”
“About
twenty.” Comes the cheerful reply. “I’m skint, the same as
you. It’s hitching or Shanks’s pony.”
twenty.” Comes the cheerful reply. “I’m skint, the same as
you. It’s hitching or Shanks’s pony.”
My
affable, blond Adonis is prepared to traipse into the night to reach
his destination. It’s all I can do to keep up with his long,
loping strides. The buzz from the apple wears off around Compton Bay,
and I want to cry.
affable, blond Adonis is prepared to traipse into the night to reach
his destination. It’s all I can do to keep up with his long,
loping strides. The buzz from the apple wears off around Compton Bay,
and I want to cry.
“Cheer
up, babe.”
up, babe.”
Ross
winks and puts his arm around me. The effect is galvanising and
instantly spurs me on. I gaze up into his pale blue eyes, and his
nearness causes a pleasant throbbing sensation in my groin. I have
never seen such beauty in a man before. I am certain I haven’t
seen him at Uni.
winks and puts his arm around me. The effect is galvanising and
instantly spurs me on. I gaze up into his pale blue eyes, and his
nearness causes a pleasant throbbing sensation in my groin. I have
never seen such beauty in a man before. I am certain I haven’t
seen him at Uni.
“Which
University are you at?” I find myself looking down in the
direction of his groin as we walk.
University are you at?” I find myself looking down in the
direction of his groin as we walk.
“Not
Uni; Portsmouth Art College.” Ross holds his fist up and jerks his
thumb at passing cars. “How about you?”
Uni; Portsmouth Art College.” Ross holds his fist up and jerks his
thumb at passing cars. “How about you?”
“The
Uni; not far from there though. Reading English; I want to be a
teacher. Do you think you’ll be a famous painter then?”
Uni; not far from there though. Reading English; I want to be a
teacher. Do you think you’ll be a famous painter then?”
“Don’t
know.” Ross shrugs and fondles the hair at the back of my neck.
“But I’m having a ball finding out.”
know.” Ross shrugs and fondles the hair at the back of my neck.
“But I’m having a ball finding out.”
***
It’s
not until we walk past Compton Bay and head towards Brook Green that
a van stops next to us. Ross is still pointing his thumb in the
vague direction of Newport, but I have long ago given up, and am just
concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. I hear Ross
speak to the driver who is on his way to Bembridge, and to my great
delight he beckons us into the cab and agrees to drop us off along
the seafront at Ryde. The van has three seats at the front. I let
Ross go in first, who chats amiably to the driver most of the way I
think. Me, I put my head on Ross’s shoulder and am asleep before
the van has even pulled away.
not until we walk past Compton Bay and head towards Brook Green that
a van stops next to us. Ross is still pointing his thumb in the
vague direction of Newport, but I have long ago given up, and am just
concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. I hear Ross
speak to the driver who is on his way to Bembridge, and to my great
delight he beckons us into the cab and agrees to drop us off along
the seafront at Ryde. The van has three seats at the front. I let
Ross go in first, who chats amiably to the driver most of the way I
think. Me, I put my head on Ross’s shoulder and am asleep before
the van has even pulled away.
New release—The Playboy Next Door
I’m pleased to welcome Christina Tetreault to my blog today with her new release, The Playboy Next Door. Christina is the author of the Sherbrookes of Newport Series as well as the Love on the North Shore series. Her newest book is the third book in the North Shore series.
Blurb:
After a blind date stands her up, Catrina Striker stops in O’Leary’s Pub for a sandwich, nothing else. Then Tony Bates, North Salem’s resident playboy, sits down next to her and destiny takes over. Cat knows all about Tony’s reputation, but that doesn’t stop her from doing something she’s never done before: invite him back to her apartment.
Tony Bates has always looked at Catrina as nothing but his buddy’s little sister, until a chance encounter one summer night changes all that. Since the sudden death of his college sweetheart, Tony has kept all his relationships casual and fun. Everyone knows that, which is why Cat and Tony agree to keep their involvement a secret rather than risk Tony’s friendship with her brother. However, what starts out as a secret fling soon becomes much more, and Tony must decide if he’s ready to risk his heart again or lose the woman who completes him.
Excerpt:
Across the café, Cat stopped to speak with Sue Adams, and she looked in his direction. She gave him the tiniest of nods and then said something to Sue before joining the line at the counter.
Thanks to the location of his table, Tony could watch her as she waited in line without anyone the wiser. While she waited, she spoke with the other customers in line, and he couldn’t look away.
Cat radiated friendliness. She had this sunny personality that called people to her. A person couldn’t be around her and remain in a bad mood. Even people she didn’t know well appeared at ease and happy around her.
He told himself that was one of the reasons he couldn’t stay away from her. He simply liked the way he felt around her.
Brendan Michaels, another lifelong North Salem resident, joined the line behind her. Right away, he placed a hand on her shoulder and started up a conversation. As Tony watched her shake her head at whatever Brendan said, he forced himself to remain seated rather than bolt across the room and rip Brendan’s arm off. Although many people wouldn’t mind seeing Brendan put in his place, residents would wonder why Tony had intervened because, by the looks of it, Brendan and Cat were only talking.
Tony ground his teeth together as she said something in response to Brendan’s statement. What was taking so long anyway? How hard was it for Skye to make Cat a cup of coffee? From behind the counter, Skye handed Cat her order. Cat stopped two more times before reaching him.
“Hi, Tony. How did the game go?” She made no move to sit. Instead, she sipped her coffee.
“We won by three touchdowns. It was like Beverly sent their JV team to play today.”
His hands itched to reach out and pull her close. Since that was out of the question, he wrapped his hands around his coffee mug.
“Big plans for the afternoon?” he asked.
“I’m meeting Kelsey here. What about you?”
“Waiting for my mom. She asked me to meet her. Why don’t you sit and keep me company until Kelsey gets here.”
She took the seat next to him, her knee bumping into his leg.
“So what kind of trouble are you and Miss Bancroft planning to get into today?”
She scooted her chair a little closer to him. “Shopping. She needs something for Mrs. O’Brien’s wedding.”
No one would ever call him a saint. Tony released his coffee mug and reached under the table. “A Saturday night at the mall, where’s the fun in that?”
He caressed her thigh, wishing she had on a skirt instead of jeans.
“Shopping can be fun, especially when you plan to get a few new things for yourself. Ella told me about the two new stores that opened last week. I can’t wait to check them out.”
He’d gotten an earful from his mother after her last trip to the mall about one of the new stores. She’d gone on for a good thirty minutes about how inappropriate the outfits on the mannequins were and how the store shouldn’t be allowed to hang photos in the windows. He loved his mom, but sometimes she could be a bit of a prude.
“Besides, it won’t take all day. I told Kelsey I need to be home by seven because I have other things to do.”
Under the table, Cat ran her fingertips over his hand, and it reminded him of the way she’d caressed his chest earlier that week.
“How does that sound?” she whispered, her voice almost inaudible.
Visions of her in some new lacy outfits formed, and his heart rate accelerated.
“Four sounds better,” he answered, grateful for the noise in the café.
“Kelsey loves to shop. If I’m lucky, I’ll get her out of the mall by five.”
“I’ll be at your place by six then.” An hour should be enough time for her to get home. “Text me if you get home earlier,” he whispered.
Under the table, she squeezed his hand. “Your mom just walked in.”
Tony looked up as his mom walked toward them. Right away, Cat released his hand and reached for her coffee.
“Catrina, how are you?” His mom joined them at the table.
“Great, Mrs. Bates, and you?”
“Fabulous. I love being retired. Right after Maureen’s wedding, I’m off on a cruise with my sister for a week.”
He shifted in his seat as his mother and secret lover discussed Maureen O’Brien’s upcoming wedding, an event the entire town was talking about.
“Do you want a coffee or anything, Mom?” Anything to get him away from the table.
Buy Links:
http://amzn.to/1IUYDqz Amazon
http://apple.co/1QvXNqu ibooks
About The Author:
I started writing at the age of 10 on my grandmother’s manual typewriter and never stopped. When I am not driving my 3 daughters (ages 8, 6, and 6) around to their various activities or chasing around our three dogs, I am working on a story or reading a romance novel. Currently, I have two series out, The Sherbrookes of Newport and Love on The North Shore. You can visit my website www.christinatetreault.com or follow me on Facebook to learn more about my characters and to track my progress on my current writing projects.
Author Links:
Website: www.christinatetreault.com
Twitter: @cgricci
To enter Christina’s Rafflecopter contest for an Amazon or B&N gift card, go to Rafflecopter.
New release—The Playboy Next Door
I’m pleased to welcome Christina Tetreault to my blog today with her new release, The Playboy Next Door. Christina is the author of the Sherbrookes of Newport Series as well as the Love on the North Shore series. Her newest book is the third book in the North Shore series.
Blurb:
After a blind date stands her up, Catrina Striker stops in O’Leary’s Pub for a sandwich, nothing else. Then Tony Bates, North Salem’s resident playboy, sits down next to her and destiny takes over. Cat knows all about Tony’s reputation, but that doesn’t stop her from doing something she’s never done before: invite him back to her apartment.
Tony Bates has always looked at Catrina as nothing but his buddy’s little sister, until a chance encounter one summer night changes all that.
Since the sudden death of his college sweetheart, Tony has kept all his relationships casual and fun. Everyone knows that, which is why Cat and Tony agree to keep their involvement a secret rather than risk Tony’s friendship with her brother. However, what starts out as a secret fling soon becomes much more, and Tony must decide if he’s ready to risk his heart again or lose the woman who completes him.
Excerpt:
Across the café, Cat stopped to speak with Sue Adams, and she looked in his direction. She gave him the tiniest of nods and then said something to Sue before joining the line at the counter.
Thanks to the location of his table, Tony could watch her as she waited in line without anyone the wiser. While she waited, she spoke with the other customers in line, and he couldn’t look away.
Cat radiated friendliness. She had this sunny personality that called people to her. A person couldn’t be around her and remain in a bad mood. Even people she didn’t know well appeared at ease and happy around her.
He told himself that was one of the reasons he couldn’t stay away from her. He simply liked the way he felt around her.
Brendan Michaels, another lifelong North Salem resident, joined the line behind her. Right away, he placed a hand on her shoulder and started up a conversation. As Tony watched her shake her head at whatever Brendan said, he forced himself to remain seated rather than bolt across the room and rip Brendan’s arm off. Although many people wouldn’t mind seeing Brendan put in his place, residents would wonder why Tony had intervened because, by the looks of it, Brendan and Cat were only talking.
Tony ground his teeth together as she said something in response to Brendan’s statement. What was taking so long anyway? How hard was it for Skye to make Cat a cup of coffee? From behind the counter, Skye handed Cat her order. Cat stopped two more times before reaching him.
“Hi, Tony. How did the game go?” She made no move to sit. Instead, she sipped her coffee.
“We won by three touchdowns. It was like Beverly sent their JV team to play today.”
His hands itched to reach out and pull her close. Since that was out of the question, he wrapped his hands around his coffee mug.
“Big plans for the afternoon?” he asked.
“I’m meeting Kelsey here. What about you?”
“Waiting for my mom. She asked me to meet her. Why don’t you sit and keep me company until Kelsey gets here.”
She took the seat next to him, her knee bumping into his leg.
“So what kind of trouble are you and Miss Bancroft planning to get into today?”
She scooted her chair a little closer to him. “Shopping. She needs something for Mrs. O’Brien’s wedding.”
No one would ever call him a saint. Tony released his coffee mug and reached under the table. “A Saturday night at the mall, where’s the fun in that?”
He caressed her thigh, wishing she had on a skirt instead of jeans.
“Shopping can be fun, especially when you plan to get a few new things for yourself. Ella told me about the two new stores that opened last week. I can’t wait to check them out.”
He’d gotten an earful from his mother after her last trip to the mall about one of the new stores. She’d gone on for a good thirty minutes about how inappropriate the outfits on the mannequins were and how the store shouldn’t be allowed to hang photos in the windows. He loved his mom, but sometimes she could be a bit of a prude.
“Besides, it won’t take all day. I told Kelsey I need to be home by seven because I have other things to do.”
Under the table, Cat ran her fingertips over his hand, and it reminded him of the way she’d caressed his chest earlier that week.
“How does that sound?” she whispered, her voice almost inaudible.
Visions of her in some new lacy outfits formed, and his heart rate accelerated.
“Four sounds better,” he answered, grateful for the noise in the café.
“Kelsey loves to shop. If I’m lucky, I’ll get her out of the mall by five.”
“I’ll be at your place by six then.” An hour should be enough time for her to get home. “Text me if you get home earlier,” he whispered.
Under the table, she squeezed his hand. “Your mom just walked in.”
Tony looked up as his mom walked toward them. Right away, Cat released his hand and reached for her coffee.
“Catrina, how are you?” His mom joined them at the table.
“Great, Mrs. Bates, and you?”
“Fabulous. I love being retired. Right after Maureen’s wedding, I’m off on a cruise with my sister for a week.”
He shifted in his seat as his mother and secret lover discussed Maureen O’Brien’s upcoming wedding, an event the entire town was talking about.
“Do you want a coffee or anything, Mom?” Anything to get him away from the table.
Buy Links:
http://amzn.to/1IUYDqz Amazon
http://apple.co/1QvXNqu ibooks
About The Author:
I started writing at the age of 10 on my grandmother’s manual typewriter and never stopped. When I am not driving my 3 daughters (ages 8, 6, and 6) around to their various activities or chasing around our three dogs, I am working on a story or reading a romance novel. Currently, I have two series out, The Sherbrookes of Newport and Love on The North Shore. You can visit my website www.christinatetreault.com or follow me on Facebook to learn more about my characters and to track my progress on my current writing projects.
Author Links:
Website: www.christinatetreault.com
Twitter: @cgricci
To enter Christina’s Rafflecopter contest for an Amazon or B&N gift card, go to Rafflecopter.
Wintertime Pastimes—Open Book Blog Hop
Welcome to another week of the Open Book Blog Hop, where you can find out more about this ever-shifting collection of authors. This week we’re talking about our favorite winter pastimes.
I grew up in Pennsylvania where the winds of Lake Erie made the winters colder and snowier. That didn’t stop us from going outside to play. Sure, we had to wear sweaters and jackets and several pairs of pants and hats and gloves and snow boots, but that was all good. Better than being stuck in the house.
Living in the country, we had the opportunity for lots of winter activities. There were the traditional snowball fights and building of snowmen, but we also built forts and in really snow years, made snow tunnels. Although we had a collection of sleds, we didn’t limit ourselves to those. There was an old porcelain-covered wash bucket thingy that was just the right size for a medium-size kid to sit in that was great for going down small hills. Or there was the year that our neighbors had an old car hood that we used to slide down the large hill in their cow pasture. Imagine an over-sized toboggan with no steering. I think we had six of us in it at a time. The cows weren’t too impressed, but we had fun.
After I got married, my husband introduced me to the joys of tubing. Yep, just like it sounds. Take an oversize inner tube (you know, like you use to float down a river but bigger), sit in the middle, and slide down the side of a mountain. And pray you don’t find any rocks hidden under the snow with your rear-end.
Then, for too long, we moved to where there are no real seasons. “Winter” was another day on the beach. The first year or two were okay, but I missed snow. Crazy, I know. But we’ve made our way back to a part of the country where snow can happen as early as September and as late as June. And I love it.
My activities are much more sedate these days. Shoveling snow, the occasional mini-snowball fight, driving through snow-covered mountains, drinking hot chocolate in my warm house while watching the snow fall outside, taking pictures. Lots of pictures.
To find out what Tracy Krimmer’s favorite winter pastime is, you can check out her blog HERE.
Don’t forget to see what’s she’s been up to as far as writing while you’re there.
Jay Walking
Chelsea Wyatt, a single mom trying to build a life for her and her son, is sick of the body she sees in the mirror. A daily diet of Cookie Crisp cereal is not doing wonders for her mood or her figure, and it’s time for a change. Setting out to get fit, she commits herself to a daily walking plan, forcing herself to give up her all-sugar and carb diet, a difficult task at her donut obsessed job.
But her plan goes sideways when a stumble on the ice puts her in the arms of Jay, an attractive young man out on a run. They grab coffee together, and Chelsea finds herself thinking about him long after their short meeting. The thought of dating again hadn’t crossed her mind in years, and she doesn’t even know if Jay is available, or if he would be interested in her despite her unfit body.
Just when she has a handle on her new routine, her past catches up with her, throwing her blossoming relationship with Jay and the rest of her life into chaos. Can Chelsea hold onto the people she loves most, or will a wrong turn set her up for failure?
Dec. 9 – Dec. 15, 2015 – What are your favorite wintertime pastimes?
Rules:
1. Link your blog to this hop.
2. Notify your following that you are participating in this blog hop.
3. Promise to visit/leave a comment on all participants’ blogs.
4. Tweet/or share each person’s blog post. Use ?#?OpenBook? when tweeting.
5. Put a banner on your blog that you are participating.
NEW: WordPress Short Code:
[inlinkz_linkup id=585843 mode=1]
Code for Hosting:
Code for Link:
;get the InLinkz code
And we usually don’t promote ourselves, but I couldn’t resist. My new book, Wolves Knight, will be available December 17th. I hope you’ll check it out! (You can check out my earlier post about it HERE
Wintertime Pastimes—Open Book Blog Hop
Welcome to another week of the Open Book Blog Hop, where you can find out more about this ever-shifting collection of authors. This week we’re talking about our favorite winter pastimes.
I grew up in Pennsylvania where the winds of Lake Erie made the winters colder and snowier. That didn’t stop us from going outside to play. Sure, we had to wear sweaters and jackets and several pairs of pants and hats and gloves and snow boots, but that was all good. Better than being stuck in the house.
Living in the country, we had the opportunity for lots of winter activities. There were the traditional snowball fights and building of snowmen, but we also built forts and in really snow years, made snow tunnels. Although we had a collection of sleds, we didn’t limit ourselves to those. There was an old porcelain-covered wash bucket thingy that was just the right size for a medium-size kid to sit in that was great for going down small hills. Or there was the year that our neighbors had an old car hood that we used to slide down the large hill in their cow pasture. Imagine an over-sized toboggan with no steering. I think we had six of us in it at a time. The cows weren’t too impressed, but we had fun.
After I got married, my husband introduced me to the joys of tubing. Yep, just like it sounds. Take an oversize inner tube (you know, like you use to float down a river but bigger), sit in the middle, and slide down the side of a mountain. And pray you don’t find any rocks hidden under the snow with your rear-end.
Then, for too long, we moved to where there are no real seasons. “Winter” was another day on the beach. The first year or two were okay, but I missed snow. Crazy, I know. But we’ve made our way back to a part of the country where snow can happen as early as September and as late as June. And I love it.
My activities are much more sedate these days. Shoveling snow, the occasional mini-snowball fight, driving through snow-covered mountains, drinking hot chocolate in my warm house while watching the snow fall outside, taking pictures. Lots of pictures.
To find out what Tracy Krimmer’s favorite winter pastime is, you can check out her blog HERE.
Don’t forget to see what’s she’s been up to as far as writing while you’re there.
Jay Walking
Chelsea Wyatt, a single mom trying to build a life for her and her son, is sick of the body she sees in the mirror. A daily diet of Cookie Crisp cereal is not doing wonders for her mood or her figure, and it’s time for a change. Setting out to get fit, she commits herself to a daily walking plan, forcing herself to give up her all-sugar and carb diet, a difficult task at her donut obsessed job.
But her plan goes sideways when a stumble on the ice puts her in the arms of Jay, an attractive young man out on a run. They grab coffee together, and Chelsea finds herself thinking about him long after their short meeting. The thought of dating again hadn’t crossed her mind in years, and she doesn’t even know if Jay is available, or if he would be interested in her despite her unfit body.
Just when she has a handle on her new routine, her past catches up with her, throwing her blossoming relationship with Jay and the rest of her life into chaos. Can Chelsea hold onto the people she loves most, or will a wrong turn set her up for failure?
Dec. 9 – Dec. 15, 2015 – What are your favorite wintertime pastimes?
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And we usually don’t promote ourselves, but I couldn’t resist. My new book, Wolves Knight, will be available December 17th. I hope you’ll check it out! (You can check out my earlier post about it HERE
