Charity Shane' Presents Candid Moments - Fate? Or Something Else... A Delightful Love Story Valentine!

 My heart will heal because I love myself more than I ever loved him.

Even though I have my own studio, Candid Moments, and a very successful career, Corey only sees my photography as a hobby. That’s an argument I curve every time.

“Make sure she looks good.” ​“Are you assuming that I wouldn’t do that naturally?” I ask with my lips pursed. ​While shaking his head, he says, “Nah. You got this. Like I said, worth every penny.” ​“Every,” I utter as he walks off. ​When my light’s adjusted, we begin. Halani is a natural and the shoot is a breeze. It takes longer than expected because the journalist kept interrupting. So, it’s after four when I leave my studio. I race home and storm inside of my bathroom as soon as I enter my condo. I’m too excited for this date with Denim. If I wasn’t in my late twenties, I would describe my entire mood as giddy, like a teenager. ​Honestly, I don’t care what we do or where we head tonight. I’m just elated to see him again. Although Denim and I were forced together because of two selfish cheating pieces--the resulting  connection is organic, honest, and electrifying. He has single handedly restored my faith in men. He is proof positive that real ones do exist and they know how to properly treat a woman. After switching his flight to my airline, he upgraded my ticket to first class and we flew comfortably together back to Crescent Falls. When he escorted me to my door and wrapped his muscular arms around me, I wanted to beg him to come in. I had no desire for him to go. My body instinctively molds to his and I’m already addicted to his mouth and hands. Unadulterated chemistry and attraction are rare and when they are with a sexy, educated, and solicitous, fine ass, Black man, it’s practically a miracle. I’m lucky because that miracle happened to me. While in my shower, I take a mental tour of my closet and decide on my chocolate denim skirt set and brown, distressed, over-the-knee, heeled boots. By the time he rings my bell, my skin is thoroughly hydrated with my Brown Sugar Bae Rich Aunty body oil, my hair is bone straight and luxurious, and I’m dressed, looking sexy as hell. As soon as I open the door, a smile spreads across my face. His chocolate skin and the color burgundy are a match made in melanin heaven. He looks sexy as hell in a burgundy and black turtleneck, burgundy jeans with specks of black, and burgundy Air Force ones. His single platinum chain and watch only accentuate his handsome look. Without saying a word, he steps to me, wraps his arms around me, then kisses me like it’s our first kiss. The moment he releases my mouth, I moan. Damn. “You look amazing,” his baritone sings and I blush. “So do you. Where are we going this evening? I would hate to waste all of this sexiness standing in my doorway.” “Our first destination is a surprise but the last one is your choice. Just know, at that location... His words flow through my ears, travel down my body, then land in the very spot he’s promising to place his head. This man! “Then that better be right here at your place,” I say. “Again, lady’s choice.” His hand swipes across my ass then he grabs it before releasing me from his hold. “Let’s go. We have a reservation.” We leave my place, take the elevators downstairs, then get into his ride. During the entire ride, his right hand rests on my thigh and I practically drool over his sexy side profile. Although he is close-lipped about our first location, I start to get a clue when he hops on the Parkway. However, when he takes the Garden Street exit, butterflies fill my stomach, pun intended. We are going to the Butterfly Garden.

He listens. “Denim! My favorite spot,” I gush when he pulls up to valet. “I promised this would be our first date.” “You are going to love it here.” Excitedly, I practically jump out when the valet opens my door. Denim meets me and we walk up to the main entrance. The Butterfly Garden is a beautiful, indoor, dome-shaped glass structure that houses an array of butterflies, flowers, and plants. Patrons are free to tour and explore the garden year-round. The back entrance of the garden has a stoned path that leads to the Bella House, a historical home converted to an event space and upscale restaurant. There’s a huge iron butterfly, colored by beautiful flowers at the entrance of the garden and wrought iron benches with butterfly shaped backs are stationed throughout the garden for patrons to sit and enjoy nature in its glorious state. Even during the winter months, the garden is vibrant and full of color. As soon as we enter, I walk him over to the digital display board. The curators constantly update it with the current species inhabiting the garden. A black butterfly with yellow and blue on the tip of his wings fills the screen followed by its name, Mourning Cloak. According to the screen, it’s one of the few butterflies that spends their winters as adults. “I’ve never seen a black butterfly,” he utters. “You will tonight,” I say, beaming. I really love this garden. Butterflies are so amazing and the species and variations of them provide an almost unlimited supply of beauty. The second butterfly appears on the screen and this one is just as colorful. It’s golden and black, resembling a bee. Just like the Mourning Cloak, this Angel-Wings also spends its winter as an adult. When the screen changes again and it’s back to Mourning Cloak, we walk through the garden. A few times, I catch the awe in his hazel eyes as he marvels at the pretty creatures fluttering around the garden. At the back entrance, we check in at the hostess stand then walk across the path of sea glass stepping stones. Each stepping stone has a unique butterfly design. This date is already perfect and we haven’t even sat down for dinner. The restaurant has three dining rooms and he has reserved a table in the Metamorphosis. It’s the butterfly-themed room. One thousand species of butterflies have been hand painted on the walls and ceiling. It’s truly amazing. I only have one regret and that’s leaving my camera at home. The moment we are seated, a sommelier approaches the table with wine glasses and a bottle of the Metamorphosis Room house selection, Butterfly Effect Blend. As he explains the wine and pours our samples, two waitresses and what looks like a chef approaches. We both taste the wine and agree to a glass. After the sommelier pours the wine, the chef and waitresses approach. “Good Evening, Dr. Morris. I’m Chef Roland Piqueen. I will be preparing the tasting menu for your enjoyment tonight,” he says and I’m impressed. Denim pulled out all of the stops. He clearly put a lot of thought into this date. “First up is this delicious artichoke soup with winter truffles and tiny brioche crisps on top. Bon Appetit.” The chef walks off and the two servers place the small soup bowls in front of us. They also tip over our other glasses on the table and fill them with ice water. It appears we each have a waitress. The moment they walk off, I grab his hand. Truly appreciative, I squeeze it, then express my sincerest gratitude. ​“Denim, this is absolutely…everything. Thank you. Listening to me when I speak and following through with what you said means a lot. This night is beautiful.” ​“Not as beautiful as you,” he says before raising our intertwined hands and kissing the back of mine. “I’m just glad that you like this.” ​“I love it and the chef and his tasting menu is…hell, chef’s kiss,” I say and we both laugh. ​“But hey, sorry,” he says and my eyebrows furrow. Nothing about tonight warrants an apology. “Sorry for what?” I ask. “Not telling you to get your camera. I’ll remind you next time.” ​The fact that he even thought about my camera widens the smile on my face. He acknowledges and shows interest in my passion. How can I not adore this man already? ​“I can live in the moment with you tonight. No camera needed,” I admit.

~~~~

The plot is not unusual, but the characters involved are... Two couples who have been involved for months are attending a reunion. Corey is the graduate while Jamila is his guest...  Readers will begin to form their own opinions about these two being involved shortly after starting to read...

The second couple is Maddox and Denim, who have been together for 12 months...Maddox is the coordinator for the reunion and readers will quickly begin to wonder whether she brought Denim along for his muscle--only... Ok, it doesn't take long, to have the plot entirely switch... Because Maddox and Corey are caught by the other two in a private room almost immediately... Like, they couldn't even wait? Duh!

Now I can also share that Jamila had already kinda met Denim as they were passing each other and Denim was certainly worth of being eye candy for her to follow a few seconds... If you know what I mean...

A smile creeps across her face then she shakes her head. “For your momma and because I’m pretty pathetic and homeless right now in this shitty ass town, I will but can I see your license?” “My license?” “Yes, please,” she insists with her hand held out.   “My name is Denim.” “Okay. Your license please, Denim.” After pulling my wallet from my pocket, I produce my driver’s license and place it in her awaiting hand. She examines it. “Crescent Falls? I definitely know where this is and so do my Manor cousins,” she says, smirking. The Manor neighborhood is notorious in Crescent Falls. She knows my town. “Are you from Crescent Falls?” I ask. “Born and raised in The Manor but currently reside in The Millennium,” she says proudly. CFers will represent and I love that about us. “I’m Jamila, by the way.” “Nice to meet you, Jamila. You good now?” She presses her phone dramatically, then looks up to me. “License sent. Now, I’m good. And for the record, I do have a taser and mace.” “Calm down, killer. You won’t have to use either on me. Scouts’ honor, I am a gentleman and I’m my momma’s son.” While eyeing me suspiciously, she asks, “Were you even a boy scout?” After pressing the up button on the elevator, I mumble, “Hell no.”

We don't really know if it was an actual switch of partners... What we do know is that once Jamila and Denim caught the other two, they promptly concluded their connections... Both planned to immediately go back home. But a snow storm interfered. And a shortage of rooms resulted in Jamila having to accept Denim's invitation to share the small suite which included a couch, bed, and kitchenet... Soon, however, you will discover the Jamila you will soon get to know, when she immediately asks to see Denim's license--proof of identify! LOL Hey, She'd been dating Corey for 18 months and only that day learned that Corey was a nickname and not his full name! Caution? Thy name is now Jamila... and she was not in the mood to be fooled again!

The thing is, Denim is just the opposite of Corey in all ways that were important to Jamila. If you begin to feel like Jamila has just met Prince Charming, you just might be right... For this certainly appears to become a "happily-ever-after" merger being negotiated, of course, starting that first night of betrayal that both of them had suffered through together...

His hand grazes the side of my face then lands under my chin. After lifting my head, he locks his mesmerizing eyes with mine. The lust and desire in his eyes match mine because I want this. I want him. “What else are you ready for?” he utters in a deep, sexy timbre. “You,” I admit honestly.

This story is short, sweet, and sexy... The POV moves between Jamila and Denim, so you learn what each is thinking as we read...

Fate or some other fxxxed up thing brought us together and I don’t know why but I do know I’m glad it did. She’s unlike any woman I’ve been with, definitely a stark contrast to Maddox. Even when I invested in her business, Maddox wasn’t as passionate about it as Jamila is about her photos. Her eyes don’t sparkle with excitement like Jamila’s.

BTW, no music was involved in this book, so all videos are of my choice and my memory of songs that seemed appropriate to the storyline... Yeah, oldies but goodies, don't you think? Both Denim and Jamila seemed to know immediately that they had wasted months with somebody else, but, fate seemed to have brought the right match for each... exactly at the right time....

GABixlerReviews

 HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!

Sharon Sala Speaks to Women in her Novel - Broke-Ass Women's Club

It was nearing the end of May. David had been working the St. Louis area for almost a week, and it was time for him to head southeast. He was packing, getting ready to leave, and Janie was fussing with his suits and clean shirts, always making sure he had everything he needed for the time he would be gone. “David, darling, I'm putting in a few extra shirts… just in case,” she said. David smiled, poked a finger through one of the red curls above her forehead, then ran a finger down the side of her face. “You, my love, are the best. I don't know what I'd do without you. I'm going to miss you so much. I'll text every night. Oh… and don't forget, the plumber is coming tomorrow to see about that garbage disposal, so be watching for his text.” Janie hugged him. “Thank you for always taking such good care of me.” “It's what I do,” David said, then closed his suitcase and picked it up off the bed. “Come walk me to the door.” And so she did, falling into his embrace and goodbye kiss, then standing in the doorway and waving until his car was out of sight. Only then did she go down the hall to her office to begin her workday.  

Within moments of getting on the interstate, David Logan shifted to his David Lowry alias and was on the phone with his third wife, Gretchen, in Springfield. She answered breathlessly. “David! Darling. What a perfect way to begin my day.” He chuckled. “You are such a sweetheart. I just wanted to give you a heads up that I’m headed your way today.” “Wonderful! Will you be here tonight?” “Yes. I think I have about a week's worth of work in the area, so we have some special time ahead of us.” “I'm so excited! Have a great day. I can't wait to get you home!” “I can't wait to get there,” David said. “See you soon.” After that, he put his phone on Bluetooth and headed south. Less than an hour out of St. Louis, he drove straight into a thunderstorm, turned his wipers on high, and found an oldies station on Sirius XM. The traffic was steady, and David was driving seventy. He was singing Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain with Willie Nelson and keeping up with the traffic when his cellphone rang. When he saw it was his second wife, Bettina Lee, who knew him as her husband, David Lee, from Kansas City, he let it go to voicemail. A few seconds later, it rang again, and he rolled his eyes. It was his fourth wife, Pauline Lord, in Columbia. He loved his women, but he often wondered what the hell had he been thinking? All of a sudden, a semi came flying past him in the fast lane, and he was abruptly awash in water. It hit the driver's side window so hard and fast, it startled him into thinking he was about to get side swiped. He swerved, and when he did, his car hydroplaned and spun him to the left, right into the fast lane of traffic, into the path of another fully loaded semi. It took a rescue squad two hours to get his car out from under the truck, and then peel what was left of him out of it. He was identified by the driver's license in his wallet, which happened to still be David Logan, and the tag number on his car, which was registered to the company he worked for. Then they found a briefcase wedged partially beneath the seat with three more driver’s licenses, all with his photo, but with different names: David Lee, David Lowry, and David Lord. At that point, it became the responsibility of the Missouri Highway Patrol to find his next of kin and to notify the local police to see if any of his aliases turned up in open crimes. A detective named Fairfield got the file dumped on his desk, shuffled through it, and began a search on David Logan, David Lee, David Lowry, and David Lord. What he discovered was shocking. The man had different Social Security numbers for each name, which led him to believe it was a case of stolen identities. But further investigation revealed that while the man had been using Social Security numbers of deceased men, he'd been paying taxes on all four identities. He also discovered David Logan had a rented mailbox in a post office in St. Louis, where the mail for his aliases was being sent. The detective was floored. 

David Logan wasn't just a bigamist. He was a skilled conman who knew his way around the systems it took to hide what he was doing. Now he had to find out if he had next of kin under any of his other names. That's when he found the four wives and didn't know who to call first. In the end, it didn't matter. They all had to be notified. After that, it was up to David Logan's first wife to claim and bury him, although he was in so many pieces, there would have been enough to go around.

It was just after lunch when the doorbell rang. Janie was mopping up a spill on the kitchen floor, and when she heard it ring, was glad for the momentary reprieve. She leaned the mop against the cabinet, ran her fingers through her curls to get them off her forehead, and hurried through the hall to answer. What she didn't expect to see were the two Missouri Highway Patrolmen standing on her doorstep. And she still wasn't processing what she was seeing until they asked for her by name. “Janie Logan?” “Yes, I'm Janie,” she said. “Mrs. Logan, I'm Officer Danfield from the Missouri Highway Patrol, and this is my partner, Officer Kirby. May we come in?” “Yes, of course,” she said, and led them to the living room. As soon as she was seated, Danfield delivered the blow. “Mrs. Logan, I am sorry to tell you that your husband was in a car accident on I-44, and he did not survive.”

This book is for every woman who finds herself on the hard side of life through no actions of her own. 

I dedicate it to the strong ones who refused to quit. You are my sisters. And you are not alone.

~~~

This is a book for women--all women... Men are free to read it as well if they want to learn an important lesson... Still, given the numbers of books, movies and personal stories shared by one friend to another, most of us--women, that is--knows what it is like to be "screwed" by a man, or even...many men... Name one good man and most of us will match you to those that could be called, simply, Bad... And, in the case of David, it was pure Bad to the Bone!

Have to tell you, Sharon Sala knows how to tell a gripping story! Real, Honest, and in-your-face Truth! Some men are naturally working a con, no matter what they are doing... men--you know what I mean. Of course, we've lived with the biggest conman of all, haven't we...?

The thing is, though, that most women, are pretty open and involved with their emotions. When they fall for a guy, they're going to try to stick it out. Sure, there are some players out there (and I think I'll share next an article I wrote about them...) but their long game is almost always to find somebody to love and be loved by and move on into family life of some kind.

So, it was with all four women who had, in good faith, married a conman named David... He had been playing the game most of his life, but then figured it was time to think about the future... So he looked around for a job that would take him away from home to work... Then, he planned it meticulously, using the social security numbers of dead men and establishing different lives for each life... In his mind, he had it made, he could travel around his area and always have a woman in his bed no matter where his job led him...

But then in the midst of relocating from one home to another, he was killed in a horrible accident which left his body in pieces... By the time that each of his four wives discovered what had been happening, they all decided--burn him and throw away the ashes!

And, then, each woman had to look hard at where she was, realizing that the man she had loved had left her penniless and without a home! But she knew one thing, she would make it... All she had to do was figure out that first step...

Janie was David's first wife, thus, the only legal wife of the four. She also had owned a family home and had her own accounting business, so she was at least minimally able to continue without too much damage of her husband's theft via credit cards... After learning what had happened and especially that the other three would probably wind up homeless, it didn't take long for Janie to make a very important decision...of love and friendship...

She opened her home and her heart to who quickly became sister-wives--in the truest sense of the term!

From the very beginning, once everybody got settled, it was as if it was truly meant to be... With a home that was wonderfully available, each began to think about what they could do for the future--to help bring in money to maintain and build on what they were now sharing!

At first, gossip was tough and seemed to be the only thing people wanted to talk about... But, then, each of the women began to work or take on tasks at home to fulfill the day-to-day operations of running a househld. Soon, even a next-door neighbor, whose son had moved in and was, somewhat crowding her out of her past life, was spending time next door...

“It's so sweet of you to invite me to your picnic,” she said. “Our pleasure,” Janie said. “Take a seat, and what's your poison? Iced tea or lemonade? Oh… and the tea is unsweetened.” “I haven't had lemonade in ages, and it sounds so good. I'll have that,” Florence said. Pauline scooped ice into a glass from their ice chest, filled it with homemade lemonade, and set it at Florence’s place, and then they all sat down. Just before they started to eat, Janie tapped her fork against her glass, and then picked it up. “Ladies, a toast! We've gone from sad-ass to bad-ass. To friends and sisters of the heart!” 

“Sisters of the heart!” they said, and lifted their glasses in unison. After that, it was all about passing food and filling plates, with AC/DC blasting “Highway to Hell,” a song that could have been their anthem. “This is the best time this house and I have had in years,” Janie said, as she served herself another deviled egg. “True that for me,” Bettina said. “Just think of all the weeks and holidays we spent alone.” Florence frowned. “What do you mean?” Gretchen shrugged. “Think about it, honey. You're a man with four wives, strung out from one side of the state to the other. You can't be in four places at once, so you pick one location, and spin some big story to the wives in three other places as to why they're spending yet another holiday alone. Then you’re so charming to all of them when you do see them, they blindly accept the

bullshit.” 

Florence's eyes widened. “Oh my God! I never thought… I didn't realize the ramifications of…” And then she stopped and shook her head. “My hat's off to all of you, and my sincere sympathies for the tragedy and the travesty of your lives.” And in that moment, Janie knew Florence meant it. “Well, you can bet the last piece of fried chicken in the bucket that it'll never happen again,” Janie said...

 “Oh, my Lord… I am so full, I don't know if I can eat another bite,” Bettina said. Pauline came back with a plate piled high with the little buns, and Bettina was the first to take one. She ate it in three bites. “Yeah, that's how I diet, too,” Gretchen said, and snagged one for herself. They were sitting around the table, still telling stories from their childhood when Spotify shifted to a new song, and all of a sudden, the girls squealed and began a litany of comments. 

“Yes!” “My favorite!” “Oh my God! I can't sit still and just listen!” “Nobody like Queen!” Florence waved her hand. “I'm older than you girls. I don't recognize this song. What is it?” “It's Queen! The song is ‘Somebody to Love’!” Janie said, and bounced up from her chair, grabbed a spoon for a microphone, and started dancing and singing with the song as she moved up and down the length of the verandah. Bettina licked the potato salad off her spoon and joined her. Gretchen stood up, threw her arms up into the air and started belting out the chorus, with Pauline right beside her. 

Florence sat back in her chair, reveling in their abandon and the joy on their faces. In that moment, she knew if her hip wasn't so arthritic, and she knew the words to the song, she'd be dancing along with them. These women weren't bemoaning their fate. They were celebrating their own independence on Independence Day. But once they were up, they danced and sang from one song into the next until sweat was running down their backs and beaded across their foreheads. Still, it didn't matter. When one song ended, their neighbors on the other side of the fence started clapping and shouting, “More, more, more!”

Janie took the lead on Bon Jovi's, “Livin' On a Prayer.” Bettina did the same on a Green Day song.

And Pauline rocked out on Nine Inch Nails. It was all music from their youth. And then it shifted to Chris

 Stapleton's bluesy, country song called, “You Should Probably Leave.” By the time the Stapleton song was over, they were laughing. “That's something we should have told He Who's Name Shall Not Be Mentioned,” Bettina muttered, and they laughed even harder, because it was easier to laugh than it was

to let go of the tears they still held inside. “It's getting too hot for this, and I need to get the potato salad back in the refrigerator,” Janie said. Florence stood. “I ate my way from one end of this table to the other without having to cook a thing, but I'll sure help you clear the table,” she said, and together, they began carrying food into the house. While Janie put leftovers in the refrigerator, the others started clearing off the table. Before long, the only thing left as a reminder of the day were the two flags still flying from the porch. They sent Florence home with leftovers for her supper, and a round of hugs for her company. And all the way back to her house, Florence kept thinking of what amazing women they all were, and how horribly, terribly wrong she'd been. It had been a life-changing day for Florence Lane. And it had been a life-changing day for the residents of the Broke-Ass Women's Club, as well. They'd hosted a party. With guests. Well, one guest. And they'd danced themselves into a whole new mindset. It was a good day, and it wasn't over yet. As soon as the kitchen was clean and everything put back to rights, Bettina spoke up. “I have an announcement to make.” They all stopped and turned around, giving her their full attention. “I am full as a tick and going to take a nap so I'll be ready for fireworks tonight.” Gretchen grinned. “Fireworks as in the kind you and Johnny shoot off, or the kind that explode in the air?”

And every single sister found herself in a situation where her personal ethics, her truth, her reality was tested...and she won!

She couldn't get over the randomness of leaving the office for lunch. She'd never done that. Not once since she began working there. But today, on the anniversary of the day David Lowry had sworn everlasting love to her and said “I do,” she’d broken her routine. 

Today, because she was sick to her stomach angry at a dead man, she’d saved a little boy's life. She saw the pattern—how one little rock thrown into the ocean can cause ripples forever. If David hadn't died. If he hadn't left her penniless. If Janie Logan had not invited them into her home. If she'd never gotten the job at the insurance agency. If this hadn't been her anniversary. If she hadn't been so angry, she would never have left the office. Or bought the cookies. Or gone to the park. They might never have found Billy Royal until it was too late. One rock… A million ripples… It was nothing short of a miracle...

Sharon Sala has presented all women with a sure knowledge that they are able...to be free...to be real...to be accepted just as they are... and never, never alone... Give yourself a Christmas Present! Get Broke-Ass Women's Club! You're Gonna Love It!

God Bless

Gabbi

Mark Your Calendar for May to Get The Orphans of Race Point by Patry Francis --Spotlighting the Portuguese Community at Race Point

"Set against the coast of Provincetown..."

Hallie had been on the roof before, but that night was different. She would never be sure whether her sleep had been disturbed by the shift in temperature or by a sound that entered her room as stealthily as moonlight. Was it singing? By the time she opened her eyes and sat up in bed, it was gone. For some reason, she thought of how the old people wept when they played fado music at the annual Portuguese Festival, Saudade, her great-aunt Del called it: homesick music. But according to her father, the emotion was about
more than place. It was a profound longing for everything
that was lost and would never be regained...

Hallie was surprised that her father, with his famously keen sense of observation, hadn't yet discovered her secret excursions to the roof. The only one who knew was her best friend, Felicia.
"I think you just miss your mom," Felicia had said, twisting her wheat-colored braids and studying Hallie like a therapist, after she confided to her on the playground. "You go up there because you're looking for her."

 "Liz Cooper's got nothing to do with it." Hallie insisted, wishing she hadn't brought it up. "Besides, it's scientifically impossible to miss someone you can't remember."
She would never admit that she didn't go onto the roof to find her mother; she did it to escape her. In many ways, Thorne House still belonged to Liz Cooper, whose fledgling renovations and dreams of a family large enough to fill the place had ended abruptly on the highway. Though the first floor had been gradually taken over by Nick's rambling practice, it was cluttered with her memory...

Nick's mother's family had arrived with the first wave of Portuguese immigrants nearly a hundred years earlier, but on his father's side he was only second generation, and the ties with people "at home" were all still strong. Photographs of family in the Azores mixed with shots of Nick's friends from Provincetown and Harvard. There were pictures of him and Liz Cooper on the leafy, brick streets of Cambridge, where they'd fallen in love, at their small private wedding, and then holding their newborn daughter. But most of the wall was taken up by images of Hallie...The only thing that had stopped him from walking into the sea after he lost his wife...


The Orphans of Race Point

By Patry Francis

This novel was like unwrapping a heartrending but wonderful gift that was totally unexpected, but just want you would have wanted if you'd been asked! With the children running on the cover, I  pictured a family drama which it was--one that surrounded the families at Race Point, some of whom were single-parent families and others who seemed to be orphans just by not connecting with parents.  Hallie Costa, daughter of the town's doctor, was just as happy having just her father and herself since they had grown very close since her mother had been killed in an accident. Still, she knew that her father still missed his wife very much and would only occasionally date new women.

"You mean a party?"
"More like a few couples. I'm going with Christina,"
he said, referring to the girl he'd been seeing for
several months. "And Voodoo {Gus}really wants to
hang out with you."
Hallie's color deepened. "What is this--a summons?
The great Voodoo Silva has chosen me as the girl of
the week? I thought he was going out with one of
Daisy's cousins from Truro, anyway."
"Over," Neil said with a dismissive swoop of his
hand. "Come on. What do you say? He would
have called you and asked you all nice and proper.
It's just--well, like I said, he gets nervous around
you."
"Are you trying to tell me Voodoo is shy? Please.
He's got to be the most arrogant boy I've ever met,"
she said...
~~~

With a thriving practice, Hallie was often on her own or with her two friends, Neil and Gus. Gus was an orphan living with relatives. His father was in jail for the murder of his wife. When his father was convicted, he said at court that he didn't want to ever see his son at the jail...

Gus had been in the house when she was killed. Knowing that she would probably be killed by her husband, and after he had tried to protect her once and had gotten hurt, she had talked to him and then forced a promise that if he heard similar noises, that he would hide in the closet and not come out.

He did what was promised, but it left him catatonic, unable to talk... They had tried counseling, but everything failed. So Dr. Costa said it was his turn to try and Gus did speak one word... But nothing more...

"You'll have to finish the rest
yourself,: she said. Then she
reached out to shake his hand
like her father always did when
he was finished with a patient.
Gus stared at her extended palm,
refusing to accept what it meant.
"Wait!" he finally called. "You
know I can't read that book."
..."You have to," she said,
stopping him with the firmness
in her voice. "Because you'll
never know the end of the
story."
~~~

Gus' friend Neil would visit every day, but his aunt refused to have him come in to visit...

Hallie took the initiative, bought two gold fish and took one of her father's books as gifts. That day and for as long as it took, Hallie would go and read from David Copperfield... Why that book? Because it was a story of an orphan who becomes the hero of his own story... Slowly Gus came back to his life, as it now was...

Gus and Hallie did become a couple and were very much in love. The three were constantly involved until they reached their senior prom. Everybody had gone on to the beach, drinking and dancing the night away. Until Neil came up to Hallie and made a pass, even ripping her dress! If I were in Gus' mind at the time, I can almost guarantee that he had a flashback of his father beating his mother...

He went after Neil, beating him senseless...Hallie knew that he could kill him if somebody didn't intervene. She tried but, without realizing what he was doing, Gus knocked Hallie away and she was seriously hurt.

Nothing was ever the same...  Time stood still for Hallie in the hospital. But Gus was forever changed. He had early in his life been very involved in church, and even after the tragedy, he would spend time, alone, sitting in a pew of the sanctuary. He and the priest had formed a relationship and had spent time talking. Now Gus had turned back to the church and was on his way to enter the seminary when Hallie and he had their first and last talk before he left.

An interesting sub-plot finds Hallie later married to a surprising somewhat new character, who was the estranged son of the man who had lodged at the Costa home...

Only then does the mystery, suspense, and explosive information culminates into a unique twist of deception, intrigue, and a clear definition of good versus evil. For me, it came as a shock because I didn't pick up a clue for the ultimate ending... And you know what that means! I loved it!

Even if I would have preferred a different ending... 

I just finished the book, Coincidence (Read my review)... 'cause I would have to say that this story would have been part of the grand plan, if it wasn't just fantastic fiction! LOL

GABixlerReviews

Biography

I grew up in of Brockton, Massachusetts, a city known for its legendary boxers and its once proud heritage as "the shoe city of the world." Many of my ancestors spent time laboring in the now ghostly leather factories, including my father and both grandfathers. They worked long hours, enjoyed vibrant lives with their families, and dreamed of sending their children to college. They succeeded.

A photograph of my grandfather, John Joseph Heney, in the factory hangs over my desk. I keep it there because in all my life, I've never known a finer, more intelligent man, and because it reminds me daily how fortunate I am to do the work I do.

It also recalls his personal two word motto: "No kick." To us, that phrase might suggest a watery drink; but in John's era it meant "no complaints," and it reflected his personal brand of tough optimism. "No kick" meant that if you want to do something in this world, whether it's painting a house, making a relationship work, or just staying alive (he lived to be ninety-nine), you didn't whine about the cost. You just got on with it. It's still the best advice I've ever gotten as a writer.

As a child, I dreamed of being a dancer, the first woman President of the United States, a girl singer with a rock band, a teacher, a contemplative nun, a police detective and in my Albert Schweitzer phase, a great humanitarian doctor. By the time I was ten, I had chosen names for the twelve children I planned to raise in my spare time.

But the truth is I never had a choice. I was a writer from the time I first held a pen—if not earlier. When my cousin Lorraine and I sat on the steps on a boring summer day, wondering what to do, I'd always suggest, "Let's write a story!"

I quickly learned that not everyone found sitting at the kitchen table hunched over a sheet of blank paper the best way to spend a perfect summer day.

Don't ask me why, but I did—and I still do.

Of course, my life hasn't been all about writing. It's also been happily filled by a husband, four children, and more pets than a family has a right to love. Since the poetry and fiction I wrote for literary magazines paid mostly in contributor's copies, I also worked as a waitress. I didn't know how much I actually enjoyed the work until I left it behind to write full time.

Making my lifelong obsession with writing a reality has taken commitment, sacrifice, and above all, patience. Though I will never have an opportunity to live out my other childhood career fantasies, through writing, I have inhabited countless lives, most far more interesting than my own. As my grandfather would say, "No kick."
Check out more at http://www.patryfrancis.com/

Love daytime drama? Find it all in Bittersweet House!

http://www.nypost.com/t/Susan_Lucci

Bittersweet House


By Liz Barzda












I was watching "The Talk" recently when Susan Lucci appeared to both promote her book, All My Life: A Memoir, and share about the closing of the drama in which she has played for years. There isn't anybody who doesn't know Lucci, even if they've never watched the drama. That day I was reading Bittersweet House by Liz Barzda and found myself casting Lucci as one of the female characters in her book. For certainly, this story has the sophisticated, never-ending drama for which daytime TV is known...

At first, I thought of her as Katherine, who owns an elite luxurious spa which she has just expanded, leaving her worried about money, wanting her lover to ask his rich father for a loan, and, if all else fails, threatening to go to the mafia for the half-million she needs.

Or she could also play Zita Parker who owns an advertising agency, now single since her ex left her for a younger woman, after they had been trying for years and spent much money to pay for medical procedures to help Zita get pregnant...


Zita and Katherine are two of the four women who have been friends for more than a decade and have referred to themselves as the Barren Babes. Sometimes they share jokingly about their never having children, but most of the time, they share the pain and frustration each has felt...

Margaret as the oldest has become somewhat of a counselor for the others. Though childless, she and her husband have a loving relationship and both have successful professional careers that have been fulfilling. Margaret's sister had died young and she asked her sister to watch over her young son, so Margaret and her husband have take that responsibility to heart over the years and now look to help fund his college years as he plans to become an architect. But a young woman has other plans for this young man...

But, when decision-making time came for casting Lucci, I found I chose her to play Linda, the beautiful anchor on a local television station who has for many years allowed her husband to convince her that starting a family should be delayed until they were both professionally and financially secure.

And that was accepted, although not happily, by Linda. Now she was older and realized her child-bearing years were flying by. Still everybody, including her friends, looked to Linda and her husband as the perfect loving couple--even Linda was fooled!

Until the day she got a call from a woman who was screaming to talk to her husband. As they talked, Linda realized that this woman had a right to call him--and soon learned that his son was in the hospital and his mother was begging for Linda's husband to come! Later Linda learned that her husband had been involved for  over two years and he was supporting his other family through a trust fund that had never been used in support of their marriage.

Now you've met the Barren Babes--four professional women who wanted it all, including children. Have they put too much of their lives toward their personal careers so that, now, they are overwhelmed when their personal lives seem to be falling apart? When husbands betray, can women afford to risk being hurt again? Or must they finally and totally accept that women just can't have it all?

Revenge, blackmail, death, depression, one night stands all await you as you become privy to the lives of those living inside and out of Bittersweet House. Will their drama have any chance of including love, redemption and hope? It's all here waiting for you! Spend a quiet weekend getting to know the Barren Babes... Let me know if you agree that Lucci should play the lead character--wonder what "she" would do when her husband betrayed their marriage!

Book received via
Personal Loan


GABixlerReviews

Review: Great International Finance Drama Out - Bravo!

Coming for Money


By F. W. vom Scheidt

Blue Butterfly Book Publishing Inc.

ISBN: 9780978498283
264 Pages


"Some days it felt like the money left blood on my hands. Not the weary allusion to the stains of Iscariot..." (p. 1)

As I started to read Coming for Money by F. W. Vom Scheidt, I found myself stopping, going back, and rereading paragraphs just to enjoy reading it again. The beautiful, relaxed words, phrasing, had not been what I'd expected. Instead of the fast-paced action adventure I had anticipated, I was forced to sit back, and enjoy the contemplative literary fiction of a master writer! What a delight!

International Investment broker Paris Smith was at the top of his game, making more money for his company than any other broker. Then his wife became ill and love for her won out as Paris took off work to care for her. And even when he came back quickly, too quickly, he had not had time to grieve his loss.

But, apparently loving and caring for his wife was a no-no in the mind of Smith's boss! Because he began to make things harder for him and, when it most counted--when Paris had created a major $100 million bond deal--his boss did not support him at all!

Greed and jealousy--the major problems in high finance. One major player did not appreciate a small company taking on this major deal, so they worked behind the scenes to manipulate and blackmail an important participant into firing the involved employee and withdrawing from the deal.

But for the first time in a long time, Paris began to regain his savvy awareness of those who were corrupt and acting purely for selfish reasons. He started his own investigation, his own interaction with the men who were honorable, or at least much better than those who were purely "out for the gold." And if, on the way, he might have to cut deals, he knew, at least within himself, he would find his way back!

And during all this, he found his humanity, his need for love returning--and he worked hard to find his way back there too!

F. W. vom Scheidt clearly has the expertise to write fiction centering around the sometimes totally unknown world of high finance. He writes indepth, specific accounts, but is able to do so in a practical, credible manner that allows each of us to both learn and experience the impact one or a few people can make when the stakes are extremely high!

Based upon my administrative background, I was able to empathize to some extent with the main character and thoroughly enjoyed every action, every event that was faced by Paris Smith. I applaud the author for taking an inside look into those within the financial arena who must fight through the greed and dishonesty that is often found. It is gratifying to read that, sometimes, the "little guy," although he occupies a high-level position, is working hard and steadily to stay true to basic values we all look for.

Bravo to F. W. vom Scheidt! Coming for Money is the perfect complement to all of the newspaper accounts of national and international finance--surely a must-read for many!

G. A. Bixler