I’m delighted to announce that volume 1 of Summer Romance on Main Street, with my novella Beached as one of six stories of summertime love, will be released on 15 June. US 99c is terrific value for more than 150,000 words, so grab it now. Click on my novella title for buy links and my blurb, or read on for an excerpt.
“There.” Dave turned off the tap, and dropped a handful of dirty implements into the soapy water. “I’ll boil a kettle to give the silver beet a head start when the girls arrive. A river cruise could suit you, Zee. No waves.”
Zee used the dish mop he’d just picked up to flick some soap suds at Dave. He’d never live down the condition in which he’d landed in Valentine Bay, but the teasing from his workmates was good natured.
At the sink, he had a good view of the big turning zone outside the triple garage. He glanced up idly when the Masterton people mover drew up, then froze, his hands hovering above the hot water. Nicola Watson? What was Global Earth Watch’s gun attorney doing in Valentine Bay? He’d last seen her on television, leaving the courtroom in which she had just lost her case against O’Neal Hotel Corporation. A loss aimed at destroying GEW’s credibility and that had been orchestrated in a plot between Miss Watson’s colleague and fiancé and Zee’s brother, Patrick O’Neal.
Discovering the machinations had been the final straw that precipitated Zee’s flight from his career, his family, his trust fund, his name, and the United States.
“She’s a stunner, isn’t she?” Dave said, and Zee accepted the excuse for looking as if he’d been bashed across the side of the head. Though he’d known the lovely Miss Watson was a New Zealander, he’d not known she was here in her home country. He had certainly not known that her family owned a house in the fishing village where he’d come ashore.
“She sure is. A lawyer, I think you said?” He finished scrubbing the brush across the base of the pot and put it on the rack for Dave to dry. Would she know who he was? They’d never met, and he didn’t court the camera the way his father and half-brothers did. Nor did he look like the other O’Neals, red hair to their black, finer boned, with his mother’s grey eyes. Any family resemblance needed another O’Neal for comparison.
If she realized who he was, he would tell her he was not an O’Neal anymore, if he ever really had been. One of his last acts in repudiating the family had been to legally change his surname back to the one on his birth certificate; his mother’s name. And if Ms. Watson didn’t know who he was, he wouldn’t say anything that would sour the evening for Becky and Dave.
He’d made his decision just in time, as the two women came into the kitchen from the mud room—back porch, the New Zealanders would say.
Becky went straight into her husband’s arms for the kiss with which they always greeted one another, turning her head to make the introductions from that safe harbor.
“Niks, this is our lodger, Zee Henderson. He lives above the garage.”
Ms. Watson showed none of the hostility she owed an O’Neal, offering instead a friendly smile and a hand to shake. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Henderson.”
“Zee, please,” Zee begged. “If anyone calls me Mr. Henderson, I look around for my grand-dad.”
Nikki crossed the room to greet Dave with a hug and a kiss on the cheek, Becky having left her husband to check on the status of the dinner. “You’re an American,” she observed to Zee.
“Guilty, as charged.”
“Niks works in New York,” Becky observed. She touched the kettle, decided it was hot enough, and poured some water into the waiting pot. “Or, at least, she used to. Have you ever been there, Zee?”
“I sailed from New York.” Zee grimaced. “Turned out to be a bad idea.”
Nikki looked from Zee to Becky. “Why? What happened?”
“He gets sea sick,” Dave explained. “By the time the boat berthed in Valentine Bay, he’d been sea sick for six months. He staggered off onto the wharf, took hold of a bollard, and swore he was never leaving land again.”
Becky took up the story. “So Dave brought him home, and the New Zealand Immigration Service gave him a new name, and a year later here he is.”
Nikki raised one elegant brow. Close up and in person, she was even more gorgeous than on television, her face devoid of makeup and not needing it, her long hair caught back casually with a couple of hair slides and a clip. “Gave you a new name?”
“My name is Zachary Henderson, ma’am. Only the immigration officer thought I said Thackeray. When I told him ‘zee’ for ‘Zulu ’, Dave thought it was hilarious.” New Zealanders called the last letter of the alphabet ‘Zed’. “Around here, they’ve been calling me ‘Zee’ ever since.”
“Except when we call him Drift,” Dave corrected.
Nikki’s eyes sparkled. “Short for driftwood?”
“Right,” Zee agreed, as he let the water go and wiped out the sink. There. Becky liked to start a meal with a clean kitchen, and Dave liked her to be happy. “I’m beached, and that’s the way I plan to stay.”
“There are worse places than Valentine Bay to be beached.” Nikki had taken the drying cloth from Dave’s hand, had dried the last of the pans, and was putting them away, clearly familiar with Becky’s kitchen.
“There are few better,” Zee said. And the place was improved by having her in it. New Zealand had a worldwide reputation for scenic wonders, and she was certainly that!
Carol de Vaney hit a snag posting, so I’m doing it for her.
Hi, My story is Forget Me Not. Setting is Savannah, Georgia. I hope you enjoy!
Short blurb: When guilt, grief, and love collide, Sarah Hall walks away from the only man she ever loved—five years later, after a chance meeting brings them together again, blame and a regretful judgement fall away.
Ted West’s short-lived marriage, left him with a four-year-old daughter to raise alone. The latest misunderstanding cannot mend the hurt and harsh words between Ted and Sarah, unless forgiveness steps in.
Excerpt from Chapter Two:
Ted was the one she wanted to see today. He was also the one she shouldn’t want to see today, or ever again, for that matter.
Disappointment at letting him get to her, played heavy on her emotions. He’d only been back in town two days, as far as she knew. In her mind, the years he’d been gone, simply slipped away.
The care he’d taken yesterday at choosing an ornate toy chest, a lamp to match and the special teddy bear, revealed the child meant a great deal to him. At first she’d assumed the gifts were for a friend’s child. Now she wasn’t so sure. Perhaps it was his daughter. Did he have a daughter? Perhaps not. Perhaps she’d been too quick to pass judgment. Then, she told herself, the man was none of her business, that even if he didn’t wear a wedding band, he was probably already taken. The good ones always were…and she had no doubt that Ted would be one of the good ones. He always had been.
Besides, she’d been the one to dissolve their relationship years ago. Now wasn’t the time to linger on the past and its regrets, and she’d certainly had plenty of time to relive the regrets she’d imposed on herself.
“He’ll be in. Stop pacing,” Lisa said, and grinned.
Sarah had finished wrapping the gifts except the Teddy Bear. She grabbed a huge box from under the counter to measure and wrap the bear in, then delivered a sideways glance toward Lisa. “Who?”
“Sarah, really. Who knows you better than yourself?” Lisa dangled the shears above the flower arrangement she was working on for the afternoon’s baby shower. “You’re only kidding yourself. Ted West—of course. Admit it. You haven’t been yourself all morning. I’ve watched your expression change from expectation to disappointment, every time the doorbell chimed and he didn’t walk into the shop.”
Lisa was right. She had made an effort to be there every minute hoping he would stop in early to pick up his wrapped gifts. “You know he’s probably married with umpteen kids anyway,” she offered.
“Maybe. He doesn’t appear the married sort though, especially…and yes I noticed, since he wears no wedding band.” Lisa stretched and rubbed her lower back. “I’m headed to the bank then I’ll grab a salad. Why don’t you finish up here and meet me?”
“Umm. No thanks. You know we can’t close for lunch. Think I’ll skip lunch today, or maybe I’ll grab a health bar and a soda.”
“Not as healthy as you may think. But then, love does strange things to the mind and body.” Lisa laughed, then grabbed her coat. “No appetite, huh?”
“Love? Get a grip, Lisa.” Sarah cocked an eyebrow at her nosey sister while her face flushed. “You understand what a pushover I am for big dark chocolate eyes—that’s all. Go on. Get out of here,” she said, then rolled her eyes. “Okay. For health’s sake, and if you don’t mind, bring me back a salad. Dressing on the side.”
Love for Ted, as Lisa put it, was no longer part of her existence, but if she were honest with herself, she’d admit that wasn’t true. Maybe they never had been truly in love, or maybe it was never meant to be. She knew better though.
Yet she’d thought of nothing but Ted since yesterday. The old inclination to throw her arms around Ted and never let him go again, rose inside her. But…no…it wasn’t love, not by any stretch of the imagination. Ted and Sarah’s connection was over. Besides, who knew if he was still available?
She couldn’t stand the fact that she was being so wishy-washy, but there they were…feelings she obviously wasn’t able to break away from.
Too much time had passed. Once, in another lifetime, being with Ted had filled her with so much love she thought her heart would explode. But that was before the accident…the accident, and the guilt that left her feeling she was no longer allowed happiness. That was when her world had fallen apart. That was when she’d pushed Ted away.
Out of her life…for good, or so she’d thought.
This sounds great.
HI Jude,
Thank you for the opportunity to post. Here is an excerpt setting up the plot for “IN PLAIN SIGHT”, my contribution to the summer boxed set.
…
Acquiring was hard. Selling, or rather underselling, by contrast, was proving ridiculously easy.
Jack had spent years alternating between shops in Chicago and Door County selling his “replica” line of jewelry without so much as a whisper or a raised eyebrow. No one questioned who he was or the authenticity—strictly speaking, a lack-thereof—of his product.
No one questioned.
Until Summer O’Hara came back to town.
Summer O’Hara had seen something she wasn’t supposed to see. She waltzed right into his Ephraim store one morning while he and his assistant were still doing setup. It was the first big tourist weekend, Memorial Day weekend, and he was still unloading from his Chicago shop.
He had one of the Harry Winston rings out, a small one by Chicago standards, but big enough to capture the notice of the Ephraim prodigal flower child who fashioned herself a jewelry expert. He’d meant the ring to stay packed until his client came to pick it up, but his assistant placed it in with the vintage rings for sale.
Looking forward to reading all of the stories,
Leigh Morgan
Intriguing!
Hi Jude, So excited about the book coming out!
Thanks for asking us to post here!
Sorry, I missed it earlier!
Here’s an excerpt from <3Once Upon A Vet School #6: Fifty Miles at a Breath<3, coming out in the same boxed set!
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Excerpt:
We were about to pack up and head for the third vet check when Jared, one of the other P & R team members, tapped me on the shoulder.
“Lena,” he said, as I looked up, “number 79 is due to come back to be checked and hasn’t shown. Should I send someone to look for them?”
“Yes, thanks.” I turned back to the horse I’d just clamped a stethoscope on. “60/18”, I reported. Kim noted it down as I thanked the rider while checking the skin turgor and refill, then wished her well with a wave.
“I found number 79,” Jared said, beside my ear. “I think you need to check him. He doesn’t look so good and his rider says his pulse isn’t coming down.”
“Okay, Jared. Can you take over here please?” I waved goodbye to him and Kim, throwing back over my shoulder, “there aren’t any vets at this check anymore, are there?”
Jared shook his head with a grimace. “Doc Latimer had to go on, but he said to find you if there were any horses needing to be checked.”
“I’ll go see the horse. Call if you need me.” I pulled out my radio. “Vet Three to Vet One, come in Vet One.”
“Vet One,” Dr. Latimer’s voice crackled over the speaker. “What’ve you got?”
I told him.
“Okay, let me know. I’m ten minutes away, out.”
“Out.”
The bay Morgan gelding drooped, his head hanging low, and he didn’t even glance up as I approached. His eyes were dull and incurious, as if he didn’t care what was happening around him.
I introduced myself to the middle-aged female rider. “How has he been going?”
“He was fine until an hour ago, then he seemed tired all of a sudden.”
“Are you his rider?”
“Yes.” Shortly.
“Has he done this before? In your training rides?”
“Ummm… haven’t had much time to trail him lately,” she said, her eyes everywhere but my face.
I gulped and tried to unclench my jaws. Unfit and still racing, on a 104-degree day? I forced myself to stay calm.
“Is he drinking? Eating?” I looked around the area to see an untouched hay net and no water bucket in sight.
She stared at me. “What is this, 20 Questions?
‘’I’m trying to ascertain the condition of your horse,” I placed the stethoscope on the horse’s chest and shut my eyes, “and anything you can tell me would help.”
“You’re a vet?”
“Vet student.”
“Get away from my horse,” she squeaked.
I blinked and stepped back. “Dr. Latimer asked me to evaluate your horse and let him know what I find. He’s at the next vet check, ten minutes away.”
She eyed me sideways. “Okay, check him. He didn’t want any water at the last stop, so my crew didn’t get him any this time.”
I tried not to shriek as I moved back to the horse’s girth. His heart rate was way too high, 72 beats per minute. Fast and thready.
“He can’t be dehydrated,” she snapped. “He stopped sweating miles back.”
My heart stopped in its tracks. It didn’t get much worse. I tented the skin over the horse’s shoulder and the skin took several seconds to slide back. I swallowed hard. Moving my stethoscope to his flank, I listened in vain for gut sounds, but the regular, progressive gurgling sounds of borborygmus were absent and his capillary refill time was three seconds. I’d seen better CRTs in a nearly-dead horse. This one was in trouble. I slid the thermometer into his backside and waited, while I stroked his dull coat with my other hand. When I pulled it out, I blinked. 39 degrees. Off scale.
“He’s not looking so good,” I said to the woman. “I’m going to radio Dr. Latimer. Can you see if he’ll drink some electrolyte water, please? How much electrolyte water has he had today?
No answer.
“Yesterday?” I was close to pleading, now. “Salt block?”
“I don’t use any of those things. Look, what’s the matter with the lazy sod?”
“I’ll let the vet speak with you about this, if you don’t mind,” I said, trying not to growl at her. Ignorance was no excuse in this game, and I didn’t trust myself to not deck her for abusing and neglecting this horse.
“Vet Three to Vet One, come in,” I barked as I walked away. I had to get far, far away from the rider.
“Vet One here. How’s the horse?”
“Any worse, and he’d be dead,” I muttered as soon as I was out of hearing range of the rider. “Heart rate 72, depressed, dehydrated, no gut sounds, not eating or drinking at last check, so didn’t offer it at this one. I’ve sent a girl for water, but his eyes are glazed and he’s past caring. His temp’s 39 degrees.” We need you back here, Doc. You have fluids?”
“Yes. On my way,” he said. A truck door slammed and an engine revved as he signed off.
“Dr. Latimer’s on his way,” I said to the woman and spun to borrow a bucket and sponge. This horse needed a cool-down.
And so did I.
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I hope you enjoyed the excerpt! Read more in OAVS #6: Fifty Miles at a Glance, coming soon!
xx
Lizzi Tremayne
lizzi@lizzitremayne.com
I love this story.