Tag: Contemporary

Flash: Ride

Erin Penn

Rating: Mature

Parking her car, Natalie could not remember the last time she laughed so hard. Kryler was pure fun.

She eyed him as the motorcycle pulled in beside her. Had she really agreed to be taken for a spin before he went in to work?

She must be more tired than she thought. Jetlag, Up all night getting the presentation ready. Up all weekend with family for the wedding. Last minute preparation for the trip and the meeting the week before. When was the last time she had more than two hours sleep in a row?

Watching him pull off his helmet and store it, a zing shivered through Natalie. Funny, she didn’t feel tired at all.

“Why don’t you come up and wait while I change into slacks?” Natalie offered as she closed and locked her car door.

“I’ll follow wherever you lead, beautiful.”

Another carefree laugh escaped at his easy complement. She hadn’t felt this happy when her sister said “I do.” And she had been looking forward to that wedding forever. The guy was a total Peter Pan and she felt like Wendy being asked to learn how to fly.

As the elevator jerked to a start, Natalie swayed. Kryler steadied her with an arm around the waist.  The arm was still around her as the old machine lurched to a stop at the sixth floor. Her stomach twisted as he stroked the small of her back waiting for the doors to open.

She could feel her panties damping.

Natalie stepped off the elevator and away from the wayward hand. Quickstepping down the hall, she chastised herself. The hand was not wayward. He had done nothing wrong. In fact, her problem was the hand had not been wayward enough. She wanted it on her ass. Exploring her.

She wanted Kryler to misbehave, be rude or aggressive. So she could kick him to the curb and be done with it.

Fiddling with the key in the door. So, what do you want girl – his hand on your ass or kick him to the curb?

Why don’t I decide after I have him between my legs?

On the motorcycle … on the motorcycle.

Exhaustion. Had to be.

So why did every nerve feel wide awake?

“Make yourself at home.” Natalie waved Kryler in her barren living space while continuing to her bedroom. She kept meaning to get additional furniture. But between work and graduate school, and now all the extra hours trying to prove herself, she still only had a lonely sofa and small television.

With little else to look at, she knew his eyes focused on her ass and put a little extra sway into her hips. The tight skirt and high business pumps already set up a good pendulum motion; she didn’t add extra ginger to her sway so much as stopped minimizing the hip movement before disappearing behind closed doors.

Unbuttoning her blouse, she glanced at the clock. Nine-thirty. Already?

The boy needed to be at work in two hours. A motorcycle trip would chew up half that, at least.

Wiggling out of her skirt, she came to a decision. Maybe she would regret it later.

But, hey, you only live once.

She could always strip the boy from her life when he stopped being fun.

She wasn’t used to fun, so she didn’t think the appeal would last long.

Natalie opened the door. “Hey, would you mind coming here? I am not certain any of my slacks are heavy enough for the ride.”

“Sure thing.” His agreeable tenor responded.

Kryler stopped in the bedroom doorway.

Black bra, panties and high heels. Hair freed from its constant bun.

She stalked him.

His brown eyes stared into hers as she pulled off his T-shirt and tossed it onto her valet.

He leaned against the jam for support.

Natalie started unbuttoning his jeans after trailing a finger down his rather exceptional six-pack.

“Never mind,” she whispered. “I’ve decided on a different type of ride.”

(words 665 – originally appearing at Breathless Press 9/10/2013 for the 4/29/12 Sunday Fun (original picture of unknown copyright); republished in new blog format 2/11/2018)

Book Review: The Witches Walk (Haven Harbor #1)

Erin Penn

Book Cover from Amazon

The Witches Walk (Haven Harbor #1) by Jeanne Adams

BOOK BLURB ON AMAZON

Welcome to Haven Harbor, Massachusetts!

In 1691, a group of renegade witches fled Salem in the dark of night, escaping the desperate evil that spawned the Witch Trials. They struck out to form their own town, with their own rules. Three hundred years later, their descendants celebrate by retracing those steps, but this year, a new evil stalks the Witches Walk…

It’s Time for The Witches Walk!

She’s got a plan. Burned out, beaten down, and on the brink of a career implosion, event management dynamo Mari Beecham bypasses the contract of a lifetime to take a job in a community known for its strange, spooky happenings. She doesn’t buy into the story line about the witches founding the town, but it’s great publicity. Bottom line? If she can make the annual Witches Walk a top destination event, she’ll save her career and, maybe, find some balance. She’ll do it, too, if “First Son of Haven Harbor” Peregrine Hestworth will stop interfering. 

He’s in her way. As Town Council chair, Pere is serious about the safety and welfare of his people. He doesn’t want to like Mari. Even if he didn’t suspect his meddlesome mother of weaving a matchmaking spell, he still would have voted against hiring the petite whirlwind with a spine of steel. His visions of fire and death moving to Haven Harbor along with Mari are too deadly to ignore. 

As trouble brews and the event stalls, the attraction between Mari and Pere bubbles like a cauldron. When a woman is attacked, and another disappears, Pere knows his unreliable foresight has hit the mark this time. An old evil is rising, with a new vendetta, and if they can’t work together, the devastation Pere foresees will take his town, along with the woman he’s coming to love. 

 

MY REVIEW

A fun read and worth four and a half stars, just a breath shy of perfect for the genre, a paranormal romance thriller/murder-mystery mix. The book starts off slow, but builds to its lightning-packed conclusion, giving you time to get to know the town and people. 

This very appropriate first book for a promising series introduces several potential singles you get to like and look forward to seeing in future books finding their true loves. (I really want Jake and Dan to get HEAs, and Jeff and Lydia too when I think about it.) Two more books of the series are already out when I read this in August 2017 – but only as physical books and I soooo want to read them right now. Kindle has spoiled me. Oh, and the potential romances aren’t the only thing I want to follow forward – whether a certain witch finds herself an apprentice, seeing what the background big-bad has planned for its next attack, and, of course, exploring the really cool magick of the Haven Harbor Witches.

The first half of the book is about relationships being developed – welcoming a new person into town, power plays, family dynamics, and planning events. The second part is where the romance and the thriller action goes from the smoldering-tinder-gently-fed-hoping-a-spark-will-catch level to out-of-control bonfires. Ms. Adams somehow keeps both bonfires roaring without one consuming the other.

A good read and I think the next in the series, now the world has been established, will be even better.

Time to Read: About seven hours.

Flash: Presentation

Erin Penn

Image courtesy of FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Natalie paced. The cubicle wasn’t large enough to contain her energy and the tech desperately trying to return her computer to working order. The clock on the wall slowly counted the seconds as the boy with the cute butt crawled under her desk. Somehow, at the same time, the clock quickly ticked the minutes to her morning meeting.

She had completed her presentation. Stored it as required on Thursday. Now as Monday passed into Tuesday, she had no access. She had to have it .The presentation would ace her performance review. Her first one ever since getting her MBA. The one to move her from glorified data entry into the management fast track. She knew it. She could taste it.

“Maybe we should call one of the real computer guys in.”

“If you want to wait until morning, not a problem.” The tenor voice bounced off the underside of her desk. “They upgraded the system over the weekend, shoving in damn near 50 hours of rewiring and testing while everyone was off for the three-day holiday. Hell, they slept on the receptionist’s couch. Today they showed up at 6 am and stayed until 9 pm working out bugs. Unless you are the CEO, they ain’t answering the phone. And even that is questionable. Those dudes are comatose.”

“I know, I know.” She cursed her luck. Her sister had used the holiday to get married, so Natalie had flown across the country. Thunderstorms grounded her return plane on Sunday. Her rescheduling didn’t resolve until late on Monday. Hence arriving at the office close to midnight to discover her computer did not work. “Are you sure you can fix it?”

“I may not work on the helpdesk here, but I’ve done lots of computer trouble-shooting.” The guy scooted from under her desk. His longish brown hair could use a trim, and his blue jeans, now covered in dirt, screamed the casual attitude imbedded in the night-time call center operators.  “You’re just lucky someone knew to call me.”

“If you say so.”

“You of little faith.” The guy masterfully pushed the button to start her CPU before plopping in her chair. She would need to brush the dust and cobwebs off before sitting down. With the time rapidly closing on three am, she did not have time to go home for another business suit

The computer rebooted with its normal glacial speed. Not understanding what the screen messages meant, she stared at his face. It was very expressive, letting her know he thought everything was going well.

His face was also nice. Pleasant. Sharp cheekbones balanced a strong chin. His overlong bangs drooped over his brown eyes. His T-shirt declared he was a “100% Pure Jenius”. He had no idea how to dress for success, but his clothes had been in good repair until he went crawling through the grime on her behalf. His body was also a little past average attractiveness. Slim but muscular. The T-shirt hung loose enough she didn’t know if he had a six-pack or suffered the results of six packs. But his arms were sinewy, and the jeans left no doubt about his tight ass. Natalie always had a thing for good butts.

“And there we go.” The twenty-something male popped out her chair. “Applause and compliments accepted.”

“No, really?!?” She took the vacated seat, temporarily forgetting the dirt in her eagerness and relief. A few quick clicks sent twelve copies of her presentation to the printer. The shared printer’s hum echoed through the empty cubicle farm. “I can’t thank you enough.”

She turned in her chair to face the man braced in the opening of her not-quite wall. “Really, I owe you something. Have you had dinner, or lunch, or whatever meal break you guys have?”

He shook his head. “Nothing is open this late at night. We always pack, except Friday’s when we do a potluck thing.”

“Okay.” Natalie placed her hand gently on his arm. “Again, thank you. I really mean it.”

A considering look passed over the guys expressive face. “How about we meet somewhere after you get off work? You can tell me how the presentation went and buy me dinner.” His eyebrows wiggled. “You did say you owe me and I would love to know how this turns out.”

The guy was actually trying to score a date, a date where she paid. She laughed. “Dinner or breakfast?”

He shifted in the doorway to lean to one side. “My meals tend to be reversed. I grab breakfast on the way home and fall into bed. So how about it? Dinner? I can give you my phone number and you text me when and where to meet you. Or, if something else comes up, let me know I am on my own.”

“Why not? I do owe you something.” Natalie passed over a yellow Post-It pad and a pen.

(words 816 – first published 9/10/2013; republished new blog format 2/4/2018)

Writing Exercise: Real Life Inspiration

Erin Penn

Widely used piece of stock art from the internet (found 12 uses and no attribution)

“Where do you get your ideas?” FAQ #1 of writers. 

Everywhere. Reading books, the watching the news, walking down the street, head voices which won’t shut up, Facebook …

The challenge is turning a real-life event into a fictional piece. Real-life isn’t neat. There is no defined beginning, middle, and end, no inciting event, rising action, and resolution. At least not in a neat narrative package, bow-tied with theme and meaning.

WRITING EXERCISE: The writing challenge for today is to convert a real-life event, NOT YOURS, into a fictional story. Scroll through your Facebook or other social media feed. (Not on social media? Look at today’s news.) Choose a small event, not a life changing one like cancer or marriage, but more like “ate at my favorite restaurant and got the rude waiter” or “stuck in traffic waiting for the geese to cross the road”. Create a flash of at least 200 words.

***

At some point I need to write “The Help”. The basis for this eventual flash came from a sibling’s post. The weekend had been bad with everyone a bit sick, but only for one day. Dad got to return to work; mom, who is nursing, stayed home with the toddler and baby. Three days later the post comes 

“Nothing like an intermittently vomiting toddler to keep you on your toes.
It also keeps you trapped in the house. Plans cancelled, again.

I guess I’ve got plenty to time to research new washing machines, since ours just broke.”

After a flash of sympathy, I have to admit, I laughed a little at the wrench life threw into the works. Cleaning up vomit and no washing machine is a bad combo. I need to write something about that. Scrolling through the comments I discovered the poor toddler had vomited seven times that day. The broken washing machine left an inch of water in the laundry room. Sibling was having a very bad – but fiction-worthy – day.

I have a fictional couple, Joe and Cheryl, with a toddler and baby. These two are not based on my sibling and sib’s spouse – I started writing the Joe-Cheryl show (as I call it in my head) four years ago, long before my sibling had a toddler and a nursing baby. I often used them, Joe & Cheryl, to recreate real-life occurrences I have seen when working taxes at Walmart; “It’s Dirty” is exactly what a toddler said during checkout walking away from money on the floor, leaving a flabbergasted mother behind.

The challenge is the Joe-Cheryl show has certain rules in my head (1) loving couple and functional family unit, (2) must be humorous, and most importantly (3) deals a verbal play, some aspect of language or interpretation based on words: “Inside voice“, “Memory of a Lifetime“, and “Eat Half” are just some of the examples.

Making a sick kid, broken washer, and flooded laundry room smile-worthy would take a bit of doing but possible. My problem is none of those are verbal plays. Then I remember a meme about a guy explaining how he is not “helping his wife”. Perfect!

Smash all this together in my head: the meme, Joe-Cheryl and their rules, and my sibling’s very bad-but-we-will-laugh-about-it-when-it’s-over day. Oh, and this past weekend I was at a function with a teething babe-in-arms. The mother had to carry-jiggle the baby all day. Yeah, need to add that. Torture my characters like a good writer. (Even comic relief characters can be tortured.)

From four different things, “The Help” emerges.  (someday)

“Where do you get your ideas?” Everywhere.

Flash: And so they meet again

Erin Penn

Rating: Mature

Art peeked out the window of the clothing consignment shop where she worked as she flipped the open sign to close. Drat, the creep was still hanging outside. What had she done to earn her own personal stalker?

She had to admit he was absolutely yummy with his layered blond hair and kicking fog coat, like something out of an English fantasy. His cheekbones could cut bread. He also had the patience of a priest or demon.

She started noticing him in the audience during fencing competition her Freshman year. Art had asked around since he looked interesting, but he wasn’t from campus. Over the next two years, he would show up randomly in classes open to the public, at her favorite pizza joint, and sometimes at the action-adventure movies she loved. All he did was watch from a distance.

Then three weeks ago, the guy changed from someone she saw sometimes in a crowd to a constant presence. Enough was enough. The street was beginning to empty of holiday shoppers, but plenty were still around in case this went south. She closed and bolted the shop door, lowered the gate and locked it, shifted her carrying case, then turned to see he was still leaning against the building across the street.

After checking for traffic, she strode across the roadway taking advantage of the long legs her six foot two frame provided. Up close she discovered the man stood a disappointingly five eight; she had gotten good judging height and reach on the salle.

Crowding him against the wall, she asked “What do you want?”

The man raised black eyes to meet her piercing blue. They looked impossible knowledgeable in the young face. With a sad smile, he replied, “Your future.”

Taking a step back, the woman glanced around again to verify she was still safe in a crowd. “Well, you can’t have it, you perv.” Touching the sword case strapped to her back for courage, “And if I see you around again, I will call the cops.”

“A threat to use governmental structure. Excellent. Not unexpected from a political science major, but you are also a woman of action. I wasn’t certain which way you would go.” His shoulders pushed him away from the way and Art instinctively took another step back. Something about the man screamed power … and sex … she could feel her body getting loose as though she was about to fence or fall into bed with a teammate after a match. His English accent was to die for. “When you call the bobbies, please say my name is Emrys.”

“Do you got a last name so I can Google it and find out all the other women you stalked?”

He shrugged. Her mind instantly presented a picture of the wirely frame he had sported at the spring fair. He had worn cargo shorts and a muscle shirt. Not many muscles, but no excess fat either. A runner’s body. Unfortunately her mind provided the picture sans clothes. 

“First name, last name. I’ve had many names.” He started walking away backwards. “Gregory gave me the last name of Ambrosus; I guess that will do for now.” He turned around and she watched the wool coat getting damp as light flakes of snow melted on it. He stopped for a second. Turning his head around for a second, he said, “But then I guess I should say my first name is Merlinus.” He smiled a totally, ass-kicking, pussy-warming smile before continuing his retreat.

(Word 587 – originally appearing at Sunday Fun on Breathless Press 12/2/2012 (at least tried to, doesn’t seem to be taking); reprinted in new blog format 12/24/2017. The inspirational photo for the prompt was of unknown origin; since I could not verify the copyright, I am not posting it here.)