My little helper...

No, it's not the same helpers employed by Hemingway and Poe - I have enough trouble staying on task. Meet Herne. This is pretty much how I spend every day - Super Kitty sprawled across my laptop. It's a wonder I get anything written!

What is it with me and cops?

Some of you may remember my run-in with the cop after I parked the wrong way in front of my house a few weeks ago because of the whole too-many-cups-of-coffee-issue.

Well, the weirdness continues...

Yesterday, I pulled up in front of my house after dropping the kids to school and I heard a plastic-y crunching noise. So I got out and looked and there was a pile of credit cards. I figured maybe one of my neighbors dropped them, but when I picked them up, I realized that they belong to several different people.

So, I brought them inside and called the non-emergency police number to find out what to do with them. The guy I spoke to said they'd send someone out to fetch them. When the knock on my door sounded, I grabbed the cards and peeked to make sure it was the police and stopped dead. It was the same dude from the "I had to pee real bad" incident. Now this may seem reasonable, but we have a police force of almost 250 officers, which means there are 80-90 cops per 12 hour shift. Even with our city divided up into quadrants, that's still 20-25 cops for my area of town.

I went out onto the porch and we had the following conversation.

Cop: (with his hand on the handle of his taser) "I hear you found some credit cards."

Me: "Yes I did. Here...these are for you." (I handed him the plastic sandwich bag where I'd stored the credit cards so I wouldn't lose them. You might think it wouldn't be possible to lose a pile of eleven cards in an hour, but I'm amazing and can misplace anything in three seconds flat.)

Cop: "So, you found them in your backyard?"

Me: (befuddled by the fact that it's the same cop) "Yes. Wait...no. Not in the backyard."

Cop: "In the front yard"

Me: Yes. Wait...no."

Cop: (Eying me a little strangely.) "Well, where did you find them?"

Me: "By your car."

Cop: (Suspicious weird look aimed my way - at this point, I was worried that he was starting to think I'd stolen them myself)

Me: "I mean, I found them in the street, where the front end of your car is. Sorry...they're a little gritty - I kinda ran over them. Accidentally."

Cop: (Flipping through the cards) "Well, I'll take these back to the station. Thanks for calling this in."

Me: "No problem. Um...by the way, thanks for not giving me a ticket a few weeks ago for parking the wrong way."

Cop: (Clearly trying not to laugh) "Yeah...I thought that was you."

I worry that there's file that has my name on it and it's getting bigger by the month. If there is such a file, I'm guessing it says things like "crazy" or "odd behavior." Oh well, at least it wasn't the same cop who came to visit me when Betty the Biddy called about my children dancing naked in the rain.

Small mercies, right?

So does this stuff ever happen to you? I'm hoping it's not just me, so if you've got weird cop stories, let me know that I'm not alone - lol!

More Winners!

I'm beginning to feel like a carnie, but I have a couple more book winners to announce. This time I let Corwin, my youngest son pick the names from the bowl and he chose Charlotte and lastnerve (aka Val) for free copies of Body of Art!

So if you two lovlies will email me at bronwyn@bronwyngreen.com and let me know what format you'd like, I'll send them right off to you!

Thank you to everyone who entered!

It's Finally Here!!!

It's finally here! I'm so excited!

Don't forget - leave a comment on my blog between now and Thursday at 6pm EST and you'll be entered for a chance to win a free copy of Body of Art!

It's Almost Here!

Fran Lee

Winners!!!

First off, thank you to everyone who entered the contest. Because there was such an awesome turnout, I'm giving away two e-books and two print anthologies!

After having the eldest child draw names from the proverbial hat, the winners are...

(please insert mental drum roll here)

E-books go to:

Rhonda and Babyblue22

Print copies go to:

Susilien and Kimberley

Please contact me at bronwyn@bronwyngreen.com. E-book winners can let me know what format you'd like and print winners can send me your addresses so I can ship these babies out!

Thank you to all who participated. There will be another chance to win next week when my new book, Body of Art is released!

And Welsh Mam, I hope to get to eventually get to Wales and I would love a cup of tea and some Welsh cakes! :)

From the Ruins - Available Today!

The first story I ever wrote for TEB as part of an anthology is available today as a single title!

This story is really close to my heart because it's based on how my grandparents met during WWII, so I'm thrilled to see it coming out on it's own.

Everyone who leaves a comment between now and Thursday at 6 pm EST will be entered in a contest to win a copy - so comment away. :)

Blurb:

Cardiff Wales, 1943 - Moira Boulton never expected her instant attraction to the American she meets thousands of miles from his home. Not in her home town. Not in the midst of a war. But there's no denying the desire burning between her and the foreign soldier, David Webber.

They barely have time to explore the explosive force between them when an air raid drives them to take shelter. Alone in a dark cellar, with bombs dropping overhead, they take comfort in each other and their undeniable passion.

When David disappears without a word, Moira is left to wonder, if a passion that burned so bright was nothing more than a pleasant diversion or if they actually can salvage a relationship from the ruins.

And here's an excerpt:

“Where are you going? I just got here.”

Moira Boulton and her friend, Bethan, stopped on the stairs of the USO dance hall and stared at the handsome stranger with the American accent and the glacier-blue eyes. Her breath stalled in her chest as she met his gaze. She would have thought that eyes the colour of a winter sky would be cold and remote, but not his. Fiery and intense, his gaze raked over her body, sending tingles coiling through her middle.

Despite his overly forward behaviour, her lips twitched in amusement. “I’m sorry, sir, but do we know each other?”

Flashing her a devastating smile, he bowed slightly, his burnished brown hair drooping over his forehead. “I’m Private David Webber of the United States Army, and if I’m not mistaken, you’re the mother of my future children.”

His companions whom she’d barely noticed chuckled good naturedly as a startled laugh escaped her. “The mother of your children, you say?”

“Well, future children,” he said with a wink.

“How often does that line actually work?”

“I don’t know. You’re the only one I’m ever going to say it to.”

He obviously wasn’t serious, but he was charming. Shaking her head in bemusement, she offered him her hand. “I’m Moira Boulton and this is my friend, Bethan Jones.”

He nodded politely to her friend as his large, warm hand closed around Moira’s. “Will you give me the honour of the next dance?” he asked. “After all, we have a wedding to plan.”

For a moment, she imagined the sensation of laying her head against his broad chest and feeling his strong arms around her. It was tempting to return to the loud, crowded hall, but she needed to get home. “The last bus is leaving shortly, and we need to be on it.”

His disappointment appeared genuine, but how could it be? After all, they’d just met. “I’m sure there are plenty of other girls inside who would love to dance with you,” she said as she pulled her hand free, ignoring the sour feeling in her stomach as she imagined Mary Katherine Landis in his arms.

He frowned waving away the suggestion and cocked his head towards the open door of the dance hall. “Give me your hand.”

There was something about this man that encouraged her trust. Even if Bethan hadn’t been there, she’d still feel safe with him, but somehow that same sense of trust left her feeling somewhat unnerved. They were in the middle of a war, for God’s sake, not to mention the fact they didn’t know one another. But as she studied his open expression, she realised she wanted to know him. Taking a leap of faith, she placed her hand in his again and allowed him to lead her to the walk-way at the bottom of the stairs.

A lively tune drifted from the building along with the scent of cigarette smoke, and David gently pulled her into his arms. “At least give me the pleasure of a dance until your bus arrives.”

She glanced around the street. “Here?”

He gestured to the darkening sky. “The moon is almost full, and the stars seem nearly close enough to touch. But you’re still the most beautiful sight here.”

Following his lead, she swayed to the faint strains of music. “You’re a right charmer, Mr. Webber.”

“David,” he corrected smoothly. “And I only speak the truth.”

Someone Special

Since it's Mother's Day, I thought I'd introduce you to the most amazing person I know - my mom. The oldest of seven, mother of five, registered nurse, doctor of psychology and the best mom in the world. Of course, I'm biased, but I consider myself the luckiest kid around. I hope all you moms out there have a fantastic Mother's Day.

Did you ever wonder

why writers write in the first place?

Please visit the Writer's Evolution blog and check out what our talented (and possibly crazy) authors have to say about this topic. I'm up today. :)

As promised, an excerpt...

...from my soon to be released story, Body of Art from Resplendence Publishing.



“Actually, I don’t think you were avoiding the conversation as much as you were avoiding what I was about to do.”

Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips and she kicked the wheel faster. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Seth.”

“I like the way you say my name,” he murmured as he stepped closer to her.

Her eyes widened in alarm, but she didn’t say anything.

Sliding his hands into her hair, he angled her face upward. “And I think you know exactly what I’m talking about.”

She shook her head, frantic little movements between his hands. Leaning closer, his lips skimmed her cheek as they coasted toward her ear. A shiver worked through her body and her foot slipped from the pedal.

“You knew I was about to kiss you earlier…and you wanted me to.”

A squeak that might have been the word ‘no’ escaped her lips. Her breathing quickened and she held herself so tightly she trembled. “I think you’re mistaken,” she choked out.

“If I’m mistaken about that, am I also mistaken about the way your nipples tightened when you were posing for me?”

“It was cold in there.”

“I didn’t know being chilly was a turn on,” he whispered against her ear.

“What are you on about now?” she demanded, her voice breathy, nervous.

“I’m sure no one else noticed, but I could smell your arousal. That leads me to believe you either have an exhibitionist streak, or…you want me as badly as I want you.”

She gasped, the sound sharp against his ear. The clay she’d been spinning slid off the wheel to thump loudly against the side of the tub that housed the wheel.

Still holding her head between his palms, he pulled back and glanced down at her. “Judging from the way your nipples are knotting against your shirt right now, I think it’s the latter.”

“No,” she mouthed, shaking her head, but no sound came out.

Holding her gaze, he lowered his head until his lips hovered just above hers.

“Seth, I don’t think—”

“Good. Don’t think.” He captured the velvet sweetness of her mouth as she stiffened in his embrace. Gently, he nipped and suckled until she opened beneath the pressure of his lips and he deepened the kiss, tasting her fully. Mixed with the tanginess of the pizza and the sweetness of the Coke, he tasted something uniquely Callie—delicious and addicting.

As if she was moving in slow motion, she began to respond, her lips sliding against his, parting further to accommodate the gentle probing of his tongue. The last thing he wanted with her was gentleness, but he also didn’t want to scare her away. As it was, she still held herself rigidly in his embrace. She was strung so taut, it seemed like she might shatter at any moment.

Keeping one hand anchored in the silk of her hair, and sliding the other down her back to rest at her waist, he urged her closer. It wasn’t close enough. He pulled her flush against his body, flush against his aching cock. Her body jerked against his in response and she released a shuddering sigh into his mouth, suddenly melting against him. Her hands grasped his forearms, splotching his skin with cold, wet clay as she dug her fingers into his flesh.

“Doctor Sulli—Um…yeah…I’ll just come back later.”

The words registered in the back of Seth’s brain, as Callie flew from his arms, stumbling backward into the base of the standing wheel.

He glanced toward the door, but whoever had been there was long gone. So was Callie. She’d already darted across the room and busied herself scrubbing the clay from her hands. Returning to his side with a wet washcloth, she studiously avoided his gaze she handed it to him.

“Sorry about getting you dirty,” she muttered before attempting to retreat to the far side of the room again.”

He grabbed her arm, forcing her to stay. “S’okay. I don’t mind.”

She did meet his eyes then.

He shrugged. “I’m not proud, Callie. I’ll take your touch any way I can get it.” He’d meant to comfort her, but as he spoke, he realized the words were true. He had it bad for this woman, and every moment spent in her company made it worse. She pushed her glasses up on her nose, watching silently as he wiped the clay residue from his skin.

“Students will be here any minute. Why don’t I show you where to change?” Her withdrawal was tangible. She might as well have slammed a door in his face…and dragged heavy furniture in front of it to barricade his way.

“Don’t you think we should maybe talk?” he asked.

“Nope.” Skirting five large kilns and two smaller ones, she unlocked a heavy wood door and propped it open with a cinder block doorstop. “We don’t have a proper dressing room in here, but the storage room locks and there are several robes hanging on a hook on the back of the door.”

She didn’t want to talk? That was fine, but before the night was over she was damn well going to feel. Placing the wet rag in her hand as he crossed the room to enter the storage room, he looked her in the eye. “Start thinking about how you want me.”