7.Sneezy: David was Avita’s latest find for me. They went to the same gym. He had an amazing body, and for good reason. I would come to discover he spent his entire life focused on maintenance. David took every supplement available; there was a fine dusting of protein powder on everything he owned. It was like being around Mount St. Helens after it went off. He was the biggest hypochondriac I’d ever met. If he had as much as a sniffle he treated it as if his body had betrayed him. He stressed over food labels as if they contained military secrets. I couldn’t stand him wincing every time I put something in my mouth.
“David wasn’t focused on his health, he was obsessed. Do you remember the time we double dated with you guys and he wouldn’t let anyone have popcorn at the movie? He smuggled in his own organic granola for us. Tell me you haven’t forgotten. It was made with some kind of algae that was supposedly full of antioxidants.”
Avita snorted. “That stuff was pretty bad.”
We reached the radio station where we worked. Avita worked as producer. My job in sales was far less exciting. However, I had no intent in staying in it forever. If I couldn’t have love it seemed only fair I should have an amazing career.
“You excited for Darsh’s work event tonight?” I asked. Avita’s husband had just been promoted and she’d been counting down the days to a big swanky party.
“I was. Station management emailed first thing this morning. They want a break down on call numbers for the show. It means I’ll get there late.”
“Can’t the numbers wait a day?”
“Apparently not.” She tried to shrug off the disappointment. “Meet up for lunch?”
“Sure.”
“And just think about the dinner with Darsh’s co-worker. You never know,” she called over her shoulder.
You can find Do or Di on Amazon.
Mary Campisi
I Found Love at the Grocery Store
I never thought I would meet my future husband in a grocery store. As a matter of fact, after a painful divorce, I never thought I’d remarry. But strange things happen when you least expect them and that’s definitely our story.
It was the end of summer, almost fall. Cool enough for a sweatshirt, but warm enough still to enjoy shorts. My three daughters, ages 3, 6 and 7, were with their father, so I had a day to myself. What to do? Go to the grocery store, of course. What would life be like if not for Saturday morning shopping amidst the aisles of specials and free samples? Like most seasoned, working mothers, I had the routine down.
But there was nothing ordinary about that Saturday. Something happened that changed the course of my life—I met my future husband. It wasn’t actually in the grocery store, I never made it past the parking lot. Jim was coming out, carrying a grocery bag when I saw him. We were acquaintances by name recognition only. I had never met him and didn’t know much about him other than the fact that we were indirect neighbors and like myself, he had recently gone through a painful divorce. I wanted to say hello and let him know that I too was a divorce statistic. More importantly, I wanted him to know I had not only survived, but was healthy, happy and thriving, and hoped he was too.
I walked up to him, extended my hand, and introduced myself. I’m sure I took him by surprise, but he smiled and was quite gracious throughout our short conversation. I walked away, glad I had made the effort. A few days later, Jim called and we talked on the phone….about the challenges of being a single parent, the juggle to mesh work and family, concerns for the children caught in the backlash of divorce. The conversations were mutually supportive and I found myself looking forward to the many that followed. We soon became friends and began doing things together—casual dinner, movie or walk on the beach. Because neither of us was interested in a romantic relationship, we slowly, unknowingly, let our guards down and discovered each other.
We shared hopes, dreams, visions. One day, I woke up and realized that the thought of a relationship no longer scared me as it had months before. I once thought I would never trust a man again, and yet I trusted Jim. Very much. This gentle, caring man with the warm brown eyes had worked his way into my heart. Soon after, our relationship blossomed and we allowed ourselves to open up to love again. And we remained the best of friends, nurturing and supporting each other, as true friends do.
It is easy to recall the night I realized I wanted to spend my life with this man whose quiet strength and integrity showed in all of his actions. It was winter, cold and blustery. Snow fell throughout the day and into the early evening. I had just put the kids to bed and knew if I didn’t shovel some sort of path out of my driveway, I wouldn’t be able to get to work in the morning. There really was no choice, so I pulled on my boots, buttoned my coat and grabbed a hat, mittens and scarf. I opened the door, preparing myself for the mountains of snow I would need to tackle. I did indeed see piles and piles of snow, but they were stacked beside the sidewalk and driveway, not on them. There was a clean path to my door! Who had done this wonderful deed?!
Just then, the phone rang and I hurried inside. It was Jim, asking if I’d looked out the window yet. I smiled and then I laughed. I should have known it could only be him. He told me he had hired a snow removal service to take care of my snow. All season! I was ecstatic. And then I wanted to cry at the selflessness of the act. Jim gave me more than one present that night. He gave me hope for a beautiful future together and enough love to see it through.
We have been married almost seventeen years, have raised five children, (my three, his two), and life is good. Very good. I thank God every day for Jim’s love and commitment. I also thank Him for grocery stores.
About Pulling Home
Shell risk anything to save her child…even the truth
It’s taken nine years and a cross-country move, but Audra Valentine Wheyton has kept her secrets safe. She’s created the perfect life—a husband who loves her, a daughter she adores, and a position as head writer for an award-winning daytime soap. When her husband dies suddenly, Audra returns to her hometown for the funeral and faces a community that has not forgotten her meager beginnings and a man who has never forgiven her for marrying his brother.
Jack Wheyton is a successful pediatric neurosurgeon who is about to become engaged when Audra walks back into his life with her daughter. He forgave his brother long ago for taking something that had been his, something he hadn’t even realized he wanted until it was gone. But forgiving Audra is another story…and forgetting her? Near impossible.
When a shattering illness strikes Audra’s daughter, she turns to Jack to save her child and risks exposing a secret that will change their lives forever.
Excerpt from Pulling Home
Jack hugged his aunt, relieved for the few extra seconds before he had to confront his brother’s wife. When the Heaven Scent threatened to send him into a sneeze attack, he eased from his aunt’s grasp and pecked her cheek. “I know, Aunt Ginny, I know.” Then he straightened and faced her.
She wasn’t nineteen anymore, that was damn sure. Her breasts filled the pink sweater and he could guess at the tell-tale signs of ample cleavage rimming her bra, despite the absence of a neckline. His eyes were trained in female body parts which had nothing to do with his medical expertise. Jack knew women’s bodies, knew how to please them, knew how to drive them wild.
He’d known how to do both to her. Seven weeks of pure lust. He’d never told a soul about it. Had she? He glanced down which proved another fatal mistake as he caught a glimpse of thigh. Were her legs still strong and toned—like they were when she used to wrap them around his back?
“Jack,” Aunt Virgina interrupted his less than brotherly thoughts, “this is Audra Valentine.” She paused. “Christian’s wife.”
There it was, thrown right back in her face. Audra Valentine, the girl from the wrong side of town. In his family’s eyes, she would always be a Valentine first, a Wheyton, second. Jack lifted his gaze and met hers. Huge mistake. Horrible. Disastrous. She still had the most entrancing eyes, like whiskey
burning his throat all the way to the lining of his gut. Right now those eyes were staring at him and through him. “Audra.” Somehow he managed to slide her name through his lips without heaving. “I’m very sorry.” Sorry I had to see you again. Sorry I ever touched you in the first place. Sorry I compare every woman I’m with to you.
“Thank you.”
The huskiness of her voice sent a thousand jolts of electricity through him. Damn her. Damn him. This was his brother’s wife, for Chrissake. But she’d been Jack’s lover first. Or had she been sleeping with both of them at the same time? That was one torture that never left him. He’d find out before she flew back to California, even if he had to pull every beautiful strand of mahogany hair from her head to do it.
She brushed her gaze past him with a coolness that surprised him. The old Audra Valentine wouldn’t have been able to dismiss him so easily. But this one pushed him aside as though he were day-old coffee. Christ, it was going to be a long few days.
“Audra.” Leslie sliced through his thoughts. “Leslie Richot. We never officially met but I’ve heard quite a bit about you.”
Jack cleared his throat. And none of it good. You’re the one who stole the man she was going to marry. He knew that’s what Leslie was thinking, knew that’s what the whole room was thinking.
Audra’s lips pulled at the ends. “I’m sure you have.”
“Leslie’s Jack’s fiancé.” Aunt Virginia clutched Jack’s hand and squeezed.
“Aunt Ginny, that’s not exactly correct.” He snatched a glance at Leslie who watched him with open curiosity.
“Why not? You’ve been seeing this girl for two years, haven’t you? And you’re thirty-five, my boy. Time for wedding bells and babies. No more dilly dallying.” She plumped out her thin lips and nodded. “It’s your duty.”
Heat crept up Jack’s neck, smothered his cheeks and chin. He was thirty-five years old but right now he felt sixteen. “This really isn’t a good time, Aunt Ginny.”
“No,” she agreed, yanking out a crumpled tissue and swiping her nose. “It’s not.” She hiccoughed and the tears escaped, streaking her rouged cheeks.
“Oh, Virginia,” Leslie patted her arm. “I know.” She lowered her voice to a sympathy pitch. “I know.”
Audra glanced at him one last time before he moved toward the casket. He didn’t want to look at his brother. He’d just faced Christian’s wife and he’d certainly not wanted to do that. But this? He swallowed and cleared his throat. This was his little brother, shrouded in cream silk and roses, his lips an unnatural pink, his skin drenched in pancake makeup. It wasn’t right, and it wasn’t fair and it didn’t matter that Jack was a doctor and knew life and death had nothing to do with right and fair.
Two days ago he’d stood beside his mother as she stroked Christian’s cold cheek and told him about the cherry pie she’d baked for him and how she’d bought his favorite horseradish cheese at the deli. Jack’s father grew pastier with each recount and by the time his wife started on about the stuffed pork chops she’d planned for Christian’s welcome home dinner, the old man let out a groan and half limped, half ran from the room.
Jack stood before the casket now but refused to look at his brother’s face. His gaze fell to the hands, clasped together, graceful fingers laced over one another, the gold wedding band glinting love and commitment. Jack squeezed his eyes shut. I’m sorry, Christian. Sorry I ever touched her. Forgive me. God, forgive me.
For information on Mary’s books go to her website: www.marycampisi.com.
Julie Lence
Traitorous Dealings
My husband, Stan, and I are high school sweethearts. We met in 12th grade. I knew his friend, Brad, and he knew my friend, Dawn. It was through Dawn that Stan and I met for the first time, on the way to a school Pep Rally. It definitely was not love at first sight. In fact, we didn’t like each other. But Dawn liked Stan, so I saw him frequently. Brad would sometimes accompany Stan, and little by little, I got to know Stan better. Weeks after initially meeting Stan, I realized I did like him, and Brad was crazy for Dawn. So, Brad and I worked together to split up Stan and Dawn, and then Brad began dating Dawn and I began dating Stan. A little unorthodox, even traitorous, but those were the days of high school.
Brad and Dawn’s relationship didn’t last. They broke up a few weeks later, but Stan and I didn’t. He introduced me to his family, I introduced him to mine and soon we were inseparable. We spent lunch time together—his mom made some great sandwiches—went shopping and had dinner at each other’s homes. He went into the Air Force January of 1983 and the following January we married. Folks said it wouldn’t last, but this past January we celebrated our 28th wedding anniversary.
We’ve had some great times through the years, and some hard times. One of the things that has kept us strong is the fact we come from the same town, the same background. We’ll agonize over purchasing a piece of furniture for a month, yet we’ll buy a house in a day. We’ll argue a point to death and then make up. Movies, restaurants; our tastes are usually in sync. We applaud each other’s accomplishments, support careers and suffer right along with each other’s downfalls, and we listen when the other has something to say—usually.
Stan is a really great guy. It’s because of him that I enjoy being a stay-at-home mom, with a writing career. He’s always quick to help with computer problems, and he does brag about my writing accomplishments—this I learned from his co-workers. I will definitely keep him for another 28 years, and more.
As for Brad and Dawn….Dawn and I remain friends to this day. She’s an awesome lady with a family of her own. Brad, I’m sad to say, we have lost touch with him. Last we heard, he was married and living in Florida. Stan and I owe a lot to both of them. We never would have met, much less have entered a relationship, without them.
About Zanna’s Outlaw
Buck Grayson once lived within the boundaries of the law and will do so again–for Zanna.
Excerpt from Zanna’s Outlaw
Buck stepped inside, closed the door and didn’t make a move toward her. “That woman downstairs is worse than Emma.”
“Did you come up here to complain?” She folded her arms beneath her breasts.
“I came to tell you I took this damn job for you.” Plus, it made it easier to flush out Hanson’s hired guns before they harmed her. But she didn’t need to know that. She’d want to help and would do so behind his back if he didn’t let her. “Not because I want a tumble between the sheets, but because you’re my woman. That used to mean something to you.”
“It still would if you’d tell me you love me.”
“Dammit, Zanna. You know I do.”
“Then say it,” she challenged. “And don’t give me the same old line about words being hard for you.”
“They are.” At least, those words were. The last time he’d said them his family had been murdered. With enemies lurking in the shadows, the same could happen to her. Pissing her off was one thing. He could tolerate her icy glare. Losing her forever was a whole different matter. “That doesn’t mean I don’t feel them.”
She sighed irritably and looked away.
“Doesn’t my coming here count for something when I swore I wouldn’t?”
“If you can’t say the words,” she returned her gaze to him, “then I want you to prove you love me and intend to stay.”
“How?”
“By courting me.”
“What the hell do you think the last three years have been?”
“I thought I knew, but now I’m not so sure.” She glared at him. “You say I’m your woman. Prove it.”
“Sonofabitch, Zanna. Couldn’t you just beat me with your fry pan?”
“No,” she said in that same snotty tone that had beaten him many times in the past.
You can find more information about Julie’s book at her website: www.julielence.com.
Nikki Duncan
Love in the Lunch Line
Before I was a kid-wrangling-a
dmin, task-managing, obsessive-in-love-with-writing, I was simply a woman in love with her husband. That simplicity disappeared years ago, though it’s fun to revisit those days in my memories. This time, I’m going to take you down memory lane with me…if you can stand it.
It was a bright and sunny day in my junior year of high school. I was laughing with my friends as we entered the cafeteria for our lunch half-hour. There, across the room, sat a cute boy selling yearbooks. My friend waved at him and we kept going, with me asking her casually who he was. “Someone I went out with once. He’s nice.” It wasn’t much to go on, but clearly she wasn’t hiding any crush on him. And clearly the same was true of him because he began flirting with me from across the room. Okay, so his idea of flirting was making what I now know to be vulgar gestures.
Man, I was naïve.
Fast forward a few weeks, with some cafeteria and hallway flirting in our past. We had an early release day for school and a bunch of friends and I had decided to go to Memories—a local diner where they made the best hamburgers and malts. Yep, those places were cool even in the early nineties.
What I didn’t know was that my friends invited this cute boy I’d been flirting with. Then they promptly stood us up. I was traumatized. He was in a spot. It would be rude if he made me eat alone, so he stuck around. We ate. We laughed. We talked. We played a guessing game where he had me trying to figure out his middle name. The clue… “It has ice in it.” You let me know if you can guess it, because I sure couldn’t.
How I Met My Husband: The Real-Life Love Stories of 25 Romance Authors Page 7