WHERE IS HER FAIRY GRANDMOTHER WHEN SHE NEEDS ONE?

A missing in action boyfriend isn’t cutting it for Ellie. Still, she tries to make the best of things.
​
A well-paying job that includes plenty of eye candy in the form of muscular construction workers should be enough. Add to that a devoted male with gorgeous hair. Too bad, he’s her cat. The love and stability she craves always seems to be out of reach.  What she needs is a fairy godmother, but what she has is a green lily talisman that her grandmother insists is magical.

EXCERPT

The song ended with her belting out the chorus. The smooth voiced DJ came on. “For those of you experiencing romantic problems today, this one is for you.” The music started softly but gradually became loud enough for Ellie to recognize the words of a terse ballad about taking an arrow straight to her heart. Instead of falling in love, the arrow just hurt. Even her favorite radio station was against her.

“That’s it. You’re history.” Her fingers punched scan, which enabled the radio to find the next strongest signal. Anything would better than the previous song. The scan stuttered over a couple of weak signals, settling on a woman speaking. “Do you ever wonder why you have never met your soul mate?”
Ellie sighed. Again. The scan would move on in a couple of seconds if she didn’t touch it. She answered the radio voice.

“Yes, I do. “Couldn’t talk it out with Mr. Biggs once aware her property owner might overhear.

“It could be your choice of dating material.”

Wait a minute. Shouldn’t the scan move on? “Nina, is that you? Are you playing the world’s most elaborate practical joke on me?”

Her right hand felt around the radio to see if any wires led away from it. Her friend might be able to manage a feed into her radio system. Nothing. Although, it sounded exactly like what Nina would say. Her principal complaint was she dated men who didn’t treat her well. Her response was that Nina didn’t date at all. That wasn’t entirely true, but it shut her friend up for a while.

The radio voice continued. “Do you long for a man to accept you as you are and not some knockoff copy of a celebrity?” Her eyes widened considering how a radio voice knew Justin always wanted to role-play with her assuming the role of a famous singer while he was the music producer. The wig she always had to wear made her head itch.
Being herself would be nice for a change. Going out and having other people fix meals would be enjoyable, too. There was so much she wanted to do, but never mentioned knowing Justin would shoot down her ideas. It was easier not to suggest things than face rejection.

“Yes, I do, radio voice. Any suggestions?”

The voice continued, the accent more pronounced than before. “What you need is a romance aid.”
Her eyebrows shot up at the word, romance. “Seriously. I’m sure that would be in four convenient payments of $19.95.” The aid would consist of a minuscule vial of pheromone oil that smelt like sweaty gym socks. Not sure how that attracted anyone.

Static filled the air as the radio searched for another station. Now. The radio changes stations. The theme music of the old-time gospel hour filled the car. Ellie recognized it since her grandmother always listened to it. A gravel-voiced minister spoke. “Believe. You have to believe. There is no power without belief.”

“Believe what?” Listen to her talk back to the radio. Was she in a current day version of The Twilight Zone where everyday devices offered advice. Worse yet, she not only talked back, but was actually starting to consider the random words as directions for living.

“Okay, radio spirits, or whatever you are. Tell me what I need?” The light turned green, allowing her to shoot through it. Almost there, if karma, fate, or whatever possessed the radio could put some speed on. Static filled the speakers as the search progressed. A swell of big band music filled the car, reminding her of all the old black and white movies she watched with her grandmother. The actors and actresses were always so elegantly dressed. Even the not so perfect men left merely with a door close or a regretful glance. They never had to be a jerk about it.

A singer with a voice like a nightingale sang about someone to watch over her. A snort of disgust escaped her lips. “Really, car radio. Is that the best you can do? I’ve never had anyone to watch over me, except for my grandparents.”

Her hand brushed against her cheek to wipe away any telltale moisture that might have somehow appeared. Any association with her parents turned on the tear factory, which is why she never talked about them. Ever. She made the mistake of mentioning them once to Nina. Her best friend couldn’t understand parents who would drop off the children at the grandparents and disappear. No tragic story about an accident taking both parents at the same time. Some of the other students lived with grandparents because their parents were deployed, in rehab, or prison. Hers just left her and her brother with her maternal grandparents. No lead up to it, no reasoning, just a promise to see them later, one they never made good on.

Stupid radio. She pulled into the parking lot, turned off the ignition, and took a couple of deep breaths to get herself together. She didn’t need parents who didn’t need her. Her grandmother assured her that her daughter and son-in-law were too immature to be parents. Of course, they had to have realized this after she was ten and her brother eight. It wouldn’t help thinking about it. It never did. Ellie slammed the car door, hoping she could close the subject of her abandonment just as easily.


Available on Amazon and Smashwords for .99 currently. Price will go up.

Morgan K Wyatt, raised on a steady diet of superheroes, believed she could fly at a very young age. After using trees, barn lofts, sliding boards, and even a second story window as launch pads, she found her flying skills were limited to fast and downward. By the age of nine, her dreams to be a superhero needed some modifications, which caused her to turn to writing and horseback riding as alternatives to flying.

 At the age of twenty, she had another chance at superhero greatness as being one of the few female soldiers trained for combat. The fact that women will be able to serve in combat soon indicates that all the witnesses to the grenade incident have retired. The grenade incident didn’t prevent her two sons or daughter-in-law from enlisting in the service. Having different last names probably helped.

Morgan recently retired from teaching special needs students to write fulltime, instead of in the wee hours of the night. With the help of her helpful husband and loyal hound, she creates characters who often grab plot lines and run with them. As for flying, she prefers the airlines now. 

Social Media


Website    Facebook   Twitter  Goodreads  Pinterest  

Before we went to India, we went to Passport Health Clinic where we received several shots and a mini lecture on how to eat in India. Never eat fresh fruit, cold foods, or use ice at any time. After telling us several ways we could get sick, I asked the nurse if she’d ever been to India. Nope. All the same, we didn’t want to take any chances. It would be bottled water for us and prepacked snacks. We had accepted we wouldn’t eat much and even expected to lose weight.
​
A welcome basket of apples awaited us in our room that we could not eat under any condition. While my husband was at work, I took an apple, washed it, rubbed it dry with a towel and ate it. No ill effects, no running to the bathroom, nothing. I thought it was a touch overripe, but that could have been because I waited so long to eat it.

Our hotel offered a buffet of delicious foods both continental and Indian. I slowly walked past the glistening cut fruit only to pick up a banana with its thick skin. No bad results, each day became an experiment of sorts. While seated upstairs at the bar, I had a moment of panic when I realized the frozen cocktail I’d been sucking down was full of ice. Alcohol should have killed any bacteria. After all wasn’t hand sanitizer full of alcohol. If it worked for hands, then the same should apply to stomachs.

The majority of restaurants featured an open kitchen or the cooks working behind a glass wall, which allowed patrons to see what was going on. It also allowed diners to see they used honeycomb-shaped clay ovens referred to as a Tandoor oven. This oven is an integral part of the Indian cuisine.
 
Often we saw names of familiar foods only to discover they were an Indian variation. Pizza came with a paper-thin crust often with lamb, onions, feta cheese and a vinegary sauce. Unexpected when we expected a soft crust, tomato paste base, but welcome all the same. Food labels were different too.
​
 Rolls in the delightful Khan Chacha eatery were more like wraps. Prawns served as another name for shrimp, a large, firm variety. Most of the foods we were able to figure out without too much trouble, but some were new to us.

The sprouted barley salad tossed with onions was a different breakfast staple, especially coupled with brie cheese. Each day, I’d try to push out of my comfort zone by trying new foods. The chef, waiters, even new friends would explain the history about the food. The concierge brought us gingered pumpkin candy that came from his birthplace. The firm candy perplexed since it came in a firm barrel shape and had the consistency of gummy bears with none of the sugar.
​
On Thanksgiving, we found ourselves in Agra where we stopped into a family-owned eatery. The restaurant eating experience was different too. We dined with two Indian friends and there was much discussion on what we would eat. Each dish would be shared among the four of us family-style. It was important to take in consideration the one vegetarian. The dishes arrived in bowls with rich curry sauce or gravy. Flat Naan bread allowed each diner to scoop up the gravy. 

Even though we hadn’t been in India that long, we were getting more daring in our food selection, which meant eating things we didn’t know. I enjoyed all the versions of paneer, which is dried cottage cheese shaped into cubes, patties, or crumbles. Lamb is a staple as far as meat and is as cheap as chicken. I indulged my lamb cravings.
​
Vegetables comprise the majority of Indian diet and they show up in amazing places.  For dessert, I had a bell pepper pudding that was both sweet and custardy while retaining the flavor of the pepper. At times, the food can be very hot. The green Dal dip served at an Indian restaurant demonstrated this phenomenon very well.  Two bottles of water later, I still felt the fire. 

On my search for the familiar, I came up short on the Diet Coke hunt. I located a few bottles in a local convenience store, which were flat and unappetizing, definitely past their due date. Pepsi rules in India, but it is a less carbonated version. The better bet is the sparkling water.

Our most daring venture wasn’t actually ours, but came about because a friend bought us fresh coconut water. A roadside vendor cut the top of a green coconut off with a sharp machete handed us the base and a straw. It was refreshing and certainly, a change from the metal and foil store container.  Over two weeks in India and we never tapped into the medicine we brought with us.
​
On the way home, we encountered a sick woman in the airport. I handed her my never opened bottle of Tums. The only problem we had with eating in India was deciding what to try.

If you look at a topographical map of India, mountains, valleys, plains, even seashores crowd the country. An incredible diversity thrives in India, which made me reexamine why travel educates. We take our own culture and measure our experience against what is familiar to us.
​
This was true when my husband and I arrived in New Delhi at four in the morning. What surprised us most besides the hundreds of people trying to get through immigration at that time in the morning was security. The Indian Army operates security for the airport conducting personal searches and luggage investigation. Armed infantrymen stand outside the exits checking identification and monitoring cars. We think surrendering our water bottle is a hardship in the US. The Indian people undergo a serious of searches without grumbling.

Outside the airport, the driver hurries us across several walkways to get us to his vehicle. The SUV we climb into is smaller than what I’m accustomed to. In fact, all the vehicles are smaller, especially the trucks. Out on the road, groups of people gathered alongside the road, a few have stands, while others stand conversing with one another. Several cars, trucks decorated with tinsel and tassels, and tiny three-wheel compressed gas rickshaws carry on an erratic dance crossing lanes, blinking lights, and sounding horns. Adding to the chaos is the scooter drivers who challenge death by riding mere centimeters from the large vehicles as they weave through traffic.
​
Our car’s headlights create twin beams into the night. The thick haze I first dismissed as fog is smog. My first hint was that the scooter riders wrap scarves around their mouths and a few have cold masks similar to those donned by individuals with compromised immune systems. This is a tiny facet from one city.

At our hotel, the uniformed staff hurries to accommodate us even though we arrived very late. Small oil burners squat near the elevators scenting the air with a rich exotic aroma. Overstuffed lush furniture, a white grand piano, and colorful art crowd the lobby creating an air of opulence.  

What did I know of India before our visit, not a great deal besides people wash in the Ganges River, cows wandered freely in the streets, and beggars lurked around every corner ready to rush an obvious tourist. How true were my initial perceptions garnered from an outdated geography film from middle school? Actually many people do use the river as their personal laundromat and bathing station. This is a misleading because there are several classes within society. A growing middle class in India often has several servants. A man at the same pay level as my husband has five servants. This amazed us since we can’t afford any. Certain jobs are beneath the higher castes/classes of people thus they hire people to do those jobs.

On our trip to Taj Mahal, we saw several cows wandering the street looking reasonably well fed. Our guide assured us these cows belonged to someone, but roamed at will. Occasionally some herders would show up moving the cows in a general direction. The cows were beef cows as opposed to milk cows, which means they are not slaughtered in India. Eating beef is against the prevailing Hindu faith, which means it isn’t available anywhere. There may be some places selling it, but we didn’t run across them.
​

As for the beggars, I’m sure they existed, but we only encountered one woman with a child begging. She followed me as we walked to the nearby mall touching my sweater and instructing her child to do so too. Our guide and friends warned us not to give money to beggars. This experience tore at me because I wanted to give the woman money even to the point of looking for her later. What I didn’t realize because of the caste system and because she was on the lowest rung, locals would give her money not to touch them.
​
Most people not familiar with India might think it was a land of beggars. Impoverished people do live in sheet metal and tarp shacks. However, there is also a large, vibrant working class. No matter how humble their job maybe they arrive in pressed clothes ready to work. 

In fact, the average Indian employee dressed better than your blue-collar American employees did. The males sported ironed buttoned down shirts, slacks, and sometimes sandals. What you rarely saw were jeans, t-shirts, and sneakers. When you did, it was on younger males trying to look more hip. Those in higher-level jobs wore tailored suits with matching ties, handkerchiefs, and if Sikh, turbans. The men always shave unless they sported a beard, which they kept groomed. The women dressed in a variety of clothes, but mainly of an Indian influence with colorful draping fabrics, full makeup, and an excess of jewelry. Most notable was the absence of leg revealing dresses, low cleavage tops, or tight pants.
​
The  school uniforms changed as the children aged. Young boys could wear shorts, but graduated to pants. The older boys wore ties and often crested blazers. The girls started out in school skirts reminiscent of parochial, but moved on to an outfit that covered the legs. The older girls’ uniforms were more Indian in nature with a long tunic, loose pants, and often a scarf.  The teachers didn’t wear uniforms, but dressed more formally than teachers I’ve worked with. 

Our hotel, which was part of an international chain, did have women dressed in the corporate suit, which had a hemline above the knee. Appearance is very important to the average person or at least the commercials based on fashion, body spray, stretch mark remover, and skin whitener gave that impression. Watching Indian television gave a more balanced impression of the people even if it was assembled from news, commercials, cartoons and soap operas.

Family and faith are paramount to the average individual. Outside of that, priorities depend on the person. Although, most Indians value their jobs and even report a high level of contentment at work. Some Americans are irritated about jobs outsourced to India, but there are several major companies in India that now own interests in American businesses too.

Every Indian child learns English so he or she can be competitive in the world of business. Indians often structure their workday to coincide with the United States time zones. Employees often work twelve to eight and dine as late as ten in the evening in an effort to work with their American counterparts. Depending on their job, it can be standard to work seven days a week with an occasional week off for weddings or festivals.
​
It is easy to think of India as what it used to be from the spice trade, British rule, and historical edifices. The country has developed into an attractive business proposition with an unlimited work force. Skyscrapers, apartment buildings, parking garages and malls are under construction everywhere. The India I encountered was not the one I expected.

In Anne Tyler’s book, The Accidental Traveler, the main character writes travel books for those who must travel on business outside of the United States. In the book, he details where to find the nearest Holiday Inn or its equivalent. He guides the reluctant tourist to American fast food chains. The goal of his travel books is to provide as little change as possible. It is easy to mock the main character and the readers of his books. Still how much sameness is important on a trip?
People, no matter how much they deny the concept, are creatures of habit. Even the freest spirited person has a certain routine. Discarding everything familiar will lead to disorientation and a general unease.  How do we merge routine with travel abroad?

Examine the routine of your life and decide what you can take with you. I know I’m a tea drinker, a daily exerciser, and I read before bed.  I can easily take these things with me, especially the tea. Within the United States, it was almost impossible to get a good cup of tea. Often the hotel or restaurant could sometimes find a Lipton tea bag, but that was it.
A small baggie containing my various teas became a staple in my domestic travels.

Abroad, I’ve found a variety of teas that I want to taste. I’ve taken something that is part of my routine and expanded on it. Tea ceremonies can be huge in other countries. The high tea was definitely out of my price range back in Indiana. One hotel offered high tea for a hundred dollars. I decided there was much more I could do with a hundred dollars than drink tea. However, I’ve enjoyed high tea in The Chocolate Box Lounge complete with finger sandwiches and pastries for around ten dollars. I doubt any character in Downton Abbey received more conscientious service than I did. I took the comfort of the known and stretched it some.

Exercise is important anywhere you go even if it is only walking the stairs as opposed to using the elevator. Zipping across time zones confuses our bodies. Exercise keeps them humming appropriately. It provides that balance and fights off jet lag too. Hotels often have gyms even exercise classes. If yours doesn’t try swimming, hiking or possibly renting a bike. I’ve even done floor exercises in my room. This keeps some continuity of regular life interwoven with vacation life. There won’t be the hard shift when back home.

Not everything you did at home can translate to your new location. I have a pet at home, but I’ve been warned not to touch any the animals roaming the streets. They could be vicious and diseased. A trip to the hospital is unwanted. Decide how much new you’re willing to try. Don’t base your opinion on anyone else’s actions.

A news story detailed a first date of a couple who traveled the world for two weeks with no luggage. While they did have fun, they didn’t make a love connection. I can say without any hesitation that I would not be cool with a two-week transcontinental date or no luggage. It is way out of my comfort zone.

Comfort zones are exactly that. Outside of everything, you embrace as known and familiar are the uncomfortable zones, better labeled fear cesspools. One or two helpful people heard about your travel plans and gave you their expertise. There were tales of kidnapping, mugging, car accidents, becoming deathly ill, and pickpockets. Their helpful advice has you biting your nails before you even stepped onto the plane.

There is good advice and advice from people who had never traveled the country where you intend to go. Examples of good advice I’ve received include:

• Drink lots of bottled water on the plane and eat the vegetarian meals.
• Air travel is drying. Make sure to sure a moisturizer and lip balm in flight.
• Put the tiny airplane pillow in the small of your back for more lumbar support.
• Travel with tissues and germicide wipes.
• Make sure you have the appropriate outlet adapters and transformers for where ever you’re traveling.
• Read up on where you’re going to so you’ll know the customs and culture.
• Try to incorporate the native clothing into your wardrobe. (This makes you a less obvious tourist and observes cultural expectations too.)
• Accept that people will stare at you especially if you’re in an area that doesn’t receive many tourists.
• Be patient. Often those you deal with have just as a hard time understanding you.
• Finally, expect differences. It was the whole reason travel is broadening.

 
Know the possibilities, and then decide what new thing(s) you might try when you’re abroad. An author, whose name I’ve forgotten, said that who you really are is when no hometown locals are around to observe.

​The mother, with one child planted on her hip, managed to snag the speedy youngster about the same time Donna replied. “It’s not the dead body that’s the issue. It’s the location of it.”

A small gasp drew their attention to the mother who held the toddler against her body with wide eyes as if she and her brother would turn into brain-hungry zombies. Daniel, always faster on people skills, remarked, “She’s a mystery writer.”

“Oh.” The woman’s arm, banding her son against her lower body, relaxed as the hunted look left her eyes, replaced by interest. “What have you written? Maybe I’ve read something of yours. I’m a big mystery fan.”

Yeah brother, what have I written? Daniel recovered well, never letting his distress show even after caught in an out-and-out lie. “Oh, nothing’s published yet. Still, I’m sure an agent will pick up her latest book.”

“Oh.” The minor excitement at meeting an author fizzled out of her as quickly as air escaped an untied balloon. Her husband called, giving her the excuse to leave without any more conversation.
Donna watched the little family leave and head for a minivan. She’d be willing to bet it had a stick family on the back window complete with a dog or cat. “Couldn’t you have made me a successful author?”

The server returned with two thick white stoneware cups and an insulated coffee carafe. She placed them on the table without pouring as she headed off toward an arm-waving patron.

Daniel angled his head in the direction of the server. “I love it when a waitress fusses over me.”

“Yeah, you probably do, but I’m more concerned about the dead man in my inn.” It was hard to solve issues if you couldn’t stay on topic. She picked up the coffee pot and filled both cups. Sweetener packets had been laid on the table, but no cream. A saucer of creamer pods sat on the table the family had abandoned. Using a bent index finger, she pointed without speaking. Daniel retrieved them, proving their connection.

Daniel stirred the cream into his coffee. “Did you get a good look at the man?”

“I did.” The man’s pale face transposed over her brother’s, making her shudder. “He was face down, which made me think he might be sleeping off a drunk. When I couldn’t shake him awake, I ended up rolling him over. Even attempted CPR. Yeah, I got a good look at him.” The stranger’s face faded, leaving behind her brother’s contemplative one as he sipped coffee.

“Was it anyone you recognized?”

He sounded like the police. “Of course, it wasn’t anyone I knew. I could have ID’ed the man if I knew him. No one I knew. Just as well, too. If I had known him, then I’d have a possible motive.”

 Her brother glanced over her shoulder, causing her to turn as the server arrived with their breakfast. Daniel’s plate landed with a clatter. Luckily, the eggs had congealed enough not to slide off the plate. Her plate received equally rough treatment along with the added benefit of a glare for each additional side dish. Bowl of grits, stare, pancakes, even more put out, and the bottle of hot sauce, which came with an I hope you choke on it look.

No stranger to snarky attitudes, Donna smiled sweetly. “It all looks so good. Thank you so much for your excellent service. It was a delight being served by you.”

The waitress slowly backed away, picked up her round tray and headed for the kitchen. She threw a backward glance as she went.

“Donna, that was mean. You messed with her head.”

“Yep,” She stared at her hash browns, then the table. “No ketchup.”

Daniel reached over to the other table and retrieved a bottle. “Doubt that the server will come back now. She’ll probably have someone else bring us our bills.”

“I wasn’t scary.” She chewed on the mouthful of sausage, savoring the spicy pork patty since she had lost the conversational thread once she started eating. Fixing, eating, and even analyzing food numbered among her favorite activities. Lucky for her a fast metabolism and being on her feet all day counteracted her hearty appetite. Although lately, she’d noticed a tightness in her uniforms that hadn’t existed previously.

“Un-huh.” Her brother took a bite of his eggs before continuing. “Even though you were smiling, you had that don’t mess with me look in your eyes. The one that lets people know you’ll rip their arms off if they cross you.”

 She gave the ketchup bottle a vigorous shake without any result. “I think you got me a dud bottle.” The continual shaking didn’t help.

“Use your knife.” Her brother waved his knife. Did he think she couldn’t figure out what a knife was?

Her hand grasped the knife similar to a chimpanzee in some nature video about apes using tools. The knife served as tool, but not in the usual fashion. After several scrapes against the glass, ketchup trickled out in red splotches. The bottle exhaled, spitting out a bit with each breath. She looked at the red dots coating her potatoes when a realization occurred with such explosive clarity that it resulted in her volume increasing. “No blood.”

A couple of patrons turned their heads, and Daniel kicked her under the table. “Lower your voice.”

A spark of anger flared. She had a strong desire to tell Daniel what he could do with his foot and advice. She tamped it down once she realized a diner was not the place to shout her murder observations. In a sotto voice, she leaned across the table. “There was no blood. Nothing to indicate homicide, but they still put it down as a homicide. The body was still warm when I touched it.”

The fork dropped from her brother’s hand. “I lost my appetite.”

She hadn’t. Picking up the syrup dispenser the server actually brought, she doused her hotcakes. Something was missing. Apparently, the medics had come in and noticed it was a murder immediately. That could just be the blood leaving his skin. “Poisoning.”

​​

Chapter Four
 
A police cruiser made a leisurely turn at the corner before she opened her car door. No rush, no urgent matter to attend to, it was just time to move on. Apparently, the entire force wasn’t needed for the issue of an unknown dead man. A quarter of a mile later, the sight of a smiling, oversized egg perched on the edge of the restaurant roof announced her destination. As a kid, she used to confuse The Good Egg with Humpty Dumpty.

Daniel stood by the entrance, holding the front door open for two blue-haired ladies. One even patted his cheek. Donna chuckled at the action, knowing it would annoy her brother. She turned off the ignition, cutting the singer off in the middle of a word. Weird, she didn’t even remember turning the radio on. Her chaotic thoughts, including a mysterious murdered man and the possibility Taber found her attractive, made enough mental noise to drown out anything else.

“C’mon, slowpoke.” Her brother gestured in her direction. “I’m not going to hold this door open forever.”

Actually he probably would, but the diners inside wouldn’t appreciate the inflow of frosty air. Donna jogged to where her brother stood, but pointed the key fob back in the direction of her car. The horn beeped indicating the doors had locked. Good. She didn’t need any more surprises today.

They grabbed a table in the back, leaving an empty table between them and the next diners, where parents battled with three youngsters under four. Their primary goal consisted of keeping the children seated as opposed to being under the table. No worries about the parents eavesdropping. They would be lucky to eat.

A bored college-age female brought them water and laminated menus. She muttered something about a breakfast special before pivoting away. Donna didn’t quite catch the special, but she did notice Daniel’s perplexed expression. Oh yeah, a female he didn’t impress. That happened now and then. The menu hid her amusement. Could be her handsome brother had reached a cut-off age where he no longer appealed to the younger set.

“Lesbian.” Her low-voiced comment reached her brother as she had intended. He nodded once, concurring.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, too.” Daniel worked his chin to one side, then to the other side.

Faded color photographs of huge breakfasts complete with hash browns and pancakes absorbed her attention. Usually, she told them to hold the pancakes, not feeling the need for such a substantial meal, but the unexpected murder had a way of working up an appetite. Probably would go with the pancakes then. Sure, she was feeding her anxiety, but it was hers. Made sense that she’d feed it.

Her brother grumbled about something. “Un-huh,” Donna acknowledged, without listening.

“Yeah, you see it too. I wonder what the numbers are.” Daniel squirmed in his chair, craning his neck to view all the diner’s occupants. “What do you think the statistics are?”

“What statistics?” She didn’t have a clue what Daniel was yammering about. “Dead men in vacant houses?”

He held out his flat palm next to his face shielding his words from the nearby lively children. “Lesbians.”

Her eyebrows lifted as she realized she’d lost the conversational thread somewhere. “Daniel, I don’t think there are any more or any fewer than previously. People are just more open.” What did this have to do with anything? If she were a cartoon character, a lightbulb would have materialized over her head and flickered to life. Her casual comment meant to save his ego started it all.

Her brother would be forty-three in two months, not old, especially for someone who just turned fifty. His job and a gym membership kept him in shape. As a natural blond, the gray wouldn’t show as much. As for his skin, a little weathered, probably from not using sunscreen as much as he should have. Still, he carried it well, and it gave him rugged appeal. He had a good five to seven years before most women would see him as too old to be interesting. Would it devastate him when his good looks no longer merited superior service or enhanced opinions? Would the halo effect, where people assumed attractive people were smarter, kinder, just better than average people, dim as her brother aged? She remembered reading about it. At the time, she wondered if ugly people were meaner, more stupid and vicious. Didn’t seem fair considering neither group could determine their parentage.

 “What?” Daniel swept a hand over his face. “Is there something stuck to my face? Toothpaste, a bit of shaving cream?”

Shaving cream? The man actually shaved before he came. No wonder he was late. “No, I was just thinking how lucky Maria was.” Good thing she wasn’t Catholic. That whopper of a lie would be a confessable sin.

A huge smile stretched his lips and reached his eyes. Her off-handed comment made him happy. Maybe she should lie more often. This might be the secret to getting along with people. Besides, it wasn’t a real lie. The server came back while Daniel was still beaming, but she kept scowling down at her pad. “Whadya have?”

Another flunkie from charm school. At least I’m not the only one. Her brother gave his order while inserting an inquiry about the server’s well-being. She ignored it. Daniel’s smile slipped a little. The server turned to her.

“I want the lumberjack breakfast, eggs over easy, sausage, wheat toast, grits, and pancakes. Bring hot sauce and a coffee pot, while you’re at it.”

The server scribbled down the order and turned without a comment. Daniel watched her go with a perplexed expression. “She must not be feeling good, or she’s still asleep.”

Was he still stuck on why he didn’t get his usual response? Seriously. “Dead man in my upstairs room, remember?”

He shook his head vigorously, trying to rid himself of his funk. “Of course, I remember. It was impossible to overlook the police cars and the medics wheeling out a body bag.”

“Wish you would have got there earlier.”

“Me, too.” He covered her hand with his warm one. “It must have been hard for you seeing the body.”

She kept her hand under his, which reminded her of their connection. Often as the older child, she thought of her brother as a guest, an interloper, not part of who she was. Her role was to look out for him, not terrorize him. She managed a few practical jokes, but that was the extent of it, especially when all he did in return was idolize her. Geesh, no wonder people liked him.

“The body wasn’t the problem. I see dead bodies all the time.” The mother wrestling her toddler gave her a startled look that had her amending her statement. “I mean, occasionally people don’t survive the surgery. A few stroke out in recovery.” She was sure that didn’t sound like a stellar endorsement for the hospital.

Chair legs screeching and childish laughter heralded the departure of the nearby family. One child escaped his parents and ran around their table screaming in the process. The curly-headed boy smiled as he lapped their table. Cute, probably another Daniel, who’d already discovered the power of good bone structure and great hair.

Want to read more immediately? Murder Mansion is out in paperback. Ebook form is coming soon.

BLURB:

Scuba instructor Mia Whitman has traveled to Bonaire to forget, not forgive, the man who broke her heart. But trouble is brewing in this Caribbean island paradise — above and below the waterline. When Mia witnesses a crime, she becomes a target, and even she has to admit that having a Navy-SEAL-turned-New-York-City-cop at her side has its perks. Ryan Hayes has a knack for saving her life and stealing her heart — a tricky combination for a woman on the run. Before Mia can stop herself, she finds herself in deep — in love and in trouble.


Excerpt from “Windswept” by Anna Lowe
 
          “And our last guest today—” Mia nodded toward the late arrival “—is…”
          She watched as he lifted his hands toward the hood. Strong, tough, tanned hands that suggested he spent a lot of time outdoors chopping wood or scoring touchdowns or wrestling Bengal tigers or some such thing. He was bare-chested under that hoodie, as a stack of perfectly sculpted abs showed. Too bad Mia had sworn off men, because this one could have featured in a pinup calendar: Scorching Hot Divers of the World.
          Then he threw the hood back, and everything in her screeched to a halt. The kind of stop that comes when you slam into a brick wall after roaring along at full speed. Her breath, her circulation, her thoughts — all on pause.
          God, please. No. Not him.
          Because she knew those piercing green eyes. The ruffled brown hair. The strong, square jaw. She knew every curve of his face, every contour of that hard body just as well as he knew hers.
          In other words, intimately.
          A little sigh went up from the female guests at the sight of that face.
          “Hello, Mia,” he said in a voice so low, it might have been a whisper.
          “You…you…you…” She scrambled for something to say.
          Stanley leaned in with the camera. Mia wasn’t sure who she was closer to punching, Stanley or her ex-lover.
          Probably her ex-lover. Her Navy-SEAL-turned-New-York-City-cop ex-lover. The one who hadn’t bothered sharing those minor details of his life in the four weeks they’d been together.
          Four sizzling weeks. Four fun weeks. Possibly the best weeks of her life. He’d swept her right off her feet without even trying, and she’d fallen for him from day one.
          Right now, though, her hand squeezed into a fist. The tiny bump where his nose had once been broken — the only imperfection on that striking face — made a handy target.
          “Ryan,” she managed.
          “Mia,” he replied, equally tight-lipped.
​

If you like alpha men who are in the habit of rescuing women in need, then you'll love Windswept. It is book three in the Serendipity Adventure Romance series. This short tale includes intrigue, danger, and sizzling romance. Ryan is a former Navy Seal, and is now a cop. Mia, the dive instructor, who witnessed something she shouldn't have and becomes a target. Ryan and Mia had history before back in New York.  Ryan runs interference as they escape together. 
 
This is fast fun read, especially for dive fans and military romance lovers.

Blurb
The town’s favorite troublemaker, Avery Hamilton, is all grown up and has returned to Warm Springs—this time to stay. She used to envision following in her grandfather’s footsteps and opening her own general practice. But, that dream was before. Before she made the mistake that derailed her life, a mistake she’s tried hard to put behind her. Returning to the one place she loves most in the world will help her heal, but not before the man she’d left waiting forces her to confront her past.
 
Everyone’s favorite cop, Nick Holloway, has his sights set on making detective, but when the one woman he thought could’ve been the one blows back into town, his world tilts on its axis. While focused on his future, his life starts to unravel, both professionally and personally. And, the one person Nick never saw coming is the one who hates him enough to stop at nothing in order to ruin his life. Even if that means hurting the people he loves.
 
Nick and Avery must find a way to let go of their pasts to secure a future, but if the man out for revenge has his way, they may not get the chance.
 
Hook
The girl he’s always wanted and the man who wants him dead, but he never saw coming, will converge in Warm Springs. It’s up to Nick to get the woman of his dreams to admit her feelings and to save them both from the faceless man from his past.
 
Buy Link: http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B01695HA5C?keywords=christina%20kirby&qid=1444960059&ref_=sr_1_2&sr=8-2
 
Excerpt
One last morning of freedom. That’s what Avery had before her first nightshift at the new medical center. Her first job as an attending, she reminded herself. Finally. After three years of residency, this was it. Twelve more hours and her career would begin.

She’d spent the previous night low key, though her nerves jumped inside her. She’d played cards with Honey and Vera at the house, and then reviewed some notes, after they’d gone to bed.

“Make sure you get some sleep today.” Honey sipped her morning coffee from her favorite floral mug. “You don’t want to be dead on your feet on your first night.”

Honey was right, she did need to draw the shades and get in a nap soon, but first, she had to alleviate some of her nervous energy.

As the first glimmer of sun appeared and the grandfather clock in the hallway chimed, she jumped up from her chair, unable to stand the early morning tranquility any longer.

Honey took her attention away from the newspaper and eyed her over her glasses. “What are you doing, child?”
Avery slid into her jacket and zipped it. “I need to go out for a little while.”

She smiled and leaned over to peck Honey goodbye on the cheek. It almost seemed like Avery was a little girl getting ready for her first day of school as opposed to a grown woman starting a new job.

“I’ll see you when I get back, before I go to bed.”

The wind and grass rushed by in a blur as Avery increased the throttle and shifted into the next gear. This was what she needed before her job started. A job where she’d be confined inside for days at a time. Before she started saving lives, she craved the chance to feel the warm air, the speed, the freedom of the open road. She glanced at the RPM reading and shifted again, this time smiling inside her helmet.

The pastures on either side of the road were beautiful as the early morning sun sent shafts of light streaking across them changing the muted colors to bright jewel tones. The green corn stalks were alive and full and that’s exactly how she felt as she came up over the hill. Alive.

A siren cut off and on. She glanced in her mirror and sure enough a police cruiser was behind her, lights flashing. Her stomach dropped when she saw the speedometer. There was no way she was getting out of this one.

Pulled over to the side of the road, kickstand out, but still straddling the bike, she waited for the officer to make his way to her. She could hear the loose rocks crunch beneath his government issued boots as he approached, but she didn’t turn. What could she say?


“Ma’am, do you have any idea how fast you were going?”
​
At the familiar voice, she pulled her helmet off and smiled. “Hello, Nick. Miss me?”

 
Author Bio:
Christina Kirby holds a degree in Public Relations from Auburn University. She worked in banking for four and a half years before deciding to become a stay at home mom to her two sons. Moving every couple of years because of her husband’s job, Christina has had the opportunity to meet all kinds of people and live in many different states. Fortunately, writing is something she can take with her no matter where she lives. Christina is an avid reader of romance, young adult and anything having to do with pop culture. She also knows a copy of Entertainment Weekly and a chocolate chip cookie can cure anything.
Find her on:
Twitter: @CKirbyWriter
FB: https://www.facebook.com/christina.kirby.395?fref=ts
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/9791223.Christina_Kirby
Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/authorchris0192/
Sign up for her newsletter on her website: www.ChristinaKirbyBooks.com
​

Courting the West 
10 Western Novels 
Available as a boxed set for a limited time! 

NYT, USA Today and Bestselling authors bring you ten Western romance novels featuring sexy cowboys and sultry heroines. This boxed set is loaded with a variety of sweet to steamy romances designed to entice your senses and warm your heart. 

* * * 
Painted Montana Sky by Debra Holland, NYTimes and USA Today Bestselling author. 
Can two lonely hearts find their hearts' desire under the majestic Montana sky? "You'll fall in love with this town and these characters." 

Daisy (Brides of Seattle series) by Kirsten Osbourne, USA Today Bestselling Author. Can she possibly find love and contentment or is she doomed to a life of regret? "I definitely recommend this book and this series to Everyone!" 

His Brother’s Wife by Lily Graison, USA Today Bestselling Author. A high society mail 
order bride with a 14 year old bridegroom and his devilishly handsome brother all under one roof. What could possibly go wrong? “An emotional roller coaster ride, right up to the end.” ~Charlene Botha 

Tame a Wild Wind by Cynthia Woolf, Amazon Bestselling Author. Revenge is a dish best served cold. “Love, trust and lust just in the right combo...” 

Sleight of Heart by Jacquie Rogers, Amazon Bestselling author. A strait-laced spinster, a gambler with magic hands, and a fortune to be won—by sleight of hand, or Sleight of Heart? “It's a full house with romance, high stakes and adventure. You can always count on Jacquie Rogers for some laughs, and she doesn't disappoint...Enjoy the ride!” 
~Meg Mims, author of Double or Nothing 

A Hero’s Heart by Sylvia McDaniel, Amazon Bestselling author. Wade Ketchum is searching for his only surviving sibling when he finds a ready-made family. A 1996 Golden Heart Finalist. 

Laying Claim by Paty Jager, Amazon Bestselling author. Jeremy Duncan heads into the 
Yukon Territory by dog team in the middle of a blizzard to keep one strong-willed, business-minded beauty alive. “A wonderful plunge into the Alaskan gold mining era.” 

Sarah Sunshine by Merry Farmer, Amazon Bestselling author. Only love can stop history from repeating itself before it’s too late…. “Loved Sarah’s story! Makes you 
feel good about life and how you can overcome your past.” 5 Stars Amazon Reviewer 

Chasing the Dead by Keta Diablo, Amazon Bestselling author. A sinister ghost chases 
Deacon, Madrid and the Indian maiden, Sacheen, across the desolate landscape of New 
Mexico. “The old west and paranormal all wrapped into one page turning book. A 
five-star read!” The Book Heathens 

The Most Unsuitable Courtship by Caroline Clemmons, Amazon Bestselling author. Storm Kincaid wants justice; Rena Dmitriev wants vengeance. “More than just another western novel. A well-plotted action thriller that's full of romance and passion and peopled by very likable characters.”