Flash fiction is the topic this week on Romance Writers Weekly. The challenge is using the words Fire, Rain and Dog. I’ll be taking part of a scene from a current work in progress. Hope you’ve visited A.S. Fenichel already.
Josh slammed the door against the howling wind. Alone, Tori fell on the sofa in front of the roaring fire as the nor’easter beat torrents of rain against the windows of the beach house.
Men. All different but ultimately the same. She’d left a jealous abuser and stalker only to fall for a hard-headed veteran with PTSD and commitment issues. How could he be angry with her when she’d only sought to help him find his former canine partner?
Yeah, she’d agreed to work at Harley’s bar, however, Josh didn’t know why. It was the only way to get the former SEAL to use his contacts to help find Josh’s dog. As luck would have it, Harley stumbled upon a military contractor holding a private war dog auction. Josh’s jealously would certainly vanish if they returned with Skye.
Of course his bitch ex-fiancée had shown up only making things worse. The daddy’s girl wanted back in Josh’s life for some reason and Tori intended to find out why.
Hope you enjoyed this snippet. Planing to have this story completed and finished in time for my RWA chapter’s 7 Cities Book Fest in October. Our guest is author, Sherrilyn Kenyon.
Now on to the next author on the Romance Writers Weekly hop is the lovely Leslie Hachtel.
This week on Romance Writers Weekly I posed the question: Tell us your favorite flower. Tell us why or write a short poem. Or if you’d rather, tell us about a flower used in one of your stories and include its significance.
Since I’ve not used a flower in any of my stories, I’ll confide my favorite bloom. Let me start out by saying my mother, Maggie, had the greenest of thumbs. The flower beds overflowed with Sweet William, Snap Dragons, Irises and monstrous Gladiolas I’ve not seen the likes of since. She had to have grown them from seed because nurseries weren’t abundant in our suburbia back then, nor did we have the money.
She did have a couple of bush roses and a climber rooted from dad’s family farm in Santee, SC. Always prolific with blooms, the pale, pink beauty was my favorite and propagated my love of roses.
Once married and in a house, I planted hybrid tea roses in the back flower bed. They flourished against the brick and baking afternoon sun. If it wasn’t for the constant fight with the aphids and the beetles, I’d probably still have them. They provided many a bloom for various occasions and even gifts for teachers when my son was in elementary school.
Rather than a poem, I’ve posted a small gallery of recent pictures I’ve taken of roses. Now on to Leslie Hachtel joining me on the hop.