Hidden Away at Promise Lodge

 

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Charlotte Hubbard will be awarding a $15 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Returning to the fan-favorite world of the closeknit Amish community of Promise Lodge, the small-town Missouri setting of her beloved Amish inspirational romance novels, Charlotte Hubbard continues to delight readers with uplifting tales of faith, family, and the blessings and happiness of true love and caring partnership.

There are no secrets among Missouri’s Amish community of Promise Lodge, as they share their joys, burdens, and blessings. But two visitors with a hidden agenda bring some surprising revelations—and unexpected saving graces…

When Karen Mercer and Andi Swann come to Promise Lodge for a week’s stay, the Kuhn sisters quickly detect the guests are not Plain folk, despite their kapps and homemade dresses. Entranced by the idyllic Amish lifestyle they’ve read about in romance novels, the visitors have gone undercover to revisit the place that was once the church camp where they spent happy summers. They mean no harm—but when the truth is uncovered, their deception has an intriguing impact on the faithful, hard-working community . . .

Meanwhile, amid bustling preparations for a spring wedding, a shy horse trainer is encouraged to share his colorful world with a newcomer awaiting a miracle . . . while the widowed baker of luscious Promise Lodge Pies sees a long-time friendship in a romantic new light. And in the wake of a destructive storm, Karen and Andi’s insider knowledge of the grounds may offer the safe passage they all need to renew and rebuild—stronger than ever . . .

Read an Excerpt

“Look at how this place has changed since we went to church camp here,” Andi remarked as they stood at the entry to Promise Lodge. “This must be a new metal entryway sign, because I don’t remember it having sunflowers and wheat sheaves, do you? And this plot to the left was a mowed pasture for horseback riding, and now it’s planted in green beans and tomatoes—”

“Probably to be sold at this produce stand,” Karen said, nodding toward the wooden structure at the roadside. “And look at all the houses! And there’s a tiny home with a dock on the far side of Rainbow Lake. How cool is that?”

“The old timbered lodge and the cabins look just the same as I remember them,” Andi said wistfully. “Except the Amish here have obviously done a lot of painting—and that looks like a new roof. The summers we spent here as campers and counselors were some of the best times of my life.” “Yeah, they were.” Karen pointed toward a large white barn. “And look at those adorable black and white cows! Everything looks too neat and perfect to be real—”

“But what about us?” Andi interrupted, her smile falling a notch. “Do we look authentic? We’re wearing these calf-length dresses we made and the kapps we ordered from a store in Lancaster County—and we’ve read hundreds of Amish novels—but what if they call us out as fakes? What if they make us confess in front of everybody at church and then—”

“They can’t do that, silly!” Karen reminded her with a chuckle. “We’re just taking a little trip down memory lane while we live the Amish life instead of just reading about it. If we stick to our script and imitate the way these folks do things, we’ll be fine, right?”

Andi sighed as though she wasn’t too sure about that. “But we made our phone reservation request and sent our money as though we were Plain, and the Amish think it’s a sin to lie. Maybe we should’ve—”

“But we didn’t,” Karen pointed out quickly. Her pulse was pounding with anticipation as she picked up the old-fashioned suitcase she’d bought at a thrift store. “If we follow our plans, we won’t have any problems. We’re just a couple of Amish maidels who’ve come to Promise Lodge for a week to check it out because we read about it in the Budget newspaper—which we did. Let’s walk to the lodge before you get cold feet and back out on me.”

About the Author

In 1983, Charlotte Hubbard sold her first story to True Story. She wrote around 70 of those confession stories, and she’s sold more than 50 books to traditional or online publishers. A longtime resident of Missouri, she’s currently writing Amish romances set in imaginary Missouri towns for Kensington. She now lives in Omaha, NE with her husband and their Border collie, Vera.

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Teaser Tuesday--Will

 

If It Feels Good, Book 3

Women's Fiction / Paranormal

Date Published: July 21, 2023

 

 

Sarah collects and sells antiques, and she lives in a fantasy world of her own creation. When she’s transported to another universe, she meets the man of her dreams, but he wants to teach her how to find pleasure in her “real” life.

Will Loudon is Sarah’s pleasure trainer. He’s also an honest-to-God English earl -- the exact sort of man Sarah reads about in her forbidden books. He does such a good job of teaching her to find real pleasure, neither of them wants her to go home.

 

 

EXCERPT

Copyright ©2023 Alice Gaines

 

The dust in the old attic made Sarah Meadows sneeze, but she wouldn’t have been happier anywhere else in the world.

“You sure you want to look through this ancient stuff?” Mr. Gamble, the owner of the house, asked from where he stood on a ladder behind her, his head poking out of the entrance to the attic.

“You said your wife saved everything,” Sarah answered as she scanned an assortment of old trunks, boxes, and antique furniture someone had found the strength to haul up the ladder.

“Never could get her to throw away anything,” he answered. “As soon as you’ve found everything you can use, I’m going to clean it all out.”

“I’m very grateful to be the first dealer you’ve had up here,” she said. “I’ll pay you a fair price for anything I find.”

“Guess that’s all it amounts to… a little bit of money.” He sighed. “Anything’s helpful these days. I’ll leave you to it.”

Which he did. Left her all alone in the relics of his wife’s life. Poor man. She’d probably find something she could sell in her shop. Then, she’d refer Mr. Gamble to a few businesses that could help him empty his attic in preparation for selling the house. This couldn’t be a joyful enterprise for him. It might be for her.

Dressed in grungy clothing for a dirty job, she got to work. The first box held a bunch of record albums. Vinyl was making a comeback these days. She pulled one of the discs out of its protective sleeve and did her best to scan it for defects in the dim light. Looked pretty good.

The next box had pots and pans. Nothing much there. She hauled herself to her feet and approached what looked like a lady’s dressing table. The wood was dinged, but it could be restored. Polished, it could make a lovely piece for a period boudoir.

One drawer held a hand mirror. Again, wood. Potentially salable. She glanced into it and almost dropped it. It wasn’t a mirror, after all, but the framed picture of a man’s face.

Okay, that shouldn’t have startled her. Maybe the lady who’d owned the piece kept her lover’s face framed in her dressing table. It sure didn’t look like Mr. Gamble, though. In fact, his wicked smile and scandalously long-ish hair fit more with a wealthy rake of another century. Maybe the piece was older than she’d thought.

“Don’t be frightened,” a man’s voice said from somewhere in the attic. A voice with a very distinct English accent.

Her heart started beating like crazy. “Who’s there? Mr. Gamble?”

That sure hadn’t sounded like Mr. Gamble. Neither did the laughter that followed her question. Even without having heard the actual voice of a wealthy rake, she recognized it as such.

She’d read about such voices in her favorite novels. She’d never expected to hear one. She put her hand over her heart and did her best to keep breathing.

“That wasn’t a picture,” the voice said. “It was my reflection.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” she said with as much authority as she could muster. “Who are you, and where are you?”

“Over here,” came the answer. But there was still no indication of the direction it came from. Rather, it seemed to be everywhere.

Crap. She wasn’t staying up here with some stranger who could be deranged for all she knew. Who hid out in attics? Instead, she got up and walked slowly toward the ladder. She’d tell Mr. Gamble he had a prowler, and once the police had evicted said prowler, she’d return.

“Don’t go, Sarah.”

He knew her name. How? She stopped in her tracks but didn’t turn around.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” the voice said. “I’m here to fulfill your dreams.”

What did a formless voice know about her dreams? She hadn’t shared them with anyone because they sounded ridiculous, even to her own ears. To live in a former time that seemed to glitter so much on the pages of novels and in the movies. Back then, most common folk, like her, had led difficult lives with no real education and folk remedies their only health care. But the gowns and the balls. The architecture and art. The manners. Today seemed so coarse compared to that.

“Come find me, Sarah.”

Oh, that accent, like butter on a scone to be covered with jam and clotted cream. Wise or not, she was going to find him, so she might as well set about it. But where?

 

About the Author

USA Today best-selling author Alice Gaines has published several sensuous and erotic works. She prefers stories that stretch the imagination, highlighting the power of love and sex. Alice has a Ph.D. in psychology from U. C. Berkeley and lives in Oakland, California, where she sings in her church choir.

 

Author’s Instagram and Twitter: @AliceGaines

 

Publisher on Facebook, Twitter & Instagram: @changelingpress

 

Purchase Your Copy Today

A Family for Sam Chapter Two

 

Image by juan grullon from Pixabay 

A free read.

Introducing the hero, Sam Morgan. 

Here's a link to Chapter One.

I'm thinking of self publishing.

Chapter Two 

Sam Morgan stood at the opened gate of the corral, staring at the activity around him. Cowboys of every shape and size, older men with wisp of gray hair flying around their ears and younger men with old cowboy hats crammed a top their heads raced around the area. Excited young horses leaped up onto their hind legs and backed away from the approaching men, relaxing easily when one of the cowboys reached for their dangling reins. One beautiful black and white stallion stood like royalty in the center of the pen, ignoring the yelling voices around him. The animal firmed up as one of the younger cowboy's moved carefully toward him, and then side-stepped a few feet before the man snatched the trailing reins and led him into the barn.

Winterwind was a credit to his linage.

Even if the stallion did belong to the Hunters.

"He's beautiful."

His sister’s familiar voice broke through his studious attitude.

"Is that Dusty Cloud's baby?"

He nodded at Kay. "And Pale Moon's."

"I haven't forgotten. Jessie told me yesterday one of the other mares is pregnant by him."

Sam wriggled his eyebrows. "Still going strong, is he? What a stud!"

His sister didn’t respond to his comment. "Hey, Kay, are you okay? I just said something stupid, and you didn’t roll your eyes like you usually do.”

She wandered toward his left side and half stepped up the fence, looking out toward the stallion. Standing on the third from the bottom rail put her eye-to-eye with the magnificent animal. Small and petite, nothing like him or Jessie, and only vaguely like Dad. Every time he looked at her, he saw her long-gone mother.

"A couple of the scheduled patients cancelled their appointments when they found out Larry went fishing."

Her comment broke through his rambling thoughts. He'd been thinking way too much about family lately. "Cancelled, really?"

"Yeah." She settled her bottom on the top rail and looked toward him. "I think it upset All… Dr. Anderson."

Sam shrugged. "Well, what did you expect? The townspeople to welcome her back with open arms?"

"Last week they did," she said. "Or at least the men and younger folks did. Nothing's changed since then."

He leaped up on the top rail and flicked his sister's upper arm. She didn't respond. "You, okay?"

She shrugged. "I don't understand why people cancelled their appointments."

Obviously, Kay hadn't heard the rumors going on about the town's new doctor. Sam didn't want to believe it, but it made a kind of weird sense. She did arrive with only a little girl, and no husband. She still didn't have a husband. That didn't mean she'd lied to Old Doc Sanders about being married, though.

"She's nothing like Liz, Megan, or Mark."

Kay's quiet statement stopped his internal argument. "What do you mean, Kay? Everyone says she looks a lot like Liz."

"Well, yeah, she looks like her, but…" Shaking her head, she jumped from the fence into the corral. "Oh, never mind. I just thought she'd be easier to get to know. Like her brother and sisters."

"She's not?"

His sister shook her head.

"So, I guess some of the rumors are true." He got off the fence and followed her through the passageway between the fairground bleachers into the cooler barn. A horse whinnied while a man shouted orders to one of the green horns, arguing male voices yelled at the other end of the grounds. Normal sounds finishing up a normal day. He stopped at his office door and waved his sister through it. "People I've talked to told me she's a bitch."

Her back straightened as she jerked around. "Who told you that?"

Sam lifted his hands and backed away. "I don't remember exactly. It's just what I heard around the fairground today."

"She's not a bitch," Kay said adamantly. "Sure, she can be a bit proper at times and I don't think she even owns a pair of jeans. But I wouldn't say she was bitchy."

"I'm sorry I said it."

"Maybe you shouldn’t repeat rumors until you actually met her."

Sam wandered toward his desk and switched on the light. Brightness moved the shadows of the room away. He looked at his sister as he sank down into the big chair and leaned back. The old chair groaned under his bulky weight. Kayla didn't say a word. She fell lightly onto an ancient sofa in front of the only window in the room and pulled her legs up under her, wrapping her arms around her knees. Her tension eased a bit as she relaxed into the rough cushion.

"I feel so uneasy around her," Kay finally said. "I mean, I'm second guessing myself on everything I do there. Even when it comes to drawing blood, and I've been doing that for years."

"The lady doc makes you feel insecure?"

She nodded but didn't look up at him. "I'm not even sure what to call her."

"Her name is Allison, right?" Sam leaned forward in his chair and placed his arms flat on the desk. "Doesn't her family clan call her Allie?"

"Yes,” she whispered. “Calling her that doesn’t seem right, somehow.  She seems so…different from me.”

Sam didn't know what to tell her.

"I did call her by her first name today, though," Kay said in a soft way. "She looked so startled."

A knock sounded on the edge of his opened door. He looked up and frowned. Shit, this woman was the last person he wanted to see now, or ever. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm helping Kay and the rest of the ladies with the Memorial Day dance."

His sister jerked her head up at the older woman's harsh tone. He saw the right side of her mouth rise before she turned toward him. Her brows arched as her eyes sparked in a wicked way. "Oh, didn't I mention I asked Renee to help me with the party? I thought I told you, Sam."

If he'd known this obsessive woman was going to be around today, he would've found somewhere else to be. Sure, the Memorial Day rodeo and dance was one of the biggest events happening in Hendersonville, but he had plenty of time and help to get it all finished.

He scowled at his smirking sister. "Cute."

"I thought so."

Renee stepped into the small office and stopped at the side of his desk. "It's good to see you, Sam."

He wished he could say the same.

"Kay told me you didn't have a date to the dance yet?"

She leaned over the desk, allowing her loose tee shirt to flop open at the top. Sweet mounds of tasty flesh peeked out from her too tight bra, leaving him with a major problem. His hands itched to feel the firm, warm skin yet he knew it would be a big blunder, one he wasn't going to allow to happen again. He'd made that mistake when he'd first accepted her sexy offer a few years ago. The vague memory of the last time they'd been together at his uncle's old house outside town forced his glance away from the temptation.

Yeah, he liked sex as much as the next guy. Yet that morning was just too homely. Sam may not remember the sex, but he still remembered the rest of it. Even after two months, he could still hear her hints about marriage.

"I don't have a date either," Renee said. "I thought we might go together, for old time's sake."

He glared at his still smirking sister. "Sorry, but my sister's wrong. I do have a date."

Disbelief widened Kay's eyes. "You're such a liar."

"I just met her," he said, "a couple of weeks ago."

Renee straightened up as a hard frown formed on her mouth. "Is it that bitch doctor?"

Oh, shit. "No, it's not the new doctor."

The older woman glared at him for a long moment, then jerked around and left the office.

"Oh, Sam, you've just put your foot in it."

He stood up hard from the chair. "This is not funny."

"Yes, it is."

His sister unfolded easily from the sofa and stepped toward him. She swallowed down her laughter long enough to place her hand on his bicep. "You know she's going to harass Allie now, don't you?"

He sighed in frustration. "I haven't even met the lady doc yet, and I'm already causing her problems."

"Well, there's a way to remedy that, big brother."

Sam leaned into the wall. "Yeah, I guess I'll have to go and say hello."

"I would say sooner rather than later." Kay slapped his arm and grinned. "I guess she should meet the man she's accused of stealing before Renee starts in on her."

Shit.

"And you are Hendersonville's only EMT," Kay added. "About time you introduced yourself to the new doctor.

****

 

Sam could  still hear his sister's laughter when he pulled into the small parking lot of the clinic fifteen minutes later. Experience told him Larry would ignore the pounding on the front entrance door at this time of night, without first being notified of an emergency, so he didn't even bother stopping there. Instead, he raced around the house toward the warm block of light coming from the kitchen. He placed his fist against the window portion of the door and froze at the sound of a low, breathy voice. Larry's harsher tone answered back, causing warm laughter to flow unchecked toward his stilled body.

Shit.

Did the sexy laugh belong to the new doctor?

Didn’t sound at all bitchy?

Sam shook his head and pressed the buzzer. The laughter stopped as soft footsteps wandered to the door. The curtain at the window fluttered open. All he could see of the face was smooth skin and the tip of an ear, brushed by long, soft-looking strands of hair.

He swallowed down his usual greeting.

"Well, who is it?"

The half-hidden face was replaced by a craggy, lined one. "Sam?" The door swung open, and the older man waved him into the cheery kitchen. "What are you doing standing out there? When did you get here?"

"Only a few minutes ago," he said. His gaze flashed over the woman. Tall and slim, with light-brown hair falling halfway down her back, she didn't look anything like he'd imagined. The wavy strands of silk-like material wiped around her as she turned and stepped out of the room. "Was it something I did?"

"Well, you were gawking at her," Larry said, with a lop-sided grin. "Allie just made some fresh coffee. Want some?"

He pulled his gaze off the woman’s disappearing back and moved into the house, slamming the door behind him. He stepped toward the table and hooked his foot on the leg of the nearest chair.

"Here you go, Sam."

He straddled the seat and threw his cowboy hat in the center of the table. Grabbing the cup from the doctor, he leaned his arms over the back of the chair. "Thanks."

Larry sat in his usual seat at the head of the table. "So, what brings you to the clinic this late? I thought Kayla told me you were working on the Memorial Day rodeo."

"Renee showed up." He spoke to the older doctor but didn't take his eyes off the kitchen doorway. "Kay played a dirty trick on me and asked her to help with the dance."

"Oh?" Bushy eyebrows rose and fell as he leaned forward. "Why should that bother you? The two of you were an item at one time, right?"

"Not anymore." Clasping the hot cup between both hands, he glanced toward the back door. "The last time we had sex—" He stopped the harsh word. "I mean, when we were together last, she started hinting about…things."

Larry sipped at his coffee. "Things?"

"You know," he mumbled, staring down at the hot liquid, "about marriage, and starting a family. You know…things."

"Oh?"

"I'm not ready to settle down yet," he said, glancing hard at the doctor. "I'm not ready for someone to call me 'daddy'."

Larry didn't say anything, just sat and stared at him, sipping his coffee.

"You need to stop doing that, Doc."

"Doing what?"

He slammed his cup on the table. Drops of dark brown liquid burned his fingers. He ignored the sting. "You know what, Larry? My dad's been giving me the same look the last few years."

"You are forty-two," Larry said simply. "Don't you think it's time you started acting like it?"

Sam glared at the old man. "Just because I don't want to settle down with Renee doesn't mean I'm not acting my age. Some day I'll find the right woman. She's not Renee."

The older man investigated his coffee cup for a long moment. Something close to sadness glistened in his eyes. Sam understood the reason for the man's quietness. He'd heard the story of his lost love so many times he could repeat it word for word. Old Doc Sanders' one and only love had been killed in a car crash on her way to his graduation from medical school. They'd planned to be married the following September.

"I know she isn't the right woman for you, Sam." His strong voice wavered. "If she was, you would've married her years ago."

"You've got it right."

"I always knew Wilma would be the only woman for me," he said, looking at something Sam couldn't see. "I can still remember the first time I set eyes on her. She was so beautiful with all that long, flowing bright red hair falling out of her scarf. I think I fell in love with her at first sight."

Sam glanced over at the door leading to the living room. The new doctor's hair was long and flowing too, but not bright red. More like a light sienna color, with hints of darker brown weaved into the silky strands. A familiar itch burned the palm of his hand as a sudden need to run his fingers though the softness rushed into him.

Man, it hasn't been that long since he touched a woman.

Sam tore his gaze off the doorway and looked at his friend. "Could I ask you a personal question?"

Larry closed his eyes for a moment, then focused them on him. "You can ask, yes, but it doesn't mean I'll answer."

"Fair enough." He glanced at the living room door one last time. "You remember your lady's flowing red hair, right?"

Larry sighed out a yes. "I'll never forget it."

"Do you remember what you were thinking when you first saw her? Did you want to run your fingers through it, maybe?"

Silence lingered in the kitchen as the older man studied him. Then his eyes narrowed and cut hard toward the living room door before refocusing on him. "I can still remember how it felt."

"But did you have the urge to feel it that day?"

His eyes looked toward the door again as he snorted out a rough laugh. "You know what, Wilma raced out of the room a few seconds after I'd entered it too."

Shit.

---

Need to verify the pictures.

Horse  

Image by B Snuffleupagus from Pixabay

Kitchen table

Image by Rudy and Peter Skitterians from Pixabay

Just Messing Around

I'm waiting for my edits to come back on Benefits of Friendship, so I've been messing around on BookBrush.

It's fun.

Book Blast--Bad Henry

 

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. The author will be awarding a $20 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Henry Louis Wallace terrorized Charlotte, North Carolina, from May 1992 to March 1994. Wallace preyed on lower economic class Black women between 17 and 35 years old. He knew most of his victims, some through his job at Taco Bell, and gained their trust with his friendly demeanor and gentle nature-concealing a monster fueled by drug abuse and rage against women.

 

Read an Excerpt

Aubrey Spain Murder

Wallace needed money and knew Spain was a shift manager at the Taco Bell with access to the store’s safe. He was angry with her because he believed she had helped get him fired from his job. He found out Spain was on vacation and waited for her return.

Upon her return, Wallace went over to her apartment. Without a thought, she let her friend, Wallace, into the apartment. Wallace asked her if she wanted to smoke a joint. She said yes and Wallace went home to get a joint.

He came back. They smoked a joint, drank some beer, chatted, and were having a good time. Spain relaxed. Her guard was down. She was enjoying her time with her friend. They both continued to smoke marijuana and get high.

When Spain turned her back, Wallace made his move. He sprang and put Spain in his Boston chokehold. Then he threw her to the ground. She was terrified. Wallace demanded to know the combination. Spain said she did not know the combination. “What about the money in your personal bank account?” Wallace demanded.

Spain said she had just returned from a vacation and had none. Wallace dragged her into the bedroom and raped her. She screamed in terror and begged Wallace not to hurt her. He raped her again.

About the Author:

Ron Chepesiuk is an optioned screenwriter, documentary producer and the award-winning author of more than 40 books. He is a former professor and head of the Archives at Winthrop University in South Carolina. He is a two-time Fulbright Scholar to Indonesia and Bangladesh and a former instructor in UCLA's Extension Journalism Department.

His articles, which number in the thousands, have appeared in such publications as FHM, USA Today, Black Enterprise, Woman's World, Modern Maturity, New York Times Syndicate, Toronto Star, Los Angeles Times Syndicate, Bulletin of Atomic Scientists, among others. His documentary on Frank Matthews, legendary drug Kingpin, which he produced and directed, won the Silver Doc award at the Las Vegas International Film Festival. Four of his screenplays are currently in development for feature movies and four of his books have been optioned for movies. His script Death Fences was the grand winner of the Amsterdam, Holland-based 2019 New Visions International Film Festival.

As an expert in crime history, he is a consultant to the Gangland TV series the and has been interviewed on numerous TV programs, including Discovery, NBC Dateline, History, Biography, ID, Reelz, Black Entertainment Television, Starz, and TV 1. As a journalist, Ron has reported from more than thirty-five countries, including Cuba, Northern Ireland, Colombia, Kenya, Hong Kong, and Nepal, and his 16, 000 plus interviews include such luminaries as Gerry Adams, Yasser Arafat, John Kerry, Evander Holyfield, Jimmy Carter, Andy McDow, Abbie Hoffman, a former president of Nicaragua, and three former presidents and two vice presidents of Colombia, South America.

Ron is also radio host of CRIME BEAT Radio Show. The Crime Beat show has been on the air since January 2011 and has listeners in 160 plus countries. Guests have included Robert Kennedy, Jr., Henry Hill, Noam Chomsky, George Jung, Joe Piston (aka Donnie Brasco), F. Lee Bailey and Chris Kyle, American sniper

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A Family for Sam Chapter One

A free chapter.

This is a rewrite of one of my once published romance novels. Originally, it was the fourth book in a five books series called The Sisters Callaway. Now, after a major change to the characters and story A Family for Sam is the first book in a three-book series I'm calling Home to Hendersonville. The second book will be a completely different story with one of the sisters, and the third will be Kayla's story. After revisions, of course.

I've introduced that heroine in the first chapter here.

Enjoy!

A Family for Sam

Chapter One

 "I need you to take your shirt off, Mr. Wilson." Dr. Allison Anderson glanced at the elderly man. Thank God he was the last scheduled patient. "I can't tell if the cream I gave you on Monday is helping if you won't let me examine your back."

"Where's Doc Sanders?" The gentleman backed away from the exam table, bumping into a storage cabinet. "Doc knows how to take care of me."

Allie blew out her breath. Why is he acting this way? She'd already seen him at the beginning of the week. He'd been willing to let her examine his rash then, and he even allowed her to give him a corticosteroid shot. Now it's almost like he'd never been in the office at all.

"Where's Doc anyway?"

Allie sighed out her angry frustration. "He went fishing."

"Fishing?"

"Yes," she said, glancing sharply at him. "He hasn't been in all day. If you don't get check out now, you'll have to come back on Monday."

A light tap sounded on the exam room door behind her. "Is it okay if I come in?"

"You better, Kayla." All day, one patient after the other, had given her a hard time. Just because Dr. Sanders wasn't in the clinic, they all acted like Allie didn't have a clue what to do with them. "Maybe you can talk Mr. Wilson into letting me check out his rash."

Kayla stopped at the other end of the table and looked at her. "Are you okay?"

Sighing out her annoyance, she glanced at the smaller woman. "He's refusing to take off his shirt."

The look on her face told Allie she might not be able to convince him either. Yet it didn't seem to bother her nurse. She just shrugged and moved closer to the exam table. "All Dr. Anderson needs to do is look at your chest and back, Mr. Wilson. She won't need to touch you."

Dr. Anderson? Allie swallowed. She'd been working closely with her for two months now, and she still called her Dr. Anderson. But then why should she be any different than the rest of the people in Hendersonville? Except for her parents and two siblings, everyone called her Dr. Anderson.

Or they didn't bother calling her anything at all.

Even Dr. Sanders never called her by her first name.

"No, I'm not taking off my shirt with two women in the room."

Kayla grinned. "Afraid we might attack you?"

"That is not a proper thing to say to the patient."

Her nurse froze, and then stiffened up. Just like must of the other women whenever she spoke to them. No matter how she acted, or what she said, the female residents of the town still hadn't warmed up to her. It was strange, though. The men didn't seem to have the same problem.

Had she done the right thing moving back home?

"Dr. Anderson?"

Kayla's tempered voice broke through her thoughts.

"Allie?"

The sound of her first name startled her head up. "Yes?"

"Mr. Wilson is willing to take off his shirt," the nurse said, a hint of laughter in her lilting voice. "But only if you promise not to touch him."

An answering grin moved over her lips. She wiped it away quickly. "I think I can manage that."

Her nurse stared at her for a long moment, and then turned toward the elderly patient. "Well?"

The patient looked from the nurse to her, then back to Kayla before turning and slipping out of his shirt. Allie leaned in and peered at the pinkish skin on the right side of his chest. "Have you been putting on the hydrocortisone cream I gave you?"

"Yes."

"Let me look at your back."

He turned and Allie examined his back. Patches of red puckered skin showed at the center of his back with pinker skin on the upper and lower areas. "It looks better."

"Feels better."

Allie leaned in closer. "Is your wife putting on the cream for you?"

He shrugged his narrow shoulder. "I've been doing it, mostly."

"I can tell."

"Does it still look bad?"

"No, you're healing fine except in the center of your back." Allie moved toward the cabinet on the left wall and pulled out a tube of hydrocortisone cream from one of the stocked drawers. "I'm going to put some cream on for you. Will you let me?"

"Is that the same stuff I've been using?"

Allie nodded.

Mr. Wilson studied her for another quiet moment, and then shrugged. "I guess that'll be okay."

"Good." She pulled a latex glove from the box on the side of the stand and squeezed a generous amount of cream onto her fingers. She placed the tube down and turned toward the man. "Are you ready?"

He turned his back to her.

She reached out and laid her fingers on the worse of the sores, smoothing the cream over the botchy skin. He flinched but didn't pull away. Allie sighed in gratitude. She spread it over the pink skin until depositing all of the cream off the glove. "I'm all finished."

"My back doesn't itch anymore."

Allie grinned. "That's what supposed to happen, Mr. Wilson."

She turned and tore off her gloves, throwing them into the trash can near the wall. Then went to the sink and washed her hands. She grabbed a paper towel and dried, closing the water faucet with the towel before throwing it away.

"Are you finished with Mr. Wilson, Doctor?"

"Yes." Allie faced the man. "Make sure you have your wife put the cream on your back from now on, Mr. Wilson. The rest of your skin is healing fine."

"I'll do that, Dr. Anderson."

"You should probably make an appointment for him for next week." Allie peered at Kayla. "Dr. Sanders should see him."

"I'll do it before I leave." She followed the man out the door. "Oh, would you like me to stay around to help you clean up the exam rooms?"

"No, go on home." Allie glanced over the room, looking at everything except the woman standing at the door. "It doesn't take much time or energy to clean up the clinic area."

"Are you sure, Dr. Anderson?"

Allie nodded.

"Well, my brother is waiting for me at the fairgrounds. Sam's planning the Memorial Day Rodeo. Some of the ladies and I are cleaning up the hall for the dance. Memorial Day is a big deal around here." Kayla stopped and looked at her in a questioning way. Her mouth opened, and then she closed it shut. "I'll see you on Monday."

"Yes."

She looked at Allie again. "I'll lock up the clinic on my way out."

"Thank you," Allie said. "Have a nice weekend."

Kayla lifted her lips into a sweet smile. "I hope you have a nice one too, Doctor."

After Allie cleaned and restocked the three exam rooms of the clinic with necessary supplies, she wandered into the reception area of the building. She rearranged all the chairs into their proper places and stacked the old magazines and newspapers, putting them into neat piles on the stands. Then she went to a small walk-in closet behind the reception desk and pulled out a vacuum cleaner.

A little over an hour later, Allie replaced the vacuum in the closet and searched her eyes around the clean and orderly room.

Girlish laughter and a gruff male voice broke through the silence, sending her flying toward the back living area of the house. She entered the cheery kitchen and stopped near the old, wooden table in the center of the room.

Warmth filled her at the sight of her daughter.

"Hey, Becki." She crouched down and opened her arms for her daughter's hug. "Did you have fun fishing?"

"I gots a big one." She stretched her hands out as far as they could go. "It was this big."

"Oh, wow."

"Yes." Her little mouth sloped downward. "Uncle Larry told me I had to throw it away."

"Uncle Larry?"

Dr. Sanders shrugged. "I don't mind her calling me uncle, Doc."

"Are you sure?"

"I like it." He gazed at the yawning girl. "Looks like I tired the poor thing out."

"I'm not tired, Mommy."

Allie picked up her toddler and cradled her against her chest, sitting in one of the padded chairs. Becki struggled for a few seconds, then gave up and settled her head on her shoulder, eyes drifting slowly closed. Of all the rooms in the building, this large old-fashioned kitchen was her favorite.

Larry sat down across the table from her. "She keeps a man on his toes."

Allie grinned. "Yes, she is full of energy."

The man's laughter echoed through the large room. "That is the understatement of the year, Doc."

Becki mumbled under her breath as she curled her legs up in a ball and settled deep into her lap. Allie wrapped her arms around her waist, spreading her hand near her daughter's stomach.

"She's sweet, though."

Allie looked at the man. "I'm sorry if she's a bother."

"No, she's not a bother."

"I thought I found a place to live last week, but..." Allie sighed. "The owner called me this morning to tell me they rented the house to someone else. I really liked the place."

"The Brown's stopped the deal?"

"Yes," Allie said. "And I'm not sure why. Everything seemed fine on Sunday afternoon. Mr. Brown and I met at the little diner in town and discussed the agreement. All I needed to do was give him the down payment and the first month’s rent. Then this morning everything fell apart."

He looked down at Becki. "I'm sorry, Allie."

"Allie?"

"It's your name." He jerked his head up and leaned forward. "Oh, you don't like me being so informal with you."

"No, that's not it." She shook her head back and forth quickly. "It just surprised me. You never called me by my first name before."

He jerked his head back. "I haven't?"

"No." She glanced down at her sleeping daughter. "You usually just call me Doc."

"Well, you are a doctor." He looked at Becki again. "If you don't like me calling you Allie, I'll stop."

"Oh, I don't mind. It's better than being called Dr. Anderson. Kayla is still calling me that."

Larry didn't say anything for so long she glanced toward him. He sat in the chair opposite hers, studying something near the stove. She waited for a few more second as a hint of uneasiness filtered through the man toward her.

"I'm thinking the folks here heard you're divorced," he finally said. "I tried to keep that a secret between us."

"Why would you do that?"

He didn't seem to hear her question. "I think that's what's causing all your problems now. At least with the female part of the population."

Allie focused her look on him. "Why would my divorce upset the women?"

"Because," looking sheepishly toward her, "I told everyone you were never married."

---

Below are the links to the two pictures in order of use.

Image by juan grullon from Pixabay 

Image by StockSnap from Pixabay

Just Another Writer

 Just another writer trying to get my name out there. 

The excerpt below is a follow up story from Without Love. The main character was a secondary character in the first story named Becca. Tentatively calling this book Without Trust.

Chapter One

A gaggle of children’s voices and laughter filtered through the chilly early morning air. Dr. Becca Greenlee leaned from the porch swing and looked across the street to her right. A big yellow school bus stopped at the foot of the drive and three noisy boys leaped into it. A few second later two quieter girls followed suit. The children’s very pregnant mother stood near the fence, waving goodbye.

Five children, with one more on the way? Should any one woman have that many offspring?

“Morning, Carrie.”

Damn. She refused to look at the newer arrival. Why the hell was she still standing on the porch anyway?

“Hi, Wolfe.” The pregnant lady yelled back. “Off to solve another case?”

“If only.”

Both of their laughs filled the air.

“Well, someday,” the woman said. “Just give it more time.”

“Time I have,” he said. “More than enough.”

Get inside the house, Becca Greenlee. Now.

“Good morning, new neighbor.”

Too late.

“Looks like it going to be a nice day.”

Becca’s heart soared in her throat. A deep-down part of her sensed exactly why she hadn’t disappeared back into the house at his first word.

“No comment on the weather today?”

Why in the hell was his deep, rumbling voice affecting her so easily anyway? Every morning since the day after she’d arrived in Emerald Falls, North Carolina, she’d been awakened by the deep, pleasing tone of his greeting to her pregnant neighbor. Yesterday she’d been awake and at the living room window a minute before his usual loud yell, just so she could get a glimpse of the man behind that sexy voice.

And today she decided to sit on her porch swing, drinking her coffee, hoping he’ll come by and say hello.

Idiot.

One of the reasons her life was in such turmoil was because of a man. Letting another’s stupid voice get to her wasn’t good. Becca didn’t need the complication. The one and only reason she might follow the conditions set up in her aunt’s will was so she could be alone. Six months was enough time to get over Mark—once and for all. But would it be enough time to figure out what she wanted to do with the rest of her life?

“You’re Frannie’s niece, right?” He set one foot on the bottom step and rested his arm onto his raised knee. His dark brown eyes—almost black—blazed into her. “Becki, right?”

Oh, Aunt Frannie, even in death you’re meddling with my life.

---

 

Wolfe, of course, is the hero. 

And, yes, his name does describe him to a tee.