I spent a week in Georgia, temps at 100 degrees, surrounded by military men showing off muscles. Feel sorry for me? Didn’t think so…
My writer mind was going at all times. Every which way I turned there was another buff, sweaty shirtless male. And no, it wasn’t me staring out of the window as the man across the street washed his truck. I wouldn’t have any idea what he was wearing…especially no shirt, blue shorts, blue bandanna…nope, wouldn’t have a clue. I also didn’t see the soap slick and wet on coiled muscle. I stick by it, I am innocent.
At the grocery I stood in front of the coffee aisle, perusing flavors, little did I know I would be approached by a more interesting “flavor”. I turned and ran smack dab into ABU covered iron chest. He smiled, showing off an even row of white teeth and flexed his biceps. My gaze might have shifted south, but I was only checking out his shoes. That’s all, I swear!
When I was asked by a young airman, Brad Pitt’s long lost brother, if I was the writer from “out his way” I didn’t have to pick my jaw up off the floor. And I didn’t act like a schoolgirl, giggly and flushed. Of course not. His wife, who is also from Ohio, reads my books. I’ll admit, I was riding the clouds for a long time. Even later while I was cleaning up the dog puke and scrubbing the Gatorade from the white carpet, I still felt pretty special.
Now I’m back home, neck-deep in a new story, In Knots, of a military man who meets the woman he’s dreamed of for two years. Here’s an unedited excerpt…
Gunnar recognized her immediately as the woman from the photo. He was caught off guard and she was much prettier than the picture, but he could see the dark circles rimming her eyes and the absent color from her pale cheeks. She looked tired. Her long, flowing red hair hung in soft ringlets over her bare shoulders exposed by the nice fitting tank top. She had big blue eyes, but he knew that from the picture, surrounded by thick dark lashes. A splattering of freckles on her nose was the only thing that marred her skin.
She looked about as surprised to see him as he was to see her. She acknowledged him with a narrowed expression and motioned for him to hang tight while she finished her call.
He nodded. He wasn’t in a hurry. He was here now, and from here he wasn’t sure where he’d go.
Not wanting to it to look like he was listening to her conversation, he turned and examined the small space that smelled strong of soil and greenery. It seemed more like a maze, boxes scattered across the floor, and the walls were bare, except for a bulletin board. He started to turn back to the woman when a familiar face caught his attention. He recognized the man in the picture as Pastor Trace. The man who’d brought him here…Grace’s husband.
GIVEAWAY!!!! An ecopy of one of my books, your choice (excluding Secret Pressure).
Comment below and I’ll choose one random winner.
Rhonda’s Rowdy Readers Street Team