Challenge RFW - Blue Moon!

This week's theme Blue Moon struck a nostalgic note! Hence I snatched this snippet from a modern historical I've had kicking its heels in a cupboard. It's set in 1964 twenty years after a wartime incident that changed the life of one woman in a shocking way, and left an American Army Air Corp pilot thinking he'd been dumped. It's a heart-wrenching re-union love story, in more ways than one.
This is part of the opening chapter. 

399 words: code MPA.

She slipped the record on to the turntable with infinite care: a few good winds of the handle, and then needle to outer groove. She could have placed it on the automatic triple-deck player, but this was a once in a blue moon treat. She hugged herself, swayed to the gentle rhythm, the words alone wiped away twenty years. Memories of another life another time flooded to the fore. In one sense it was pure nostalgia, in another unmitigated hell. Tears brimmed. She fought them back.

       She glanced at the letters on her desk, the sheer amount unbelievable. Why, why had her mother kept them? And why, in all these years had she never said a word, never revealed the fact that he’d come back? That he hadn’t died on that secret mission in forty-four. Oh God, how different things might have been had she received the letters when they had first arrived at the farm. Had she known then that he’d survived capture and in a German prisoner of war camp she would have waited, and hoped and longed for a happy outcome. To be denied that knowledge, utter cruel. To then be sent away in disgrace, unforgettable and unforgivable. 

       She leaned on the desk, tears spilling forth. It was all very well to think back to what might have been, but what about the person who’d helped her through her banishment and resulting distress. If her mother had stood by her instead of seeing pregnancy as shameful she would never have met David, and how fortunate she was to have loved twice and twice loved in return. David now taken from her, too.

       Out of love for an American pilot she’d gained a daughter. Her love for David had brought forth a son. And what of David, her rock, the man who had become her every thing? She could not now deny the love they had shared for fourteen years.

       She snatched at the heavy needle head and scratched the record in haste to obliterate the song and kill the music. She cursed the memory of a crowded dance floor, those oh so blue eyes, and his tight possessive hold. Now, with the letters in her possession, she knew Sophie's father had meant those three little words he had uttered so often when alone together: I love you.  Blue Moon had a lot to answer for.




To see entries by other participants go here.

Awards, Awards, Awards - My Oscar?!

Gotcha!  No, this post isn't about winning an Oscar, but I do have one question:  

Apparently MGM art director Cedric Gibbons designed the statuette of a naked knight standing on a reel of film gripping a crusader’s sword, but why?  

Anyhoo, to more realistic awards, lovely awards bestowed by lovely people such as Diane over at The Patient Dreamer   To say I'm thrilled to receive this is understating the obvious. Thank you, thank you Diane.

There are stipulations attached to acceptance of this award, so I'm going to direct you to my awards room where I display all my awards plus things about me you may not already be aware of. 

Step this way and you may happen upon a lovely award to grace your blog, and that of fellow bloggers!  

Romantic Friday Writers Challenge No 19 - Bouquet!

This week I've selected a snippet from a previously published novel: paired down to fit within word count of 400 max. 

Brief: An awful lot of drama, angst and stark realisation between a bride and groom has preceded this snip, and things are not going according to plan for the big day. There is so much more to this piece, what with the bride's mum convinced the wedding is definitely off and already repacking wedding gifts, while the man of the house is convinced the florist's box is a peace offering from the bridegroom. I guess one could say it's a steamy hunt'n shoot'n rom-com, and believe it, the fires of lust are stoked big time when the cast attend a hunting weekend in the West Country. 

398 words: code MPA.

The florist’s box lay on the kitchen table, and it was just like Suzanne to be late down for breakfast when such as this sitting and awaiting her personal attention. Were they from Phil? Was the wedding on again? Temptation kept eating away at Geraldine, and about to prise the lid enough to peep inside Suzanne burst through the door.

     Nuance of guilt etched on her face Geraldine stepped back from the table, declared, “For you, according to the florist’s delivery girl.”

    The suspense was unbearable, as Suzanne unravelled the ribbon and finally opened the box. “Wow,” she said, leaning forward, “and scented as well.”

    “Twenty-four,” exclaimed Geraldine. My goodness, they must have cost . . .” She sensed air of trepidation: a little envelope now between fingers as Suzanne extricated a card from within. “Well?”

    “I’ll stand them in water for a while,” said her daughter, heading for the sink with the box, “and arrange them after breakfast.”

    Geraldine then knew Suzanne had no intention of revealing the identity of the sender, and it was obvious the wedding presents would have to be returned. She angled her head and strained her eyes to read the card:

Nelson. 11 a.m.

       

Two minutes to eleven. She was early when she had intended to be a few minutes late rather than appear too keen to meet him. There was no denying a spark had ignited mutual flames of desire, each knowing they would end up meeting like this. She kept walking, and spied him, his back to her as he scanned the square: one hand in grey suit pocket and rolled up magazine in free hand. He could hardly turn up in full dress cavalry uniform, as much as she would have liked that.

    Talk dark and handsome her mother had said, and will make for a dashing best man. If only she knew how true those words. Once the intended best man, he now had the bride all to himself. The bridegroom was no better, and on a date with a stable girl.  

    Her heart double somersaulted as Nick swung round and glanced her way, for he immediately came striding across from his vantage point beneath Nelson’s column. Face lit with a smile, his hazel eyes laughed as he slipped one hand inside her unbuttoned coat and drew her close: his lingering kiss a silent hello.

To see entries by other participants go here.     

     

‘If I Could Be Anyone, I’d Be" - Watching Willow Watts Launch Party.

Wawies.com - Glitters

A fancy dress book launch party. What could be better than that.  And, our gracious host Marilyn Monroe aka Talli Roland is handing out virtual bubbly at this very mo. Excuse me while I reach for a champers flute and wish her all the luck in the world with Watching Willow Watts.  

So, who did I come as?

If I could magic myself into Keira Knightley I'd be a very happy bunny. You see, I'm passionate about historical romances. In particular swashbuckling romances, and Keira has had some plum roles in the field of historical movies, not least The Duchess. Not only that, she's starred opposite some really dishy men! 

If ever my historicals could be made into movies, well, she'd make for an excellent Emerald Lady Penhavean in Her Favoured Captain, and perfection for Diamonta Whitaker in The Highwayman's Mistress.     

To see who else is at the book launch party, pop along to the main party room

Romantic Friday Writers Challenge/Blogfest - Lunch Date!

The image below is The Savoy, London.

This Flash-Fiction piece is written first-person POV, not a POV I normally indulge.

394 words: MPA.

This was ridiculous. A lunch date with a stranger, and someone who had the audacity to send roses by florist first thing in the morning with card. Albeit invitation to lunch, then sends a car to pick up his date, swish maybe, but what sort of man does that? What sort of man writes words like that?

   The car stopped, a concierge stepped forward to open the car door. It was only lunch, what could happen over lunch?  

    Hardly before setting foot inside a waiter stepped forward, asked, “Ms Stevens?” And, without awaiting reply, further said, “This way, please.”

   Oh my.

   He got to his feet, blue eyes sparkling, hair as dark as night, his towering height daunting. “Good to see you again.”

   “Do I know you?”

   “Not exactly but I owe you an apology.” He gestured to the seat opposite his.

   “For what?”

   “For that unexpected shower you received yesterday evening.”

   “Oh, so you’re puddle man. Of course, I should have recognised the car.” How was it possible for a man to smile as he was smiling, and not have every woman in the restaurant at his feet?  It was good to sit down before falling to the floor in swoons. “What I mean is  . . .”

   “I’m a git, a bolshy git for sending you roses, and for writing words that should only be said face-to-face.”

   “I was a little surprised at the words written and almost didn’t take up your offer, but curiosity got the better of me.”

   “I thought it might,” he said, settling to his seat. “So, am I out of line asking you out on a date?”

   “Is that what it is?”

   “I figured a lunch date might score more points than a dinner date. You strike me as too shrewd to be easily led.”

   “Fair assessment, so what’s on the menu?” 

   His expression said it all. He was pushing boundaries, treading unknown territory in true spirit of an adventurer, a man of daring-do. So, it was a must ask. “How did you acquire my name and address?”    

   A chuckle. “Cut and thrust why don’t you.” Another chuckle. “I just knew you’d be a challenge.”

   “Well?”

   A romancer’s hand across the table, fingers toying fingers, teasing the senses, a big grin on face. “Let’s just say I’d like to get to know you better. Shall we menu?”

       

To see entries by other participants go here.