10/19/14 WEWRIWA

Hi Gang. Welcome to WEWRIWA on Sunday. We guarantee an interesting read with everyone of our participants and welcome constructive critique. Thank you for stopping by to leave a comment. Personally, I learn from each comment.

This week I continue with my latest WIP-untitled still-help me out, people.

Sally Atwood has a challenge from a womanizing cable company. She escapes, excited to know if she’s fortunate to get an interview with Grace Trumbull at the Pet Emporium, known for her talent as the dog communicator, she’ll get the job promised by sleazy Jerald Adams. Former homemaker, Sally is eager to start her first job as a reporter so this is her big chance.

excerpt in eight:

Sally slung the worn leather bag over her shoulder packed with a new camcorder Steve gave her to celebrate the transition from homemaker to reporter and heart hammering, drove to the Pet Emporium on Main Street.
 A tall muscular man walked over to greet her amidst the cacophony of barking dogs and she babbled,“I’m Sally Atwood, a reporter, the cable station’s chief Jerald Adams challenged me to get an interview with a prominent woman he calls the dog communicator.”
“I’m Scott Dwyer,”  he laughed while he steered Sally to a small alcove, closed the door, the noise subsided, the aroma of freshly baked brownies overcame her.

“I make brownies every day because after smelling dogs and cats in soapy water, it’s nice to have a home baked smell in here.”Charmaine -10 sATURATED_pp8x10g-72y
 Sally liked his easy going manner and confided, “After raising three kids and being a stay-at-home mom for many years, I took some classes in communication, journalism and reporting and I do have a few credentials from work in Rockland County if you’d like to check them out.”

Handing him a folder, she took a small bite out of the brownie, and thought,Oh my God, the taste of chocolate so sweet she restrained from the desire to inhale the entire piece even though it beckoned..
His blue eyes scanned current columns Sally wrote and he said, “ I like your warm, friendly, not pretentious style so wait a sec.”
“You’re in luck today, Sally ’cause Grace is in a good mood and right now she’s in conference with a sad saluki.”

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10/12/14 WEWRIWA

And the days dwindle down to a precious few. . .No problem. We have our community of writers, WEWRIWA, to keep us going and write we must. Today I appeal to you, I’ve done this in the past, with a WIP, the sequel to Housebroken, Book 2 in the River’s Edge Series. Untitled, jump in at any time with full credit, I intended to select a character from Book One but Sally Atwood intruded saying , “Oh no you don’t. I’m about to blossom from homemaker to reporter.” I followed her lead and this is what came up. The story begins with her first interview at River’s Edge Community Cable Company. Sally’s fifty five. All the others in the waiting room are young. YIKES!

excerpt in eight:

“Sally Atwood.” Sally jumped when she heard the receptionist call her name.

She picked up the dropped briefcase and gathered spilled papers, embarrassed in front of all the young reporters waiting for an interview.

Jerald Adams had the reputation as high man on the totem pole of local news, also rumored to be a womanizer.
She entered the office, smelled cigars and wrinkled her nose.
“Well hello, Sally Atwood, have a seat and tell me why you don’t like the smell of cigars and had to wrinkle that pretty turned up nose?”
She sat deflated like a whipped pup knowing she’d gotten off to a bad start.
“I’m sorry it I offended you, Mr. Adams; I’m here to show you what I’ve accomplished so far and promise if, after you see my reporting ability, I’ll get, uh, used to the scent.”
He rose and came around the desk towering over the petite Sally, “Get me an interview with Grace Trumbull at the Pet Emporium with her doing the special dog communication thing she’s known for and you’re hired, little lady.”

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I’m participating along with several authors in WEWRIWA in First Page Blog Hop. We welcome comments and critique, of course and would love to see more participants.

Thanks, everyone, for your loving and important weekly critique.

Book Review: Farewell, Hello by Charmaine Gordon

Originally posted on A Potpourri of Promos, Reviews & Articles from Chelle:

Farewell, Hello

by Charmaine Gordon

“Charmaine Gordon’s book, Farewell. Hello, is a wonderful tale of the beginnings of a relationship and its twists and turns.  The beauty that shifts from idealism to reality hurts and surprises and I found myself really feeling the bygone time of purity, innocence and nostalgia of our heroine, Joy Davison.  Thanks Charmaine for such a great read and a throwback to the Chicago of the early 50s!

Her website refers to her work as “stories of women who survive and thrive” and it comes right off the pages: satisfaction, empowerment and at least a touch of fine romance on almost every page.”

   ~reviewed by Paul Harris

That first kiss… that first incredible, agonizing, bellyache-making first kiss. Soon, Joy and Danny are inseparable, planning a future – a life, together. A kiss goodbye couldn’t prepare the high school sweethearts for all that lay ahead. A family crisis, a tornado, and the Korean…

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Blueberries, Sex and the Writing life

Blueberries, Sex, and Writing: The life of an author

The Write Way Café welcomes author Charmaine Gordon who shares some interesting thoughts on her life as a writer.

     While on a beach vacation with my daughter and 6+ year old granddaughter last summer, two young women stopped by our beach chairs for a friendly chat. One of them asked my age and when I told her I was born when dinosaurs roamed the earth, she said, “What’s your secret? How do you stay looking so young?”
Never shy, I answered, “Blueberries and sex.”
“Mom,” my daughter cried, giving the word at least two syllables, “you don’t have sex.”
I smiled my secret smile and said, “How do you know?”
You see, kids don’t believe parents have sex. Ever. They forget that after all, in some mystical way, egg and sperm mate and form a child or two. Sometimes more. But not their parents.
When our last child went off to school, I’m talking about kindergarten, sex was the first thing we thought of when the door closed. Alone at last. My latest release Housebroken deals with this. I call it empty nest syndrome.
I reveal this because in many ways it ties to each of my Romance/Suspense books. Take the ingredients and stir well: a woman, a man, a spark of heat, conflict, seesaw of emotion, and eventually an HEA.
To Be Continued was my first book published with Vanilla Heart; followed by Starting Over, Now What?, Reconstructing Charlie, Sin of Omission, The Catch and then the mature adult series under the umbrella title The Beginning. . .Not The End. Sixteen books and I’m not running out of steam, still having fun. I didn’t realize at the time I wrote different stories with a theme of Survive and Thrive running through each one. The stories are not about me. I do know it’s sink or swim in life and to be successful you must put one foot in front of the other and keep moving forward. We run our own Marathon of Life and we don’t want to run out of time. So don’t think “I’ll write tomorrow,” not if there’s a story inside you waiting to be told.
A little bit about series. When I wrote The End to Reconstructing Charlie, I cried. A few days later, a couple of the secondary characters came to me. Yes, they did! “How about us?” And Sin of Omission began utilizing some of the characters in RC. A similar event took place a month later and I wrote The Catch. Three stand alone books yet the three are also a series.
My romance writing is not erotic, no gratuitous sex. There is passion and sometimes even when a loved one has gone to a better world, he returns. . .especially when the conflict is unresolved and they can’t let go.
My advice to new writers is never give up. Keep writing your stories and submitting them to find a good home. For the day a publisher or agent says, “I want your book,” is a day worth celebrating. Yes. Someone loves your baby.

I’m offering a copy of Housebroken to one commenter who shares a tidbit of an empty nest experience.

Sally and Steve Atwood must make a big adjustment – a fair number of them, actually – when after thirty-five years, three grown children, and a lifetime of memories, they are alone, together, at last… And, then they found River’s Edge, a small town with big heart, stories to tell that will warm your heart, make you smile, and turn a dreary day into a day of hope for the Kindness of Strangers.

 Steve and Sally Atwood held their respective breaths and prayed nothing would upset the get-away. Two children out and now, at last, the youngest is married and going, going, gone. They waved and watched Johnny and his bride drive down the road and turn the corner in their new Toyota.
     “Alone at last.” Steve hugged his wife of thirty five years. “Let our honeymoon begin.” And to his surprise when he lifted her chin for a kiss, he discovered tears running down her cheeks. “What’s this, honey? I thought you’d be happy.”
     She sniffled and blotted tears on his shirt.  “I am happy but now, “ Sally raised her arms and walked through the hall into the kitchen and through the dining and living rooms, “the house is empty. Once it was filled with children, sweet babies laughing and crawling. . .”
     “And crying all night and teenagers asking for the keys to the car and thinking they knew more than we do.” He pulled her to him. “Sweetheart, you’ve forgotten the effort we’ve put in to raising three kids to be good people and now it’s our turn at last. How about champagne to celebrate alone at last and I bought your favorite chocolate covered strawberries? I’ll fill the hot tub and we’ll relax.”
     Sally kissed her husband, knew he was right and he’d pushed all the right buttons with decadent drinks and chocolate in the afternoon. She pulled the scrunchy from her curly blond hair to fluff up as she climbed the stairs, sucked in her belly, glad she’d done a zillion sit-ups to strengthen her muscles and kept up her shape. The allure of sweets called to her. She resisted so far.
     Steve waited ‘til she entered the bathroom before popping the cork to pour champagne. Sally did a coy strip tease and carefully stepped in the tub to sit and soak in hot bubbly water. They clinked crystal flutes, made a toast “To us” and breathed in the moment fragrant with lavender.  Steve fed strawberries to his wife; they shared each one and when dessert ended, they had no doubt about the pleasure ahead.

About Charmaine:  I kissed my acting career goodbye, leaving on a high note with the lead in an Off Broadway play, “The Fourth Commandment” by author Rich Knipe.  “It was great fun and time to move on since my voice was gone, kaput, bye, bye,” Before that, I had a full schedule working on movies like “Working Girl”, “Road to Wellsville” and having the pleasure of Anthony Hopkins’ company at lunch.  I worked with Mike Nichols in “Regarding Henry” and sang outside with Harrison Ford during “Working Girl”, cried with Gene Wilder over loss on another set, and sang ‘It Had to be You’ with the whole cast of  “When Harry Met Sally”.  There were lots of fond memories; “Especially my first job as a stand-in leg model for Geraldine Ferraro in a Diet Pepsi commercial with Secret Service men guarding Ms. Ferraro and her daughters.  Eleven years on One Life to Live, a few years on All My Children, and Another World kept my calendar full.”

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Housebroken Sneak Peek Video

Leave a comment for an opportunity to win a copy of Housebroken. I appreciate your time spent by stopping by. Thanks, my friends.

10/5/14 WEWRIWA

Now it rains? Pours the day Hudson Valley RWA are going to a winery upstate for a book signing? Oh yes. But we had a lot of fun, selling books, smiling at prospective buyers and standing in real shoes, not sneakers. YIKES! I came home barely able to walk. Whine, whine. And all the wine with me driving-not a drop to drink.

Continuing this week with Housebroken. Steve has a secret he’s about to confess. Maybe it’s not as terrible as he believes it to be. But a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do. And Steve didn’t do enough to provide for his family in his estimation.

excerpt in eight:

An affair, a hidden family, he’s gay, Sally thought, hiding her panic she drew the sheet up to her chin and like the good wife she’d learned to be, she paid close attention.
“My specialty is Security and always as the capo de tutti capo manager; the go-to guy for problems, I’m supposed to know everything. Meanwhile I let computer skills slip since I always had someone else handling that for me and here comes the big letdown. Changes in equipment have advanced so fast that I’m left behind without the skills needed to apply for another position somewhere like an old dog without new tricks, that’s me. No one will hire me despite my great resume; not when they find out I’m lacking. . .”

With a sigh of relief, Sally said, “Honey, if this is what’s troubling you all I can say is stop beating yourself up because my computer dances for me and together we’ll find a way.”
“We’ll buy a fixer upper,” her husband who couldn’t hang a picture, said, and without waiting to listen to her opinion, a naked Steve trotted over to the office and called their favorite realtor.
My husband’s crazy, Sally thought.

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Across the continents and through the woods. . .

1383259_10200724043359140_1842506079_nThey’re almost home, for a visit with parties to celebrate their 50-tieth birthdays next month and their first wedding anniversary. How we miss these beautiful people; one is my youngest son Paul, multi-talented and so dear to my heart and Eva, a gifted artist, beautiful and filled with joy and love for Paul.. They live in the tiny country Denmark so far away. Grandest, now six and a half, bubbles over with excitement dancing around because Uncle Paulie and Aunt Eva are coming this week.

So join me in my happiness, my friends. These are precious days.Trold-miskat Invitation

(Sketch drawn by Eva for an invitation to a party given by friends of Paul from school days)

First Page Review-Blog Hop of my book titled To Be Continued

Chapter One

Sun sneaked through blinds. Eyes shut tight. Not quite ready to open.

Betty Malone wanted to revel in memories of the great sex she and Frank, her husband of forty years, had last night. At his insistence, for God’s sake. She practically had to seduce him before they did it anymore; was on the verge of suggesting those little blue pills the girls talked about, when out of nowhere he became amorous. And it was great. No. . .wonderful. No. . .Fan—fargin’—tastic!
Fingers crept along the sheets searching for her mate. They groped to where Frank could be found most early mornings except on golf days or scheduled surgery. She touched the edge of his pillow but no Frank.
Turning her head, she called his name. At the same time she saw an envelope lying on top of the pillow. Never like Frank to leave a note but how sweet is this? A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth and she sat up. The sheet slipped down and there she was. Naked. Betty, you’re such a slut. Where oh where is your nightie, you naughty girl. A heap of green satin lay on the floor next to the bed, evidence of last night’s pleasure.
With care, one long polished nail sliced through the envelope. The nail snagged on an edge and broke. “Shit.” Nothing was going to spoil the moment because this was the first letter from Frank in all the years of togetherness and she planned to keep it. She withdrew the letter.
Stumbling off the bed, letter clutched in her hand, she groped for reading glasses, found them, dropped them, on hands and knees patting the carpet, found them again. Naked on the floor, she read:
“Dear Betty, It’s not you. It’s me. I have been uncomfortable in my own skin for a long time and have decided I must make a change in my life. I sold my half of the practice to George. You, dear Betty, are well taken care of. Call Bruce Bradley. He has all the papers, investments, everything you will need to live in comfort. The house is yours. Last but not least, I signed my portion of divorce papers so whenever you want to, sign yours. Bruce will take care of it.”
Betty leapt up—made it to the toilet and retched. Foul taste in her mouth, she returned to the bedroom and stared down at the despicable letter. “Oh God. What am I going to do?” No answer in the silent room. “Divorce,” Betty shouted to the empty house. “People like us, we don’t divorce, you stupid ..” Tears streaming, she pounded her chest with the letter, crumpled it into a ball and flung it across the room.

Dear readers: Your comments and critique are welcome. This is from a published book, my first with Vanillla Heart Publishing but keep in mind, writers learn every time constructive critique is given.


Thank you for stopping by to read this first chapter- compliments of WEWRIWA-a community of writers.