She gets ready to shoot; her daughter meets a doctor who suggests she shouldn’t shoot because she’s pregnant and suddenly they are friends. The daughter tells him she’s a widow; the doctor has a son and suggests they meet. When the doctor sees the lovely mother, he recognizes her as the woman he had fallen in love with during her pregnancy.
Her husband had them all move because he felt she was getting involved with the doctor. The story goes round and round in a delicious way. You’ll enjoy this story when it’s finished
Coming soon, Don and I will celebrate so many good years together. December 28 is the date. We celebrated at the dearest restaurant near our home inviting close friends only plus our beloved children. Don wore a tux-so fancy-and I, with him, went to Lord and Taylor for a nifty white gown. We handed out copies of “Young at Heart” and everyone sang as we walked up the aisle. So much fun. Then I wrote a script about how we met. And so it went with lots of love and friendship.
The years have passed and we are still together. Talk about sickness and health, we’ve had it all and still survived. We are still best buddies, no matter what. So join us in a premature celebration on this day.
In 1996, I killed my father. Dear old Dad was great with a belt. A belt of whiskey. A belt from around his waist unbuckled when you least expected and I knew it was coming and some of us escaped later when it was coming. Not me. not Mom. Never Mom. I’m the oldest. I didn’t want to see the little ones see the okay dad turn into a monster Dad on payday. Every Payday.
I heard the television turned up loud before I turned it up before I opened the door. Mom always on up, he’d watch the Minnesota Twins beat the hell out of the Boston Red Sex. Not a great year for the Twins. On this day, after I dropped off the kids, I hoped for a distraction. Maybe this time instead of beating us up, I raced home just in time to be with Mom
The front door banged open hard enough to rattle the dishes in the cabinet. A painted porcelelain egg rolled to the edge, teetered for a second. The small egg cracked with the force of a bomb. a jackhammer all his sorry life and ugly drunk. I wrestled it out of his filthy hands and hit him good.
Tom Donnelly, once know as The Catch-every woman’s dream guy, has fallen down every rung of the ladder he once worked so hard to climb. On New Year’s Day, he realizes how far he’s fallen and makes a list of resolutions to change his life. He vows to regain the trust lost from his family, his law firm, and his friends_ and maybe even find the right woman this time.
He crosses paths with Joanne McKenna Friedman-a smart young lawyer, beautiful on the outside, damaged on the inside. Joanne’s secret past leaves her distrustful of everyone. Until a court case comes up to threaten her career and even her life, and she turns to Tom for help.
Let Charles make the first move if he intended to when he knocked on the door
“Charles, does a drink appeal to you before we leave?”
He shook his head. “You appeal to me and right now. Do you mind if I hold you, kiss you, touch you? I’ve heard you’re a recent widow. I’m divorced for a while and I’ve gone out several times, a bunch of times, um, a whole lot of times but never felt drawn to a woman like you before.”
They continued to stand near the doorway, dogs at their feet. Joan pushed him back for some space. “Perhaps I’m someone new, a woman who shoots skeet and rides a Harley. She walked fast to the small bar to see what’s what. Actually the Chardonnay sat cold in the fridge. Her preference. His arms went around her small waist as if they’d done that a hundred times.
“I said I only want you and now.”
“You must be kidding. We just met this afternoon. Trust me, tonight, we’re going to see a play or nothing. Take your pick.” She felt his hands steer her movements. It felt so exciting. Never in her whole life did she almost give in to pleasure so fast and to a stranger. Joan turned to face Charles. Her breath ran fast and she stopped again. “No and no to everything except for seeing your playhouse or maybe you don’t even have one. You’re used to a quick lay from a widow, I can tell. The answer again is NO.”
At her words, his face took on a red cast like a blush. “I’m so sorry; all I can say is I am truly embarrassed at behaving so crazy but there’s something delectable about you I couldn’t resist.” His head hung down like a child’s. “Please may we begin again. Pretend you just opened the door and offered me a drink. In truth, I seldom drink anything and you gathered your um bag and we left. The theater is about twenty minutes from here, down near the lake, it’s so beautiful there. The play is one of my favorites; Uncle Vanya and the cast is good.”
EARLY RELEASE! Charmaine’s Mature Romance Series is really taking off! Check out these Sexy Seniors!
NO TIME FOR GREEN BANANAS by Charmaine Gordon
Series: The Beginning…Not the End, Book 4
Celeste Hamlin, the seventy-five year old widow, CEO of O.U.R. Airlines specializing in chartered vacations, has a goal… She needs to once more conquer the six mountains in the Saranac Lake region before deciding what to do with the rest of her life.
Sixty-two year old Professor Paul Harris, is on sabbatical to hike and relax. When he meets the dynamic Celeste, he recalls the last words his wife said before she passed. “Find another love and begin again.”
What happens next between an older woman and younger man is a story of gentle passion and discovery of The Beginning… Not The End.
Are we having fun or what? I wrote No Time For Green Bananas awhile back and here it is again, mature romance included. This is exciting. You’ll love the mountain climbing, the parties and dancing and feel the romance grow and how the younger gentleman brings her family together.
Buy the book, leave a review and a special gift from me to you is forthcoming.
Newly widowed Joan braced her hands on the edge of the kitchen sink as she stared out at the garden. She breathed in the scent of lilacs wafting through the open window and thought what a mess and she had to fix it, make it right and why? No one’s home and only she would see the flowers bloom anymore; the fun of pulling dandelions together ended the day his heart attacked him.
A laundry list of pleasure left her life but the worst one to top the list was he never even said goodby.
Joan inhaled a deep breath and let it out in hopes the memories would fade in time; then the backload of conviction she’d summed up to battle her wallowing in the abyss, she snapped her shoulders back and spoke to her deceased husband.
“You exited stage left so I’ll write the next scene myself, if that’s okay, my dear.”
She had to write a letter to him; “Dear deceased Larry, you son of a bitch! “It’s your fault you died and left me alone. Take your pills, I said, everyday, but no; and now you’re gone and I’m alone.