Tag Archive | humor

“Making Your Bones. ..”

All moviegoers have seen the Godfather and maybe the wonderful Prizzi’s Honor. We’ve seen, read, or heard about mobsters’ who “make their bones” with the first kill. But, and here comes the big Butt as I like to say, we have a four and a half pound kitten named Lily. Funny, fast, and adorable, Lily surprised me with a little gift a few days ago. She made her bones, our kitty while the ten year old big mamoo Tabby named Tony sat and watched her play rough and tough with a super small mouse. Then, while I wrote a chapter in my new book, Lily shoved the deceased under the door making funny sounds of kitten delight.

After the husband tended to  burial of said deceased, Lily decided she needed many hugs and kisses and climbed up on the desk to snuggle. I didn’t agree and patted her little back until the rascal fell asleep. Who needed kisses knowing where her mouth and paws had been moments before.

Our home is a small cat kingdom right now. Amusing, tiresome and a lot of work for this author. If you have pet stories you’d like to share, please jump in. As for me, I do love writing about pets. They add warmth, humor and love to every story I write.

If you enjoy stories about lots of pets and humans, do check out She Didn’t Say No, a mature romance with an unusual twist.Say No CVR ARe


She Didn’t Say No
Series: The Beginning, Not the End. Retail Price: $2.99 USD. Words: 27,320.
Grace didn’t say no to the Big Man On Campus, Scott Dwyer. And then her life changed… Years later, a too-close encounter of an unpleasant kind with a skunk and Scott’s German Shepherd reunites the former lovers. What happens in between are their stories of beginnings and endings and love lost, then found.



6/1/14 WEWRIWA

Yippee! It’s Sunday. I just finished She Never Said Yes and must reread before sending it to the the fearless leader. Thanks, lovely friends, who helped me through the agony and ecstasy of the WIP.

Today, I will take you on a journey, my very first book, To Be Continued, Vanilla Heart Publishing. Never dreaming a few years later a production company would call offering an option for a television movie. I’ve heard from them recently. It’s still in the works and that’s fine with me. One of the reasons I’m reliving this book, parts of it, is to spread hope and good wishes to all my writing pals. Never give up. Love what you write and keep going.

Elizabeth Malone wakes up the morning after an amazing night of passion with her husband of forty years to find a note: Dear Lizzie, it’s not you, it’s me. Abandoned by her husband, disappointed in daughter Susie’s casual attitude Dad’s having a mid-life crisis, Beth decides to re-establish herself as the winner she once was. When Frank Malone returns, he’s in for a big surprise!

excerpt in eight:

Sun sneaked through blinds, her eyes shut tight not quite ready to open, Elizabeth 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.
Fingers crept along the sheets searching for her mate as they groped to where Frank could be found most early mornings except on golf days or scheduled surgery.
Turning her head, she called his name and at the same time she saw an envelope lying on top of the pillow.  A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth and she sat up, a heap of green satin lay on the floor next to the bed, evidence of last night’s pleasure.
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 she read:
Dear Lizzie, It’s not you, It’s me: I have decided I must make a change in my life so I sold my half of the practice to George, left the house to you and signed my portion of divorce papers so whenever you’re ready, call Bruce.”
  She leaped up—made it to the toilet and after retching she cried, “Oh God, What an I going to do?”

For more snippets from talented writers:                                     To Be Continued newstyle 3D (2)



buy links:

PRINT – http://www.amazon.com/To-Be-Continued-Charmaine-Gordon/dp/1935407430

Kindle – http://www.amazon.com/To-Be-Continued-ebook/dp/B0030IM65G

AllRomance Ebooks – https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-tobecontinued-395548-149.html

Smashwords for All Ereaders – https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/7283

Free Book Club Discussion Packet – http://store.payloadz.com/go?id=912108


Review by LASR:

Rising from the ashes of a burned-out marriage, Elizabeth feels like forty years of her life went up in smoke. Her successful husband, Dr. Frank Malone sneaked away in the night leaving only a note.

With a daughter that “pooh-poohs” the whole thing as just a temporary mid-life crisis and “friends” that avoid her, Elizabeth must rely on herself. Even her longtime lawyer turns out to be a stinker.

The Elizabeth that once was, before subverting her aspirations and becoming Dr. Frank Malone’s wife and Susie’s mother, begins to find herself–and what a self it is. The emotional journey she makes magnifies that life is to be continued, even if old dreams and an old marriage die.

Everyone should be fortunate enough to have a new friend like Lisa, a pool man like Maverick (WOW), a new lawyer like Elise Bergen, and a Sister Mary Margaret type to help rekindle the fire to be a “winner” after feeling like a total “loser”. Besides these supportive new people in her life, Elizabeth’s life is influenced by a tempting but troubled psychiatrist that wrote a book entitled “Get A Grip”, a remarkable son-in-law, and some super guests at “The Night for Possibilities” not the least of which is Sam Taylor.

Charmaine Gordon brings the characters to life with humor, decisive action, shared tears and stories. In To Be Continued Ms. Gordon takes the reader from a situation of despair to one of joy and love with lots of living done with mature and some not-so-mature exuberance.

To Be Continued with a survive-and-thrive attitude is captivating.

A Kiss is Just a Kiss. . .or is it?


Back story: As you can see, daughter and I love each other a lot. It all began when the birthday son I blogged about two weeks ago was in town at her old/new home. She mentioned lack of counter space and wondered where she could get something on wheels to suffice. Brother piped up he just so happened to have one in his basement upstate and would be so happy to gift her with same. BUT since he was leaving for Denmark for a long time and soon and daughter works full time. . .at that point, I said not to worry, we’d meet him halfway early one morning, have a quick breakfast and transfer said treasure to our wagon. Cool.

Wednesday early a.m., husband with seriously bad cold, and I drove up to Liberty, NY to meet at the splendid Liberty Diner. Not bad for a late November day, hour and a half trip, roads clear. Arriving, he parked, left the car calling he had to you know what and left me to scramble out alone. No biggie, right? Except at that moment a truck pulled up, five or six hunters got out; I could tell by their camouflage ensembles, folks; and one made a beeline straight for me. He held out his hand, this tall weathered stranger, and escorted me inside smiling all the way. I thanked him and joined my husband who had not a clue as to what transpired.
And that’s not the end of this lovely moment in time. While waiting for my son, I saw the nice guy pay his bill, surrounded by pals, and waved as I walked across the restaurant. He hurried over, pulled me in his strong arms and kissed me. On the mouth.

We didn’t exchange names. Someday I may just decide to drive up to the Liberty Diner again. Are we having fun or what?

In my book Now What, Carly Evans meets a man by chance. Enjoy the following excerpt:

Even if nothing came of this fine day, I’d enjoy the private me.  Before I knew it, three miles zipped by. My body felt alive with a plan in mind. Two hours later, dressed in a pink turtleneck sweater, butter soft leather jacket and new matching skirt, I headed for Lake Shore Drive.

Stopped at a red light while listening to a hot chapter from a recorded novel on CD, I suddenly couldn’t hear because a motorcycle pulled up next to me.  So I turned up the volume.  At the same moment, the bike’s loud growl became a purr and every word of passion from my speaker poured out the open window of my Mercedes.  Startled, I glanced at the biker hoping his helmet prevented the words from getting through to him.  He lifted the visor and grinned displaying whiter than white teeth and dimples you could die for.  Not the best expression a widow might use but it came to mind.  The light turned green, he waved a leather glove and beckoned for me to follow.

 I must have been out of my mind because I followed him.  Dumber than dirt, that’s me.  I found a small can of hair spray deep in the handbag next to me. Placing a finger on the trigger and hoping I wouldn’t spray myself, I followed the biker to a busy section and parked next to him.  By now, I’d rolled up the window and locked the doors.  A mixed message if there ever was one.  Now what?

I watched him gracefully swing a black leather covered leg over the Harley, unsnap the helmet adorned with a lightning bolt down the side and stride toward my car staring straight in my eyes.  Whoa.  Smoldering blue eyes blazing, he gestured for me to open my window.  I shook my head with an emphatic no.  He didn’t seem flirty or friendly; more like a policeman about to arrest me for a serious crime.  He even assumed the stance with powerful legs astride and said, “Get out of the car.”  What had I gotten myself into?  So I fell back on the one thing I did best. It had worked when I dated before, it should work again. I played the dumb blonde although my hair was brown with a few highlights.  My eyes widened, lower lip trembled, and I even managed to eke out a tear from one eye.  It trickled down my cheek and his eyes followed the slow progress.  He caved.  Gone was Mr. Tough and in his place was Mr. Apologetic.

Shaking his head, helmet with the strap dangling back and forth, he said “Sorry.  I was just  angry to see a woman be so careless following a stranger.  I could have been a bad guy for all you know.”  He removed black leather gloves and unzipped one of a myriad of zippers.  Producing a card, he held it to the car window for my inspection.

Now I had to search for my glasses.  The first item out of my bag was the hair spray.

He laughed. “Were you going to protect yourself against me with that?”

I nodded and continued to feel for the elusive glasses.  Triumphant, I perched them on my nose and read his card.  Martin Ambrose.  Architect.  His address was what singles call geographically desirable. 

“Now will you come out?”

I unlocked the car door, stepped out of safety and into Martin’s arms.  Removing his helmet, he  swept me into an embrace that made my senses—if I had any—reel, knees grow weak, and every other cliché I’d ever read about in love stories.  They were all true.  Me, the widow, thrust up against my car in the most popular mall for miles in broad daylight where who knows what neighbor or friend might pass by, kissing a man I didn’t know existed a few minutes ago.  I loved it, loved the abandon and didn’t care, in the heat of the moment, who saw me.  And that was the first kiss.

Top pick-Night Owl Review:Touching and often humorous, this book is easy to read – never mushy-sounding or overly sentimental – and written from a perspective that is entertaining yet also seems realistic. It was no chore suspending disbelief and becoming fully invested in this remarkable novel. Carly is an endearing character; her story sublime and heart-warming. Highly Recommended.

Now What newstyle 3D