Tag Archive | romance/suspense

3/20/16 WEWRIWA


SPRING!!!!  OMG, how exciting. So what it may snow fall for a day or two. This has been a great winter.

Here comes the further adventures of Charlie Costigan. Aunt and uncle have given her the choice of private school or public. She doesn’t want to cause them to spend extra money but off uncle takes her to  the best private school nearby. Dressed in new clothes, Charlie straightens her shoulders as she leaves the limousine. Uncle Stuart introduces her to his friend , the head mistress, and tells her to call Robert when she is finished with testing.


I sat alone in a large room filled with, I did quick scan, fifty desks;”When the clock strikes eight thirty, begin,” said Sally the proctor and she disappeared.

I finished in fifty five minutes; she returned  to find me eating an apple and drinking from a bottle of water.

Stunned, she said, “It always takes at least two hours to finish so now I’ll take you to the head mistress.”

Confident I aced everything, multiple choice is good if you have multiple personalities.

Mrs. Larimore left her important place behind her desk and sat next to me, a frown between her eyebrows. “The girls who attend Hamilton Academy are from privileged backgrounds and from what I understand you come from a small town in Minnesota, a different social strata.

Yeah, I got it, they ‘re rich__ and I’m a dirt farmer, by comparison.

Sally burst in with my test scores saying “you’ve got to see this.”

After reading my scores, Mrs. Larimore smiled and asked if I’d like to see the playing field, the gymnasium, lunchroom.

“Thank you but no , I’ll call Robert to bring me back to my family to discuss this morning”; and Charlie straightened her new clothes and left leaving Mrs. Larimore speechless.

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Together, Again

by Charmaine Gordon

Now Available in All Ebook Editions!

Together, Again

by Charmaine Gordon

A wealthy couple, no children in sight, answer the door one day to find a replica of the woman living there, titian hair and all. Charlie is her name and so begins the story. Years later, Charlie’s young twin sisters , now seventeen, are rescued by the same couple with a big heart. It’s a tale of love and hearts that keep on giving.











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3/13/16 WEWRIWA

Daylight saving Time. Don’t you love it?

Another ten from Reconstructing Charlie and maybe I’ll move on since my latest book, Together, Again was just released and I’m ecstatic. The last piece of the series is finished and will soon be translated in Spanish and French. Folks, I’m thrilled, to say the least.

Charlie and Aunt Eleanor go shopping:

Excerpt:A knock at the door and she entered dressed to shop; pretty in a white sweater set with pearls, a print silk skirt and white pumps, the picture of a summer garden. By comparison, I looked like a lumberjack next to my aunt.

We sat in the big limousine driven by Robert and drove to a place called the Magnificent Mile, Michigan Boulevard.”What are the latest fall fashions for my niece entering high school?” Corrine, the salesperson rattled off a list: “form fitting tee shirts short in length showing a hint of bare midriff with wide blue jeans;leggings with slouch socks and white Keds and long loose sweaters.”

I didn’t have a clue about leggings and slouch socks but when she said bare midriffs, I thought-get me out of here.

I needed something to cover my butt and androgynous was my style.

Over lunch, Aunt Eleanor confided in me,”Stuart and I were never blessed with children and now you’re here with us. Somehow, fate in the name of Elizabeth,brought you to our door and I want you to know you may trust me although I’m not your mother.”

The waiter came and I ate my first shrimp salad thinking of what she just said.

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http://www.wewriwa.com./Reconstructing Charlie new eyes



http://www.amazon.com/Reconstructing-Charlie- Charmaine-Gordon/dp/0615909175
http://www.amazon.com/Reconstructing-Charlie- Charmaine-Gordon-ebook/dp/B004KKZ6WS
https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product- reconstructingcharlie-511663-152.html





3/6/16 WEWRIWA

Hi Gang. The lying weatherman claimed we’d have seventy degrees by the middle of the week. Snow two days ago and now the sweet smell of spring. The beach calls to me. I finished one book today and another will be released 3/11 Here’s the amazing news. Vanilla Heart, my publisher is having several books translated into foreign languages and Reconstructing Charlie is one of them. I’d jump in the air with joy but I’m afraid I’d break bones on the way down.

Last week Charlie had a welcome arms greeting from the aunt she didn’t know existed. Today I’ll fill you in a bit further. After a delicious breakfast with her aunt where she learned an inside story of her mother as a child and more than she needed to know about her new aunt and uncle, aunt Eleanor showed Charlie upstairs to a guest room on the second floor.

Excerpt: She left, footsteps muffled by the thick carpet; her scent lingered, something light and sweet. The room was breathtaking with everything so perfect, matched, luxurious and a four poster bed I tried out to bounce on a few times. The past twenty four hours hit me; did the cops believe Mom or were they searching for me, the piece of shit who ran away like a coward leaving my family.

I ran to the bathroom, unbuttoned my dress to hang it up but too late my aunt was in the doorway with me in my shabby bra and panties. She had her hand over her mouth as she saw my bruises__on my back and arms.

“Oh Charlie.”

“I heal fast, Aunt Eleanor; in two weeks they’ll be gone and no one will ever hurt me again, I promise,” and a flood of tears released from me.

She held me in her arms the way I’d held Mom a million times. My aunt was older and felt kind of fragile but I bet she had a core of steel. Backing away with tears in her eyes, my aunt left, her silk dress spotted with my guilt and shame.

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http://www.amazon.com/Reconstructing-Charlie- Charmaine-Gordon/dp/0615909175
http://www.amazon.com/Reconstructing-Charlie- Charmaine-Gordon-ebook/dp/B004KKZ6WS
https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product- reconstructingcharlie-511663-152.html
















1/31/16 WEWRIWA

Still plugging along and hoping for the best. Possible Physical Therapy coming soon. Crossed fingers.

She Didn’t Say No- Part 3

Vowing to love each other forever, finish school in a few years and begin a life together, we became the hottest unlikely new couple on campus, the studious girl and the BMOC, with school first the priority. We made a promise not to interfere with our different plans because I’d be off to Purdue and he hadn’t solidified his plans yet.
A month later I missed my period, always on time, first I worried and kept it to myself and then frantic, I told him a big fat lie. Crossing my fingers and hoping to die for what I was about to say, I called my dearest love, “I’m sick with the flu and don’t want you to catch it.” By the second late period, I was sure and skipping classes and having someone bring assignments to my apartment, I completed my work. Heartbroken, the practical side of me decided Scott must never know and I couldn’t burden his life, ruin his career with a baby. As for me, I’d go to Buffalo, tell my parents and they’d help me solve the problem.

My Dearest Scott, I’m saying goodbye, not because I want to but because I have to. Our paths are too divergent to survive the long wait until we can be together and you must go your way and I have to go mine.

The letter made no sense; choices made with no guidance; choices that changed our lives forever.

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1/3/16 WEWRIWA

Hi Gang, what a year we’ve, both good and not so good but we survived and that’s the best. So we begin fresh.

I have an idea for a new book. The title is Six Degrees of Perspiration. Let me know what you think. This is just the beginning.


“That’s it,” Rachel slammed her handbag on the table at their favorite bistro.
Puzzled, Sarah dropped the menu,“That’s what?”
“I’ve had enough of being a failure as a writer.”
“So what will we do to be successful?”
“There’s no more we; either write alone or forget about it.”
“Please, Sarah, give us one more chance, I have an idea so just listen. This is the title, Six Degrees of Perspiration. Two single women decide to find men to hook up with, something like finding single men who were already vetted and approved by other women and moved on. Guys with hair and teeth, guys without bellies they’d be pleased to date.
Rachel thought out loud, “I’m worth getting naked for and I’d like, just for once, to meet a hot guy with a nice body to feel.

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Charmaine Photo for Pinterest



12/20/15 WEWRIWA

There’s a nip in the air, folks and I don’t like it. I even saw a few snow flakes. Phooey and I’m still wearing a sweater. Oh well.

This is the second snippet of Gleason’s Greetings. Our off beat heroine, Liz is making friends and her own brand of Valentine cards. Do you know the myth of the holiday? She finds out , makes cards, adds cupids and carries on with cuppa coffee to please customers and now chocolate chip cookies.


The little bell rang at the door and in came a customer. Red ink on her perky nose, she turned around to see OH, MY, a good looking hunk.
“Good afternoon, welcome to my new shop, you’re my first customer and I’m Liz.”
“Hi yourself, I’m Roger Mathews looking for a special Valentine’s Day card so  I’ll just look around.”
She wanted to say marry me, I’ll cook and clean and have your babies, well uh no babies at her age so instead she shut her mouth and went back to the painting table when suddenly he roared with laughter.
“What’s the matter?”
He held up the ‘I see London’ card, “I’m looking for something for my mom and then I saw this one; it’s funny and in my business we never cut funny.

Intrigued, she asked a question, something she hadn’t done in a long time, “What business?”
“ Writing scripts for television, for instance and where do you get your ideas?”

“It’s no big deal, not Shakespeare and I’ll probably be out of business in a month and to think I went to Harvard.”

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Charmaine Gordon, author of She Didn't Say No, a mature romance

12/13/15 WEWRIWA

Can you believe the weather out here in New York? Sixty five degrees today and having fun with grandest raking leaves  then stuffing them in tall bags. I’m loving the Frank Sinatra Hundred Year Birthday Celebration. What a thrill to hear him sing.

Today I have a WIP, no title folks so think about it and I appreciate all comments.

Excerpt:“Happy Birthday to me,” Liz Daniels sang to herself while arranging the last shelf of greeting cards in her new shop located in an odd little corner on Fourth Street in New York. Let the customers race in to watch me design some unique cards. Valentine’s Day approached in a week and she hadn’t started but ideas flowed in her creative mind.
She rolled up her pristine white sleeves, tied the big painter’s apron around in the back and began. On a cream colored blank card, she wrote in a fine script using red ink, ‘I see London, I see France, I’d like to see your underpants.’ Liz pushed back her curly red hair and wondered, does this work? and with care, she added ‘Happy Valentine’s Day to my loved one.’
She designed eleven more; let them dry and set them in a rack aside from the regular cards she ordered from a supplier. The sign above the cards said Original cards by Liz Daniels.
“Now for the next one, ‘Come with me, Climb a tree, I’ll help you up holding your B cups’ Happy Valentine’s Day to one who is stacked.’   Forty eight years old and still scrabbling along, Harvard Business School be damned.

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11/29/15 WEWRIWA

The weather is still delightful. Thanksgiving Dinner was also amazing. Daughter’s almost new relatives invited for the best dinner ever. I’ll have to tune up my Italian to speak well.

And now back to Dr. D and the Dad. Diane is invited to dinner at Tony’s home. GPS didn’t say recalculating more than two times as I drove to the bay side of town. Just before the bridge, a right turn brought me to his big house facing the water. Painted a sunshine yellow with blue shutters and a wrap-around porch, he had a fenced-in yard with a swing set and playhouse where two little kids played and a big White Labrador ran after them. And Tony called my house cozy. This was a page from House Beautiful or an old Norman Rockwell painting.
I carried a basket of children’s books, apples and bananas and stepped up to ring the bell. Tony opened the door before I had a chance. He set bells ringing when he swept me into his arms and planted a kiss, one on each cheek, before setting me down.
“Sammy fell down by the sandbox n’ sand’s in his mouth.”

Reaching inside Sammy’s mouth, I found a lot of wet sand and kind of hand shoveled it out, “Spit, Sammy, spit.” Still crying and half choking, he did and threw-up on my sandals. “Water, hurry and Tony poured some in a cup; Sammy sipped and spit out more until the water ran clear

“Pardon me for asking a personal question, this is an expensive undertaking but where did the money come from?”
He walked to the bay window and stood very still.

Something inside me gave a warning that my new friend Tony with fast mood swings had a problem.

“Maura had a lot of money invested well and she left everything to me so that’s when I began to think about giving back and now I’m fifty, living a good life with my work and the children but I’m not fulfilled.  And suddenly I fell over you on the beach yesterday and something clicked.”

He kissed me, long, slow, and deep and this time our tongues touched and suddenly I felt a fire begin low where none had been for years so I reached around his neck and pulled him close;DD ereader with hands
then the clock ticked in the kitchen warning me to get out before we became too involved.





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The Ghost of Thanksgiving Past

Looking back and forth with author Charmaine Gordon
The Ghost of Thanksgiving Past
Back in the days when people didn’t lock the front door or car doors, the big family I belonged to gathered at my parent’s home for Thanksgiving. When I say big-I’m talking BIG. Grandma and Grandpa had ten kids. My mom was in the middle and somehow she became the hub of the wheel of this family.
Picture this: Grandparents seated at one end of the table, candlelight shining on their white hair and proud faces. At the other end sat my father, leaning back in the chair, master of all he surveyed. Every other chair was occupied by an uncle while my aunts scurried back and forth from kitchen to dining room carrying trays heaped with enough food to feed a small nation. And as they waitressed, they managed to gossip about everything and everyone.
Did I mention that the table extended into the living room? Well it did, to accommodate all the cousins who were up to no good. Boys of all ages and me, the first girl born to this rowdy bunch and two quiet girl cousins. We couldn’t wait to finish dinner and crawl under the grown-up table and sit with legs of various relatives all around us, while we listened to adult conversation and tried to stifle laughter. We weren’t discovered until cigar and cigarette smoke from above sent us coughing and choking for fresher air.
Ah, sweet memories of the ghost of Thanksgiving past.

And now for a different kind of Thanksgiving.
“TO BE CONTINUED” Romance in a ‘survive and thrive’ world
This one takes place at St.Paul’s Church in Westchester, New York where the soup kitchen is renowned for generous meals. Beth Malone, the protagonist in my story, volunteers her time as a way of giving back to the community. In this chapter, Susie, her daughter, questions why and what her mother is doing there and learns about giving.
Susie said, “What’s your domain, Mom?”
Beth laughed. “The kitchen, of course. It’s high tech and on
Thursday’s all mine. But not for too long. The regular chef is
pregnant, due in a week. I’m filling in.”
“Do you like doing it? It seems like a lot of work.”
Beth picked up the pace, eager to see what lay ahead in the
kitchen. “I came here to give something back to the community
since I have so much. Yes, I like it. A lot.” A lot better than years
trying to please your father. Did I really clean the dirt out of his
golf clubs?
When Beth opened the kitchen door, she was overwhelmed with
the number of volunteers—old and young—aprons tied around their
waists listening to clean-shaven Harold speak clearly about kitchen
chores. Heads turned and she greeted the group. “I don’t want to
interrupt Harold. He seems to have everything under control.” She
introduced her family telling them Javier was an experienced chef
and he was there as a volunteer.
Harold continued with his list. When Beth moved near him, he
showed the written items to her. She asked if he’d mind her adding
a few ideas to simplify and he nodded it was fine.
Quickly two kinds of stuffing were in preparation, three people
worked on fresh vegetable platters and fruit cups. One large pot was
reserved for turkey gravy and a mixture of flour and water was
stirred carefully.
Cheers went up when the turkeys were delivered. Javier
checked each one to make sure they were all fully cooked. Beth
watched the big clock. Pies were due any minute. Sam volunteered
for pie pick-up and delivery since the bakery was on his way to the
church. A knock at the door. A volunteer opened and called out.
“Sam’s here with the pumpkin pies. He needs help bringing them
in. Clear a table.” The volunteers loved Sam’s inside stories about
the star jocks. They flocked around him whenever he showed up.
Four teens ran out and staggered back, carefully placing boxes
on the table and running out for more. Every time the door opened,
a cold blast of air swept through the warm kitchen. The table almost
groaned with the boxes. At last they came back empty handed.
Beth opened one box. The pie was gorgeous, crust fluted and so
flaky she was tempted to taste it. So she did.
Heaven. Soon they had to be opened and placed on the dessert
She wore her chef’s hat at a jaunty angle and the starched jacket
half-buttoned. Beth hadn’t cooked, stirred or peeled anything. Just
watched and barked out orders. She liked being chef. Suddenly
Sam came in the back door, walked directly to her, grabbed her by
the hand and pulled her out the door. A few wolf whistles echoed
from the kitchen. She steered him to the closest room; dark and
quiet. Without a word, he wrapped her in his arms and kissed her
long and sweet until they were breathless.
Coming up for air, Beth said, “What. . .” Her words were cut
off with another kiss.
“I missed you last night,” another kiss, “and this morning.”
“Lisa, Maverick, and the twins are joining us for dinner.” In the
shadows she saw a look of pleasure on his face. “After they leave, I
can thank you properly for the pies.”
Holding hands, they strolled back to the kitchen.

From a distance, Susie watched her mom and a man exit a room holding hands. She wondered who the hell he was and what he meant to Mom to bring a rosy glow to her cheeks.
After hearing about Mom’s kindness from the pregnant chef and the once battered woman in the locker room, Susie realized, for the first time, how lucky she was to have such a special mother.

To Be Continued
Series: Women Who Survive and Thrive by Charmaine Gordon, Book 1
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!
Kindle – http://www.amazon.com/To-Be-Continued-ebook/dp/B0030IM65G
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PRINT – http://www.amazon.com/To-Be-Continued-Charmaine-Gordon/dp/1935407430

11/8/15 WEWRIWA

I have two large Grand Dogs. One is a Pit Bull ; the other is a Chocolate Lab. They love their Granny. I ask you why oh why must I dog sit every so often? I’m just a Gal who can’t say NO. Don works late tonight so I’m packing my pillow, jams, writing stuff and off I drive to daughter’s where the pooches wait for me. Shh, don’t tell but I do believe by next year, wedding bells are happening and I won’t sit any more for the Grand Dogs sweet as they may be.

Moving along with Dr.D and the Dad. Last week Tony admired Diane’s tomatoes in the fridge as she admired his butt when he leaned over.


. My youthful staff tended to saunter in soon after me from active social lives Saturday night and to my surprise, Tony hurried in with a small child in his arms.
“What’s the matter?”
“Ear ache, the sitter didn’t call me.”
Sitter? he said he didn’t have children.
“What’s your name, honey?” and I held out my arms, not meeting his eyes.
She sobbed and buried her wet face in my neck, “Maria.”
“Let’s take a look in your ear and see the bad booboo that’s hurting you.”

After  a thorough check-up I beckoned with a follow me crook of my finger and led Tony to my private office.

“Maria has a severe ear infection; I checked his insurance papers; “Maria Gonzalez and your name is Tony Flannigan as I recall and you said you have no children so what’s this all about?”

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